#but my friend didn’t realize who the actor was until a few hours later when someone asked is they were ________ from fuller house

[yeehawgeek]

i sometimes forget that celebrities tend to pop up in friend’s lore here

like i was catching up with a friend yesterday and tell me why they just casually dropped the fact that they went to prom with an actor from fuller house

[bethannangel]

I finally got all my notes down and somewhat coherent from the Livestream Q&A at Alamo Drafthouse screenings.

I have no clue if these are repeat answers from previous Q&As because I avoided them to not be spoiled more about the movie

- Glen invited his sophomore year creative writing teacher to the Texas premiere (May 15th). He asked his teacher if he could write screenplays in class instead of poems or prose. The teacher was very supportive and would bring in Linklater screenplays to go over.

- First meeting with Adria, Linklater says to Glen “I don’t want to tip the scales but you should really meet her.”

- They meet, Glen says the actress to play Madison had to be someone the audience could see themselves throw everything away for. And Glen saw that Adria is that kind of woman. Both Glen and Adria were in the middle of Dry January (Rick joked “what’s that?” And Glen replied “you’re always in dry January”) and Glen is like yes I want to work with you and we should celebrate so they decide to get one tequila and then five hours later they are sloshed calling for rides.

- They consulted with Adria about Madison’s choices and possible dialogue. They joked how she was an unofficial writer of the movie.

- Linklater said he wanted Adria and Glen to lead the conversation on the intimate sex scenes and Adria would come in with references of artistic/tasteful photos and they incorporated them into the film. She specifically mentioned the sock pull and wine scene were referenced in the photos. She said she’s never been given the opportunity to give this much input to scenes she’s working in.

- They did all these references and had fun thinking of way to put these intimate scenes together but when it came to film there was a pause moment of realization that they had to be the ones in these scenes

- During pandemic Glen brought the article to Linklater and Rick is like yeah I’ve read it before and Glen is like there’s a story here. They had to make a decision to verge from the truth to get a really good story out of it. Once they made that decision, the creative flow just flowed. Spent a few hours a day on zoom talking about it and putting the script together

- Talked a bit about Skip Hollandsworth and his book about the Austin serial killer and joked with Glen about doing a movie about that

- Rick would talk on the phone with the real Gary Johnson when they were in preproduction. He said that they were planning on having him visit the set, but he quickly passed due to a pulmonary thing.

- Glen said he likes his chair of actor for now and being a director would be far in the future. Rick said Glen is a storyteller and he’ll work on anything that he deems a good story. Glen said he’s in the right place, learning from the right person.

- Glen was in charge of the costume. Rick hadn’t seen a lot of the costumes until day off because they were putting finishing touches on the script late in the game. The stylist nicknamed the red headed character Tilda Weasley and when he was fully dressed had a moment of “oh no, I think I’m attracted to Tilda Weasley”

- No costume was on the cutting room floor. Each of the costumes were inspired by the article directly. There were a few more ideas in the script writing process, but those were narrowed down to what we see on the screen by the time they got to shooting.

- Glen shadowed a film studies professor (Friend of Rick’s) who also got to read the script and told them that they needed to keep the pie line in the movie because it didn’t make it to one of the final drafts.

- The interviewer (even said this may be in poor taste) asked Adria about her recent project Los Frikis. When she spoke about it, she had so much love and passion in her eyes about this project and she said that they would be heading back out on the festival circuit with it.

[ninetiescoppola]

SINGLE, SO WHAT?

A few months ago I went to my long term orthodontist. I have known her since I was fourteen, we gossip and tell stuff about our lives, just girls being girly. But this time that I left her office I almost had a little stroke for two things, one because she said “you must be really sad without a boyfriend” and the second was because I would have to wear braces again. I didn’t say a word, just nodded my head (for both phrases). On my way home I started to think: when a relationship could save me from my depression? 

My whole life I never had a healthy relationship. At first I thought that the problem was me, but then a few months apart I could see the awful and ugly truth (and when I say ugly I mean literally). When I look back and see those old mistakes I get chills, feel immediately nauseous and have a little voice in my head saying “what the hell were you thinking?”, but then the same thing happens over and over again every year, it’s like a cycle with no end. This year I decided that something had to change, so I chose celibacy… Or almost. Just a short break from men. Not having a crush on somebody is the most amazing feeling in the world. I feel that I could make the new Miss Dior commercial just to show how light and fresh I am. 

I kinda feel guilty for never having a serious boyfriend. I'm always so delusional and sensitive about everything that I totally ignore the walking red flags. It's like I was blind to all the bad traits and only be able to see things that you find fantastic at first, but then you realize that it was the bare minimum and you feel like a complete idiot for the rest of your life. I remember that this happened with my first boyfriend. I was a fifteen year old freshman in high school and we had the same classes. If the time machine were created today I would turn back just to slap myself on the face several times until my younger self gives up the idea of dating that creep. Oh, I forgot to tell the story… In summary, we dated for two months and he lied, cheated, treated me like shit and humiliated me in front of my friends. Turns out that actually he was dating my best friend at the time who moved from Chile. I found that out a few weeks later after we broke up on a facebook post. I felt crushed. For months I thought that was my fault because I wasn’t good, pretty or smart enough to be his girlfriend. And one day I realized that life took back something that clearly wasn’t good for me. It was not worth it. I had to get through all of that shit to see how amazing I was. A year after they broke up too. 

As I said before, I have always been a delulu or a Charlotte York kind of girl. I don't know if it's because I have too much pisces on my birth chart or if it's because I'm just a f-ing fool. Always idealizing the perfect guy with the perfect traits and the perfect personality. I understand that everyone has flaws but why does life keep sending me people with JUST flaws? C’mon universe I expected more from you!

After a while, I stopped searching for the ideal guy and started focusing on myself. All those years being a men's carpet I had decided that a makeover would be perfect: eight hours in a hairdresser’s salon, thousands of bucks on clothes and lots of skincare products later, I became a new person. And then I found my true perfect match: a credit card.

Having a boyfriend is really nice, but enjoying your own company and not owing nothing to anyone can be truly fantastic. I had to learn that the hardest way. Every weekend I enjoy a very caloric treat, sit my big ass on the couch and watch a movie or a whole season of a TV show in a row. After all, I rather suffer for not being some hot actor’s girlfriend than suffer for a stupid asshole who is proud to think that having a dick is a sign of dignity (hot boyfriend of the month: Nicholas Chavez).

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

💄 Anomalous: Chapter Ten

Anomalous: You are attending a make-up artist convention in London, England for your work as a MUA yourself. Little do you expect to meet a handsome stranger at a bar, proceed to ditch your friends with him, have a one-night stand, and then flee because you are late for a convention event. Unbeknownst to you, that will not be the last time you see that handsome stranger, and now that you think about it… you really should have gotten his number. 

Warnings: Explicit Language.

To Note: Tom Sturridge x MUAFem!Reader, Respect The Actor! (This is Fiction), Reader has long hair for reasons, You can thank @pinksirensong for this lovely mini series.

Word Count: ~2.1k

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You had waddled your way into work following your stay at Tom’s flat, and it was mortifying. Mortifying because you kept getting looks from a few of the production team, and even some of the actors. Well, Tom did send a picture of you pigging out on your burger so it probably wasn’t hard for them to put two and two together and realize you had left with him. You just dreaded the rumors that were likely to spread. Even with a day of rest you were still sore and moving around with occasional grimaces. God, it had only been seven months… why were you hobbling around like a virgin!? Probably because Tom was a lethal man and you hadn’t been able to keep your hands off each other yesterday.

Even after you both had jumped each other without using proper protection, you’d lay within each others arms for a little while until you were back at it again. Thought this time Tom was very determined to make a point about using protection. You had only fallen more in love with the man at his determination despite his earlier statement about liking the idea of coming inside you. Fuck, you were tumbling head over heels for the silly man and you hadn’t even been on a date with him. But the sex between you…

“Shut up brain,” You muttered to yourself, focusing on your task of mixing up several paints for a few of the actors playing both Dreaming and Hell citizens. You’d volunteered to do a bunch of prep work for a few of the other regular makeup artists while they were actively working on set. You had a good hour before you were due to work on Mason and didn’t like just sitting around. Tapping the paint brush you had been using to stir, on the edge of the jar, you wiped off the excess and dropped the paint brush into a bucket of water before reaching for a lid. That was one task done. Onto the next.

If you remembered correctly, there were several scenes coming up in the hell set, so the collodion would be working overtime. You washed your hands of any remaining paint and put away the supplies you had gotten out before looking for the scar and prosthetics kits. Rifling through the boxes of supplies, you found what you were looking for and pulled it out, placing it on the work bench. Collodion was a product that was used to make scars, and most of the actors who played characters in hell had some form of a scar.

You started out by checking how full the jar was. If you remember correctly, you’d only recently opened this one so it was mostly full… but given how much work you’d be doing you best pick up several more jars so you didn’t run out. Pulling out your phone, you added the collodion to your shopping list for later. Passing the time until Mason arrived, you managed to sort and organize your workspace accordingly. You were pulling out your basic materials for Mason when the actor sauntered over in their cat costume.

“There’s my little make up artist! You looked like you had fun.” Mason chimed as they draped themself in your chair and looked at you with a wide smile. You snorted and rolled your eyes before reaching for their primer.

“What do you want to know?” You asked tiredly, knowing that they were going to worm as much out of you as they possibly could.

“Well for one how did you and Tom meet? That’s the million dollar question currently floating around set. Everyone wants to know.” Your eyebrow twitched and you let out a humorous breath.

“It wasn’t anything exciting. I was in London for work, a makeup convention last year. My friends dragged me to a bar. We met there.” You explained as you blend the primer into Mason’s already pale skin. “Bar’s aren’t really my thing, so I ditched my friends to get food at the Arcade Hall with him.”

“Just like you ditched us, hmm?” Mason pointed out with a wiggle of their eyebrows. Your own lips twitched and you patted the side of their face.

“Yep, just like that.” You confirmed before shrugging. “I was hungry and tired of being in a bar, he tempted me with food. He tempted me away from the party a few days ago with the same thing. That was probably the best burger I’ve eaten in my entire life. Or maybe that was just the sleep depravation talking…”

“Awe, so I don’t get to have any juicy details about what happened after?” Mason pouted. While you were rolling your eyes, you swapped out the blending sponge for your highlighter and contour, and began the next process.

“What? You want to know if he took me back to his place to fuck my brains out or something?” Mason laughed at your words and grinned at you. Of course they wanted to know. It was how actors and actresses kept themselves entertained when on the job for weeks. How the entire set kept themselves  entertained.  You’d humor him, to a point. “I hate to burst your bubble, Mason, but by the time Tom had me in his place I was asleep on my feet. I don’t even remember falling asleep in the first place.” You explained while you used your thumb to sharpen the lines you had drawn.

“Ah, so you didn’t get to fuck the dream lord?”

“I fucked him when I woke up,” You stated frankly. That made Mason throw their head back and laugh. You switched out the contour and highlighter for blending brushes. “Let’s just say I have sore muscles in places I’ve never been sore before. Pretty sure I’ve been hobbling around all morning because of it.”

“Well at least Tom’s no longer moping, he was getting quite pitiful.” Mason mused, letting you turn their head to the side. You blended a contour line along the crest of their cheek and added a bit more contour to the edge to enunciate the sharpness of the line. “Did you have to apologize because the way he made it seem…”

“He gave me a condition for forgiveness,” You admitted with a small giggle, you mind thinking over exactly what Tom had made you promise. Unlimited cuddles anytime he wanted. He had also asked. “He get’s cuddles any time he wants.”

“Cuddles,” Mason repeated, their eyebrow popping up. You gave them an affirming nod.

“Cuddles,” You echoed. “Anytime he wants. He also asked if he could have that as a condition. I’m not entirely sure that he understands the phrase ‘condition for forgiveness’, or the fact that he didn’t need to ask, just tell me.”

“Sounds like Tom,” You finished up the base blending and began working on the eye makeup. “So is anything going to come from your flings or are you two just going to be coworkers with benefits?”

“Pretty sure I declared Tom my boyfriend while I was half asleep?” You explained while painting on eyeshadow, your eyebrows scrunched together. “We talked about it and want to get to know each other more. My work visa is good for three months. That’s plenty of time to see if we want a relationship. We already like each other as people, but hell if I know if we are actually capable of maintaining an official relationship.”

“So then, what’s this I hear about Tom being dubbed the ‘Passionfruit Milkshake Guy’?” You couldn’t stop the complete and utterly devastating groan that slipped from your lips. Damn it Aggie.

The community center was packed with vendors from various makeup companies. You were one of many professional make up artists milling around and looking at the latest products for the craft. Fiddling with the lanyard hanging around your neck, your looked over an array of facial hair prosthetics. You hadn’t done a lot of applications with the product, and you certainly should refresh your techniques for creating such affects.

It was simple enough to apply fake beards, or mustaches, but when it came to stubble, it wasn’t like an artist just slapped a prosthetic on an actors face and called it done. Looking closer at a few of the products, you picked up a sample jar of the latest prosthetic glue you hadn’t had a chance to try and spent a moment speaking with the vendor about the difference in the formula compared to the previous one. You had some hopes for the newest formula and purchased the small sample before moving on.

You were interested in picking up several samples of the newest pH makeup. You’d heard of pH lipstick stain, and tried it out a couple of times on yourself. But this makeup wasn’t lipstick, but different blushes and foundations. You were heavily skeptical of a pH based foundation and were going to need to do plenty of research before applying it to your work. The shade simply didn’t just change because the pH of your skin!

Humming to yourself, you looked over mascaras, picking up a few samples from your favorite brands, and picked up several limited edition eyeshadows from a seller you follow religiously. You were picking through a stall full of last seasons products no longer all the ‘rage’, when your phone started ringing. Pausing your rifling, you stepped away from the stand and fished out your phone to look at the screen. Tom’s name was on your screen, followed by a bunch of emojis. You snorted with a small laugh, wondering how the man even knew how to use emojis when his phone was a literal brick.

“Hello?” You spoke after accepting the call and putting the phone to your ear.

“Hi, Y/N, it’s Tom.” You smiled at how happy and cheerful he sounded.

“Hi Tom, I saw the caller ID you left me. I’m surprised that you even know what emojis are let alone how to use them.” You teased with a small laugh, slowly moving away from the crowd of make up artists to get to somewhere more quiet. Tom made a noise of outrage (surely an exaggeration) and you snickered. “But really, I like it, it suits you quite nicely.”

“I am going to pretend that you didn’t just insult me, Sunday.”

“Yeah, well maybe I wouldn’t tease you if you had a phone that wasn’t from the earlier 2000s.” You  laughed, not able to resist making yet another jab at the man.

“You are a mean girlfriend!” Tom accused you while you laughed at his expense.

“Sorry, you’re just a little too easy to pick on when you don’t have access to the internet, Tom.” You gently replied. “Plus you are just so easy to work up at times and I just love hearing you talk so animatedly.”

“Like my voice do you?” Tom asked, his voice now suddenly deeper, richer, a tone that made a shiver go up your spine and your pelvic muscles clench. Good. God. Now, you’d been on the set when Tom had been working and had heard him use his Dream voice, but it was never at you or like this. “I’ll take your silence as a yes,” You could only imagine the matching smug smirk that was surely on Tom’s face right now.

“What? Is it a crime to like a voice?” You asked, fanning your face because holy hell it now burned. Hot and bothered in the middle of a convention center! “You are getting me all worked up and this is not the place for that. I’m in the middle of a convention center!”

“My apologies,” He was still using that vindictively seductive voice that made your thighs clench and cunt throb. He also did not sound the least bit apologetic. Dragging your free hand down your face, you concentrated things that would kill the hot and bothered mood your body was now in. Taxes. Golf. Julian’s snores. Where mascara came from… It sort of worked and you pinched your forehead.

“Okay, okay,” You breathed out, feeling your body cool off. “Enough with the foreplay, what’s up?”

“So I got my hands on a pair of tickets to see a play at Wyndham's Theatre, on Friday, and thought it’d be a great introduction into theatre since we both know you’ve never been. Then maybe we could get dinner afterwards? I’d love to learn more about your work.” You blinked, processing his words for a few moments. Pair of tickets. Theatre. Dinner. Talk.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” You questioned, trying not to get your hopes up because your sleep deprived declaration might not have actually meant anything.

“Yes, I would very much like to take you on a date.” Your heart was beating fast now, almost racing in your chest. When was the last time you went on a date? You couldn’t remember.

“What’s showing?”

“Leopoldstadt,” Your heart was already saying yes before you uttered your affirmation, and it was doubtful that you noticed that you now had a beautiful smile upon your lips.

“I would love to.”

Date Published: 7/4/23

Last Edit: 7/4/23

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[emilybrontesghost]

So I’d like to talk about queer experiences today and the discovery of my own identity, because I think talking about these things is important and because I would have wanted to read it because seeing someone’s experience might have helped me. 🤷‍♀️ In short, my evolution as a queer woman I sometimes feel is a bit different from other people’s that I’ve heard. First of all, I didn’t know from a young age. I guess I could technically be classed as a later in life queer woman. I’m only 26, but I do definitely feel older than some people who knew much younger and because society also has this narrative that still persists that if you’re queer, you immediately know it as a young kid. This wasn’t my experience though. I was out of my teens before I really truly knew what was up. I was a fairly sheltered kid and teen so my exposure to queer stuff was pretty limited just because at that time there wasn’t as much like there is now anyway. Also, I didn’t know anybody except a few relatives I didn’t see super often who were queer and didn’t have any friends who were. My best friend growing up was also religious. So I was a boy crazy teen because I was filled with hormones and I loved the fantasy of having a crush. I had posters on my walls of good looking actors and I spent hours on my Pinterest posting pictures of men with beautiful eyes and chiseled cheek bones. Men were foreign, beautiful creatures that were like the stuff of dreams. Pretty much all these men were fictional characters though and celebrities. I didn’t have any guys who were friends and I rarely interacted with boys at all in the real world. For me, the actors I obsessed over were mainly outlets for my physical yearnings.

I remember feeling really lost in my teen years. I liked men, or the idea of them at least, but I did not like myself. I had started to dislike my body. I didn’t like my curves and how my bra size seemed to be getting bigger and bigger. I didn’t like the pressure now that I felt that to be attractive to men I needed to work on my appearance and “make an effort.” Suddenly, love seemed something to compete for, to be purchased at my own expense. I wanted boys to like me so badly but I didn’t know how to make them do so and still see me as me and not just a girl trying to hit on them. I wanted them to really see me. I became so unhappy with myself I started to feel that maybe the only way to get them to love me AND not lose myself was to become one of them. I didn’t want to be their complement, I wanted to be their equal, but that seemed impossible the way things are where women have never been regarded as men’s equals. I felt that the problem must lie with me. I remember crying to my mom about how I was so confused. I wanted to be a boy because I didn’t know how to exist as a girl but really, it felt like there were no good choices. Eventually these feelings of wanting to be a boy faded to the background. After further reflection, I realized that my gender was not the source of my problem and changing it was not the solution.

I had never questioned my sexuality as a teen. I liked boys, at least I was pretty certain I did, but girls never even crossed my mind. In some ways this fact has made me feel a bit alienated from other queer women. I don’t have any school girls crushes that I can look back to as confirmation of who I am the way they can. I don’t have a story of kissing a friend at a sleepover as “practice” for boys or a memory of a game of spin the bottle that I enjoyed a little too much. I’ve actually never kissed anyone to this day, and I’m 26. I had no romantic experience at all, and I assumed I liked men so, ergo, I must be straight. I didn’t really even confront this assumption head-on until I was about 18. This is when I first started to question. I met my first lesbian in a college art class and we began a flirtation that I find myself actually really liking. I liked the attention from her the way I had liked attention from boys in the past. It was flattering. I thought about kissing her to see what it was like. But nothing ever happened. Really, she was not my type and we would have not suited each other, so it was okay, but since I never saw her again after that class, it was easy with her disappearance to put my questioning aside once again. “Surely,” I thought to myself, “if I liked women I would know. I would absolutely know and it would be very obvious.”

More time went by. I turned 21 and I met a guy in one of my English classes. He was handsome and seemed interested in talking to me, something that was in itself unusual. I liked the attention and so we started hanging out. Coffee turned into lunch dates, and the movies. He was cute and I started to wonder if he’d be my first bf and other people thought the same. I thought about kissing him and the idea was nice because he was cute. I didn’t feel anything else for him though. Other than curiosity I didn’t feel affection. I wonder sometimes what would have happened had it happened. But it didn’t. But there was something else that had started to creep in: discomfort. Despite acknowledging he was handsome I was starting to pull away and the prospect of being with him, of him being my bf, became more and more unappealing. While getting ready to go out with him I felt a sense of dread, a desire to just get it over with so I could come back home again. Again, I felt that age old pressure to perform. To make myself small, to make myself palatable for him so he’d like me.

Ultimately, I ghosted him. It became more apparent that even aside from my feelings of discomfort, he and I were completely at odds. We were completely incompatible and I knew this to begin with but pushed it aside because I wanted to give it a chance. Nothing ever happened between us and in retrospect I’m very grateful it didn’t. I was not in a good place mentally at that time also and him being in my life wasn’t helping. It was then though I really decided to tackle my sexuality head-on. Not just by watching the L Word but by interacting with people. I ended up joining an lgbt forum and I started talking with people on there. Being exposed to different experiences was great because for once I was not seeing the rather uniform portrayals of queerness that is all is often seen. I started watching queer movies too. I watched Blue is the Warmest Color and I adored it. I wanted what Emma and Adele had. It was on this forum I met my ex gf which would become the defining relationship of my early twenties. I won’t go into the details of that but suffice to say, I explored my sexuality with her finally in a way I’d previously not been able to. We never met in person but being with her even virtually helped me learn a lot about myself. And I did love her. I loved her so much, and the feelings and emotions I felt were not like ones I had ever had before. I loved her with an intensity that was frightening. When we broke up I was devastated and completely lost. I felt set adrift having now had these new feelings that I didn’t know what to do with and that I felt like I couldn’t share with most people. At least not everyone and not everyone who knew me super well. It was hard.

Now several years out, things have settled down in some ways. Some, not all. I still have moment of self-doubt. I still have moments where I wonder if I’m just a fake and a fraud despite knowing how holding my friend’s hand made me feel. I have moments where I feel like I’m “not queer” enough. I still feel feelings of shame about liking women. I still wonder how my attraction to men works because it’s so based on aesthetics and not on deeper feelings. I’m still working on all these things and waiting on the day I become so confident I don’t feel these negative emotions anymore. I don’t know when that day will be. But I’m trying to learn to be okay with not having all the answers. To sit with the uncertainty and hang on for dear life as I’m buffeted by the seas of confusion. But when I have these moments, I remember the way I felt like I was going to pass out when I wrapped my arms around my friend that I love and how happy being with her made me. And for that moment, that one tiny moment, all the fears float away.

[prolix-yuy]

Chapter 1: Previz

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader Production Designer

Summary: Previz - the visualization of complex scenes in a movie before filming.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: M, mention of drug use and overdose, mentions of sexual acts (non-descriptive), overuse of filmmaking terms, will be E in later chapters so full series is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: Welcome to Day 1 of Dieter Takeover! This interesting little concept got into my head and I couldn't stop writing it. A lot of this story ended up being a love letter to a few different mediums and professions, so I hope you enjoy the ride!

Cross-posted on AO3

Below the Line Masterlist

INT. PARLOR - DAY

It was finally here. Your big fucking break. It felt like you’d been slogging for years, through internships and low budget movies your friends begged you to work on, but it was finally paying off.

You were working on an honest-to-goodness real serious-business Hollywood film directed by THE Ronna Lewis.

And you were the production designer.

The offer almost catapulted you into orbit. Ronna had seen your work on a weird indie film about a 1950’s zombie apocalypse, which had been relegated to the depths on YouTube and was only on your resume for proof of experience. While you assumed it would be off-putting to a big shot director, she commented on the unique look and feel of your design and how it complimented the cinematography. Talking about the limitations of period pieces and finding adequate spaces and set dressing, her curly red hair and bright brown eyes sparkling as you fell into the comfortable language of your craft, you felt that you might have a shot. The phone call an hour later offering you the job felt like the culmination of so many years of hard work and “paying your dues.” 

You’d worked on sets that barely needed an art department, assigned to steaming green screen cloth and becoming the de facto props master and occasional wardrobe assistant. The most soul-sucking had been interning on Cliff Beasts 5, a popcorn blockbuster with barely any direction at all. “We’ll do it in post” was spoken more often than the actor’s lines. But you’d persevered, making sure nary a wrinkle was in the cloth swathing the background, touching up the few small set pieces when the director inevitably kicked them, and trying to stay out of the actors’ ways. You were below the line, you didn’t get to interact with anyone on screen.

Well, you’d gotten to interact a little, but that was…an anomaly. Not to be expected, and not repeated in the next several films you worked on. 

But that was all in the past, a hazy memory in comparison to this opportunity dropped in your lap. Ronna was fantastic, you’d seen her last 3 films and loved them all. The script was adapted from a Charles Brockden Brown novel, one that picked at your brain until you realized you’d read it in college. The story of a sheltered family, a brother and sister with their respective partners, being encroached upon by an outsider who ushers in doubts and paranoia, was so strange and gripping that you read it twice. Your mind was already buzzing with 18th century wardrobes, cluttered manors and eerie mist clinging to the ground.

The budget was…fair, you’d have to stretch some. You’d transformed an elementary school hallway into a water-damaged basement on a $250 budget, you could make it work.

The weeks of planning before production went by in a blur, spent pouring over script breakdowns, scene plans, location scouting and storyboards. You felt giddy when you discovered the house you’d be filming in - a gothic country estate resplendent with detailed archways, intricate religious reliefs cut in the sandy stone, and plenty of shadowy places. Every room held a different tone, some airy and light, others ceremonial or brooding. The grounds were extensive, plenty of space to work and set up with several outbuildings and impeccably manicured formal lawns leading to a breathtaking orangerie just outside the rose garden.

Aside from a few pieces of furniture the owner was allowing you to use, you would have free reign to make this a home for the family. You’d have work to do to bring Ronna’s vision to its full glory, but the potential seeped from the walls. You could have fun with this.

The day before principal photography was set to begin, the assistant director Dee, a tall whip of a woman with classic Grecian features and a shock of jet-black hair, gathered the crew and handed out call sheets. You scanned the page for your call time, and skimmed over the other names. Your two interns were there, Dane and Shelly, both fresh but not inexperienced. Then there were a couple familiar names on other teams. Hollywood was a smaller town than you’d expected, and you were happy to see a sound tech you went to school with, and that the focus puller was a woman you’d worked with on the 48 hour film festival. It was nice to have an ally or three.

Then you let your eyes skim over the actors on call, and your heart skipped a beat. Skipped several, in fact. 

Right on the top because of his ridiculous name.

CARWIN - D. Bravo. 

You swallowed and tried not to let your face change seeing that name on stark white paper. Dieter Bravo. You knew the name well before you started your career, knew the infamy of him. He’d been on a drug bender for several years, but on the sixth installment of Cliff Beasts he overdosed and finally got his act together. He married a beautiful Russian girl, the one who saved his life and who he called his “angel” in every press junket. There was also Kate, the pretty woman who followed them around, but you weren’t sure what was going on with that when ET tried to report it. It looked like Dieter Bravo had finally gotten his life together, as much as a playboy actor could.

That’s why when it all started falling apart you followed the story with rapt attention. How Anika’s father’s expectations of Dieter weren’t being met so he threatened him with his mob buddies. How when Anika discovered the real reason why Kate was part of their life (the GIF of her throwing a vase and screaming at Dieter becoming an instant reaction meme on every news show) she divorced him and married a Russian movie producer. And when Kate realized why Dieter was so obsessed with her (another unfortunate reaction GIF that circulated the internet), she filed a restraining order and made him relinquish his Mirror. Every blow made you wonder if this would be the one, the time Dieter would relapse back into the haze of his former life. The tabloids were practically salivating at the prospect.

But he soldiered on, not without a pain you could see in his few red carpet appearances. He started doing action movies, mostly as the villains, before moving into some dramatic roles. He was still referred to as “Dino Gio” or “That guy who stole the Oscar from Javier Bardem” often, but you could see him really pulling himself through and, despite everything that came before, it made you root for him.

And now you would be on set with him. Not much, of course, you would mostly be relegated to video village or flitting around on set when the actors were between takes, resetting furniture or fixing continuity. So you wouldn’t really be on set with him. Not in a way he would notice.

Not that he’s ever noticed.

The next day you tell yourself the nerves you’re feeling have everything to do with working on the biggest film of your career and not fucking it up. You can’t eat breakfast, stomach too tied up in knots, so instead you inspect the set for a fourth time. The first scene was the establishment of the family dynamic, allowing the actors to both ease into their roles and get the crew settled into Ronna’s specific shooting style. It was a refreshing approach, the way she was treating the crew and actors with respect for their crafts. You hope she goes places with an attitude like this.

The sitting room envelops you in chocolate draperies and crimson silk walls, the dark wood of bookshelves softly caressed by the light filtering in the picture window. You’re adjusting the delicate fringe on a lampshade when you hear a voice getting close to you. Most of the actors and nonessential crew were kept in the outbuildings to prevent noise pollution, so when Dieter fucking Bravo steps into your room, his phone to his ear, you’re taken aback.

He doesn’t notice you at first, and you don’t interrupt his phone call. It sounds like one to his agent, lining up a dinner and lightly griping about it. He’s not in costume, instead wearing tan chinos and a gray T-shirt that looks stretched out at the neck, wrapped in a maroon cardigan. Gesturing to no one with his large hand, he rubs his fingers into the scruff on his chin or through the wild mane of hair that curls at odd angles.

“The tell her I’ll work with him, but only if Dahlia will too. Better a bulldog than a fucking poodle,” he says into the phone, making you stifle a snort. The metal of his rings glints in the light, and the dark ink of the contrasting triangle tattoos clash against the old world aesthetic of the room. His sunglasses are too sleek to be anything but expensive, and with another stifled giggle you notice he’s wearing the black Crocs and gray socks.

He’s more polished, but still the old Dieter.

Albeit when you last saw him he was wearing a ratty green bathrobe and pajama pants when not in costume, reeking of weed and glassy-eyed more often than not. Cliff Beasts 5 was eye-opening for you, teaching you a lot about the industry and giving you a secondary education on the secret lives of actors. Dieter was an Oscar winner, but he was also the man who hotboxed his trailer bathroom so badly the production had to replace the whole thing. Or there was the time he walked out of said trailer with both the wife and husband owners of the only bar within 25 miles. He was notorious in the papers and even more in the NDAs you had to sign. 

Now he’s here making placating noises on the phone, a strange sight coming from him. He seems cooler, more poised than you anticipated. The signature slinking walk, bathrobe flapping behind him, is replaced with an ambling saunter that takes up space yet looks completely effortless. He shifts from foot to foot, his face expressive as he agrees to something with a sigh: “You know me too well. Thank you.” You could trick yourself into thinking he was a completely different man.

Almost.

He ends the call and huffs with a shake of his head, finally turning to you and startling a bit.

“Jesus, I thought…shit. Sorry,” he murmurs, rubbing his hand over his mouth before offering a bright, half apologetic smile. “Just looking for a quiet place to talk. Didn’t mean to disturb you.” He looks around the room, hung with replica photos and paintings, decorated in the messy yet refined style of historic homes you used to tour as a child. “Though this disturbs me just as much. Wow. Lots going on here.”

You shake your head at his analysis of the room. “Don’t worry about it, just doing last looks. And I’ll take that as a compliment,” you say, smiling and picking up your script binder. Dieter grins again, in the way that photos never capture, his eyes disappearing into crows feet and dimples popping out of his cheeks.

God, he’s handsome.

“Dieter Bravo,” he says, extending his hand to you.

You stare at the hand for a moment, trying to still the rush of emotions inside you. Your smile comes on and off your face in quick movements, forcing it to remain before meeting Dieter’s eyes.

“Pleasure to be working with you, Mr. Bravo, I’m the production designer,” you answer, giving him your name and putting your hand in his. It’s warm and dry, engulfing, comforting, unlike the first time he’d shook your hand, clammy and sweaty without a single look in your direction, most likely on so much coke the world was vibrating in front of his eyes. 

That’s how you rationalize why Dieter Bravo doesn’t remember you.

NEXT

[sundaysundaes]

Started With A Kiss

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Actor AU, Smut, Fluff, Humor | NC-17 | 10K

Summary: Rookie actor, Lee Haechan, desperately wants to get the lead role in the highly anticipated upcoming TV drama. He’s sure he has what it takes to fill the part. Acting as a hero? No problem. Pretending to overcome his traumatic experience? Consider it done. A bed scene? Easy—wait, no. That might be a problem. But he should be fine as long as he gets to rehearse, right?

Warnings:  protected sex, oral sex, crude humor, swearing, literally 10k of sex with very little plot, a lot of playful banters between sassy!hyuck and equally sassy!Y/N

Wrote this for my love Kira @flopim​ who’s been having a tough time lately. I hope this will cheer you up bb! ❤️

“I want you to make love to me.”

Standing there, still dressed in your bright pink pajamas with your hair resembling a bird’s nest, you can only blink once, twice, and several times more because surely, your ears are playing tricks on you. There’s no way that your best friend, the cutely annoying and annoyingly cute, Lee Haechan—the one who’s been practically glued to your skin like a conjoined twin of yours for the last two years—is asking you to make love to him. 

Surely, this is not what you’d expected to see when you opened the door to your apartment, ready to bark at whoever it was who dared to disturb your beauty sleep (since it is seven in the morning on a Sunday), only to see him standing in his blue ripped jeans and black Michael Jackson shirt with his cheeks flushed, his bag hanging loosely on his shoulder, brown eyes desperately begging for your attention. 

And you’re most definitely sure that he’s not asking you to sleep with him when you still have drool on the corner of your mouth and a terrible morning breath (in your defense, you have brushed your teeth but that was, like, six hours ago).

But when seconds have passed and Haechan still looks like he badly needs to hear an answer, you have very little options but to ask, “You want me to do what to who now?”

Catching a sniff of your mighty dragon’s breath, he promptly takes a step back, scrunching his nose while frantically covering half of his face with the script he’s been holding. “Eew, God, what is that smell?” Ignoring your glare, he repeats his words, voice muffled by the papers. “I said, I want you to make love to me.”

“What—”

“Damn it, woman, just brush your teeth and let me in!”

When he’s stomping his feet while whining that loudly—loud enough for your fucking landlord to hear, along with everybody else in the building (including your cute neighbor, Jaehyun, oh dear God, no), he doesn’t give you any other choice but to invite him in, does he?

You step away from the door, flatly muttering, “Please, come in, why don’t you.” Haechan doesn’t waste any second waiting, making sure to run and stay as far away as possible from you so he won’t inhale the poisonous air that’s tainted with your breath again. 

You roll your eyes. Dramatic little shit. But just to be on the safe side, you make your way to the bathroom.

***

The scalding hot shower you just took was comforting but not enough to wash your entire drowsiness away. You’re in dire need of your caffeine intake. “Would you like some coffee, my king?” You ask between a yawn, hands finding their way to the coffee jar on your kitchen counter.

Haechan throws his bag to the floor, body sinking into the comfort of your couch. “With milk, please.”

"I’m kidding.”

“Well, I’m not.” He throws one of those cheeky grins that you adore—no, wait, you hate—as he settles his legs on your coffee table. “Less sugar but more milk. I’m still growing.”

“Growing what, your balls?” You pour him a cup of coffee as requested, yes, because to balance his demonic behavior, you have to act like the perfect angel that you are. “Since you don’t have any?”

“You mean, like your boyfriend?” Haechan retorts before he gasps dramatically, his palm going to his mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry, you don’t have a boyfriend.”

You hover above him from behind the couch, bringing two mugs filled with sizzling hot coffee. “Want to repeat that?” You tip your mug just a little bit until it nearly spills on his forehead.

Haechan winces, attempting to grin. “I’m sorry, I love you, please don’t ruin my face. It’s the only thing that’s good about me.”

“It surely is.”

“Yah, what does that mean?”

“Take it as a compliment.” 

Sitting next to him, you sip your coffee and curse silently when the liquid burns your tongue. “Okay, so what about this ‘make love to me’ thing you said earlier? Please tell me it’s just a figure of speech or something.”

“I wish.” He drags his legs away from the table so he can lay his cup down because apparently, he means business. “Okay, I know you’re gonna kill me after you hear—”

“After? I’m about to kill you now, actually.” You scoff. “Don’t you remember what we’ve agreed on? You cannot bother me when I’m still too sleepy to smack you in the head, Haechannie.”

“When did we ever—” He stops. “Why are you going to smack me in the head?” 

“‘Cause you’ll say something stupid.”

“Who says I’m gonna say something stupid?”

“You always say something stupid. You’re saying something stupid now!”

“It’s not stupid.” He sighs exasperatedly but when your flat, degrading stare comes into view, it morphs into a groan. “Well, not that stupid. I’ve thought about this—really thought about it—and I can’t find anyone else to do this but you since you’re the only girl I’m friends with. I mean, I can pick random girls, I suppose—you know how popular I am. They just can’t stop talking about me. My hair, my eyes—”

“—your tiny dick.”

“But I don’t want to break any girl’s heart by doing something that’s gonna make them feel like I’m just using them to get a job, you know? I know I’m hot but these good looks aren’t meant to trample people’s hearts.”

“And you don’t care how I’m gonna feel?”

He has the decency to act like he’s thinking about it, but then, “No, not really.”

“Thanks.”

“Look, I really need your help.” He takes it as further as holding your hand between his, puckering his pouty lips, and blinking his eyes in a way that’s cute enough to leave you in daze so you pretend like you’re about to vomit your insides to cover it up. 

Okay, so there’s one thing—one little thing that nobody knows—that you’re too ashamed to admit and that is the fact that you have a massive crush on this boy who sits in front of you with his socks unmatched. Well, no, not massive. It used to be massive during the first few weeks you knew him. How could you not? Haechan was so cute, you wanted to turn him into a doll so you could carry him around in your backpack and squish his cheeks whenever you feel like it. Sure, he’s not all jawlines and dimples like that neighbor of yours (Jung Jaehyun was probably sculpted by God himself ), but Haechan has his own charms. His devilish smirk, his loud, contagious laughter, his naughty eyebrow raise, and his lips—God, his beautiful plump lips, the way they look so pouty and soft. Honestly, you can write a whole essay about his attractive features (not that you haven’t already).

You knew you were crazy for him when the antics he did annoyed the hell out of his friends but to you, he was just plain adorable. And you realized you were pretty much fucked-up when Jeno said, “Fucking Lee Donghyuck said he forgot his wallet and robbed me this morning. Who the fuck orders a freakin’ wagyu steak for breakfast?!” and the only thing you could think of was how nice it was to go on a date with him and how your first kiss with him was going to be like (poor Jeno, though). 

It’s not that you love him or anything. It’s mostly physical, nothing more—at least for now anyway. It’s not your fault that he’s so fucking pretty that he ends up showing every now and then in your fantasy, doing indescribable naughty things that will definitely make Mark splash some holy water on your face if he knew what was going on in your head.

Fortunately, now that you’ve been friends with him for two years, that massive crush you had has turned into something normal, something you can easily hide. And can be forgotten even, whenever another cute guy—like Na Jaemin, for example—takes you out on a date or two. It’s easier to breathe these days.

“Hello? Are you there?” Haechan snaps his fingers, waking you up from your reverie. “What’s your answer? Do you want to make love to me or not?”

‘It’s easier to breathe these days?’ More like fucking kill me. 

“Can you stop saying that?” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You’re giving me headaches.” Or a heart attack, more accurately. “Assume I said yes. Don’t you think it’s gonna get a little weird between us?”

“What is so weird about it?” He throws his hands in the air, exhausted and impatient. “It’s just gonna be two friends, pretending to be in love with each other, hugging, kissing, touching, and having sweet, tender sex.” Realization falls upon him and you resist the urge to exhale loudly. “Yeah, okay, so it is a little weird, but it should be fine, right? It’s just acting. It’s not like you have any feelings for me, do you?”

If by feelings you mean picturing you naked in my head with your mouth sucking on my neck, then yeah, I do have feelings for you. Plenty of that. But on the outside, you say, “Eew, God, no.”

Haechan squints his eyes at your response. “Can’t say I’m not hurt with the way you said it, but eew, God, no to you too. Well, if that’s the case then I’m sure we’ll be fine,” he says, sipping his coffee, and retracts his mouth as soon as the flavor hits his tongue. “What the hell is this?! Did you spit on my coffee or something?”

You didn’t but for your amusement, you throw him a sly grin. “A little.” It’s satisfying to see him looking like he’s about to pass out. “I’m still worried how it’s gonna affect our friendship later on though.”

He simply shrugs. “Meh. We’re not really that close to begin with anyway.” He takes another sip of his coffee by accident and nearly vomits for real. “Fucking hell—take this shit out of my face.”

“I'm still not sure about this, Haechannie.”

“Look, I don’t know why it’s such a big deal to you, we’re just going to pretend! Acting!” He exclaims as if that was the most normal thing a friend could ask another friend. “And you’re gonna be acting out a love scene with someone as hot as me. Consider yourself lucky.”

“Consider yourself dead.”

“Damn it, my audition is in two days and I really want to get this role!” He’s whining, tugging at your hand like a baby as he practically throws himself at your feet, graveling for your mercy. “You’re the only one who can help me with this. How can I act properly if I don’t have enough experience to perform a freaking bed scene?!”

“I don’t think actors who have to play dead have enough experience of, you know, being dead.”

“Excellent point.” Haechan stares at you blankly, unimpressed. “Do you hear yourself when you talk?”

“Do you?”

A few seconds passed by in silence with the two of you exchanging sinister glares until he finally surrenders with a prominent pout on his face. “Fine, if you don’t want to.” Haechan exhales dramatically, his shoulders sagging and when you don’t respond, he sighs again only louder this time. “I guess, I have to force Mark to make out with me. Again.” He sneaks a glance to see your reaction. “And have my face slapped with a Bible. Again.”

You wince at the thought. “How did you force him, exactly?”

“Just…” He timidly scratches his nose. “Kinda attacked him in his sleep.”

You nod in understanding even when it’s the most idiotic thing you’ve ever heard. “Well, maybe he would’ve been fine with it if you had taken him out for a nice dinner before that.”

Haechan smiles a little at your words, and even a little glimpse of it is contagious enough to make your own spread wider on your face. Small chuckles resonate through the air and he playfully bumps his shoulder against yours, his palm resting on your knuckles.

“On a more serious note,” Haechan says, “I know that asking you to rehearse a bed scene with me is too much and way out of line. But I swear, I’m not gonna touch you if you’re so uncomfortable with it. Won’t even hold your hand, I promise.” Then he notices he’s still holding your hand from earlier. He drops it immediately, clearing his throat. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” It’s more than fine. His hand seems to fit yours in a way that nobody ever does but there’s no way you’re gonna tell him that. “So, we’re just gonna be practicing lines?”

“Exactly.” He rubs his nape, suddenly a bit bashful. “Well, I was hoping to at least kiss you—just to, you know, know how it’d feel like.”

“You’ve never kissed before?”

“I have, obviously.” He rolls his eyes, disgusted at your question. “I’m not a fucking virgin if that’s what you’re assuming.”

“Chill, don’t get your panties in a twist. Nah, I know you’re not a virgin from how many times you’ve had sex with yourself.”

“Hey!” 

“But then, why do you need to practice? Can’t you just go straight to your castmates, and kiss the bejeezus out of them?”

Donghyuck runs a hand through his face. “It’s… I’ve never done it for a role,” he professes, faint blush blooming on his cheeks, “And the scene is supposed to be intimate and I’ve never… You know…”

You gesture at him to clarify more with your hands. “You’ve never…?”

“You know…” The color on his face turns brighter. “T-the thing.”

“What thing? Never made-out in public? Never had sex outdoor?” You act clueless just because you’re liking his reaction. “Never had a finger stuck in your ass? What? Please do enlighten me.”

“I’ve never been in love, you witch!” Haechan is adorable when he’s fuming. Nostrils blaring, eyebrows knitting together in an angry frown, scarlet cheeks all puffed out. He looks like a terribly pissed Pomeranian.

Man, if I could just take a picture. “Oh, okay. So have you had your finger stuck in your ass?”

“I swear to God—”

“Kidding. I know you have.” But even when Haechan is nearly ripping your cheeks apart from your face, your giggles are never-ending. “So, you’re nervous?” You snort, raising an eyebrow. “You, the obnoxious, desperate-for-attention Lee Haechan, are nervous?”

“Will you help me out or not?!”

You pretend like you’re contemplating about it when truth is, every part of your body and mind is just screaming what the heck are you waiting for? He’s asking you to rehearse a bed scene—a. bed. scene! And he said he wanted to kiss you, for God’s sake! So, really, what else is there to say but “Okay.”

Haechan widens his eyes. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You try your best to appear nonchalant. “But you’ll owe me a favor. A huge one.”

“Anything,” he instantly agrees, “As long as I’m not dead, you have my words.”

You’re not yet sure what you’re planning to ask him but seeing his enthusiasm, you know it’s going to be good. “Great. So, umm, do you want to do it now or…?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“Here?”

“Wherever you want.”

“Man, you’re giving me too much power. I should’ve agreed to this way sooner.” You can practically feel your face splitting in half from how wide you’re grinning. “My room, then? I mean, a bed scene requires… a bed, right?”

Haechan laughs and even after two years, it still sounds like your most favorite thing in the world. “No, it doesn’t necessarily require a bed but sure.” He jumps out from the couch, taking you by the hand, and only by that, you can already feel your heart thumping a tad faster. But the second he walks into your room, he makes a face. “Why does it smell like something died in here?”

“Because something did die. Your dignity.”

The tickling fight doesn’t occur very often between you and Lee Haechan but once it starts, it means war.

***

“Okay, so…” Haechan hands you the script, already opened to show you a page filled with dialogues and short narratives. He scoots closer on the bed, his knee a few inches away from grazing yours as they dangle from the edge. “Just from the top of the page, here.” He points with his finger and you do a quick scan, trying to get a picture of the intimate scene you’re going to do. “So, a quick summary. Your character, Aeri, has been in love with my character, Donghyun. In the earlier scene, you’ve confessed your love to me but I rejected you because we’ve been friends for so long and I didn’t want to ruin what we have. But then, later on, some things happened and I ended up catching feelings for you and this is the part where I’m gonna be telling you how I really feel and then we start kissing and—”

“Then we have sex,” you utter in dismay, but butterflies are erupting from your stomach due to the anticipation.

“No,” Haechan corrects you, “We make love.”

“Is there any difference?”

“There are more feelings involved, not just out of sheer passion. It’s slower. Tender. Intimate.” And when he notices you raising a questioning brow at him, he sighs. “That thing you did with Jaemin? Fucking like bunnies? The opposite of that.”

You mock him by imitating his sigh exaggeratedly and receiving a flick on the nose in return. “Is it just me or is the script pretty lousy?”

He nods. “But they’ll pay you good money for this.”

“I thought the reason you became an actor was to create art not money.”

“When I’m rich, maybe. Right now, I gotta pay for my rent. And apparently, Jeno keeps chasing my ass, forcing me to pay him back. It was just a wagyu steak for fuck’s sake.” He grumbles to himself, momentarily distracted. “Anyway,” he cracks his neck, “I’ve memorized my lines. Wanna give it a go?”

“Okay, let’s try. I guess I’ll be fine if it’s just kissing. Even if it’s with you.” When in reality you’re only agreeing to this because it’s with him.

Haechan’s eyes gleam brighter, ears practically perking up like an excited puppy. “Really?”

“You’re that excited at the thought of kissing me?” You play smug but you could practically hear your heartbeat blasting through your ears. “What else have you been thinking about me?”

“I’m not excited at the thought of kissing you, dumbass,” he spits back, the spark in his eyes vanishes in an instant. “I’m excited that finally I can practice kissing scenes with someone who’s actually willing to do it, and not, you know, like with the back of my hand or something.”

“You…” Failing to hold back a grin, you burst out laughing. “You made out with your hand?”

It’s funny that even when his skin is golden as if it was kissed by the sun, it still shows vividly on his face whenever he blushes. “I didn’t mean it literally—”

“I can’t believe you made out with your hand.”

“Would you just—” He nearly suffocates you with your pillow but you quickly retaliate by kicking him in the stomach.

Tears are prickling at the corner of your eyes. “Man, that mental image of yours making out with your hand will live in my mind rent-free for as long as I live.” When you still can’t stop laughing, Haechan is practically baring his teeth. “Okay, I’m sorry. Let’s get this going. If it gets too uncomfortable for me, I’ll stop.”

“Of course.” 

“At any time I want.”

“Your call.” He nods in agreement with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen him do; it almost doesn’t seem like him. 

“Good,” you say. “Now, I’ve never acted once in my life so if you laugh at me, I will sneak into your room at night and pour hot coffee on your computer.”

There’s fear fleeting through his eyes but he gives another nod. “Deal.”

“All right…” You take a deep breath, willing your heart to stop hammering against your ribcages, and for once, focus more on the script instead of the shape of his pretty, pretty mouth. “What are you doing here?” You follow the script, voice a little bit shaky as you’re still embarrassed with everything you’re doing. Haechan closes his eyes and you’re about to throw a joke to tease him about actor Haechan coming alive but when he opens them and gazes at you, you sit still, frozen.

“I wanted to see you,” he says, voice so delicate, it startles you. He’s so serious about this that you don’t find the strength within you to tease him like how you usually do. Somehow, the little gestures he makes, the changes in his expression alter the air along with the tension in the room. Suddenly, it feels like you’re standing next to him under the spotlight, hundreds of pairs of eyes following your every movement. 

“It’s—” You swallow your breath, tongue lays heavy in your mouth. “It's pouring outside, why are you—”

“I love you,” he vocalizes, his eyes gentle and heartbroken. His voice suddenly sounds a pitch lower, reverberating through the air until it sends goosebumps to the tiny hairs on your nape. He waits for your reply and you have to blink twice to slap yourself back to reality.

“W-what?”

“I’m sorry it took me this long to realize, but I do. I’m in love with you, hopelessly so.” He reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. Though he has pretty hands, his fingertips are not as soft as you had imagined them to be, but they feel better, feel real. His warmth is unfamiliar to your skin but it feels more pleasant than anything that ever touches you. “Maybe you’re unaware of this, but it kills me to know that I’ve hurt you because I simply couldn’t be brave enough to accept my feelings. The reason why I didn’t want us to be together was because I didn’t want to ruin what we have, not knowing that we could be something more.”

Haechan’s lines fit your situation so much that you wish he wasn’t acting. It’s amazing how he’s changing into an entirely different persona and yet, it feels so natural as if he has been that person all along. Your breathing gets heavier as you take a brief look at the script, searching for your lines. “This feels unreal…”

“Do you still love me?” Haechan lifts your face by the chin, his touch is paper-thin. 

You wet your lips, head swirling. “But Donghyun—”

“Do you still love me?” He repeats, emphasizing with his tone. His eyes are peering into yours and you wonder maybe the quote eyes deeper than the sea refers to his gaze. “Or is it too late for me?” His thumb drifts to your lip, caressing your bottom one, your lip balm sticking to his skin. 

“I do,” you reply. He’s so pretty. You’ve never taken a glance longer than a few seconds at his close-up face, but now that you’re in this close proximity, you can finally witness the two tiny moles on his cheek, the beautiful shape of his dark eyes, the delicate curve of his lips… “I do love you, Donghyuck.”

A few seconds of silence hangs in the air when Haechan stops, his eyebrows furrowing. “Umm—it’s Donghyun, actually.”

Fuck! “Right!” You nearly leap out of your bed, face aflame. “Donghyun! Of course! I don’t know why I said that. Donghyuck is your name, I know that—” Fuck, fuck, fuck, just fucking kill me. “Sorry, umm—nervous.”

Fortunately for you, Haechan buys your bluff. “Rookie mistake,” he chuckles and you exaggeratedly roll your eyes to play along. “Okay, let’s start over. Do you still love me?”

“I do,” you respond too rigidly, making him glance away so he won’t break into laughter. “I do love you, Donghyun. Dong-Hyun.”

“Good,” he improvises, as it’s not written in the script. He has a tiny smile on his face and you like to think that it’s just him doing a terrible job at hiding his amusement. But when he swats your bangs out of your eyes, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, he seems like he’s seeing the most beautiful thing he has ever seen in his whole life. The adoration in his eyes, his loving gaze—they are so vivid, they nearly consume you. “Because I don’t think I can resist this any longer…”

You’re lost in his eyes, lost in his touch, lost in his warmth. It’s until Haechan nudges his head slightly, indicating you to wake up, you’ve got a line to say, that you jolt, eyes hurriedly going down to the script, seeking your lines. “Umm—“ You flinch. You sound so jittery, it’s terrible. “R-resist what…?”

But Haechan doesn’t pay a mind that you just stuttered from saying two words. He doesn’t ask you to start over. Instead, he presses his forehead against yours, his breath mingling in the air and you can taste the scent of sandalwood and summer. Combined with his soft breathing, you’re almost stuck in a haze, just reeling in the feeling of how this man is now closer to you than he has ever been in the past two years and it’s better than anything you’ve ever imagined.

“Resist this,” he whispers and before you can look down to check whether you have more lines to say, Haechan dips his head, his lips brushing against yours, ever so faintly at first but when you gasp, he presses harder, framing your cheeks with both hands before he moves one down to your waist. Unlike his fingertips, his lips are soft—softer than silk or the cotton candy he once bought you. But it’s not the way they feel or the way he tastes that distract you the most. It’s the way he moves them, parting his lips slightly so he can blend with yours, your lower lip fits perfectly between his plump ones. It’s the way he sighs, so contentedly, as if kissing you was everything he ever wanted.

You close your eyes, hands reaching up to his collar, wanting to feel him more, wanting to touch him—

Haechan breaks away, placing both hands on your shoulders. “How was it?”

You’ve never had someone splash cold water on your face but you figure it might feel something like this. Your voice grows hoarse when you speak. “How was what?”

“The kiss!” Haechan’s eyes are filled with concern, analyzing your expression. “Was it romantic enough? Tender enough? Did it properly convey the desperation and longing my character feels for yours?”

You knew this was a bad idea. You fucking knew it. So, why are you still hurt when he acts like he feels exactly nothing by that kiss? This is just an acting lesson for him. You should have been prepared. 

“It’s good,” you answer, averting your gaze and hiding your eyes behind your bangs. Your heart is still running a thousand miles an hour but somehow, it doesn’t feel as pleasant as before. “So, next scene—”

“Wait, are you okay?” Haechan asks, bending slightly to catch a glimpse of your face. “Was it too much? Do you want to stop?”

Truth is, you’re conflicted. You’re going to catch feelings—you most likely already are. But Haechan only treats you as a friend and nothing more, and this is the only chance you have to be this close to him. The temptation of continuing the kiss, to just hold him close for one more time, stands stronger than anything else so you say, “No. I promised you I’d help.”

He’s still unsure, eyes glinting in concern. “It’s okay if you want to stop, I—”

“Let’s just do the damn scene, Donghyuck.”

Haechan freezes on his seat, eyes searching yours as you now have the bravery to look at his face. Knowing you came on too strong, you try to ease it off with a smile. “I’m fine, don’t worry. It’s just my first time doing this—acting, I mean. Can we try again?”

He spends another few seconds trying to decipher the true meaning behind your smile but eventually nods his head at your command. He drags his finger back to the script. “Then, umm… Let’s start from here?”

You don’t even look at the page when you give affirmation. “Go.”

Haechan takes a moment to prepare himself and when your eyes meet each other again, he’s a different person once more. “The reason why I didn’t want us to be together was because I didn’t want to ruin what we have, not knowing that we could be something more.” His voice is so soothing, you almost forget that deep down you’re immensely upset knowing that the kiss didn’t have the same effects on him.

This time, when he frames your face with his palm, you lean into his touch, eyes never leaving his. “This feels unreal,” you say and for a second—just for a split second—you notice Haechan breaking out of character, surprised by the gentle expression on your face. Because you’re not acting out his script, you’re acting out on your feelings. It’s your only chance to be honest with him without forcing him to respond. So you pour all these feelings you have for him out in the open—ones that started from a mere physical attraction to something more as his presence grew bigger in your life, you’re acting out each and every one of them. 

“Do…” He inhales sharply, trying to focus. “Do you still love me?” He’s doing the same thing as before, placing his thumb and index finger on your chin but before he can say his lines, you see how his eyes fall on your lips.

And you kiss him. You kiss him with everything you have, hands going to his face, fingers slipping between his strands, and Haechan gasps against your mouth, his fingers curling around your wrist. You know he’s about to push you away so you quickly murmur, “I do,” against his lips, breath stuttering, “I do love you.”

When you take his bottom lip between yours, teeth grazing against his supple skin, Haechan lets out an involuntary moan at the back of his throat. The butterflies in your stomach come alive, pumping a rush of adrenaline through your veins and suddenly, you’re brave enough to glide your tongue across his lip. His hold tightens around your wrist but instead of pushing you away, he tugs you closer and you fall into his chest, hands breaking free from his grip to wind around his neck. Your fingertips are scraping against his nape before they move upward to yank at the roots of his hair. “Fuck,” he breathes out, almost inaudibly, as if he didn’t mean to let the word slip from his mouth and it makes your heart jumps straight out of your chest. The second he responds properly, Haechan kisses like fire, all passion and urgency, and you really don’t mind being consumed by his flames.

His hands are on your waist, pulling you closer and closer until you’re almost sitting on his lap before he jolts awake, pushing you away so abruptly, you almost fall from the bed.

“I’m—We—” he stammers, looking everywhere but your eyes. His cheeks are flushed, his lips bruised and red from your kisses. “I think we should—I gotta go—“

He stands up from the bed like the sheets are catching on fire, picking his script from the floor and gathering all his belongings at once before he runs toward the door. He turns on his heels, wanting to say something to fix the goddamn situation, but when his eyes land on yours, his words vanish without a trace. 

“I—I’ll call you later,” he finally says and doesn’t wait for your response. The front door closes with a thud.

And then silence comes to answer.

What just happened? 

Your heart is thundering inside your chest, you’re starting to feel nauseous. What have I done? You keep asking over and over. You thought everything was going to be fine. He responded to your kiss earlier, didn’t he? You were sure you didn’t imagine the whole thing. But now he’s gone and you’re not sure whether he’s gonna come back as the same Haechan—the old, bratty but caring Lee Haechan. The one who snickers loudly when you fall face-first on the ground but always steals secret glances at you to make sure you're not hurt. The one who makes jokes about your love life but never forgets to show up at your apartment with a thoughtful gift right at the minute you turn a year older. 

Things are not just gonna get awkward, they’re ruined.

When nearly half an hour has passed by and you’re still left alone in your apartment with no signs of him coming back, you’re about to go insane. You can’t stay still, walking back and forth your living room with the tip of your thumb between your teeth.

Should I chase after him and explain that it was just me trying to improvise? You hesitate with your hand lingering on the doorknob. But with your knees nearly giving up under your weight, you decide to stay put. It will probably just gonna make it worse. He’ll see through my lies, he always does.

You’re straying away to the kitchen, hands placed on the counter. You can feel your head spinning, stomach somersaulting. Damn it, why did I have to do that?! Why couldn’t I just— 

The front door slams opened and Haechan barges in with his hair messy, ruffled by the wind, and his bangs sticking to his temple. Stunned, you stand still on your ground. Your heart is the only one that’s moving beyond control. His eyes scan your apartment until they land on yours and for an instant, everything seems to fade away.

“Fuck it,” he says, dropping his bag to the ground and making his way towards you in such a hurry, he nearly trips over his feet. “You’re not that good of an actor to be faking it.” Before you have the chance to even take a breath, Haechan’s lips are smashing against yours. 

“Hae—” Haechan’s kiss is insane. So forceful that you can barely keep up, taking every bit of air directly from your lungs. He has you backed against the kitchen counter, the marbled edge digging into your skin. His hands frame your face, sliding against your cheek until they cup the backsides of your neck, his thumbs resting against your ears. You curl your fingers around his wrist, gasping, “Wait—”

He pulls away, lifting your face so you can’t bring your gaze anywhere else. “You like me?” His eyes are just as intense, begging for answers. “Please tell me I’m not imagining this.”

But behind that passion, his confidence is wavering. You can tell by his quivering breath, the little tremble running through his fingertips, and at that, you’re drowning in relief. You don’t think he’s that good of an actor to be faking this too. 

“I do,” you admit, heart pounding so loudly that you can barely hear your own voice. “I like—”

His mouth is on yours again and it feels like he’s kissing you in a hundred different places at once. “Jesus Christ, why have you kept quiet about this for so long?” he says, tasting your breath and skin at the same time. “Two fucking years. We wasted two fucking years.”

The words this isn’t happening endlessly run through your head but all your senses scream that Haechan is really here, in your arms, his nails clawing against your shirt and there’s nothing left you want from this world.

When you reciprocate to him properly, your palms sliding up his chest, over his shoulder, until your arms circle his neck, Haechan sighs in content. His kisses grow slower—more relaxed—but deeper, his tongue peeking out shyly at first but not for long. He still tastes faintly like the coffee you made and something else entirely different. Something pleasant that’s just exactly how you’ve fantasized him to be, if not more.

He pulls away to catch his breath with his eyes still focusing on your lips, thumb rubbing your lower one. “Does this feel weird to you?” He whispers, his temple pressing against yours.

You’re intoxicated by his sweet scent though you’re not sure whether it’s the smell of his shampoo, his cologne, or just him altogether. “No,” and as soon as the word comes out, his lips are chasing after yours once more.

“Good, ‘cause I don’t think I can stop.” He’s breathing heavily against your mouth as you are against his. With his fingers twisted in your hair, making a messy ponytail out of it, Haechan peppers open-mouthed kisses on your neck, tongue pressing against your pulsating vein and a whimper escapes your mouth.

Your dreams, your fantasies—they all fall pale in comparison to reality. When you vocalize his name, it almost sounds like a plead and Haechan slants his mouth back on yours again, giving you another taste as he is not satisfied with yours just yet. “Your lips taste amazing,” he breathes out and it’s so quiet, it seems like he’s intending to say the words in his head and not with his mouth. But as his words fall on your ears, they send tingles down your spine.

“So do yours,” you reply, attempting to make him blush in return but if he does, he doesn’t show much. “Never pegged you as a man who wears lip balm.”

You can feel his smirk directly with your skin. “I’m not wearing any.”

“You’re not?” You lightly giggle, swiping your tongue across his lower lip. “Then your lips do taste amazing.”

Haechan’s hand is slipping underneath your shirt, fingers hovering above your bra. “Guess there are still a lot of things you don’t know about me, huh?”

“I’ve got a hunch you’re about to teach me?”

“Only if you’re eager to learn.”

The kiss becomes heavier that you’re lost for words, entirely consumed by his passion, until he breaks away, muttering, “Off, off, off, off, off,” as he struggles to tear the fabric away from your body. You titter at his desperation, raising both hands to help him out of his misery. The second it’s off, he lifts you by the waist and places you down on the counter. 

“I’m amazed you could lift me,” you coo, admiring the sight of his lean stomach as he pulls his shirt over his head. His silver necklace hangs loosely around his neck and you hook a finger around it to yank him back to you.

He doesn’t seem to be able to detach his lips from yours for too long, especially when you keep sneaking glances at his. So when he speaks again, his every word is painted directly to your skin. “It wasn’t easy.” He settles between your thighs, mouth latching against your collarbone. “You weigh a ton.”

“Yeah?” You bite your lip, holding back a moan as he sucks bruises on your neck, the edge of his fingers trailing over the seam of your bra. “Then you must be so strong.”

“I am, haven’t you noticed?” Haechan pulls away just to showcase a mischievous grin. “I work out, you know.”

You blurt out laughing. It’s not solely because of the mental image of Lee Haechan—a full-time gamer, Lee Haechan—doing push-ups seems so funny to you. It’s more about the way he wiggles his eyebrow, trying to be sexy about it when you know he’s the weakest one in your group. Flustered at your reaction, he flicks your nose. “What is so funny?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize though it doesn’t seem that much sincere with the way you’re still giggling at him. “It’s just that an hour ago we were two friends making fun of each other and now we’re here, in this position. I don’t know, it just feels surreal to me.”

An adorable pout blooms on his face. “I thought you said this didn’t feel weird.”

“No, it’s perfect. I want this.” You wrap the end of his necklace twice around your index finger. “I want you. It’s just… I’ve been imagining this to happen for such a long time and now that it’s happening, I’m feeling a lot of things at once.” You place a reassuring kiss on his temple. “I’m nervous.” This time landing one on his cheek. “I’m relieved.” When your lips hover above his, you notice him parting his own slightly in anticipation. “And it feels so good, I don’t ever want to stop. Even if that means we can’t go back to being friends.”

Haechan can’t form a response as you don’t let him, your mouth swallowing the tiny moans he emits. “We’ll talk about that later,” he hastily replies, “I still haven’t had enough of you yet.”

Without warning, he lifts you off the counter, making you yelp and wrap your legs around his waist for support. “Haechannie!” With you holding onto him, he takes a step forward, ignoring your call. “Where are you taking me—"

“Wait, no, back pain, back pain.” Both of you nearly tumble down to the ground from how he’s harshly placing you back to your feet, wincing at the ache erupting from the strained muscles in his spine. He’s groaning in pain, massaging his back with both hands. “Fuck, you’re really heavy!”

“That’s no way to talk to a lady.” You throw your slipper at him, missing his head just a few inches, laughing all the way. “What exactly were you trying to do?”

“I was trying to move us to the couch.”

“All you had to do was ask.”

“I was trying to be sexy.” He juts out his lower lip, and it takes all control of your body to not squeeze his cheeks from how adorable he looks.

“Honey, you are sexy, believe me, but you’re also weak as fuck. Consider hitting the gym for real next time and then carry me.”

“Shut up,” he sighs, holding out a hand for you to take. “To the couch, please? And maybe a massage after this ‘cause my back is killing me.”

Shaking your head in amusement, you take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his and drag him over to the couch. He’s in the middle of asking, “Do you want me to be on top or—” when you push him down and straddle his lap without warning, legs tangling around his hips. “Oh, okay.”

You run a hand through his hair, pushing them back so you can witness the glow in his eyes. “You look sexier with your hair pushed back.” You love the way he stares at you, eyes half-lidded painted with lust and desire. And combined with your commentary, he now has his cheek tinted with red. “Do you have a problem with me being on top?”

His eyes quickly run down to the place where your denim shorts are riding up your thighs, your zipper pressing against his groin. With a noticeable gulp, he stutters out, “N-no.”

You smile, patting his cheek. “Good.”

The kiss starts slow as you focus more on moving your hands down his body. Haechan shivers a little when your palm is pressing against his bare chest, sliding down to his navel. When you pull back, raising a questioning brow at his reaction, he bashfully says, “Your hand’s cold,” looking like a nervous little boy who’s a stark contrast to how he usually behaves.

He’s so cute.

“Well, I know a way to warm you up.” You smirk, almost cringing when you hear your own words but Haechan seems to like it.

“Oooh,” he coos, grinning against your lips. “Are you offering what I think you’re offering?”

“I don’t know.” You kiss your way down from his jawline to his chest, pushing yourself off his lap so you can kneel on the floor, your fingers unbuckling his belt. “What do you think I’m offering?”

Haechan’s eyes are glowing with anticipation. He curves his fingers around the edge of his seat, wetting his lip nervously when you pull his zipper down. You release him from his boxer, stroking him to life and he sinks his nails further into the couch. A train of expletives breaks free from his mouth but he’s so quiet, you can only hear his ragged breathing.

But by the time you run your thumb over his slit, your hot breath hitting his sensitive skin, Haechan melts into a whimpering mess. “Please don’t tease,” he begs.

“I haven’t even started, Haechannie.” And he looks like he’s about to say something but it only turns into a mewl when you press a kiss to his tip. “You’re so cute,” you comment, and he shivers when the vibration of your voice meets his skin. 

Haechan tries to act composed. “Of course I’m cute, it’s—” 

You cut his line short by darting out your tongue, giving kitten licks at the side, smiling satisfyingly when his eyes meet yours. As you give him a little suck around his tip, he throws his head back, his lower lip between his teeth. “I—I said don’t tease.”

“I’m not teasing you.” But you are. How can you not? He looks so fucking cute. You’ve never really enjoyed giving head before, especially when your opponent gets rough and ends up pushing too deep until you gag. But with Haechan, you feel like you can do this for hours. He’s so nervous and shy, doesn’t even dare to place his hand on your hair, and his reaction to every bit of your action is honest even when his words aren’t. 

“Here.” You take one of his hands, moving it to your head. “You can use me as much as you want.”

“Use—” he crumbles at your choice of words. When you suddenly envelop him with your mouth, moving from the tip to the base in one quick motion, Haechan instinctively grabs a handful of your hair, flinching. “Goddamn, why are you so fucking hot?”

You giggle, sliding his cock out of your mouth with an obscene pop. “Thanks.”

“No, I mean your mouth. It’s so fucking warm.”

“So, you’re saying,” you dip your tongue into his slit, eyes seductively peering into his. “I’m not hot?”

“You’re—Fuck, fuck—” Haechan seethes, hips buckling when you bob your head down again, tongue pressing against his veins. Shivers run through his fingertips when he slips them between your locks, pushing your fringe back to have a good look at your face. You catch a glimpse of him, his lips unconsciously moving to form words that you can’t hear. So pretty, he seems to say, and the thought of it makes your stomach lurch in delight. Taking him completely in your mouth, you hollow your cheeks, swallowing around him. He tightens his hold around your hair, cheeks flushed and you expect him to hold you in place so he can thrust against your mouth but what he does is pull you away. “Stop, stop, stop, stop.”

Wiping a string of saliva away with the back of your hand, you ask with a frown. “Something’s wrong?”

Haechan hides his reddening face behind his fingers, quietly answering, “I was about to come.”

You hold back a grin. With a nonchalant hum, you dip your head down again, this time engulfing him until he hits the back of your throat.

“Jesus Christ.” His sanity is deteriorating, he can feel it.

“Don’t bring Lord’s name when I have your dick in my mouth, Haechannie. Mark would kill you if he knew.”

“Fuck Mark. Come here.” He rushes forward, forcibly pulling you up with both hands clamping your arms. When you follow his order, settling back down on top of his lap, he confesses with his lips grazing against the shell of your ear. “I really won’t last long if you keep doing that.”

Despite your previous teasing and confidence, you squirm inside his arms, feeling warmth spreading from your chest to your cheek. “So I have these effects on you?”

He’s almost growling when he retorts, “You don’t even know.” Haechan pushes your bra strap until it falls off your shoulder, teeth marking your supple skin until you hiss in both pain and pleasure. He presses a softer kiss to soothe away the bruise. “Sorry, I… You’re gonna need to cover it up tomorrow.”

“It’s fine.” You stroke his cheek, tracing the tiny mole on his jawline. “Seems like you have a biting kink.”

He sheepishly chuckles, “I don’t know. But if you let me, I’d love to do that again.” 

Something about him saying it in the most sincere way possible, almost too formal even, makes you crave more for him and everything he does. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want with me, Lee Donghyuck.”

Haechan swallows hard, barely has the bravery to look at you in the face after hearing your words and his real name tumbling out of your mouth. His fingers are now on the hem of your shorts, trembling a little bit. “Umm—may I?”

Helping him further, you stand on your knees, unclasping your bra first to his surprise and pulling your denim shorts and panties down to your thighs. Haechan watches with his eyes wide open, mouth parted in awe as he commits every bit of your curve and movement into memory. It feels so thrilling to be this wanted, to be ravished by his eyes, until you begin to struggle to push your clothing away from your legs.

“Need some help?” He asks, lips pursing as he tries to hide a grin. 

You exhale loudly, detaching yourself from him. “Let me just—” You jump off his lap, standing back with your feet on the ground, and kicking the clothing away with annoyance—why in the world did you have to wear shorts this tight—and slap him in the chest when he’s chuckling at the sight. 

“Maybe you should stop trying to be sexy too,” Haechan snickers.

“Shut up.” You crawl back into his lap. “Go back to staring dumbly at me like before. I’m naked.”

“I wasn’t staring like tha—oh,” he inhales sharply as you grind your heat against his cock, amazed at how warm you are despite your cold palms. The sensation of skin meeting skin feels much more different. There’s really no going back this time. Somehow, it feels dangerous, as if you’re doing something forbidden and it makes your skin crawl with excitement.

And by the look on his face, seems like he feels the same way.

“Lost for words?” You taunt him with a smirk, hands on his chest. “That’s new.” His glare is menacing but it falters away the second you rub your arousal against his. 

His head falls to his shoulder, eyes tightly shut. “God, baby…”

There it is again. The funny feeling in your stomach. “Baby?” You simper though your heart is palpitating like crazy. “We’re moving on to giving each other pet names now?”

If he can blush any harder than this, he probably might but with the way you’re grinding shamelessly on his cock, letting him get a glimpse of how wet and warm you are, he’s all maxed-out. 

His earlobe lays between your teeth when you whisper, “Shall we put it in?”

Haechan’s nails are sinking into the skin of your hips, both to hold you in place so you’ll stop torturing him and to press you down harder on his crotch. “I…” He’s so distracted, he can’t even think. The way the side of his length is pressing against your folds is pushing every little bit of self-control he has to the back of his head.

“Haechannie?” You giggle, moving your hips. “I kinda asked you a question here.”

“Yes, fuck, yes, please.” Haechan tries his very best to not sound that desperate for your touch but he is that desperate. “Wait—aren’t we—shouldn’t I wear a condom first?”

You blink, halting your movement. “You brought a condom with you?”

He nods as he leans forward, fingers searching frantically at the pocket of his jeans that hang low on his knees. “Here.”

“Why do you have a condom with you?”

“‘Cause I bought it downstairs just now.”

Your jaw grows slack at the realization. “Is that the reason why your hair was so messy and you were sweating when you barged in here? ‘Cause you ran downstairs, trying to find a condom?”

“I’m sorry, are you really complaining about this now?”

At the feeling of his member twitching underneath you, you sigh. “You’re right. Let’s discuss that later.”

It feels a bit awkward when you stand on your knees, giving him some space and wait until he finishes wrapping the rubber around himself. The silence that hangs between you is almost deafening that by the time he’s done and you fall back to his lap, sitting on his thighs, it feels like you have to start over again.

You diffidently smile. “Hey.”

Haechan is equally as embarrassed, mirroring your gesture. “Hi.”

“I guess we’re gonna have sex.”

“Guess so.”

Another few seconds pass by where you can only meet each other’s eyes, feeling your heartbeat racing louder and louder. It feels like you’re about to burst, honestly, but fortunately for you, Haechan leans in, his fingers tentatively caressing your cheek. “Can I kiss you?” He questions.

You melt under his gaze, his gentle touch, his honey-like voice. “Yes, please.”

Your lips start the connection and the rest of your body follows, fitting every curve of his perfectly like you were made for him. The way Haechan sighs against your mouth sends sparks of electricity all the way down to your toes and you don’t waste any more time. With his mouth latching on your breast, tongue flicking against your nipple, you lower yourself on him.

Haechan’s hold your waist tighter, eyebrows adjoined in the middle at the sensation, his moans muffled. He presses his spine back against the couch, admiring the sight of his member disappearing inch by inch into you. His eyes begin to droop when he’s completely sheathed inside, his bruised lips parted. He cups your cheek, kissing you softly on the corner of your mouth, making you shiver at the sudden tenderness. “I guess we are having sex,” he murmurs with a bashful smile.

You can’t help but laugh a little. “I guess so.” 

It starts slow, with you placing both hands on his chest and him swallowing his breath at the sight of you moving up and down his length. You hiss slightly at the friction, adjusting to his size. 

“Does it hurt?” He asks, tucking a few loose strands behind your ear. 

“A little.” You reassure him with a grin. “Relax, you’re not gonna break me.”

You expect him to send back a snarky remark but what he does is press his forehead against yours. “You’re so warm,” he whispers, tasting the skin that connects your shoulder to your neck. Something about his words, his sensual kiss and his tender touch makes you squeeze your walls around him and he clutches harder around you. He glides his hands lower to your hips, silently urging you to pick up the pace and you follow.

Breathing heavily, Haechan has his thumb grazing your lower lip. “You have such a pretty mouth,” he professes as if he was in a trance.

You seductively bite his thumb, still working your hips. “You’re saying that ‘cause I just sucked your dick.”

“Yes, that too, but really.” It’s as if he’s staring at a work of art, eyes twinkling with admiration. Sometimes, when you’re hitting the right spot and quiver around him, a small moan escapes his lips and you feel him twitching inside you. “It’s—ah—It probably doesn’t sound sincere when I’m saying this now, but I’ve always thought you had a pretty mouth. And lips. I’ve thought about your lips a lot.”

“Yeah?” You mouth against the sensitive skin below his ear, sinking harder on his length. “What else do you like about me?”

“Y-your voice—” You can actually feel him shivering. “You have such a—fuck—I just—I really love your moans.” 

You’re not sure whether he’s saying that because he’s so distracted with the way you’re breathing in his ear or he genuinely loves it. Either way, it’s a pleasure to know how much you’re affecting him with your actions. With a chuckle, you say, “You’re rambling, baby.”

“And your hair,” he adds, probably losing every bit of his self-control by this point. “I love your hair. Looks so soft.” Haechan cards his fingers through your strands. “Feels so soft.”

You hum in response, hoping that your flushed face doesn’t look as apparent as you think. “Anything else?”

“Your—” He shudders when you paint a mark under his collarbone. “Your ass.”

You stop, pulling away to give him a look and he whines at the loss. “My ass?”

“What—” The tips of his ears are turning red, steam practically coming out of them. “Why are you staring at me like that—you have a great ass!”

Teasing him is such a joy to you. “Then, let’s do it this way.” You part away from him, landing back on the carpeted floor so you can turn around, giving him the chance to ogle at your behind, before you ease yourself down onto his lap once more. 

“Fuck—” Haechan’s hisses, his hands going down to your hips again. The new position doesn’t allow you to meet his eyes but with the way he’s whimpering behind you, fingers trailing over the curve of your ass, the sensation increases.

“You okay back there?” You taunt smugly, chuckling a bit because Haechan sounds like he’s losing it. His nails are sinking into your skin and you just know that’s gonna leave a nasty bruise tomorrow. “You seem like you’re enjoying this way too—“ You’re interrupted by your own moans when he suddenly has one hand massaging your breast and another one sliding down your stomach to find your clit. “W-wait, Haechannie—”

“You’re such a tease,” he breathily whispers into your ear, his chest pressing against your spine as he leans forward, pulling you into his embrace. “Isn’t that supposed to be my job?”

His fingers are rubbing you in circles, making your thighs tremble. “You’re right.” You move your hips harder, going out of rhythm with how fast you’re going and Haechan sinks his teeth to your shoulder again.

At the sound of his name departing your lips in the most sinful moan he’s ever heard, Haechan curses. “Shit, you’re not gonna let me enjoy this longer, are you?”

“There’s always a second round, Haechannie.” You smirk, raising your hips all the way up in intention to slam it back down again but Haechan catches you and pushes you forward until you land on the coffee table, stomach pressing flat against the wooden surface. “What—"

“There’s always a second round, right?” His lips are brushing against your ear as he positions himself behind you. “Then I’m going all out.”

When he slams his hips in one swift motion, hard and deep, he knocks all the air out of your lungs. “Wait—” You choke out, can barely keep up with his pace. “Oh God—”

“Now, now,” he coos, his hand finding its way to your throat, fingers pressing against your veins. He raises your face, his chest completing the dip of your spine. “Don’t bring God’s name when I’m fucking you like this, baby.”

You can’t even find the strength to retort, eyes shutting tightly until you see stars behind your eyelids. It almost feels unreal how fast he can go from being awkward and tentative about all of this to raw and wild within a few minutes but Haechan has always been fast adapting to new situations and you have been teasing him way too much. It’s about time that he snaps. 

Haechan moves you down to the floor, forcing you to stand on all fours and you’re so glad you follow his lead. “Spread your knees. Bring your head down,” he instructs and you do as you’re told, extending your arms in front of you. Haechan has his hand on the dip of your shoulder blades, holding you still until you have no choice but to press your cheek against the carpeted floor, ass in the air. “Good girl,” he praises, kneeling behind you and rubbing his tip along your folds. “Ready, baby?”

He doesn’t wait for your answer.

With only a few minutes in, you know you’re getting close, you can feel it. He has switched from giving deep, hard thrusts to quick, shallow ones and it’s driving you insane. “H-Haechannie, I—” you whimper, “I’m close—”

And he knows it too, of course he does. He can tell by the way you’re clenching around him. But instead of going harder and driving you completely over the edge, Haechan suddenly laces his fingers with yours, his lips painting soft kisses from your nape down to your spine, his hips hitting another angle that feels just as amazing even when he slows down the pace. The intimacy surprises you as you don’t expect him to be this tender. Suddenly, it doesn’t feel like you’re doing this out of sheer passion. With his palm covering the back of your hand, fingers slipping between yours, somehow, everything feels more sentimental, stronger, crossing the lines.

With a moan of your name, Haechan flips you to your back, fingers framing your face, lips meeting lips as he thrusts back in, gasping against your mouth. “I want to see your face,” he says when he pulls away, his half-lidded eyes boring into yours, thumb slipping between your lips. “Not sure if I’ve told you this before but…” He snaps his hips, and you tangle your legs around them in response, fingernails digging into his upper arms. “You’re so beautiful.”

The knot in your stomach untangles without warning and your orgasm hits you so hard, you nearly sob at the sensation. With the way you’re quivering and squeezing around him, Haechan follows right after, his face sinking into the crook of your neck, hips stuttering as he rides out his own orgasm.

***

With his jeans back on and his used condom thrown away to the nearest trash bin, Haechan joins you back on the carpeted floor as you still haven’t found the strength to get up and get dressed after that. He shamelessly lays his body down on top of yours, his cheek pressing against the valley of your breasts. “I’m spent,” he mumbles, feeling drowsy.

“Haechannie?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re heavy.”

“I know.” But he doesn’t get up, only moving his head slightly to press a tiny kiss to your bare chest before he lies his head down over your heart again. You give up with a smile, wrapping your arms around him, fingertips stroking his hair. Haechan sighs contentedly under your touch. “Man, that was…”

“That was?”

“Amazing.” He props himself up on his elbows so he can meet your eyes. “You’re amazing.”

Your heart jolts at the sincerity in his words but you cooly smile back. “I know.”

“And I’m amazing too, I’m sure?”

“Meh,” you shrug. “Could be a little better but I’ll let you practice on me for free.”

“Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head, his strands tickling your nose. “I don’t even have the strength to join your banter. You know, I’ve always wondered since you’re pretty much shit at everything, there must be something you’re good at. But I never thought that something would turn out to be sex. I can’t even believe I’m saying this but you’re really, really amazing at it. I feel like I should give you a medal or something.”

“Thanks,” you flatly mutter. “Not sure if you’re praising me, though.”

“Oh, I am praising you, believe me. And you know me, I rarely praise.” 

“Stop it,” you use your robotic voice. “You’re making me feel so special, I’m about to cry.”

Haechan playfully nips at your nose, forcing you to break off your act and laugh directly into his mouth. “Seriously,” he says, breaking off the kiss. “If I were to pay you for sex, I would give you everything I own. Even the clothes I’m wearing. Hell, I’d even sell my grandma but don’t tell her that.”

Your laughter has reduced into small giggles. “That’s comforting.”

“So…” The way Haechan is caressing your hair is so soft, almost like a mother to her sleeping child. “What should we do about this?” When you raise an eyebrow, he tensely adds, “Do you, umm… I mean, do you want to, like—”

“You’re rambling.”

“I know, God, I’m so nervous! I may look like a naughty, sexy bad boy—”

“No one is saying that—“

“But I actually suck at this—as in, I don’t really know how to date a girl.”

“You don’t even know how to talk to a girl, based on the conversations we’ve had,” you comment and you know it’s not helping but it’s worth seeing his adorable pout. “Then don’t date me. If it’s hard for you to date, then let’s just keep being friends—"

“But I want to continue this!” He says it so fast and firmly that you don’t even have time to feel hurt about your offer. 

It’s not like you crave a relationship with him—you haven’t thought about it that far—even just holding him like this is enough for now, so the fact that he’s so excited to have this going makes your heart swells with joy. “Well then, we’ll be friends who have casual sex anytime we want,” you suggest.

He blinks twice, a bit amazed at your offer, but to your surprise, he seems rather… disappointed? “What happens if we start catching feelings?” He quietly asks.

“Then I guess we’ll start dating for real.”

“Then…” He runs a hand through his hair, nervous. “What happens if I already have feelings for you?”

He states it so quietly, it’s a miracle you can even hear him. “Do you want to date me, Haechannie?”

He looks away, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “Do you want to date me?” He murmurs against your skin, unsure and flustered.

You heave the heaviest sigh you’ve ever done in your life. “You’re unbelievable. I’ll decide for us then. Starting now, we’re dating.”

He lifts his head, and if he were a puppy, he would’ve had his tail wagging behind him, even when his face doesn’t show much. “That easy?”

“That easy. What, you have something to complain about?”

“No.” He grins, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. “Hey, girlfriend.”

“Ugh, get off me, you’re gross.”

But no matter how hard you push your palm against his face, Haechan only giggles and turns you around so this time, you’re lying on his chest. “So,” he pushes a few strands of your hair behind your ear. “You like me, huh?”

“No, what makes you think that way?”

“Says the girl who just slept with me.”

“I slept with you ‘cause I was just curious about your dick. Jeno said you had a dick that was the size of his thumb.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Didn’t you see his InstaStory last night?” You reach up to gather your phone from the coffee table. “I took a screenshot of it actually. Man, you should’ve seen the comments. They’re hilarious.”

Snatching your phone away, Haechan runs his eyes along the words written on the screen. “That son of a bitch!”

Simpering, you sneak a peek under his boxer. “Well, he’s not wrong.” 

“Oh, it’s on,” he deadpans, throwing your phone away and pushes you back down on the floor. His eyes glinting mischievously. 

“What are you doing?” You’re still half-laughing when he brings your hands over your head, holding your wrists together with one hand as he settles between your thighs, his fingers hovering dangerously close.

“I’m gonna make you take your words back.” He wets his lip, one corner of his mouth turning upward. “Time for the second round, baby.” 

***

[idy-ll-ique]

His Lovely Girl.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x F!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Requested: nope

Warnings: insecurity

Summary: Sebastian spoils her all the time. What has she ever done for him? When someone leaves a rude comment under her Instagram post, she can't help but rethink her entire relationship with the handsome actor.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! We're back to Marvel lol, enjoy!

---

"I'll see you later, dove, have fun!" Y/N grinned when her boyfriend leaned over, pressing his lips to her forehead. "Bye, Seb, I'll miss you," she whispered and he looked down at her, his heart swelling in his chest, full of appreciation for her. He loved her so much. "I'll miss you too, Y/N, but I'll only be gone for around 6 hours." Y/N pouted and he couldn't help it.

He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss. "I know. Go now, I don't want to be the reason you're late." He laughed heartily when she pushed him away with a smile. "Oh, doll, everyone knows about us, they'll know anyway." With that, he waved at her and left the apartment they shared. Y/N had moved in with him 2 years into dating.

Sebastian Stan; let's just say, he was a busy man. Y/N sighed and got up from the bed, feeling hungry. They had started dating 4 years ago, and what years those were; the most blissful ones in both their lives. They loved each other to death, and they knew that. Y/N waddled into the kitchen and looked around the various cabinets, finding a box of Mac and Cheese.

It was a funny story, actually, how they met. Y/N, at the time, was working as a barista at Starbucks. One day, Sebastian had walked into the Starbucks where she worked, and she was the one who took his order. He was extremely polite, funny and a bit awkward and just like that, she fell in love with him all over again. Y/N was a Marvel geek and Sebastian had noticed.

"I really like your hoodie, doll, where'd you get it?" he had asked her after telling her his order. And she had looked down, seeing the custom-made hoodie she wore. It was black in colour, but one of the sleeves was silver and had a red star on the bicep, just like his arm from the movie Captain America: Winter Soldier.

Bucky's trigger words were printed on the front of the hoodie. She had blushed furiously, simultaneously cursing and thanking her fate and coincidence. "I had it custom made," she had told him at the time and he had grinned so wide he thought his mouth would tear open. That was the moment where he, too, realized that he was getting a crush on the pretty barista.

And he hadn't hesitated to ask her for her number. He had taken a tissue paper, scribbled his number down and had written what's yours? ;) underneath. When he went to pay for his coffee, he purposely made sure that he wasn't giving her any change. With his notes, he slid her the tissue and she took it, giving him a confused look.

When she read it, her breath hitched. While pulling out his change, she had discreetly written her number down on the tissue, saved his on her phone and had given the tissue back to him with the coins. Both of them had grinned widely at each other when he left. While walking home, he had taken out the tissue and had seen her number written neatly under his. And his heart raced, Y/N is worth it.

---

*@yn_yln posted a photo*

4,583 likes

yn_yln Mac and Cheese, anyone? :D

Y/N smiled and logged out of her Instagram account after posting the photo. She just couldn't resist; she looked good that day, one of those days where she felt confident enough to post a picture. She kept her phone away and sauntered into the sitting room to watch something on the television. An hour passed before she yawned, feeling tired.

2:05 pm, her watch displayed. Well, there's no harm in an afternoon nap, am I right? Sebastian wasn't home anyway, and it's not like she had anything to do. Grabbing her phone off the dining table, she walked into hers and Sebastian's shared bedroom, plopping down on the bed. She decided to check her Instagram before falling asleep and opened the said app.

She went through the page that displayed all the likes and comments, pausing at one comment. Her heart dropped as she clicked on the comment, her entire being filling with an uneasy feeling. You're only dating him for the money, admit it. Until then, she had never even thought… about that. Throwing her phone to the side she sat up, breathing heavily.

Y/N was currently jobless. After they started going out, she continued working at Starbucks until last year; Sebastian had suggested that she leave the job and work somewhere better, earn a higher salary. Y/N had discarded the idea at first, since the job paid enough for her to go about her daily things and where would she even find another job?

Starbucks was okay. But Sebastian wouldn't hear it. So she left the job, now jobless. She had applied to a few places but hadn't received any news as of yet. They're right. I'm living off of him. I don't even have a job. What does it look like? A broke woman dating a rich, handsome guy? Oh my God, am I leeching off his hard work? All those thoughts rushed through her head in a span of a few seconds.

The more she thought about it, the more she teared up. Blinking the tears away, she lay back down and curled up under the comfortable blankets. His blankets. She closed her eyes, trying her hardest to fall asleep but the tears were proving it to be difficult. Fortunately, she drifted off into an uneasy slumber 15 minutes later.

---

"Baby, I'm home!"

Silence. Sebastian frowned, carefully walking into the house. "Y/N?" he called out but there was no answer. Keeping the bag he was holding away, he walked further into the apartment, stopping at the doorway of their bedroom. "Aw," he whispered under his breath, smiling, stepping into the bedroom. He gently sat next to his sleeping girlfriend.

His knuckles traced her cheeks but he froze. Why is she so cold? His soft touch was enough to wake her up, because she stirred and blinked up at him. "Seb, hi, welcome back." Her voice was hoarse. "Y/N? Did you fall sick?" he asked worriedly as she sat up, distancing herself from him. "I'm not sick," she muttered but Sebastian wouldn't buy it.

He reached out to cup her cheek, feeling like he had been stabbed multiple times when she leaned away from his touch. "Y/N?" She shook her head and looked out of the window, bringing her knees to her chest. "Just wanna be alone right now." She didn't want to send him away. She wanted to sit in his lap, listen to him rambling about his day…

But she also didn't want to be near him. Do I even deserve him? "What happened?" he insisted, his eyes going wide when she glared at him. "Go. Away." He scrambled off the bed without another word, softly closing the door behind him as he walked into the sitting room, running a hand through his hair. He sat down on the couch and looked around.

What happened in those 6 hours that he was away? Sebastian knew she wasn't on her cycle, it still had another week to come. So it wasn't mood swings. His eyes landed on the empty bowl of Mac and Cheese sitting on the dining table but they skimmed right past it, not knowing that that bowl was the reason for Y/N's sadness. Then he stared at the designer handbag on the opposite couch.

Picking up the bag, he strode back to their room, knocking on the door. Maybe seeing a pretty purse would lighten her mood? "What?" Y/N called out from inside and he opened the door, holding the purse up. "I brought you a gift." Y/N's heart started thudding in her chest and tears glistened in her eyes anew as she stared at the bag with utmost resentment.

"I don't want it."

Sebastian went rigid. She never rejects my gifts. "Y/N—" She started shaking her head. "No. Return it. I'm not taking it. I don't want it," she repeated, her glare now directed at him. "But doll…" he tried, freezing when her jaw clenched. "Get out." Disheartened, he walked out once more, more confused than anything. Now I have to know what happened.

Inside the room, Y/N sobbed silently. The bag was so pretty, her favorite color, the sleek design… she wanted to keep it so bad, but she knew she wasn't worthy of it. Sebastian brought her gifts all the time. Most of them expensive as shit; he had the money to blow off. What had she done for him? Nothing, really. He spoiled her heartily, never once allowing her to do the same.

"You're mine, baby girl, mine to love, mine to cherish, mine to spoil."

She was definitely leeching off him. Outside the room, Sebastian took out his phone and texted Y/F/N, who was Y/N's closest friend. They rarely spoke, but Y/N told Y/F/N everything and he knew she'd have answers.

hey, do you know what's up with y/n

why what happened

she's in a really bad mood

she's angry at me and I brought her a gift but she won't take it

she usually loves them but today…

OH WAIT

I know what happened

she texted me in the afternoon

something about a comment on Instagram or something

ig that's why she's in a bad mood

oh

thanks

I'll check it out

He ended the conversation and opened Instagram, seeing a new post from his dear girlfriend. Sebastian couldn't help but smile as he liked the photo, commenting a heart emoji. There were only around 22 comments on the post, so he decided to go through them. Which comment had triggered her? He found it instantly and his nostrils flared.

Replying to the fairly rude comment, he typed, how about you fuck off and mind your own damn business? If you don't like her, unfollow and leave. There's literally nothing else you need to do. After hitting send, he kept his phone away and, determination shining in his eyes, ran back to the bedroom.

He threw open the door and a sob escaped the lips of the startled woman. He started taking off the annoying clothes he was wearing until he was just in his boxers, sliding into the bed next to her. She attempted to push him away but the strong man didn't budge, holding her on his lap as she thrashed. Soon, she gave up the fight and melted against him, crying her eyes out.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again and again, her breath hitching. "Hush, baby, it's okay, I'm not mad," he whispered, rubbing her back, helping her calm down. She rested her head on his shoulder, her arms tight around him. "Tell me the truth. What happened?" he asked even though he knew the answer. Tiredly, Y/N narrated everything; from the comment to all her insecurities.

Sebastian gently cupped her cheeks, wiping her tears off. "Y/N, you're mine. I love taking care of you, I love spoiling you, and I don't do it because I expect something in return, I do it because I love you. Don't listen to strangers on the internet, what better work do they have? Nothing but lowlifes. You don't have to do anything for me. I don't want you to do anything for me."

"But Seb…"

"No. No, you're my girlfriend and only the best for my girl. I love all the gifts you get me. I cherish them wholeheartedly. Just you being my girl is a gift better than anything else in the world, to be honest. But I'm going to continue looking after you whether you like it or not. You don't even have to go to work, I'm here for you. I love you." Y/N teared up again.

They were happy tears.

"I love you so much," she cried weakly and Sebastian pulled her to him, cradling her head, breathing her in. "I love you too, doll. Now will you take my gift, please?" She nodded against him and he gently lowered her on the bed, going outside to get the bag. Once back in their room he handed the bag to her, smiling at the way her eager hands reached up to accept the gift.

As he watched her admiring the bag, he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, till death do them part.

His girl, his lovely girl.

---

A/N: Leave a like if you enjoyed, thanks for reading!

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

Is This On?

Also on Ao3

Muggle things weren’t that complicated. If Potter could master them, then so could Draco. Refrigerators were a godsend and whoever invented the telly was a genius. He had figured out the function of a light bulb instantly, it was the electricity itself that he still hadn’t fully grasped. Where did it come from? How did it know when to work? Some things, however, didn’t make any sense no matter how many times it was explained to him.

The internet.

Draco didn’t understand where it began, where it was located or how it worked. All he knew was that he could ask questions to the phone Harry gave him and it would answer back. Sometimes the lady trapped in the phone would send him to the internet to provide information or other times to a little telly inside the phone too.

Which led him to his current predicament.

Harry sometimes used the internet to talk to Granger. There was a little camera on the computer. At least that’s what Harry said but hadn’t really ever showed him much more than that. Could he use it to talk to Harry?

Draco poked the little camera several times, trying to get it to work. He typed in the password that Harry wrote down hoping that would help. When he was met with a photo of the two of them, he tried not to be endeared. Potter would be such a sentimental sap.

“How does this work?” Draco muttered to himself as he stared at the little icons. He couldn’t remember the steps Harry had taken to talk to Granger. Would it even work if he had remembered? He didn’t want to talk to Granger, he wanted to talk to Harry.

“Internet show me Harry.”

Nothing happened.

Draco huffed. It had been a long shot anyway. Reluctantly, Draco pulled out his phone and hit the button that brought out the lady inside. “How do I call on the internet?”

She repeated his question to him as if that was going to help somehow before he was brought to a list of options.

“Skype.” Draco wrinkled his nose. That didn’t sound familiar. He set his phone down and opened the same icon on the computer that his phone had brought him to and typed in Skype.

The first thing that popped up was a little telly. Harry called them videos, but Draco liked that they were little tellies and didn’t care what Harry said. The little telly was boring and showed him too many steps to follow. What drew his attention were more little tellies that he could select from. Some were about Skype too, but others were about all kinds of things.

Make-up. Music. Food. Books. Sports.

There were too many to choose from. So he watched several different little tellies. A lot of them were boring and he ended up either leaving for another one or skipping to the good stuff. Some people weren’t the actors that they thought they were. Honestly, where was the charisma? The charm? He could do it much better.

Draco paused, thumb over the mouse as he thought about it.

He could do it better than most of the people in the little tellies. He had the charisma that they didn’t, he had the charm, the looks, the better smile. And his life was much more interesting than these people. Those with boring lives shouldn’t talk for an hour unless their aim was to put people to sleep. Oh, that was another thought. Were there little tellies to fall asleep? There were little tellies for everything. He rather liked the internet, even if it made no sense.

Draco watched a few more little tellies before he figured he knew enough to do it too. It wouldn’t let him make a little telly until he created an account, which he thought was kind of rude, but it was their rules. A lot of people didn’t use their real name, so he chose not to either. It took him longer than he wanted to find something that suited him.

Slytherin’s Heir.

Finding out that Harry and his idiot friends thought that he had been Slytherin’s Heir had been flattering. Oh, they hadn’t thought that, but they didn’t realize the kind of compliment it had been. What he wouldn’t have given to be Slytherin’s Heir. That kind of power and social status would have made him untouchable.

With his name chosen, it wanted a photo, but Draco didn’t have any photos of him on Harry’s computer. So he didn’t do anything, let the internet do a blank one. Draco’s foot tapped a few times as he realized his account was complete. Now all he had to do was make a little telly.

It took a few times to find the right succession of buttons to find the live option. He didn’t really understand what being live meant, but he did know that meant that he didn’t have to have a little telly already made, that he could create one right there.

“Is this on?” Draco asked, lips pursed as he poked the camera. “I’m not really sure if this is working. Honestly, I was trying to talk to Harry when I decided to make a little telly. Harry’s my boyfriend. Hi Harry.”

Draco waved at the camera with a small smile. He wished he could see Harry’s face.

“Harry’s actually mad at me right now. He’s an annoying prat who likes to think he’s right all the time.” Draco paused; one side of his face scrunched as the thought about what Harry’s reaction would be to his little telly.

“Maybe mad is an exaggeration,” Draco sighed, one hand pushing through his hair. He hadn’t slicked it back in a few days, too out of sorts to feel up to it. His hair fell into his eyes which was an annoying reminder of why he liked his hair slicked in the first place. “He’s more disappointed.”

Draco grimaced as he remembered the last time he had seen Harry.

“He loves me,” Draco whispered, hating that his cheeks were warm. “He says it all the time. At least he used to.”

A long-suffering sigh escaped as he slumped in the chair with wheels that Harry insisted on using even though Draco thought it was a safety concern.

“When I say all the time, I do mean all the time,” Draco grinned. “He didn’t hear that growing up at all and I think he says it so much because he’s trying to make up for lost time. I don’t mind. I like hearing it. Makes me melt a little bit to know that he loves me so much.”

Draco frowned, sitting up straighter.

“You better not tell him that though. That’s embarrassing.” He waved a finger at the camera in what he hoped was a threatening manner.

“I didn’t hear I love you growing up either. It was rare to hear my parents say anything even hinting at love. But the thing is, I’ve always known they loved me. I could see it in the things they did. When my father would show me a new spell or help me with my hand movements. My mother would bring home my favourite sweets whenever she went out. They would stay up later than was presentable with me and listen to the radio.”

The smile on his face was bittersweet. As much as he knew that his parents loved him, it would have been nice to hear it more than they did.

“I guess I picked up their habit,” Draco winced. “I tell Harry I love him… sometimes. I try to tell him more, but the words don’t come easy to me. My parents knew I loved them, and they certainly didn’t need me to say it. But I try to show Harry too!”

Draco’s hands had begun to move in the beginning but were now thrown in the air.

“I make sure whenever he’s on a case to keep his plants watered, even if the one Neville gave him has it out for me and tries to kill me. When he’s having a bad day I make sure his duvet smells like mint because I know he’s going to collapse on our bed and not move for longer than is healthy and for some reason mint is his favourite smell. I don’t really know how to cook that well but the lady in my phone helps me order from Harry’s favourite restaurant and I do that when he’s feeling sad and sometimes when he’s really happy too.”

Draco’s lips turned downward the longer he talked. It bothered him that Harry couldn’t see that he was loved.

“I’m not a people person but I willingly go with him on what he calls adventures around London. Adventure is accurate because wherever Harry goes, trouble follows. Last month we had to run from people with sticks on horses. Harry said they were the law, but I feel like if you were lawmen then you should dress better but that’s beside the point. Then there was this one time we got kicked out of a library. That was more my fault, but Harry was the one who didn’t tell me that the books didn’t talk or yell. Who wants to go to a library with silent books? That’s like going to a gallery where the paintings don’t talk. What’s the point?”

Muggles were weird, honestly. There were a lot of things they did that were smart, and he wished that Wizards would adopt too. But a large amount of what Muggles did was boring. They lived boring lives and he felt bad that they didn’t have Magic to spice it up.

“I try to show with actions how much he means to me, and I thought I was doing a good job at it, but I guess not.” His eyes closed as he remembered the hurt expression on Harrys’ face.

“He told me he wished I would tell him I loved him more. I told him there was no point. Which in hindsight, I’ll admit was a mistake. I don’t take it back, mind you. But I wish I had explained better before he left. I meant there was no point in saying it more if I could tell him through actions. Which I have been doing since I realized I loved him. I thought he knew. I thought he could see how much I love him.”

Draco swallowed around a lump in his throat. He wasn’t worried about their relationship, not really. Harry sometimes needed a few days to cool down when they argued. Only usually, it was anger that was the parting goodbye and not a heartbreaking sadness.

He looked back to the camera, hating that his eyes were wet.

“I love him, so much. I could talk about all the things he does for me that I love. Like the way he looks at me, the way he makes me feel loved and whole. The way he holds my hand too tight, like he thinks I’ll pull away. As if I ever would. Or the way I feel like I’m high on liquid luck whenever we’re together. But those are selfish to point out. I don’t want to talk about me when I bring up what I love about him. That’s conceited.

“I love the way he throws a fist in the air when he gets an answer on the telly right. I love his stupid hair that has to be sentient at this point, never lying flat. I love the softness in his eyes when he’s happy, the way they shine so brightly. Almost as bright as his smile. I love how kind he is. I know I give him shit for that, which I should, but there’s a goodness to him that isn’t common anymore, and I love that. I love how much he cares about other people.

“I love how hard he works—puts every ounce of himself into whatever he’s working on no matter how big or small. I love how smart he is, even if he doesn’t see it himself. He thinks of the world in ways that others don’t—a genius to him that fascinates me. I love how much he loves. He loves with everything that he has. He loves people in general. Wants to see the best in them, has a faith that never wavers. His friends are his family, his family is his world and the love he has for all of them is another extension of himself that is everlasting.”

Draco blinked through the wetness as he sniffled.

“I’m honoured to be part of that love. To know that he could care about me a fraction of what he feels for others is overwhelming. I know he loves me; Merlin knows that I do. How could I not? He doesn’t just say it, he shows it. And I just wish that he knew how much I loved him too. I know I don’t say it enough, and I try, I do, but I had hoped that he could see it. Maybe that’s my fault. Maybe I didn’t show it enough, maybe I didn’t try harder. Maybe I should have done more.”

Draco wiped at his cheeks hating that he let his emotions get the best of him. Especially on his first little telly!

“What hurts the most is that I don’t know how else I could have showed him,” Draco laughed bitterly. “I really don’t. I give so much of myself to Harry, perhaps that’s not healthy, but it’s true. I love him so bloody much and I hate that he doesn’t see that, that he doesn’t know. How could I not love him? Harry, how could you not know that I love you?

“I love you…”

Draco took a deep breath, wishing it wasn’t as shaky as it was as he twirled in the chair. That had to be the reason Muggles had such dangerous chairs, so they could twirl.

“My first little telly wasn’t supposed to go like this,” Draco smiled wryly as he placed his chin on his palm. “I was supposed to charm you all with my good looks and witty personality. And what did I do? Cry over my relationship issues. Like anyone wants to see that. Maybe I’ll tell you the story of how Harry and I fell in love next time. Or maybe the first time we met. Something happier than my tears. Pansy always said I’m an ugly crier—the jealous bitch—so no sad topics next time, I promise.”

Draco leaned forward; lips pursed as he tried to figure out how to turn it off.

“I’m not sure anyone is going to see this. Maybe that’s for the best. I just know I look like a cross between Doxy droppings and Weasley on a good day. I hope you all are having a better day than I am. I’m going to go as soon as I shut this off.”

Draco frowned, clicking a few buttons before he gave up and shut down the whole computer. The simplest solutions were for the best. He spun in the chair one more time facing the rest of their flat, wishing not for the first time that Harry hadn’t taken his happiness when he left.

——

Watching his little telly back was a painful experience. His charm and charisma were there, but it didn’t look as polished as some of the other little tellies he had seen. He’d just have to keep trying.

Draco was about to start a new one when he noticed that there were a lot more numbers than there should have been at the bottom. It had been two days since he had made it, and he expected there to only be his replay.

Not the 819,543 that stared at him. And every passing minute the number grew by the tens of thousands.

Draco double checked that he was on his little telly and not someone else’s before he covered his mouth. Did that many people see him cry? Merlin, what did he do? While the thought was horrifying, what truly scared him was that there were comments.

There were comments.

Oh no.

Draco groaned, already blaming all of this on Harry. And the internet, the internet could take the blame too. With one eye closed, he scrolled down.

NamelessHope 1 day ago Anyone else find this endearing? He’s like an old grandma that doesn’t know how the internet works.

Sorrymum 5 hours ago He’s so cute. Why can’t you be single?

Michael the Sexual Taco 2 minutes ago His partner is trash. It’s so obvious he’s in love. How could Harry not see it?

Bleach 2 days ago First!!!

CubesAreTriangles 13 hours ago Go bottom go!

Potatoes for Life 7 hours ago Nooooo don’t cry! If you cry I’m going to cry

Draco squinted at the comments. Why were Muggles so fucking weird? And what did they mean bottom? Did people just assume things like that? He liked to fuck and be fucked, thank you very much.

Meaty Meat 10 minutes ago Y r u gay

Draco snorted. Okay, maybe Muggles were entertaining.

Casey J 1 day ago I can’t tell if you’re just ranting or want advise. If it’s the former, then ignore me. But maybe Harry does know you love him. I think it’s obvious that you do, so he must know that. Maybe he needs it said too.

Randy Rants 8 hours ago You need couples therapy not the internet

ParsleySnips 2 days ago I totally cried

Pearl’s Pearly Pearls 2 days ago I want to be loved like you love Harry.

SwiperNoSwiping 1 hour ago If you two don’t break up you should do another video with him.

Draco scowled. They weren’t going to break up. A touch of hesitancy filled him at the thought. It had been 6 days since he last saw Harry. Not their worst fight, and he would’ve tried to find Harry and talk to him if it had been completely silent. But Harry sent a Patronus every morning that nuzzled him awake. The Patronus didn’t speak a message but the love he could feel was a message all on its own.

Karla S 1 day ago Am I the only one who caught that he said spell? Is your father a devil worshiper?

Gigi’s my Daddy 2 days ago Little tellies. That’s so cute. That should be our fandom name when you blow up.

Gay4You 20 hours ago I’ve never been invested in someone else’s love life this much. If you and Harry don’t make up I’m going to riot.

Draco looked through several more comments before he pushed away from the computer. There were a few rude ones and a lot more supportive ones, but all of it made him nervous. He didn’t like that so many people knew about his feelings. It was his own fault for making the little telly, but he didn’t think anyone was going to see it!

Part of him was panicking. He could delete it, probably, if he asked the lady in his phone how. But did he want to? Draco bit his lip, unsure what to do. If he deleted it, all those people who saw it would still remember it, so he’d only be stopping new people from viewing it.

Before he could go over the pros and cons of either option, the front door slammed open, causing him to yelp and jump out of the chair.

Hands raised, Draco glared at Harry, who was staring at him intently, chest moving rapidly.

“What is wrong with you?” Draco sneered. “I nearly came out of my skin. If you’re trying to kill me, you almost succeeded. Merlin don’t do that a—”

Draco cut off when Harry marched toward him, eyes still intense. His mouth was still open, ready so say something, but nothing came out when warm hands cupped his cheeks.

“Draco, I’ve always known you loved me.”

Oh no.

He closed his eyes tightly. Harry watched his little telly. How? Why?

“Hey,” Harry whispered, thumbs moving in a gentle caress. “Look at me.”

Draco shook his head. He didn’t want to.

“I’m sorry.”

That had his eyes opening before they widened. “What?”

“We’re so different,” Harry began with a wry chuckle. “Everything about us is different. And for some reason I forgot that. I assumed that our love language was the same. But the beautiful thing about languages is how different they are. I expected yours to be the same as mine and I was wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Draco hated that his voice wavered.

“You’re right, I do say I love you a lot.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Draco hurried to explain. “I didn’t mean it to sound—”

“I know,” Harry shushed him, a thumb placed over his bottom lip. “I say it because I don’t want you to forget that I love you.”

Draco shook his head, wanting to tell Harry that he could never forget. How could he? But he didn’t want to interrupt.

“When I was little, I didn’t just want to be loved by my relatives, I wanted to love them too. But they hated me, and the feeling was mutual. I wanted to love someone just as much as I wanted to be loved. And I guess I say it so much as a reminder to never forget that. I love you, Draco and I can’t help but say it over and over again.”

“I know,” Draco parroted as he pressed a kiss to the thumb still over his lip. “I love that you say it so much. I don’t want you to stop. Lately, you’ve been saying it less.”

Harry’s eyes closed briefly. “I’m sorry. You don’t always say it back and that hurts. I thought you didn’t want me to say it. I thought—”

“No,” Draco shook his head again, this time more violently. “Please no. I’m sorry. I want to say it more, and I promise I’ll try but please don’t stop saying it if I can’t.”

Harry shushed him again and if he wasn’t so close to crying, he’d probably have hexed Harry for treating him like a scared child.

“You do show me that you love me,” Harry said, eyes soft and full of the love that Draco wasn’t sure he could live without. “All the time and that’s your love language. You show me through actions, and I needed the reminder.”

“I want to give you the love you deserve,” Draco whispered, blinking rapidly, willing himself not to cry. “You deserve to hear it just as much as you give it. And I’m sorry I don’t do that.”

“I don’t need it,” Harry argued, eyes narrowed. “And don’t you dare presume to know what I deserve. I get to decide that, and I’ve already given you my heart. So it’s up to you to keep it safe.”

Draco inhaled sharply. Harry’s love was special. “I want to love you vocally too. I want to love you the way you love me.”

“The way you love me is exactly what I need.”

Draco’s nose wrinkled. “I feel like you’re settling.”

“Not your decision.”

“Harry—”

“Draco,” Harry began, flicking him in the forehead. “If you want to say it more, I won’t object. I’m just telling you that I don’t need it like I thought I did. We’re in love and it doesn’t matter how different we show it. The love is still there.”

“Okay,” Draco sniffled, wiping his nose on Harry’s shoulder when he was pulled into a strong embrace. After days of no contact, he basked in their combined warmth. A feeling he had missed more than he thought possible.

Draco turned his head, mouth near Harry’s ear as he whispered,

“I love you.”

If Harry held on tighter, and Draco felt a wetness on his neck, well that was no one else’s business.

~Fin

———

Short Extra

“Hi little tellies!” Draco waved at their new camera, one that Harry now manned, taking in Draco’s new hobby in stride.

“I had planned an intro like all the rest of them do but that’s so boring. Over here we’re better than everyone else. So I said fuck it and tossed it away. Let’s just get to the good stuff. You’ll never guess what Harry did yesterday. It was so embarrassing.”

“Do you have to embarrass me to so many people?”

Draco grinned, nose scrunching at Harry’s glare. He knew his followers wanted to see Harry, but Harry didn’t want to be in the little tellies like that. Plus, Draco kind of liked that it was just him.

“What do you mean?” Draco blinked, adopting an innocent expression that had stopped working on Dobby when he was three. “I’m just telling my friends.”

“Yeah,” Harry snorted, eyes on the subscriber count that was rapidly increasing. “All 3 million of them.”

It still blew his mind that so many people wanted to hear him talk about his life. He had known from the beginning that he could pull it off. Had always known he had more charm than everyone else on the internet. His little tellies were clearly superior.

And to think it all stemmed from his love of Harry.

-----

This is a story for @rieraclaelin who I know has been having issues reading fic lately so please don't feel like you have to read this at all. I just wanted there to be a gift for you whenever you do feel like readings stories. I adore you!

[falcqns]

Hii i have this request in mind like Chris Evans x Actress! Singer! Reader like the reader and chris dated for 3y idk but they broke up but the reader always visit chris’ family bc she treated them like family aswell specialy when the reader’s parents died so she spend Christmas there or any occasions bc chris’ family invite her and when chris got a new gf the reader is kinda hurt bc she still love chris but she try to look like she doesn’t care but then she released her new song its called deja vu (by olivia rodrigo) and she release it to her bday so when the song is released the fans knew its abt chris bc of the new gf (chris’ fam doesn’t like the new gf and the fans kinda didn’t support them bc of the girl’s attitude) and chris’ family invites her over bc they want to show the reader something and when the reader got there they surprise her for her bday and congratulate her and turns out chris is there too with his new gf🤨and the reader knew chris’ new gf hated her bc of her look and scott called you all to the living room and watch the mv of the reader’s new song and when the mv ends scott and the fam congratuleted the reader and chris’ gf is giving the reader looks again and chris is noticing it and when the reader is in the kitchen alone getting something chris talk to her and congratulate her and chris’ new gf wrapped her arms around chris and chris tried to stop her to make a scene but she started a scene and scream at the reader but the reader cut her off and embarrassing her and the reader prove the new gf shes first not her (idk if that make sense lol) and the new gf leave(idk you can make her a random name so its not only “new gf”) and the reader and chris talk and they got back together, you can do wha you want at the end this is just so random bc i was listening to deja vu and advance thank you if you do my request! Stay safe! ❤️ and im so sorry if this is so long

Deja Vu

pairing: Chris Evans x singer!reader

warnings: parents death, major angst, fluff. 

a/n: thank you for the request! Hope you enjoy!

You had known Chris since college, when you had met him in your communications class. You two had grown close quickly, and became best friends. 

He brought you home every Christmas Eve, before you would go home to your parents house on Christmas Day. You had always felt like a part of the family, so when your parents passed a way, you turned to him. 

You and your parents were driving home from a Christmas Day church service, when you were hit by a semi truck. It had completely totalled the car, and your parents had died on impact. You had been sitting in the back, and only had a broken leg from where your moms seat had been pushed back into it roughly. 

You had been pulled from the car and sat in a second ambulance, while your parents were transported in another. You knew you'd never forget watching that ambulance door close and drive away, knowing that was the last time you'd ever see them. 

When the police officers asked if there was anyone you could call, you didn't know what to do. Your parents were both only children, so you had no aunts, uncles or cousins. You were an only child too, so you had no siblings, and your grandparents had passed when you were little, your other ones passing before you were born. 

So when the officer asked you, you told him the Evans’ phone number. Lisa picked up on the second ring, and you tearfully explained what had happened as the shock wore off. She immediately said she’d meet you at the hospital, and not to worry, that she and Bob would take care of you. 

You were taken to the hospital and treated for your broken leg. Less than an hour after you arrived, Lisa arrived at the hospital with Chris in tow. They comforted you, and took you home with them. You stayed in Chris’s room for the first few days, and when you were given your own room, you still had a hard time sleeping alone, so Chris ended up in your bed with you most nights, not that he minded. 

You never went back to college, and instead turned to singing as a release from all the pain you were feeling. You started out posting covers on YouTube, and gradually progressed to getting a record deal with Interscope Records, which didn't surprise anyone who knew you. You had immense talent, and your parents used to tell you that they were counting down the days before you were a celebrity. 

When Chris graduated college and told you he was moving to Los Angeles, he convinced you to come with him. Prices were high in LA, and he didn't want to be separated from you for too long, so you joined him. He got to be an actor, and you got to be a singer, which is what you both had wanted since you were younger. 

You went to every one of Chris’s movie premieres, and he attended as many of your live shows as he could. You supported him through all his relationships and his breakups, and played the middle man whenever he and Jenny would fight, up until the very end. You told yourself you did that because you just wanted what's best for him, but you both kind of knew that wasn't the reason at all. 

Throughout your time living together, you friendship grew, as did your feelings for each other. You'd be lying if you didn't have a small crush on him in college, and those feelings only grew as time went on, especially since the two of you decided to only get a one bedroom apartment. Mainly because it was cheap, but also because Chris made a decision a week after your parents death to never allow you to sleep alone because of the nightmares that would occur if he wasn't there.

So, when you won your first award for your first album, named ‘hand in hand’, he kissed you the second you came off the stage with your award in hand. It blew your mind that he felt the same, but you were happy nonetheless. You two began dating that night, and everything was perfect. 

Until, you were invited by 5 Seconds of Summer to be their opening act on their newest tour. You had agreed, and Chris let you go. You two had been dating for over 3 years, and you thought your relationship would be fine. 

You quickly realized however that that wasn't the case, when the two of you started fighting less than two weeks into the tour. The fights weren't anything major, more petty things like ‘did you change the Netflix password’ or ‘why did you take this piece of clothing, that was mine and it was my favourite.’ All around stupid fights. 

You had turned to Calum, who you were closest with, and he consoled you as much as you could. You realized however, that you couldn't be with Chris anymore when he drunk called you in the middle of the night while you were in the UK and got angry with you when you answered and told him to call you back in the morning when he was sober, to which he proceeded to brag that he slept with his co star at the time, Jessica Alba, you freaked out and ended things. 

You got a message from Jessica on instagram the next day letting you know that they did not sleep together, and that she was sorry he even said it. You assured her it was fine, and felt relief.

Relief because you got to the bottom of the situation, but also relief from your relationship. You didn't know what happened in those few weeks, but you knew the relationship was turning toxic, and you wanted to stop it before that happened. Neither you or Chris needed that. You told him you’d find a new place to live, and by the time tour ended, you bought yourself a house in Beverly Hills, and moved out of the apartment.

Chris moved out not long after, and bought his own house. He had tried to stay friends with you, but you didn't want that at that point in time. You were still hurting, and needed time to heal. 

Once you felt ready to date again, you were asked to be Calum’s date to the Peoples Choice Awards, you accepted. You knew Chris would be there, and you were hoping to talk to him, and maybe work it out. He had told you during the break up that he would always wait for you to come back, and that he still loved you, and always would. 

But you knew that wasn't the case when he showed up on the red carpet, with a new actress named Myra Woodfield. You had smiled at him, while trying not to break down inside, but he gave you a dirty look and rolled his eyes at you when Calum wrapped his arm around your waist for a picture. You furrowed your eye brows and took a good look at Myra. 

She looked almost exactly like you. Same build, same hair colour, same eye colour. The only difference is that she was slightly taller than you. You didn't know why he was replacing you, but it hurt. You pushed it out of your head however, and enjoyed the night with your best friend. 

It was a few months later when you were awoken by the constant dinging of your phone. You unlocked it, and saw you had a lot of unread messages from Luke, Ashton, Michael, Calum, and your other best friend Ashe about Chris’s new movie trailer, you sighed. 

You watched the trailer, and sighed when it looked like a recreation of a bunch of moments in your relationship with him, only Myra was in your place. 

Your fans and some of Chris’s had commented on it, and Myra immediately became aggressive with them, and insulted them. She told them that you were a nobody who could make Chris happy, which she was glad about because she made him happy how. 

Within minutes of this happening the hashtag #cancelmyrawoodfield was trending on twitter. You shamelessly went through the tweets and like and retweeted a couple. Then an idea popped in your head.

With a quick google search, you had a plan. 

You had written a new song called Deja Vu after the peoples choice awards, and it was had been recorded a few weeks ago, and you just had to decide on a date to release it, and make a decision on the music video. Her birthday was in about 3 months, which gave you enough time to get everything in place to drop on her birthday. 

Was it evil? Yes. Did you care? Not really. Besides, you inherited your pettiness from your mother and you knew she’d be proud of you. You called your manager and label, and got it planned out. 

When the new music video had been announced, Lisa called you and invited you home to watch it premiere with the family. You accepted, knowing Chris and Myra would be there, and that her birthday would get overshadowed by the release of your music video.

So, three weeks later, you were sitting with Lisa, Bob, Carly, Shanna, Scott, Chris and Myra in Lisa’s living room, waiting for the video to premiere.

Scott had picked you up at the airport earlier in the morning along with Carly and Shanna, and the four of you had a laugh about the face that no one acknowledged Myra’s birthday, not even Chris. It was mean, but no one liked her. 

Lisa absolutely hated her, but didn't want to upset Chris, so you got a call shortly after the PCA’s from her and the two of you ranted about her for a good two hours. 

You watched as the timer counted down from 10, and then the screen turned black. You took a deep breath and watched Chris out of the corner of your eye. 

You had searched for a while for a guy who looked similar to Chris, and you stumbled on Andrew Siwicki. He didn't look exactly like Chris, but it was close enough that everyone would know who the song was about if they didn't already. Andrew was a fan of Chris and hated Myra too, so he was more than glad to help you out. 

The music began to play, and you watched as the black screen faded in on two people walking along the beach, holding hands. 

“Car rides to Malibu Strawberry ice cream One spoon for two And trading jackets Laughing 'bout how small it looks on you,”

The next scene was a recreation of yours and Chris’s first date where you two had a picnic on the beach, and ended up splashing each other with the ocean water. Towards the end, everyone watched as Andrew picked you up and threw you into the water the same way Chris always did. 

You glanced at him, and could have burst into laughter at how uncomfortable Chris looked, but more importantly how angry Myra looked. 

“Watching reruns of Glee Being annoying Singing in harmony I bet she's bragging To all her friends, saying you're so unique, hmm,”

The next scene was you and Andrew (who was dressed as Ransom) on what appeared to be a recreation of the Knives Out set, running around with a dog that looked like Dodger chasing after you, the two of you laughing. The next shot was the two of you kissing behind a trailer, seemingly hiding from production. 

“So when you gonna tell her That we did that too? She thinks it's special But it's all reused That was our place, I found it first I made the jokes you tell to her when she's with you,”

The next scene was the two of you driving through Southern California, in a car that was almost identical to Chris’s. You two were laughing and singing along to the song, your hair whipping around you.

You took a deep breath, knowing this next scene would piss him right off.

“Do you get déjà vu when she's with you? Do you get déjà vu? (Ah), hmm Do you get déjà vu, huh?”

This scene was you, along with the rest of Chris’s family sitting around a living room that looked like the one you were in now, a Christmas tree full of presents in the corner. The camera panned across everyone as everyone was talking and settled on you and Andrew and the two of you recreated the scene where Chris whispered in your ear how much he loved you, and couldn't wait to start a family with you. 

“Do you call her Almost say my name? 'Cause let's be honest We kinda do sound the same,”

The screen showed you and Andrew saying goodbye at the airport, with 5 Seconds of Summer standing behind you. They weren't actually there when you left for tour, but Luke suggested it to piss Chris off, and you had agreed. 

Then there was a small montage of clips from tour, including a shot of Michael elbow dropping Ashton into a pool, which made everyone laugh, except Chris and Myra. The montage was followed up by you sitting on the floor of a dressing room and crying as you sent a text that said “I’m done.”

“Another actress I hate to think that I was just your type,”

Now you were on the red carpet, with Calum right beside you. You both were wearing the same clothes you wore on that night, you hair and makeup recreated perfectly. The camera unfocused on you as you turned and looked at Andrew and an actress named Alexa Morrison, who looked a lot like Myra, and they were recreating Chris and Myra’s actions perfectly. The camera swivelled around and came to rest pointing towards your face, as you looked in shock, and a single tear fell down your face. 

“I'll bet that she knows Billy Joel 'Cause you played her Uptown Girl You're singing it together,”

You were shown watching a movie trailer with Ashe sitting next to you, while you sobbed at what Alexa and Andrew were doing. You looked at the camera and began singing the song, while Ashe and everything else around you was frozen.

“Now I bet you even tell her How you love her In between the chorus and the verse (ooh) (I love you),”

You were sat on the bed in Chris’s red flannel that you had stolen before leaving for tour, and you were writing in the notebook aggressively with tears rolling down your face and singing.

“So when you gonna tell her That we did that too? She thinks it's special But it's all reused That was the show we talked about Played you the song she's singing now when she's with you,”

You were now being shown sitting on the couch, and watching Andrew run across the TV screen dressed as Captain America, an ice cream tub in your hand. You were wearing sweats and a t shirt, your hair in a messy bun.

“Do you get déjà vu when she's with you? Do you get déjà vu? Oh Do you get déjà vu?”

The camera circled around you before transitioning to the next scene. 

“Strawberry ice cream in Malibu Don't act like we didn't do that shit too You're trading jackets like we used to do (Yeah, everything is all reused),”

You were shown laying down in bed, and your eyes closing before an image of you and Andrew danced, dressed as Steve and Peggy in endgame, a scene Chris always told you the two of you would recreate one day. You had called Hayley and asked if it was okay, and she immediately said yes, and even came and watched you do the scene.

“Play her piano, but she doesn't know (oh, oh) That I was the one who taught you Billy Joel (oh) A different girl now, but there's nothing new (I know you get déjà vu),”

When your eyes opened, you were sitting at your piano, and playing while singing along. 

“I know you get déjà vu I know you get déjà vu,”

Suddenly, the piano disappeared, and you were left standing in an empty living room as the screen faded to black. 

The entire room burst into cheers as the video ended, except for Myra, who looked like she was going to murder you, and Chris who just clapped with a tight lipped smile. 

Later that night after all the kids had gone to bed and Lisa was driving Bob home,  Scott had pulled you into the kitchen under the pretences of ‘helping him fix a drink’, which ended up just being the two of you gossiping about Chris and Myra, and the music video.

Suddenly, Chris walked in, and nodded for Scott to leave. You cleared your throat and ignored him.

“That was a good song, and an amazing music video.” He said. “I can see you're just getting more and more talented as time-” He began, as you rolled your eyes, and looked at him. 

“What do you want?” You asked bluntly. 

“I just wanted to congratulate you.” He said, and you were about to open your mouth, when Myra came slinking in the room with an evil look on her face. 

“Nice job, Y/N. I’m glad I could inspire your music video.” She said sarcastically, and you could tell Chris was about to defend you, but you opened your mouth first. 

“Well, I’m glad I had such a snake like bitch to draw inspiration from,” You said, and heard Scott, his siblings burst into laughter in the living room. Myra’s jaw dropped and she turned to look at him. You looked up at Chris, who was leaning up against the counter, and biting back a smile.

“You’re just going to let her talk to me like that?” She asked, and Chris sighed.

“Myra, don't start. Not now.” He said, she scoffed. 

“I knew you still loved her. Only a pathetic loser could love someone as ugly and untalented as her.” She spat, and Chris growled. You felt tears welling up in your eyes, and you ran out of the room, your drink abandoned on the counter. 

You ran into your bedroom, where you shut the door, and fell onto the bed in tears. 

Back in the kitchen, Chris had gotten in Myra’s face, and was yelling.

“DON’T YOU DARE TALK TO HER LIKE THAT! SHE’S BEEN THROUGH SO MUCH SHIT IN HER LIFE, AND I WON’T ALLOW YOU TO ADD TO THAT!” He screamed, as Scott, Carly, and Shanna ran to the door, unsure of what to do. “SHE IS SO TALENTED, WAY MORE TALENTED THAN YOU! YOU’RE THE REASON PRODUCTION TOOK SO DAMN LONG, IT TOOK FOREVER TO GET A PERFORMANCE OUT OF YOU! YOU OPENLY INSULTED HER AND HER FANS HOURS AFTER YOU WERE ANNOUNCED TO BE IN THIS MOVIE, AND THEN HAD THE AUDACITY TO COME TO ME CRYING BECAUSE YOUR LITTLE FEELINGS GOT HURT!” He screamed, and Shanna ran and backed Chris away from her. 

“YOU’RE MY BOYFRIEND! AND ITS MY BIRTHDAY, YET HERE YOU ARE, CONGRATULATING HER FOR A SHITTY MUSIC VIDEO!” Myra screamed, and it was Scott’s turn to get in her face. 

“You need to leave. If you don't we’re going to call the cops.” He stated, and Myra rolled her eyes before storming out of the house. 

Scott turned back to Chris, and was shocked when he saw him in tears. 

“You need to work shit out with Y/N. It’s clear the two of you are still in love, and you need to figure it out as adults,” Scott said, his sisters nodding. Chris took a deep breath, and looked at your closed bedroom door.

Chris walked up to your bedroom door, and took a deep breath before entering the room where he used to sleep in every night.

He opened the door, and saw you curled up in a ball on the bed, your body still shaking. He smiled sadly, and walked into the room, closing the door behind him. He sat on the bed behind you, and rubbed your back gently. 

“I’m sorry. Not just for what Myra said, but for everything. For breaking your heart, and for causing you so much pain. I didn't realize how much I was missing you too until we watched that music video and I saw how truly broken you were. I never noticed that before now. And I’m sorry I didn't. If I’d have, I could have fixed this sooner, and we could be together right now.” He said.

You furrowed your brows at his last sentence and sat up.

“W-What?” You asked, and Chris moved closer. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a hug. 

“I still love you. So so much.” He smiled, and a tear rolled down his face. “You're my entire world, and not having you here is slowly breaking me apart. I didn't know just how much until today, but I can't live another day without you.” He said. “I’m so sorry I hurt you baby.” He sobbed, and his head buried itself into your hair. Your body shook with sobs too, and you turned around to face him.

“I love you too.” You sobbed out. “I never should have ended things, but-” You said, but were cut off by Chris’s lips on yours, and you felt yourself melting into it.

He pulled away a few seconds later. “Don't. It was my fault, not yours. I am so sorry, and I am going to spend the rest of my life making up for it, I promise.” He said, as he stood the two of you up and led you out of the room, and to his.

“Where are we going?” You asked, and Chris pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“I have to grab something.” He said. He opened his closet, and grabbed something out of the top corner before turning to you. 

“I said I planned on spending the rest of my life making it up to you, and I plan on keeping that promise.” He said, as he got down on one knee. You gasped, as he opened the box and your dream engagement ring was inside. “I want you for the rest of my life, and the next. Will you marry me?” he asked, tears pouring down his face, just like yours.

You nodded enthusiastically, and Chris stood up. He placed the ring on your ring finger and scooped you up. “I love you,” You choked out, and Chris sobbed harder into you. 

“I love you too, and I’m never letting you go.”

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[sunkissedpages]

instead of you [part fifteen]

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption

word count: 1.7k

series masterlist

Don’t tell Sam. Sam. SAM.

“Shit.”

You had to fix this in a matter of seconds. Should you slap him? Act like nothing happened? Pretend you were drunker than you actually were and play dumb?

“Wait, you’re not Sam?” you squinted your eyes like you were trying to see who was in front of you, acting like you were too drunk to remember who you were with. “Oh my god.”

“Y/n, I’m so sorry,” Tom tried. 

“I-” you didn’t know how to respond. “Why did you do that?”

He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “I don’t know, it didn’t mean anything!” You’d be lying if you told yourself that didn’t sting a little. If he didn’t have any sort of feelings for you, why would he kiss you? “I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Please don’t tell my brother.”

“You want me to lie to my boyfriend?”

“I mean, is it lying if you just don’t mention it?”

“It’s a lie of omission- are you really going to debate me about philosophy right now?”

“Then yes, I do want you to lie to your boyfriend because if he finds out he’ll never speak to me again.”

“You realize what kind of position that puts me in?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yes.”

You couldn’t even think straight. Feelings of confusion, panic, anger, and regret fought for control of your conscience. “What if someone had seen us? Taken a picture of us? You’re a public fucking figure, Tom. That could’ve put your career at risk.” “Don’t you think I know that?” he growled. “I don’t need you to lecture me on how stupid it was.”

“You’re an asshole,” you scoffed.

“I know.”

You stood from the table to leave, hoping he wouldn’t follow you, but he called after you, your name echoing in your ears like a warning. Reluctantly, you turned back to face him with a bitter taste on your tongue.

“You won’t tell him, right?”

You stared him down for a moment, watching nerves etch themselves onto his features before answering. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

It was a promise you didn’t want to make, but you felt like you had no other choice. You hadn’t just broken the ‘no flirting’ rule, you’d blown straight past it into completely uncharted territory. And technically Tom had been the one to initiate, you hadn’t kissed him back, but you couldn’t say you hadn’t felt something when he did. 

You had never lied to Sam before- at least not on this scale. You felt sick to your stomach, and it had nothing to do with the alcohol. 

You almost didn’t want to go back to your room. You urged the elevator to go as slow as possible as you checked your appearance in the reflective wall. The tarnished gold was smudged with handprints, but you were still able to make out your ruined lipstick. You weren’t sure it had been messed up sometime during dinner, or if it was Tom’s doing but you couldn’t take a chance. You used your thumb to wipe away the evidence as the intercom on the elevator let out a ding to let you know you’d reached your floor.

With a shaky breath you pushed yourself into the hallway and forced yourself to put one foot in front of the other to walk to your room. You didn’t have a key, so you had to knock. You half-hoped Sam was already asleep, even if it meant you’d have to spend the night in the hallway. 

But as luck would have it he was still up and he opened the door seconds later. He was definitely out of it, blinking at you to put you in focus. 

“There you are,” he said tiredly, rubbing one of his eyes with his hand. “I was wondering when you’d come up.”

“I hope I didn’t keep you up,” you apologized as you breezed past him into the room. 

“Nah, I was just messing around.”

A lie, you knew, but you let it slide knowing you were keeping a much bigger secret. He was already dressed for bed in his boxers and one of your t-shirts and his hair was wet from a shower. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, noticing your anxious energy.

You nodded. “I had too much to drink.”

“Ah, me too, I think. Come take a shower. It’ll help.” 

You took his advice and tried to sober up in the shower, letting the cold water run over your bare skin until you were shivering. When it didn’t make you feel any better you turned off the faucet completely and dried off, wrapping a towel around your body and sitting on the edge of the tub. 

“Y/n?” came Sam’s muffled voice from the other side of the door. 

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

You sighed. Why did he have to know you better than you knew yourself? You pushed yourself up from the tub and opened the door. 

“I had like three more shots after you left,” you mumbled.

The color drained from his face as he took in this additional information and he frowned. “Jesus, I thought I was drunk. Do you feel sick?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay, well let’s go to bed,” he urged. His accent was always thicker when he was drunk, and in a funny way it sounded like home, like all of those Friday nights back on campus. 

Sam gave you space to change into your clothes for bed and crawled under the covers to wait for you. You dressed yourself, hung your towel in the bathroom, and shut off the main light before feeling your way through the darkness over to the bed. 

You managed to get your drunk ass in bed without tripping which you considered to be a miracle. Sam slung his arm across your stomach as soon as you settled on the mattress and pulled you against his hip. You tensed underneath his touch, but he didn’t seem to notice. 

You couldn’t relax no matter how hard you tried, and sleep taunted you for hours, hovering just out of your reach. 

Sam’s alarm woke you from restless dreaming some hours later, when the sun had barely brushed the horizon. 

You groaned and rolled over onto your stomach, burying your face in your pillow. Your head was pounding and you didn’t even want to think about facing Tom. The simple motion of rolling over had made you nauseous and you knew that standing up was going to be a whole nother ordeal. 

“Come on, love,” Sam said, nudging you with his knee. He was already sitting up, rolling the tension out of his neck from a night on the stiff mattress. “We gotta be downstairs in a few minutes.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you felt pathetic. You didn’t have the strength to be around Tom today, especially with Sam right there.

“Don’t feel good,” you moaned.

“We’re all hungover,” Sam sighed. “We’re not even doing that much walking today.”

You turned your head enough for him to see the tears running down your cheeks and he pursed his lips, expression turning worried. 

“Oh.”

“Can you make something up?” you pleaded. 

He nodded. “I’ll tell them you have a fever or something.”

You swallowed your shame and squeezed your eyes shut, whispering thanks into his shirt. Sam kissed your forehead and then got up. You vaguely heard him moving around the room getting ready, but drifted in and out of sleep as he did. 

Once he was dressed he softly told you goodbye, that he hoped you felt better, and that he’d bring you back some food later on. 

The door clicked shut and you let your guilt continue eating you alive. 

You wondered how Tom would react when Sam told his family you weren’t feeling well, if his face would give anything away. He was an actor, he should be able to handle it. But you also wondered what he was feeling, if he felt as guilty as you did- or even more so. Or maybe he wouldn’t even care. You never knew when it came to him.

You rolled onto your back and propped yourself up on a pillow, using the free time to respond to some messages from friends and family. It was the middle of the night back in the States, but at least they’d wake up knowing you weren’t dead. To be fair, everyone knew your communication skills weren’t the best so they probably weren’t expecting anything from you anyway, but you still wanted to put in the effort. 

The rest of the day passed by quicker than you would’ve liked. You spent it in bed, tossing and turning as you desperately tried to fall back asleep. You kept pushing the blankets off of you, then burying yourself beneath them again, flipping between hot and cold. Maybe you really did have a fever. Your clothes were suffocating you so you ended up stripping and dropping them on the floor by the bed. 

By the mercy of some higher power you were able to nap for a couple of hours scattered throughout the afternoon, but by dinner time you were wide awake again and passed the time by watching Avatar: The Last Airbender in Italian on the hotel tv. 

It was playing an earlier episode, the one where the gaang visited Kyoshi Island. You couldn’t understand any of the dialogue, obviously, but you still found comfort in the familiar scenes. 

There was a knock on the door suddenly, startling you out of your focus. You jerked your head towards the sound and scrambled from the bed. You slipped back into your t-shirt, but didn’t bother putting on pants before opening the door because you figured it was just Sam. And it was. He looked exhausted, but in the best kind of way and was holding a styrofoam container of food that was presumably for you.

“Forgot the key,” he said sheepishly, offering you the food. You smiled and took it from him, stepping aside to let him in. 

He didn’t take your cue, instead he stayed where he was standing in the doorway awkwardly. It was then that you realized he wasn’t alone, that his older brother had been standing behind him the entire time.

Sam offered no explanation, only shrugged like he didn’t know why he was there either.

“Tom?” you asked, awaiting an explanation for yourself.

“Can we talk?” 

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[hangovercurse]

I’d Drop it All for You

Pictures of you and Pete are spread all over the internet, causing a whirlwind of hate to enter your social media.

Request: “Pete content please! anything !!! smut fluff whatever”

Pete x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, depictions of depression and anxiety

A/N: *Insert normal spiel about respecting A.G. and only using her for plot purposes. No harm intended.* Also I wrote most of this after a meeting with my therapist so... enjoy :) (He’s so cute in this gif I wanna kiss his face)

Word Count: 1820

You weren’t one of those people who loved being the center of attention. You knew that being in the spotlight also meant constantly living under a microscope, and you decided a long time ago that that was not for you.

But you were lucky enough to work as an assistant art director at just 24. You were hoping that The King of Staten Island, your newest project, would help get your name out into the professional world. But that wasn’t the only thing to come out of the film.

It happened unexpectedly, you showed up on set the first day, ready to do whatever the art director required of you. You couldn’t help but be slightly distracted by the lead actor and writer, Pete Davidson. He was so kind and funny, and he wasn’t uptight like everyone else.

After a few hours of filming, he came up to you, introducing himself. He said he “wanted to get to know everyone working on the project,” but you didn’t see him introducing himself to anyone else. You two started talking during breaks. Then he started sitting with you at lunch. Then he was asking for your number.

In a matter of weeks he was asking you out to dinner, taking you to a cozy restaurant that you absolutely adored. He walked you home, his hand grazing yours until you intertwined your fingers.

It was all very romantic, so when Pete asked if he could take you on another, you obviously said yes. Flash forward two weeks and he finally got the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend, even though you were both exclusively seeing each other already.

After filming ended 2 months later, you were still working on the film in post, which meant you had an excuse to stay  in Staten Island with Pete. After about 2 weeks in post, you spent more nights in his bed than your hotel’s.

Nearly 6 months later and you were happier than ever. You were splitting your time between your small apartment in the Bronx and Pete’s basement apartment. Pete introduced you to most of his friends, and you introduced him to yours.

But other than your small circles of friends, you kept your relationship fairly quiet. Pete doesn’t have social media and yours is strictly professional, so there are no pictures of you two together. You weren’t hiding each other, you loved each other, you just had no reason to tell tabloids. And you were perfectly happy with that.

Which made it so much worse when various news sites had pictures of you two holding hands. Had they been anyone else you would’ve thought they were cute, walking along the South Beach oceanside at night.

Pete had been in the SNL studio all day when the pictures were released, while you were in his apartment, trying your best to focus on the photoset in front of you. The production team wanted the film to scream “teen romance,” which basically entails subtle pink undertones and a higher saturation. But you couldn’t quite get the coloring right, probably because you weren’t actually focusing on the colors.

You sighed, looking at the time and realizing that Pete won’t be back until sometime after 2am, which was a whole 5 hours away. You let out a huff, pushing away from the desk and making your way to Pete’s closet and searching for one of his hoodies. They always smelled like him (and weed), so it was a comfort to you.

You crashed onto the bed, finding the phone that you had tossed there a few hours earlier. Turning it on you were surprised by the number of notifications you were getting. You knew the photos had surfaced but you weren’t expecting this.

Your Instagram was blowing up with new follows, likes, and comments. It was kind of exciting at first until you started reading some of the comments.

I mean, we knew he would downgrade from Ari, but this is like… really far down.

This girl really thinks she’s special just bc Pete’s dating her. Hun he could do so much better

Who is she?!? Literally no one.

Someone needs to show her how to dress

That hairstyle is not it honey

Pete Davidson is dating YOU??? He could do sooo much better

Ari was prettier sorry not sorry

The entire comment section on your last post, a picture of you on the set of your latest film, was pretty much the same. There were some nice comments, but a lot of mean ones.

And you couldn’t help it, you couldn’t stop looking at them. It felt so cliché, but it was like all of your deepest insecurities about being with Pete were thrown out on the table.

You knew that Pete had a fairly large following, and that a lot of people had really strong feelings about him. You had expected that if and when your relationship went public you would have a lot of people watching you, scrutinizing you. But you didn’t care because Pete was worth it.

Now you weren’t so sure. It wasn’t that you couldn’t handle people talking bad about you, because you definitely could, even if it hurt. You just weren’t expecting the amount of people comparing you to Ariana or saying that Pete could do so much better.

And it only bothered you so much because you felt it too. Your inner demons loved to remind you that Pete had dated Ariana fucking Grande and now he’s dating you. Anyone could see an obvious downgrade.

You turned your phone off and threw it on the opposite side of the bed, trying to think positive thoughts. “I am in control of my own thoughts and emotions. I am catching my negative thoughts and fixing them.” You murmured your therapist’s mantra to yourself, but it was too late. The thoughts had already taken hold of your mind.

Your eyes started to water as you could feel the heavy feeling in your chest set in. You pulled the hood over your head, pulling the straps to hide as much of your face as possible, and pulling your knees to your chest. You laid like that for a while, tears falling as doubts ran through your head. Once you had effectively exhausted your thoughts, you went numb. Your tears had stopped, but you couldn’t move. This wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, but it sure wasn’t pleasurable.

There was a sort of buzzing throughout your body, almost like the feeling when your foot falls asleep, but everywhere. It seemed to block out your sound, as you didn’t hear the basement door open. You only knew that Pete was home when he sat beside you on the bed, pulling the hood off your face.

“There’s my beautiful girl.” He smiled at you. You tried your best to fake one back, but you honestly couldn’t find the energy. Pete pulled you so you were sitting up, back pressed against his front. His arms wrapped around your middle as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “What’s goin on?” He murmured against your skin.

“Did you see them?” You asked, your voice quiet and hoarse.

Pete let out a sigh, “Yeah, I saw them.” He paused, his hold on you getting tighter, like he was making sure you couldn’t leave. “I’m sorry baby. I know you didn’t want it to be a whole big thing.”

You turned your head to face him, “It’s not that. I really don’t mind that people know. We weren’t trying to hide anything.”

He smiled, “Yeah, I know I just- it was nice having this to ourselves.”

He wanted to hide you. He’s embarrassed of you.

Your inner dialogue never seemed to shut up.

You turned away from Pete, trying to hide the tears forming in your eyes. “Yeah.” You whispered.

“What’s wrong, you’re still upset.” He rocked you in his arms, kissing the top of your head. You shrugged in response, not trusting yourself to talk. “You can talk to me, y’know.”

You nodded, leaning further into Pete’s chest. “People found my Instagram.” You murmured, looking down and tracing the arrow tattoo on his hand.

“Whaddya mean? I thought it was public?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

You sighed, wishing you hadn’t said anything. “Yeah, it is. But after all the articles people started following me and shit.”

“I would ask how that’s a problem but I deleted my Instagram so I can’t really talk.” You could tell he was trying to make you feel better, but you couldn’t seem to get out of your haze.

You shook your head, deciding to drop the matter. “It’s not, I’m just being overdramatic.” You sighed, putting on a fake smile and facing him fully. “Wanna watch a movie?” You asked, trying to change the topic.

He gave you the I-know-you’re-bullshitting-me look, which made you look down. “Something’s bothering you, Y/N. And you’re trying to pretend it doesn’t because you think your feelings aren’t valid, but they are.” He tilted his head, trying to meet your eyes that were still trained on the bedsheets below you.

“Where’d you learn that one?” You chuckled half-heartedly.

“Rehab part 2” he smiled, hand coming to your jaw to tilt your head up. “C’mon, talk to me. I wanna help.”

You huffed, moving towards the opposite side of the bed where your phone laid. You opened it, finding your Instagram, and showing him the comments. His eyebrows furrowed as he scrolled through the comments. When he decided he’d had enough he put your phone down, grabbing your waist and lifting you onto his lap so you were essentially straddling him.

He leaned his forehead against your own, your noses touching. “That’s all bullshit, you know that, right?”

You looked down, biting your lip. “Y/N you’re the most amazing, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, okay? I’m in love with you, not anyone else.” Pete’s eyes were searching yours, trying to figure out what was going on in your head.

“I know.” You sighed, “It’s just hard to be with you and not compare myself to her. And then all these people started to do it too, and they kept saying that you could do so much better and you can. So, I dunno I guess I just kind of spiraled.”

Pete captured your lips in a long, passionate kiss. “Y/N. There is literally no better than you. I can’t do better because you are the best woman I have ever loved. “

You pulled Pete in for another kiss. “Thank you, Pete. I love you.”

“I love you too. If this happens again, I want you to call me. I don’t care what I’m doing, I’d drop it all for you.” You smiled, sitting in the arms of the guy you loved. The thoughts didn’t just magically go away, but for a brief moment in time, you were happy.

[whatohitsonfirewelp]

James Sirius Potter headcanons because I can’t sleep and I don’t want to sleep

Boy is an actor. People want him to take after his namesakes? He’ll give them that. People expect him to smile and laugh loudly and practically demand attention? That’s what they’ll get. He’s the first child of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley and if he doesn’t want to get torn apart he has to give the people what they want.

He did not realize that he didn’t have to do that with his family. Let’s just say there was a very emotional few weeks for the next gen and their parents

He’s genuinely the perfect mix of his parents unlike his siblings. He doesn’t look like Harry’s twin like Albus or a male version of Ginny like Lily does (but female for her)

He’s skin is a few shades lighter than Harry and Albus but darker than Ginny and Lily. His hair is a dark brown that has natural highlights of red and orange in the summer

Dude is absolutely covered in freckles

As I said before he’s an actor. But when he’s not acting you’ll find out that he doesn’t really care for pranking much. He enjoys pranks but he doesn’t care enough to get creative when he pranks because that’s not his thing. Although it took awhile for everyone else to realize this

He’s a mommas boy through and through. But he did pull away from her in his hogwarts years. He didn’t want to act around her. That’s his mom. So he pulled away since he didn’t know how to not act

He loves flying. He absolutely loves it but he also doesn’t really care about quidditch itself. He enjoyed the game and has fun playing but it’s not his passion.

He was interested in broom making for a bit. He probably has at least 25 books about that but it’s not something he ended up going for

He did end up as a Gryffindor but he almost became a Hufflepuff. It’s not something he’s ever told his family or friends.

He doesn’t really have friends. He has people who tolerate him and he tolerates back and then there’s people who hang out with him because of who he is. Because of who his family is. But no ones ever cared about him.

James is fine with having no friends. He’s surrounded by people all the time, people who don’t really care about him. Not the way his aunt and uncle care about his dad or the way the younger Malfoy cares about his brother. That’s fine with him. It’s fine when he looks over at his little sister and younger cousins and sees them with their own little groups but not alone

He’s not stupid and he’s not a genius. He gets good grades when he works hard and he finds it better to just watch what happens in the classroom instead of being the one to raise his hand.

James finds out he’s bisexual when he kissed another boy on a dare. He’s never told anyone and he doesn’t really date but it’s not a secret. If people know they know and if they don’t they don’t

He won’t ever forgive himself for letting his brother get in danger. It doesn’t matter if they both pulled away from each other I’ve the years. That’s his baby brother and it’s his fault. If it’s not his fault then it’s the adults and he’s not ready to admit that Albus and the little Malfoy aren’t the only ones they’ve messed up with

He feels out of place in his family but he doesn’t say anything for so long because he knows he’s not the only one. Albus feels out of place for reasons that everyone knows but so do his other cousins and Lily. All of them are putting up some sort of act. Too scared to tell their parents that they aren’t who everyone expected them to be

James ends up getting a tattoo his 6th year. He spent a weekend in New York in a muggle town and ended up getting a small tattoo on the inside of his wrist. If there’s one trait he got from his dad it’s impulsiveness. He ends up going back a few months later to get another one on his rib cage. Somehow these tattoos are kept a secret until a family picnic happens and he takes off his shirt to swim.

The tattoo on his wrist is a lily with a snake wrapped around it. On his rib cage he got Weasley Potter and Evans written in cursive

Harry ended up crying and refused to stop hugging James for an hour when he saw them.

James has a loud voice and laugh. It’s a voice that makes you look up and pay attention and a laugh that makes you smile and your heart warm

He doesn’t have hair like Harry or Albus but his hair isn’t straight like Ginny and Lily’s is. He takes after Grandma Molly and Uncle Percy with his slightly curly hair.

If he had to pick a favorite cousin it would be Hugo or Molly II

After the whole situation that happened with Albus James would get up in the middle of the night and sit outside his younger siblings room. Harry or Ginny would wake up and find him passed out on the floor holding his wand more than once

James try’s to get attention on him for more than one reason. He knows it’s what people expect once they hear his name and he knows so many of his other family members don’t enjoy most of the attention their family gets. He doesn’t know how to tell them he cares but he does know how to show it, even if no one realizes it at first

James has hazel eyes like his namesake. No one is really sure if it’s because of his parents own eye color or if he inherited it from the first James.

He’s actually barely average height. Albus is the one who gets the Weasley height while Lily ends up slightly taller than average but not taller than him.

He’s great friends with every ghost in hogwarts and absolutely no one understands how this happened and it’s just become a Thing

He’s clumsy as heck despite being great in the air. No one understands this until Minerva mentions that James the first was the same way.

His nails always have chipped paint on them because he can’t stop biting them and scratching at the paint.

He prefers things from the muggle world. He likes pens and pencils more than quills he loves the things they have in their toy stores. He has a rubik’s cube that’s been throw at a wall several times out of frustration

He’s actually really good at potions and he’s good enough in his other classes as long as he practices and studies. He also ends up having a love for history and will ignore everything happening in the actual class and read books from the library.

James is simple for the most part and he’s okay with that and he’s okay to pretend that he enjoys putting up a act with everyone.

He can’t cook but he can bake and it confuses Harry so much but Ginny finds it hilarious

He absolutely can not sing or dance but he’s a pretty good writer and you can find doodles on every paper he’s written something on

And that’s the post. Every time I thought I was done I had another idea. So this is my James Sirius Potter headcanon and you can accept some none or all I don’t really care

[221bshrlocked]

II. Teach Me

Shiny & New Masterlist

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader

Words: 2410 (can you believe I wrote something under 4K?)

Warnings: Inapropro touches in public. Confessions. Oral sex (male receiving).

A/N: Here is part two you hoes. Let me know how I’m doing in the comments please. I think this may be the shortest thing I’ve written in two years?

It wasn't that things were weird between the two of you after that night. It was that things weren't, far from it actually. Pedro was more touchy, and if you weren't overthinking things, he was more flirty as well. And the odd thing was, he didn't even care if anyone was around. He constantly found a way to touch you, whether it was a quick nudge to your waist or a soft caress of your lower back as he passed behind you. And then there were the dangerous smiles and low-key remarks full of innuendoes. You thought you were imagining all of this but there was no denying the bulge you felt against your back when he pulled you into his lap as soon as you stepped into the jacuzzi.

You said nothing of it, trying your hardest to continue whatever conversation you were having with Sarah without giving yourself or him away. He laughed at something Sarah said and leaned over, briefly kissing your shoulder blade before slithering one arm across your navel and pushing you down harder on him. You bite back a moan when you feel him twitch against you, unintentionally digging your nails into his thighs when his other hand slowly dips beneath your swimsuit piece.

It's a battle of who's a better actor, with Pedro pretending he was just having a chat and you trying to not make it obvious that you were practically getting fingered in front of your best friends. The lighter his touches became, the more difficult it was to keep it together. What was only a few minutes felt like hours and you sighed in relief when Oscar said that lunch was ready. You waited until everyone left the pool area before you turned around and looked at Pedro.

"Are you out of your mind?" There was no malice in your voice and Pedro smiled before leaning over and kissing down your neck.

"Yes...fuck, yes I am baby. I'm so goddamn crazy for you hermosa. You drive me mad...dreaming of you every night only to wake up with nothing but the memory of you in my arms." You melt into his embrace, trying not to make any noise as he bites down on your skin and leaves marks where his hands could reach,

"Pe-Pedro...please, I- I need..."

"I know what you need baby, I know exactly what you need. And I'll give it to you real good sweetheart...just stay over. D-don't leave, please. Stay here with me...stay here with me." There's a shift in his tone and you can't help but feel like there's perhaps more to this than you thought. And the hope that flutters through your heart doesn't scare you as much as you thought it would.

"Please oh god..." The hand around your waist is trailing up your stomach and you finally give in to him as he cups and kneads at your tits.

"Fucking tell me you'll stay querida." Pedro shakes you in his arms once, pulling at the hair on the nape of your neck until your throat was exposed to him. He licks the skin of your chest up to your jaw and hums at the taste of you, pulling away just in time to see goosebumps erupt on your skin.

"I'll- fuck...I'll stay. I'll stay...n-not going anywhere. I-"

"Sweet fucking girl...never letting you go now." Pedro whispers as he molds his lips with yours, swallowing your moans and deepening the kiss when you gasp at his needy touches.

You inhale deeply when he finally lets you go and stands up. By the time you're opening your eyes, Pedro is looking down and smiling devilishly at you. He stills has his arms wrapped around your back and chuckles at you when your knees buckle at feeling him so near to you.

"That good huh?" You're looking away when he winks, quickly moving out of the spa area and grabbing a towel while Pedro drys his chest and puts on a shirt. Your eyes scan the backyard and when you don't find anyone, you dare to turn around, eyes widening in embarrassment when you see Pedro fixing himself through his swimsuit.

He walks towards you and helps you put on your dress, never once breaking eye contact as his hands move across your wet skin.

"Hurry the fuck up baby chicken!" You snap out of your haze when you hear Oscar yelling from inside, smiling at Pedro as he grabs your hand and moves towards the house.

The rest of the day goes by quickly, with Pedro glancing at you every once in a while and waiting until you smile at him before he goes back to whatever he was doing. You hope you're not reading too much into this, especially now that there were more emotions involved than before. It felt like he was perhaps as nervous as you but there was no way that was true. A man who touched you so shamelessly in front of your friends wouldn't suddenly grow nervous over you staying over. Right?

"Alright heart eyes, I'll see you later." You pretend you don't hear Oscar teasing Pedro as he's leaving, waving your goodbyes as you begin to clean up after everyone. You hear the front door close and immediately head to the kitchen, trying to not seem too nervous now that you're left alone with Pedro.

A solid warm body creeps up from behind you and you drop the plate in the sink when you feel Pedro's hands crawling up your stomach.

"I satisfied myself all of these weeks with the mere thought of you hermosa..."

You shiver at his hoarse voice, shutting your eyes and allowing your head to fall back on his shoulder as he begins to leave a trail of wet kisses down your throat.

"How does that make you feel baby? Knowing that I can't stop thinking about you...fuck sweetheart you're the prettiest goddamn sight in the world." Pedro is turning you around in his arms in an instant, shoving his tongue down your throat and keeping you flush against him as he makes his way back to the couch, the same couch he almost fucked you on not a whole month ago.

"Pedro...oh god, please. I- want to...to-"

"What do you want baby? I'll give you anything, everything...just please let me keep kissing you." His desperate pleas twist the inside of your stomach and you reluctantly lay a hand on his chest and push him away. Pedro's eyes panic and he lets go of you immediately, not wanting to force you into anything you didn't want.

"Wait...I- I want to know what this is," you motion between the two of you, ignoring the way he's licking his lips and looking back at you, "because- fuck, this is harder than I thought it would be. I can't lose you Pedro but I can't lie and pretend that I don't...want more with you. Ever since what we did, I can't- it's like everything made sense all of a sudden. I don't know why I never thought of this but you were so sweet and caring and kind and everything perfect. I can't do this if you aren't...if you just want to-" Pedro suddenly steps forward and takes hold of your neck, making sure you're meeting his gaze before he opens his mouth.

"I wasn't lying when I said I'm crazy about you querida. And- if I'm being honest, I've had these feelings long before you asked me to sleep with you. Ever since I met you baby, I always pictured you in my arms, having lunch with me, staying over every night...coming to events with me. I wanted you then and I want you now." His words are soothing and you shut your eyes and lean into the palm of his hand before you decide to ask him what you've been dying to know ever since the morning.

"Why didn't you say anything Pedro?" I could have been with you for so long.

"Because...I didn't think you'd ever consider me." Pedro looks away when he confesses his fear, not wanting to see the look on your face should you agree with him.

"Are you serious?" You frown at him and almost pull away when he smiles sadly at you.

"I'm older than you sweetheart, a lot older than you. The thought of you rejecting me was...unbearable."

He's shocked when he feels your arms wrap dramatically around his neck just as your lips seek his own. But he's pulling you in soon after, smiling when you moan and beg for him to bring you closer to him.

"I'll take it you don't mind then?" He asks between kisses, laughing when you push him down on the couch and straddle him. His hands are roaming your back before he squeezes and grasps at your ass. He can already himself harden beneath you the more you buck your hips against him.

"Fuck baby you're a dream...my fucking dream." There is a hint of reluctance in his voice and you let go of him and look into his eyes as you whisper your assurances.

"I'm here Pedro...not going anywhere. I promise." He's about to lean up again to taste your lips when you move down his body and kneel between his thighs.

"Wha- what're you doing honey?" He gulps at the sight of you kneeling at his feet, pupils dilating as soon as he feels your hands cupping his cock through his shorts.

"I want to taste you Pedro, please. You- you promised. Please, will you teach me? Will you teach me how to take your cock in my mouth? I want you to come down my throat...want to know how to touch you, pleasure you...make you lose control." Your words are enough to make him hard. Pedro can't believe what he's hearing and your request shoots straight to his dick when he realizes that this is probably your first blowjob.

"Fuck...yeah alright go on baby. Touch me, take what you want...let me feel those pretty lips wrapped around me cock." Pedro raises his hips just as you pull down his shorts, moaning when he sees the way you eye his cock like you were about to feast on him.

"God...I touched myself every night Pedro...picturing your cock sliding into my pussy, stretching me out...filling me up. But you're so much thicker than I remember. So thick and hard for me. Is- is this all for me?" He's sure you're not aware of the effect you're having on him or else you would stop so he wouldn't come so soon.

"Yeah honey, it's for you. All for you. Why don't you be a good little girl and open your mouth. Open it sweetheart and take my cock. Go on, I'll be gentle." He thumbs your jaw and clenches his jaw when you slowly take the head of his dick between your lips. He forces himself to not buck his hips against you, knowing that you needed to get used to the size of him before he tried anything. The curiosity etched on your face as you explore him makes him wish he could push you down on all fours and fuck you until you couldn't remember anything but his name. But he bites into his lower lip to try and have a semblance of control over his body.

"Oh ff-fuck...so wet and warm. Pretty girl...sweet fucking girl." His words make you moan around him and you shut your eyes to try and take him a little deeper. Pedro is torn between keeping his eyes open to commit every single moment to memory and shutting it to enjoy the softness of your throat. But he keeps them open, watching as you switched between licking the precum rolling down his length and sucking on the side of his cock while you rubbed the tip.

"Shit fuck baby...it's okay. You- you don't have to sweetheart...we'll get you there. I'll train this cute mouth of yours to gag on my cock...just enjoy this for now, fuck. So good. So fucking good." Pedro is looking at you with desperation and neediness in his eyes and you pull back to lick at the underside of his cock before leaving wet kisses on his balls. His grip tightens around your hair, unable to decide whether that was the most innocent or the filthiest fucking thing he's ever seen. You're not shy anymore, and Pedro enjoys the sight of you as spit drools down your chin and onto his dick. You're messy and wet and shameless in your touches. Absolutely fucking beautiful.

"You taste so good," it's a faint whisper but his cock twitches in your hand at the exclamation and he gulps nervously when he feels your grip harden around his dick. Fucking hell, how's he already so close?

"Please baby, let me come. Want to come down your throat, fill you up before I fuck this tight cunt again. Take my cock hermosa...take it like the filthy little girl you are. Shit, baby I'm so close...so- so fucking close." He finally throws his head back when your lips enclose around him again, breathing growing erratic when warm hand jerks off the rest of him while the other cups his balls. He's moaning your name and swearing all sorts of curses in Spanish, never once noticing how much it turns you on when he loses control.

"Shit shit fuck oh god- oh baby baby I'm- cuh..coming ff-fuck!" You take him just a tad bit deeper right before you feel hot, long spurts of cum shooting down your throat. It almost feels like he's coming for minutes on end and you squeeze and suck on his dick until he gets too sensitive and pushes you off of him. Pedro looks down just in time to see you collect the cum trailing down your chin and lick it off of your thumb.

"Fucking beautiful." He whispers and mirrors your smile before he pulls you up into his lap again. You're shocked when he kisses you, moaning in surprise when you feel his tongue exploring your mouth. When Pedro finally pulls away to allow you to breathe, he's laughing again at the hazy look on your face.

"W-was I any good?" The reluctance and shyness in your voice makes him almost grow hard again.

"Well, practice does make perfect sweetheart. And I plan on practicing with you all night long."

Taglist: @pastel-0-princess​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @libbymouse​ @its--fandom--darling​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​ @princess76179​ @cheekygeek05​ @miraclesoflove​  @purple-mango​ @freeshavocadoooo​ @metalarmsandmanbuns​ @acthenerd​

[bostongirl13]

My dad’s friend

Summary: What can go wrong when the sexual tension is unbearable and your dad decides to enter your wardrobe at the wrong time. Oh and when the main reason is Chris Evans

Words: 1,5k+

Warnings: AGE GAPE, light smut, fluff?, mistakes 

Masterlist 

A/N: I guess I'll do a continuation, but let me know what you think 😉

People sometimes think having famous parents helps in a career, but in that case, the only help was talent. No one could accuse you that what you achieved was your father's contribution. You knew how to act and that made you become an actress. You've starred in several major productions, and now you've got an offer to be a perfume brand ambassador. On top of that, Chris Evans was supposed to be your partner and also be a brand ambassador.

You met him on the set of Avengers thanks to your dad. You were about 14 at the time. As a little girl, you fell in love with acting and the role of your dad because of your work and the role of your dad, so you often visited your dad on a movie set, meeting Chris and befriending him. However, you never thought that you would have a chance to work with him as a young woman a few years later.

"Ready?" you turned around and saw those beautiful blue eyes and the wide smile you know so well. You'd be lying that you don't have a crush on Chris, because c'mon who doesn't.

"Always" you smiled.

The beginning of the session was simple and not complicated. First, they took pictures of you and Chris separately, and it wasn't until a few hours later that you went through the photos together.

One of the photos looked like you were leaning against the glass and Chris was standing over you with one hand on your hip. In the second, you were separated by a glass, and your hands were placed on the glass. The next one, the next one and the next one... You didn't know how many different positions and from how many different perspectives you had photos taken.

The last part of the session consisted of quite intimate photos, but not including nudity. It was about closeness and showing affection, passion between two people. Of course, as actors, you knew how to act and it wasn't a problem for you. Well, the only problem was the sexual tension hanging in the air the moment you changed your outfit. Jeans and a light shirt have been replaced with a fairly tight dress with a mid-thigh slit.

Chris cleared his throat embarrassed and muttered something about you looking beautiful before positioning himself the way the photographer said.

You had your back to Chris, his hand on your hip, and your ass was practically rubbing against his crotch. You weren't embarrassed by that, it was just a photo session after all. But Chris felt uncomfortable, and while he did everything he could - including thinking about dead puppies - it was to no avail. His member trembled when you only moved a little. You said nothing, but you felt it.

"Wrong. Let's change it. Chris, you lie down on the couch and Y / N lie on him." said the photographer when you changed the scene. You both as he said.

After changing positions, Chris was on his back with one hand behind his head while you were lying on top of him and he had the other hand on your back, protecting you from falling off. Now you could feel his erection perfectly on your thigh and it was hard for you to hide that fact. You smiled slightly, making Chris understand what was happening.

"Sorry," he muttered between the clicks of the camera. You saw that he wasn't comfortable with it because his ears turned red.

"Don't be" you chuckled and you moved your hips lightly, to which he will close his eyes and tighten his fingers on your body.

What Chris didn't know was that your panties were already soaked. So, for you and Chris, being so close was the obvious tension in the air. You tried to limit your movements, but it was hard, especially since the photographer told you to change positions again. This time it was supposed to be the last scene.

Chris sat on the couch with his legs slightly open, somewhat happy that you straddled him to keep the crew from seeing the bulges in his pants.

"Stop moving," Chris warned. You didn't know if it meant that if you didn't stop, you would regret it, or if he just felt bad about his body reacting to his friend's daughter.

Well, Chris had both of these reasons in his head.

After the session was over, the photographer asked if you wanted to see the photos. You readily agreed, while Chris thanked everyone and, under the pretext of being tired, walked towards the wardrobe. As soon as he entered the corridor he breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, not for long.

"Chris?"

"Yes?"

And before he knew it, you pulled him into your wardrobe and crushed your lips together. At first, Chris didn't know what was going on, but he quickly recognized the situation and kissed you back by sliding his tongue inside your mouth. You moan softly at the act of his domination and let the electrifying sensations overwhelm you.

"Wait. I can't. ”He broke the kiss and lowered his head.

"Why? I thought you wanted it "

"No, it means yes, but it's wrong"

"Why? Because I'm younger than you or because my dad is RDJ? " You raised your eyebrows smiling slightly.

"Both?"

"You don't seem convincing Mr. Evans"

Chris took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Fuck, he wanted you so much. For several hours, his cock has been painfully trapped in his pants. He looked at you and didn't know the slightest hesitation. Your lips slightly swollen from the kiss, your eyes glistened with desire.

"Fuck it"

He pressed your lips together as he slid his tongue into your mouth again, his fingers wrapped around your neck holding your head in place. The kisses were sloppy, your lips bitten and your teeth crashing into each other. Your breathing quickened and your panties even wetter if possible, you could feel your juices running down your thighs.

"Chris ... I need you, now" you put your hand on his crotch and squeezed it. After a few hours of tension and teasing, you were fed up. You wanted to feel him inside you.

You moved to the couch. You straddle Chris as he kissed your neck and kneaded your breasts. At that time, you were working to unfasten his pants to free his cock.

You could imagine him being big after you felt him against your thigh, but when you took his penis out of his boxer shorts, your eyes widened at his size. Chris noticed it quickly and a smirk crossed his face.

"I know you will take it, Princess. I will make you feel good," he whispered in your ear in a low voice.

You grabbed his arms and screamed when he slipped into you in one quick motion.

"Fuck you are so big"

"But as a good girl you can handle my size, right?"

You nodded and looked at him. Chris hasn't given you a lot of time to get used to. He grabbed your hips and helped you move up and down along its length. Moans started to come out of your mouth and somehow neither of you cared about it. And you could be sure that everyone on the team heard what was going on in your wardrobe. But you've been busy kissing and fucking Chris. Your body burned with fire, your cheeks stung mercilessly and your pussy tightened on Chris's cock. How you felt right now was hard to describe in any language of the world. He has destroyed you for other men right now.

"You feel so good," you muttered between kisses, tears streaming down your cheeks from the pleasure you felt.

"You too, Princess. So tight."

You knew you wouldn't last long, you groaned pitifully trying to get yourself to orgasm by pouncing on his cock. Chris grabbed your hips and lift you a little before starting to fucking into you, hitting all the right places inside you. You didn't have time to warn him, your orgasm came quickly and unexpectedly. You moan - actually screamed - coming hard on his cock. Moments later, Chris also came filling you up with his seed.

"Fuck, you are amazing." he growled as you both ride of your orgasm.

And suddenly a few seconds later ....

"What the hell?" you turned around and saw your father standing in the door of the dressing room looking at the scene he found.

You and Chris didn't move even a millimeter. You just froze and realized what just happened when the door to the room closed with a loud bang.

"Did your dad just walk in when we ..."

"I think so," you said seriously and then burst out laughing, but Chris was not laughing.

"It's not funny"

"It is a little"

"Maybe a little," Chris agreed, unable to resist smiling seeing your face and the smile you had. Your cheeks were red, your lips were swollen, your hair was disheveled, and there were marks from his teeth and kisses on your neck. He felt pride in bringing himself to this state. Still, he knew he had fucked up. And now he had to face your dad and his friend after he just fucked his daughter.

~ to be continued ~

Tags:  @patzammit @ivettt​ @mostannoyingbillioner @speechlessxx​ @angrybirdcr​ @ozarkthedog​​ @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ @sweetflowerdreams​ @worksby-d

[withcolebrock]

Full of Surprises

Corpse Husband x Fem!Reader

Requested: yes!

Summary: Corpse finds out that Y/N secretly knows who he is and his music

Warnings: Swearing, lmk if anything else :)

Word Count: 1,624

Author’s Note: Hello! First corpse piece! I’m trying something new with this piece, just posting it at a different time tehe. I hope you guys like it, I think this is a pretty cute little platonic/flirty friendship corpse and reader tehehehe

~~~

It was a small temporary thing; only for a couple months. She needed a place to stay during pilot season and her friend Dave knew exactly where she could go. He knew his friend Corpse lived near the area and he was needing help on the rent. Dave had been good friends with Y/N and Corpse seperately for a long time. Of course when he heard Y/N needed a place to stay and Corpse needed help on rent, he offered the idea to the both of them. Since they were both desperate  They’ve met a few times prior at Dave’s house but the whole thing felt awkward.

She walked up to the door and hesitantly raised her hand up and knocked. It took a few long uncomfortable seconds before the door was pulled open. She smiled up towards him, as she met his eye. Her heart began to beat faster. He smiled nervously as he showed her into the house. “Hey,” he mumbled.

He shut the door behind her as he shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets. “Hi,” she smiled as she looked over the small apartment. It was small and well put together.

“So-uh, this is my place,” he said nervously, he let out a laugh. She laughed along with him, the awkward tension began to dispait.

“It’s nice, I like it,” she smiled towards him as she continued to shift her gaze around the apartment.

He started to show her around the apartment. The main living area was open concept, so he just walked aimlessly in a circle through the kitchen, dining area, and the living room. He opened the fridge to show that there wasn’t much food in it, “I don’t cook, I’m really bad at it, so sorry about that,” he giggled as he pushed it slightly watching it shut on it’s own. She laughed along.

“Don’t worry, I can cook for you,” she let out, her face smiling widely. He continued the tour, showing her his room. His room was extremely clean, besides the few empty water bottles. They didn’t stay long in his room, instead he walked passed a closed door heading towards the guest room; where she would be staying.

He pushed open the door, “This is your room, and you can do whatever you want in there, like, I don’t know, throw a rug in there,” he sighed as they both walked into the room. She giggled slightly. She was glad that the apartment was simple. She rested the suitcase in front of the bed.

“Thank you for the little tour,” she smiled as she looked up to him. He smirked as he nodded slightly. His eyes widened as he quickly stepped out of the room.

“Just real fast, I would really appreciate it if you didn’t go in this room. It’s just-I-uh yeah,” he stuttered as he rested his pointed finger on the door. He forced a smile, but she can tell that he was worried. It didn’t bother her, this whole idea of the secret room. It was his apartment and of course she was going to respect that.

“No problem, I completely understand,” she smiled widely as she shoved her hands in her hoodie pocket. He slowly leaned his body away from the door as he rubbed his hands together nervously.

“Do you want me to help you unpack?” he asked, his heart beating fast. Nodding her head, she walked backwards back into the room she would be staying in. She knealed down and began to unzip the small suitcase filled with enough close for the next few months. He stood beside her, waiting for her to hand him the clothes. “Wait, I never asked you what pilot season meant,” he laughed, “I just was like ‘I don’t know what that is but sure,’” he explained. She giggled while handing him a few of her t-shirts. He walked over to the closet and began to hang them up.

“It’s basically where a bunch of networks are trying out new shows, it’s exciting especially for new actors and stuff,” she explained excitedly. Every so often he would shift his gaze towards her, noticing how much her face lit up when she spoke. “Except half the shit doesn’t get picked up by the networks,” she mumbled afterwards as she laid out a hoodie and shorts she was going to wear later. Chuckling, he reached for another piece of clothing from her.

After they unpacked all of her stuff, they ordered pizza and they sat down to watch TV together. They talked for hours, simply getting to know each other. She would go in grave detail about what she was hoping to get out of the next few months, he would sit and listen to every detail. He loved that she was easy to talk to; he was grateful because the next few months would have been extremely awkward.

She didn’t ask too many questions about his personal life, yet something was starting to click. She recognized him, she never noticed it before but as she sat down next to him she realized how she knew him. She should’ve realized it sooner, from him being friends with Dave but she didn’t. She recognized his voice through his music.

After spending hours of them sitting together and learning about each other, the fact didn’t really matter to her. He didn’t want her to know about it and she didn’t bring it up.

~~~

The past couple of weeks had been great, herself and Corpse were getting along great. Their energies and jokes were always bouncing back and forth between each other. They spend hours at night together watching TV, mostly reality TV because they find it hilarious. She really enjoyed her time with him and she believed he was feeling the same way.

Corpse was up late working, she heard him around one in the morning leaving the room he told her not to go into. After everything he’s done for her, she thought she would do something nice for him.

After waking up early she left the apartment and headed to the store. It wasn’t much, but she thought he would appreciate it. She spent a few hours filling her cart with different types of food, to stock the house. Mostly so she can spend time with Corpse to teach him how to cook. Especially after a brief instant where he burnt toast, she couldn’t comprehend how. She teased him about it for hours.

It was a short drive home as she listened to her playlist on shuffle. She shoved her phone in her back pocket as she kept her music playing. She grabbed as many grocery bags as she made her walk into the apartment. It was nine, early for Corpse, she hoped all the groceries and her other plans would be done by the time he woke up.

After a few minutes, she had put all of the groceries away and she began to start cleaning the kitchen. It wasn’t messy, it just needed a few dishes cleaned and other simple stuff. Her phone began to play one of Corpse’s songs, she almost turned it off but she realized that he was asleep and wouldn’t know.

She placed the clean plates in the cabinet as she sang along to his song, Miss You!. She shut the cabinet as she turned around to walk towards the fridge to see Corpse standing behind her. Her eyes widened as her mouth dropped. He stared at her with his eyebrows knitted together harshly with his arms crossed over his chest. She rushed to her phone to shut it off.

“You know who I am?” he asked, he sounded hurt. He didn’t know how she found out, but it was starting to make him upset. He loved when people in his real life didn’t know what he did, he felt safe and comfortable with the idea. A billion ideas started flooding his head, what if she releases what he looks like? There goes every ounce of privacy he had.

“I’ve listened to your music way before I even thought about living here, I promise. I mean I didn’t even make the connection until the night I moved in,” she explained quickly. He stayed silent as he took a small step towards her, “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Her voice started to get quieter. She avoided his gaze as she kept her gaze to the floor.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, “You haven’t told anyone how I look right? It’s just really important to me to keep all that private I guess,” he let out a dry laugh to cover his nerves.

“Of course not, I would never hurt you like that,” she said. She lifted her head to meet his gaze, she watched as his features softened. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you-”

“No I understand why you didn’t, and I respect it,” he took another step closer to her, she felt her cheeks flush slightly. After a few long seconds of silence of soft eye contact, he lets out a small giggle. He shifted his gaze to the floor, “So, which song is your favorite?” she chuckled while rolling her eyes playfully.

“Miss You!, I really like the beginning,” she explained, he smirked as he shook his head.

“You don’t seem like the type of girl to listen to my music,” he let out as he walked over to the fridge. He pulled it open seeing the variety of food in there, his mouth dropped. He pointed to her and then back to the fridge several times, she giggled.

“I’m full of surprises,”