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taeghi · 17 days ago

Text

dangerous when wet

you find out your next door neighbour loves shower sex.

PAIRING: neigbour!jake x y/n

GENRE: smut, shower sex duh, unprotected sex, oral, masturbating, dirty talk

WC: 10k MDNI

you've been living in your apartment for a year now, and it finally feels like yours. it wasn’t much when you first moved in—just a small, empty space with plain white walls and a few pieces of basic furniture that came with the lease. but over time, you’ve slowly transformed it into something that feels warm and welcoming.

you’ve spent countless hours finding the perfect decorations for it. you’ve put up pictures on the once bare walls, just to take them down again and put some new ones up. you wanted everything to be perfect. you wanted it to feel like you.

most days, it’s just you here, alone with your thoughts and your textbooks. you’re deep into your college studies majority of the time. but, you’ve made your apartment perfect for studying. it’s quiet, organized and everything has its own place of where it belongs.

you like that it's quiet here. after a long day on campus, your apartment is your retreat, your safe space. the outside world can be overwhelming, but here, everything is just how you want it. there’s a kind of peace that comes with knowing you have a place that’s all your own, where you can shut the door and leave everything else behind.

today is one of those rare days when you don’t have any classes, so you’ve planned to spend the entire day catching up on your studies. you’ve got your textbooks laid out on the coffee table, your laptop open with a dozen tabs ready to go, and a playlist of soft music playing in the background to keep you focused.

but as you’re about to dive into your notes, you hear some noises in the hallway. at first, it’s just a faint rustling, but then it gets louder, like someone’s moving furniture or carrying something heavy. you pause, your pen hovering over your notebook, and listen. the sounds continue, voices joining in, and for a moment, you wonder what’s going on. then it hits you—mrs. blue, the sweet old lady who used to live next door, moved out last week. someone must be moving in now.

curiosity gets the better of you, so you quietly get up and tiptoe to the front door. you peek through the peephole, trying not to make a sound. through the tiny lens, you see a boy around your age standing in the hallway, a cardboard box balanced easily in one hand. even through the peephole, it’s clear that he’s good-looking and he knows it.

he’s laughing at something one of the other guys says, his smile wide and easy, and you can’t help but notice the way his confidence just radiates off him. there are a couple of other boys with him, also carrying boxes into the apartment next door, and they’re all chatting and joking like they’ve known each other forever. you wonder which one of them, or how many of them are moving in.

you watch for a moment longer, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and something else you can’t quite name. this new neighbor is nothing like mrs. blue, that’s for sure.

but for now, you go back to your studying, putting in your headphones this time and ignoring the slight bumps you hear from the furniture being moved around next door.

it isn’t until later when you’re making dinner that you realize you’re out of sauce for your pasta. you check all your cupboards for anything you can use, but turn out empty handed.

you sigh, knowing that you’ll have to run to the store to get some more sauce for your dinner. you wanted to have one day where you could just stay in your apartment all day and relax.

but, you grab your purse and decide to leave for the store, keeping on your pink pajama shorts and top since you think that you’ll only be running in and out of the store in a short amount of time.

you’re halfway into the hallway when the door to the apartment next to yours swings open and you almost walk straight into someone. you gasp, stumbling back a step as your eyes dart up to see who it is.

“i’m so, so sorry! are you okay?” the words tumble out of your mouth in a rush as you steady yourself, your heart still racing from the near collision.

the man in front of you looks down at you, and you realize it was the man from earlier you saw through your peephole. you’re too flustered to say anything else. he’s taller than you though and his tousled brown hair is pushed back off of his forehead. a slow, easy grin makes his way onto his face.

he glances down, taking in your outfit and chuckles softly. the sound makes your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you suddenly wish you’d at least thrown on a hoodie before stepping out.

“it’s alright,” he says, his voice smooth and warm, like he’s genuinely amused by the situation. “i’m jake, by the way. i just moved in.” he extends his hand to you, and it takes a second for you to register what’s happening.

“i’m y/n,” you manage to mumble as you shake his hand, your voice coming out more timidly than you’d like. internally, you’re cursing yourself for being so shy, especially in front of someone who seems so effortlessly confident. his hand is warm, his grip firm, and you can’t help but feel a little more flustered as you pull your hand back.

“nice to meet you, y/n,” jake says, still smiling that smile that makes it hard to think straight. “i’ll see you around, then.” with that, he turns and starts walking down the hall, catching up with a couple of guys who are waiting for him. as they pass by, both of them wave at you, and you manage a small wave back before they disappear down the apartment building steps.

once they’re gone, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your cheeks still warm with embarrassment. you’re standing in the hallway in your pink pajamas and just almost ran into your ridiculously hot next door neighbour.

you cringe at yourself and start to leave the building as well, making your way to the store. you can’t stop thinking about jake the whole way there. you’re both curious and intimidated by him. he’s attractive, confident and seems so carefree. everything that you’re not.

you wonder what its going to be like living next door to someone like him.

it’s been two weeks since jake moved in, and every weekend, like clockwork, he throws a party. it’s become a routine you dread. the moment friday evening rolls around, you brace yourself for the noise, the pounding music, the bursts of laughter that seep through the thin walls. no matter what you do, you can’t escape it. the bass thuds through your apartment, vibrating through your bed frame, making it impossible to focus on anything, let alone study.

you’ve tried everything to block it out. noise-canceling headphones, calming playlists, even white noise—nothing works. it’s as if the walls are paper-thin, every beat of the music and every shout from the party-goers seeping into your space, filling it with chaos.

one afternoon, you’re coming home exhausted from college and you run into your neighbour maia, who lives on the opposite side of jake’s apartment. she’s always been friendly and outgoing– something you are jealous of her about. you wondered if the noise from jake’s parties had only been bothering you and not the rest of the building.

“hey maia,” you start, trying to sound casual as the pretty girl opens her mailbox.

“hi y/n!” she gleams at you, so perfectly. “what’s up?”

“um, i was just wondering if you’ve heard the neighbours' parties? does the noise ever bother you? they’re just so loud, and i can’t seem to study at all when they’re going on.”

maia looks at you, and then she laughs—a light, carefree sound that makes you feel a little foolish for even bringing it up. “oh, no, they don’t bother me at all! i actually join them most of the time,” she says, smiling brightly. “you should come one day, y/n. they’re so fun! you’re always in your apartment or at school studying, you need to let loose a little.”

her words make you smile, but it’s an awkward, strained smile. “yeah, maybe,” you say, but deep down, you know you’ll never go. the thought of being surrounded by all those people, of trying to navigate the noise and the chaos, makes you feel anxious.

you wave goodbye to maia and head to your own apartment, feeling frustrated that you are the only one seemingly annoyed by jake’s parties. i mean, it doesn’t even seem like jake has gotten a noise complaint from the manager of the building. you don’t know what to do.

when saturday night rolls around again, you plan on going to bed early since you have to wake up early to cram for an important exam on monday morning. but sure enough, when the sky is total darkness, you start to hear the familiar sounds of jake’s party coming to life again next door. the music starts, a low thump that grows louder, then the laughter, the clinking of glasses and the sound of dancing feet.

you lay down in your bed, pressing your pillow over your ears, but even that doesn’t help. you’re wide awake, staring up at the ceiling, listening to it all.

the frustration builds inside you, and you wonder how long this will go on. how many more sleepless nights you’ll have to endure, how many times you’ll have to pretend to maia that you might actually show up at one of these parties. you can’t help but feel a mix of curiosity and irritation toward jake. he’s attractive, confident, and clearly the life of the party—everything you’re not. and now, as you lay there, unable to sleep, you can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be more like him, to not care so much about… everything.

after what feels like an eternity of tossing, turning, and suffering through the relentless noise, the party finally seems to quiet down. the music fades, the laughter dies out, and suddenly, it’s blissfully silent. you figure jake must have kicked everyone out and gone to bed, and a relieved smile spreads across your face as you snuggle deeper into your blanket, ready to finally get some sleep. but just as your eyes start to close, you hear it—a soft, feminine giggle coming from the other side of the wall. your eyes shoot open, heart sinking as you realize that jake’s bedroom is right beside yours, and every sound from his room travels straight to your ears.

it takes a second for you to realize what the sound you’re hearing exactly is. but when you realize, a wave of embarrassment flushes over you. you can hear him having sex.

your heart stands to pound as you recognize jake’s voice, groaning and muttering dirty phrases. you feel a twinge of guilt as you realize you start focusing solely on jake’s voice, but the curiosity and growing arousal you’re feeling is too strong to ignore. you wanted to know what a confident, good looking guy like jake sounded like in bed.

the woman he’s with is vocal, ehr moans and gasps filling the silence between jake’s grunts. you wonder if he’s fingering her or if he has his mouth wrapped around her core. your imagination is running wild as you try too imagine the scene that is unfolding right on the other side of this wall.

as you listen, your breathing quickens, and you find yourself reaching down to touch your breast, your finger dragging along your nipple over top of your shirt. it’s been a while since you’ve been touched— the last time was in your last year of high school. when college started you became too focused on your studies and your shyness only grew more and more the more you studied alone.

bumping into jake in the hall a few weeks ago has been the only contact you’ve had with a man since you started college two years ago. you tried not to think about how long it’s been.

you begin to pluck your puckered and sensitive nipples. it’s even been awhile since you’ve had the chance to touch yourself– to make yourself feel good.

the woman’s moans become more urgent and muffled, and then you hear jake’s voice so clearly filled with desire, “suck it baby. take it all in your mouth.”

you bite your lip, imagining jake saying those words to you. your hand moves lower, sliding beneath the elastic waistband of your pajama bottoms. your fingers find your clit, and you begin to rub slow, firm circles as you listen to the sounds of the blowjob taking place next door.

“fuck, that’s it.” jake groans, and you can faintly hear the wet sounds of the woman obeying his command. “you love sucking my cock, don’t you? taking it deep down your throat.”

your fingers move faster as you picture jake's thick, hardened cock sliding in and out of the woman's mouth. you imagine his hands tangling in her hair, guiding her movements as she sucks him eagerly. your other hand moves to pinch your nipple, rolling it between your fingers as you continue to rub your clit. you wish he could be doing this to you.

the sounds of the blowjob continue, and you can't help but wonder if the woman is looking up at jake with lust-filled eyes, her face flushed and lips wrapped around his shaft. you want to be her, to feel jake's cock filling your mouth, tasting him on your tongue.

"i'm gonna cum," jake warns, his voice tight with anticipation. "fuck, keep sucking. swallow it all."

your breathing is ragged now, your body tensing as you approach your own climax. you can almost feel jake's cock throbbing in your mouth, his hot cum shooting down your throat as the woman next door obediently swallows his load.

"fuck, yeah," jake groans, and you hear the satisfied whimpers of the woman. "that was fucking amazing, baby."

you bite your lip, your fingers working furiously over your sensitive clit as you listen to their post-orgasmic bliss. you're so close to your own release, your body aching for it.

"now, I want to feel that tight pussy around my cock," jake says, his voice laced with desire again. "ride me, baby. let me watch that perfect ass bounce on my dick."

you imagine jake lying on his bed, his cock hard and ready as the woman straddles him. you try to picture yourself doing it to him, both of your thighs wrapped around his hips as you lower yourself onto his cock– but you know you’d be too shy for it. you know jake wouldn’t think you’re sexy like the woman he’s fucking right now is.

the woman gasps as she takes him inside her, and you can almost hear the wet sounds of their bodies joining. you can almost feel the tightness of your own pussy as you imagine jake's thick cock stretching her, filling her up.

"oh god, you feel so good," the woman moans, riding jake's cock. "i want to feel you so deep inside me."

you close your eyes, your body rocking gently as you bring yourself closer to climax. your breath comes in short gasps, and your fingers move faster, needing that release.

jake's hands grip the woman's hips, guiding her movements as she rides him. "that's it, baby," he grunts. "ride my cock. show me how much you want it.”

you can hear the slap of their bodies meeting, the woman's moans growing louder as she nears her climax. you want to be in her place, feeling jake's powerful thrusts deep within you, his hands gripping your hips possessively.

"hh, I'm close," the woman whimpers. "i'm gonna cum, jake. fuck, I'm gonna cum so hard on your cock."

"cum for me, baby," Jake encourages, his voice hoarse with his own rising desire. "let me feel that tight pussy clench around my dick."

you can't hold back any longer. as the woman cries out in ecstasy, your own orgasm washes over you. your body shakes with the intensity of it, your fingers never slowing as you ride out the waves of pleasure. you bite your lip to muffle your moans, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, but the sensation is too overwhelming.

in the aftermath of your orgasm, you lay panting, your body sated and relaxed. you hear jake and the woman next door in a similar state, their breathing heavy and satisfied. you feel a twinge of guilt for eavesdropping, but your mind is still too hazy from the strong orgasm you just gave yourself.

soon, exhaustion finally wins your body over. you can't keep your eyes open any longer, and as you drift off to sleep, your mind wanders one last time to thoughts of jake. you wonder about the type of women he’s into– what type of sex he’s into. you feel like you have an idea of what he likes.

with those thoughts lingering in your mind, you let the weight of sleep pull you under, hoping for a quieter night tomorrow after studying all day.

when you wake up, you decide that you need to go out and grab a coffee before diving into your studying. as you step out of your apartment and into the hallway, the memory of what happened last night lingers in your mind.

just as you’re about to turn and head down the stairs, you see a woman emerging from jake’s apartment. she’s hugging him goodbye, and your breath catches in your throat. he’s shirtless, his toned body on full display, and he looks undeniably hot. the girl he’s with is stunning—she has long, glossy black hair cascading down her back, sharp, perfectly defined features, and so confident. she’s the epitome of the type of girl you imagine jake would find irresistible—so different from you in every way.

“bye jake, see you around,” she says, her voice smooth and warm as she wraps him in a final hug.

“bye, yasmin.” jake replies, his gaze lingering on her as she turns and walks away.

jake turns and starts to head back into his apartment, but he notices you standing there (not in your pink pajamas), and a smile grows on his face, “oh, hey y/n!”

“hi,” you manage to squeak out, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you give a meek response. you quickly turn and head down the stairs, cursing yourself for being so awkward. you hear jake’s soft chuckle behind you, followed by the sound of his door closing. with every step you take, you wish you could be more like the kind of girls jake likes—confident, attractive, and effortlessly cool. the thought weighs heavily on you as you practically run down the stairs, eager to escape the awkward encounter.

the next weekend, the familiar sounds of jake’s party start filtering through your walls again. today had been especially rough at school, and you’re on edge, feeling the frustration build up inside you. all you wanted was a good night's sleep.

unable to take it any longer, you grab your resolve and walk over to jake’s apartment door, your pink pajama set feeling like the least of your worries.

you knock firmly, not caring that you’re in your sleepwear with your hair braided messily. when jake opens the door, he’s holding a red solo cup, and you can’t help but notice how his black button-down shirt is partially open, revealing his tan, muscular chest.

“hey, yn,” he greets, his voice slightly slurred but still cheerful. “sorry, am i being too loud?”

he takes in your disheveled appearance—sleepy eyes, braided hair, and an annoyed frown—and chuckles softly. you’re too irritated to care about his easy going demeanor.

“yes, actually,” you say sharply. “you keep me up with your loudness every weekend. i have school work and studying to do, you know.”

jake’s smile fades a bit as he registers your frustration. despite being drunk, he seems to sense your genuine annoyance. “i’m so sorry,” he says, his voice more earnest now. “i’ll keep it down. i know a pretty girl like you who needs her beauty sleep.”

you blink, momentarily taken aback by his comment, and manage a quiet, “uh, ok, thanks.”

he gives you a reassuring nod. “have a good night,” he says before closing the door.

you turn and walk back to your apartment in a daze, trying to process what just happened. his words replay in your mind as you notice the noise level dropping. finally, you manage to settle into your bed, exhausted but relieved, and drift off to sleep, feeling a mix of confusion and unexpected relief.

after your conversation with jake, the music in his apartment hasn’t been as loud. though the sounds of laughter and chatter still seep through the walls, the thumping bass is more bearable now. at least he’s trying to make it better for you.

you head down to the mailboxes on the first floor, wanting to see if your best friend has sent you any more postcards from her vacation.

as you’re sifting through the usual bills and flyers, you hear footsteps approaching. when you look up, it’s jake. he has his mailbox key swinging around his index finger as he walks up beside you, unlocking his own mailbox.

“hey, yn,” he greets you, his voice confident and casual.

“hi,” you mumble, your eyes glued to the pile of mail in your hands. you can feel the heat creeping up your neck, and no matter how hard you try, you just can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze.

you fumble with your letters, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your hands shake slightly. but of course, he does, and you catch the slight curve of his lips as he finds your shyness amusing.

“how’s school going?”

“good,” you reply quickly, still avoiding his eyes. you shuffle your feet, desperate to end the encounter before you embarrass yourself any further.

“well, see you around,” jake says, his tone light and friendly.

you manage a quick nod before you scurry off, your heart pounding in your chest. as soon as you’re back in your apartment, you let out a groan. embarrassed, yet again, in front of jake.

a few days later, you’re returning home after a long day of classes when you spot maia and jake outside of his apartment. he’s leaning against the open door frame as he talks to your neighbour.

hey, yn!” maia calls out cheerfully. “we were just talking about you!”

you approach them hesitantly, feeling a bit out of place. “oh, really?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

“yeah!” maia says, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “jake’s throwing another party tomorrow night. you should totally come!”

you start to shake your head, the word “no” already forming on your lips, but then jake jumps in, his voice a mix of earnestness and charm. “please come, yn. i want to hang out with my neighbour!”

maia nods enthusiastically, both of them looking at you with wide, hopeful eyes.

you sigh, feeling cornered. “okay, fine, i’ll come,” you agree, though a part of you can’t believe you just said that.

“yes!” maia cheers, and jake flashes you a triumphant grin.

as you walk back to your apartment, you can’t help but sigh again, wondering what you’ve just gotten yourself into.

you stand in front of your mirror, smoothing down the dress for what feels like the thousandth time. it’s a simple dress, nothing too flashy, but you still feel self conscious. you’re not even sure why you put it on– maybe to prove something to yourself, maybe because deep down, you’re tired of feeling like the odd one out. or maybe it's because of jake.

no, it’s definitely because of jake.

when you hear the unfortunately familiar thump of music vibrating through the walls again, you figure its time to go over to the party.

with a deep breath, you knock on the door.

it only takes a moment before the door swings open and jake stands there, with that same confident smirk he always seems to have. his eyes widen slightly as they take in your dress, the curve of your waist, the way it hugs your figure. it’s subtle, but you notice, and you feel your cheeks heat up.

“what?” you ask him, trying to sound annoyed.

“nothing,” jake says, his smirk widening. “just surprised you’re not in your pink pajamas again.”

you can’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes. “hey!”

“i’m kidding,” he chuckles, leaning against the doorframe. “though you do look cute in them.”

his words catch you off guard, and you feel a mix of embarrassment and something else. you just smile, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other.

before you can say anything else, you hear maia’s voice calling your name from inside. “yn! come sit with us!”

you glance past jake and see maia waving you over, surrounded by a small group of people on the couch. jake steps aside, gesturing for you to enter. with a nervous smile, you step inside, immediately hit by the scent of cologne and weed, the sounds of laughter and music filling the room.

maia pats the spot next to her on the couch, and you gratefully sink into the seat, trying to push down the anxiety bubbling in your chest. jake follows, taking a chair directly across from you, his eyes lingering on you a little longer than necessary. you can feel his gaze, the weight of it making you squirm slightly in your seat.

everyone around you is seemingly at ease except for you. they are all drinking and laughing, having fun. but all you can focus on is jake and the way his eyes never seem to leave you. it sends a thrill down you to know that he’s actually noticing you. but you try to ignore it, pushing down the anxiety and focus on anything but the boy sitting across from you.

“hey! let’s play truth or dare!” maia’s laughter fills your ears at her suggestion. a few people immediately cheer in agreement.

you feel a knot tighten in your stomach at the suggestion. you’ve never played it before, but you’ve heard it’s a thing at parties. you’ve never even really been to a party before.

maia nudges you with her elbow, “come on, y/n!” she already senses your hesitation, “it’ll be fun!”

"yeah, join us," jake’s voice adds from across the room, and your eyes dart to him. he’s watching you, his gaze steady and, for some reason, that only makes you more nervous. he looks so confident, like he belongs in this kind of setting, while you feel like an outsider.

you nod slowly, not trusting yourself to speak without your voice trembling. a few people shift around, creating a loose circle, and you find yourself sitting between maia and a guy you vaguely recognize from the hallway when jake was moving in.

the game starts and you hope no one picks you since they aren’t familiar with you.

you learn that the boy next to you is named jay and he’s pretty carefree and outgoing like the rest of them. when it’s his turn to choose, he goes with dark, which makes him take a shot of something suspiciously strong. he does it without flinching and the rest of the group cheers him on.

maia gets dared to kiss the girl beside her. the reaction from the rest of the group as they watched them kiss had even you laughing.

then it’s maia’s turn to ask, and she eyes jake with a playful smirk, “jake, truth or dare.”

“truth,” jake replies, leaning back in his chair, completely at ease.

without hesitation she asks, “what’s your favourite place to have sex?”

jake smirks, his eyes sweeping over the group before they land on you, “the shower.” his voice comes out smooth.

maia scoffs, “really? the shower?”

“and what’s wrong with the shower?” jake’s eyes are interrogating her from across the coffee table.

“well it’s small, uncomfortable, slippery– you just can’t get a proper position.”

jake leans back in his seat, his eyes as amused as the smirk on his lips is. “but it’s hot, and intimate, and feeling the water against my skin as we fuck turns me on more.”

there’s a few chuckles around the small group at his answer, but maia still only rolls her eyes at jake, not agreeing with his answer at all. she turns to face you.

“y/n do you think the shower is a good place to have sex in? i mean is it good enough to be your favourite?”

you feel heat rush straight to your cheeks as she calls you. the unfamiliar faces in the group all turn to look at you, including jake.

you gulp before answering her, “i mean, i’ve never had sex in the shower before, but i guess it sounds tempting.”

at your answer, jake smirks and leans in closer, the space between you shrinking as he leans over the coffee table, “temping enough to try?” he asks you, teasingly. there’s a challenge in his tone and it sends your mind racing, thinking of the night you heard him with your shared bedroom wall, thinking of what he’d look like with water droplets trailing down his skin.

“okay okay! someone else go– alice how about you? truth or dare?” maia cuts off the intense eye contact between you and jake, probably noticing how you were suddenly struggling to breathe.

jake leans back when alice answers with dare, a playful glint is still in his eyes. you realize that maybe the line between fantasy and reality with jake isn’t as strict as you thought.

you’re lounging in your apartment, your textbooks pushed away for the day, when a knock on your door jolts you out of your thoughts. you get up, not expecting anyone in particular, and open the door. your breath catches in your throat when you see jake standing there, in nothing but a towel. water droplets glistening on his skin.

your mind suddenly feels scrambled.

“sorry to bother you, y/n,” he says, his voice smooth as silk. “but i’ve got no hot water in my apartment. could i finish showering here?” the way he says it makes it sound so casual.

“uh, yeah, sure, come in,” you manage to stammer, stepping aside as he slips past you, you force your eyes to stay looking at the ground.

you lead him to your bathroom, trying to not focus on the fact that he’s only in a towel.

he stands in your bathroom, looking around at it, curiously. he smiles to himself as he examines the way you’ve decorated it, cute.

“ok, i think i’ve got it from here, y/n.” he says to you, trying not to laugh at the way he’s caught you staring at his body.

“oh, right! sorry, yeah, i’ll be out here when you’re done!” you stutter and scramble to close the bathroom door, hearing his chuckle behind it. you cringe at yourself as you walk away from the bathroom door, hearing the water from the shower start.

you sit back on your couch, trying not to imagine your hot neighbour naked in your shower.

when you finally distract yourself by focusing on your phone, you hear the bathroom door open, the water stopped.

“uh, y/n?” jake’s voice calls out to you.

“yeah?”

“can you come look at the shower? i think your hot water is broken too.”

“what?” you groan out as you stand, “no!”

you enter the doorway of the bathroom, jake’s towel is even looser around his hips, his full lower abdomen on display, water droplets disappear underneath the towel.

“i was just using it and it was hot for a second and then it turned cold.” jake explains and steps aside, letting you walk past him so you could see for yourself.

your hand reaches out and turns on the knob, instantly feeling hot water against your hand. your eyebrows furrowed together as you stand straight, “it’s hot now, that’s weird.” you turn to look at jake, who’s leaned against the counter, a smirk on his face as he obviously feigns confusion.

“oh really? it turned ice cold on me, maybe you fixed it for me.” jake nods, staring straight at you.

“yeah, maybe.” you try to sound confident, ignoring how small the bathroom finally felt and how inviting jake’s bare core looked.

jake turns his attention to your shower, “so, you’ve never had shower sex before?”

instantly your cheeks heat up and you try to act like you aren’t freaking out inside.

“um, no, never.”

“but you’ve thought about it right?” jake encourages you to speak, his bottom lip getting caught between his teeth. you can feel his eyes scanning you, eating you up and undressing you.

“um, i mean, uh,” you stuttered out, not being able to look at him.

“you’ve never thought about me? in the shower?”

your eyes jolt up to look at him, shocked– it’s like he’s read your mind. it’s like he knows everything you’ve ever thought about him. he reads you so well.

you open your mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. you’re full of embarrassment and shock and lust.

“you know our bedroom’s share a wall right y/n?”” jake continues, stepping forward, his basically naked body so close to yours. you try to not look directly at his muscular, wet chest, but it’s hard when he’s standing right in front of you.

“yes.”

“so you can hear me right?”

your eyes feel like they’re going to pop out of your head, but you nod reluctantly. god, your neighbour is going to think you’re a freak.

“well that means i can hear you.”

your mouth goes dry at his statement, realizing that he’s heard you moan his name as you touch yourself late night. he’s heard you shrivel in your bed from the pleasure of your hands, wishing it was your neighbours instead of yours.

god how could you be so careless?

jake suddenly laughs, making you glance up at his face finally having enough courage. “don’t look so worried, y/n. you don’t think i liked listening to you moan? listening to you beg for me to make you cum?”

you groan, your hands covering your face out of pure embarrassment.

jake’s hands grab your wrists, pulling them away from your face so he can look at you. his face is so calm and amused. his body even closer to yours, his hands warm on your cold wrists.

“i think you’re hot, y/n. and i want to make you feel good.”

you can tell his confession is serious and it makes you feel like you’re dreaming.

“will you let me?”

“yes.” you finally manage to get out, your chest heaving as you breathe heavily.

you watch him let go of your wrists and lean over you to turn the shower back on, the sound of the water hitting the marble floor of it fills your ears.

“gonna let me show you why shower sex is my favourite?” jake teases, and you can’t help the small smile form on your face. which then drops instantly as he drops his towel on the floor, letting it pool between both of your feet. your eyes relish in the newly exposed skin, his cock already semi-hard and prominent. the vein’s on his cock are protruding and it makes you want to lick them one by one.

jake, now completely naked, steps closer to you, his hands grabbing the bottom of your pyjama shirt and so slowly, lifts it up your body and above your head, leaving your chest bare for him to see. he groans as he stares at your tits, your nipples hard already from the cool bathroom air.

his fingers play against the hem of your pants, “can i continue?” he asks, wanting your full consent.

“yes, please, jake.”

he smiles at your politeness and pulls down your sweatpants at the same time as your panties, leaving you completely bare as you step out of them. jake takes a step back and takes in your body, bare for only him to see, “god you’re beautiful.”

you try not to blush at his compliment, you think that surely he’s seen prettier girls than you, but right now, with the way he’s looking at you like he’s going to devour you, you try to push those thoughts out of your head.

jake guides you into the shower, following after you. the water is warm against your skin, wetting both your bodies together.

jake lets you stand under the water, putting water on your hair and wetting it. you smile at him as he is gentle with you, making sure you’re completely wet like him. his thumbs brush against your cheek bones, he stares at you with a soft smile on his face that matches yours.

one of his thumbs travels down to your bottom lip, playing with it and wetting it with your saliva. you let him easily slip his thumb into your mouth, your lips encircling it and sucking on it. your tongue gently traces it, teasing him. his own bottom lip is in between his teeth again, suppressing a moan at the feeling of you sucking on his finger.

jake pulls his thumb out of your mouth and instead replaces it with his lips pressed against yours. he can’t take it anymore and neither can you.

the first kiss is slow, but needy, your wet bodies pushed togther as the water cascades over your body. his lips feel better than you ever imagined. he tastes like mint and feels like heaven.

it doesn’t take long for the kiss to become more heated. jake’s hands get braver as they travel from your jaw to your hips, they keep your body close to his.

his lips start to travel across your jaw, pressing quick kisses into it before making his way down to your neck where he begins to suck and nipple on the sensitive skin.

“jake…” is all you can say as he finds your sweet spot and sucks, the thought of him leaving a mark doesn’t disturb you. you want to be marked by jake. you want the reminder of him on you once tonight is over and you probably never see him again– let alone feel him again.

he presses you against the tiled wall, his body trapping you there. his hands cup your breasts, massaging them, tweaking your nipples, letting you whine out in pleasure into the bathroom.

"you like that, don't you, baby?" he whispers against your lips. "you like it when I touch you like this."

you can only nod, your body on fire. you’ve thought about this so many times. you can feel his now hard cock press against your upper thigh.

jake lowers himself, his lips trailing kisses down your neck, over your collarbones, until he reaches your breasts again. he takes his time, worshipping your body, his hands gripping your hips as he kisses and sucks your sensitive flesh.

you wonder if he takes his time like this with every girl he hooks up with, lets them melt into him. you’ve heard him fuck countless of girls through your shared bedroom wall and you never imagined he was this attentive with them.

"i want to feel your pussy," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "let me touch you, feel how wet you are for me."

he slides a hand between your thighs, his fingers finding your core. you're already soaked, it doesn’t surprise you or him, and you gasp as he strokes your sensitive folds.

"so wet," he growls, his voice full of satisfaction. "you're ready for me, aren't you?"

you nod, your eyes closed, as he slips a finger inside you, beginning a slow, rhythmic motion.

"open your eyes, baby," he commands. "look at me while i finger-fuck this tight pussy."

you obey, your eyes locking with his as he adds another finger, stretching you, filling you with pleasure. he works you expertly, his thumb circling your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. he keeps his eyes locked with yours and you suddenly find it hard to even stand up anymore. your knees feel weak as he fucks his fingers into you.

you haven’t been touched by someone other than yourself in so long that even the different stretch of his fingers make you whine out. you shrivel against the wet wall of the shower behind you.

the wet sounds of his fingers fucking into you mix with your cries that echo through your bathroom that are covered by the sound of the shower’s water. your hand reaches down and hold onto his shoulder for support. you try to obey him and keep your eyes open and focused on him, but the pleasure is getting to be too much too soon.

then, jake wraps his lips around your clit and you know that you’re a goner. his lips suck your clit into his mouth, his tongue circling it quickly. you cry out loudly, feeling the pressure form in your stomach quickly– needing release.

"jake, i'm... i'm gonna..." you pant, your breath coming in short gasps.

"cum for me, baby," he urges, his fingers working faster. "let me feel your pussy clench around my fingers."

his words push you over the edge, and you cry out, your orgasm ripping through your body. your vision goes blurry as your body shakes against the shower wall. his fingers don’t stop fucking into you until your cries die down and your body relaxes against the wall.

jake pulls his fingers out of you and immediately pops them into his mouth, sucking around them.

“oh my god!” you exclaim in surprise as he groans around his fingers, enjoying the taste of you– wanting to taste even more of you.

“what? you taste good.” jake shrugs at you and stands up fully again, his hands resting on your hips. before you can answer his lips press into yours, you allow his tongue to enter your mouth so easily. you let yourself taste your juices off of his tongue and lips, moaning at the obscenity of it.

“you gonna let me fuck you now?” jake asks you, a soft smirk on his lips.

“please,”

jake wraps his arms under your thighs, lifting you up so neither of your feet are touching the ground and instead are wrapped around his waist, securely.

he takes his time with you again once you’re in position. his lips find yours, pressing into yours so slowly and softly. but neither of you can ignore the way his hard cock is pressing into your wet pussy– open and on display just for him.

suddenly, with one smooth thrust, jake pushes his cock into you. it feels you so suddenly and perfectly that it has you gasping out and taking your breath away.

"oh, fuck," he groans, his eyes rolling back slightly. "you're so tight, so hot around my dick."

he begins to move, his hips thrusting in a steady rhythm. the water cascades over your bodies, adding to the sensuality of the moment. you meet his thrusts, wrapping your legs tighter around him, urging him deeper. needing him deeper.

jake stills his hips and watches you bounce up and down on his cock while he holds you up in the air. “oh my fucking god,” he groans out, watching how needy you are for his cock.

you use his shoulders as leverage, allowing your body to fully move up and down his cock– the tip hitting your g spot every single time he enters you fully. he fills you right to the brim. your nails dig into his shoulder, the pleasure so much so quick yet again for you. you’re almost disappointed in yourself.

"that's it, ride me, baby," he encourages, his hands gripping your thighs. "take all of me."

you're lost in a haze of pleasure, the hot water and jake's voice in your ear drive you wild. your pussy feels like it’s on the edge of cumming, but you tell yourself to hold it. you need this moment with jake to last longer.

your hips start to stutter and both you and jake know that you’re getting tired even though you don’t want to stop. but, jake takes over for you.

he grips your hips harder and holds you still up against the shower wall as his cock starts to drill into you.

“oh fuck!” you cry out, clenching your teeth together as he pounds up into you.

you can hear the squelching of your pussy as he moves in and out of you. the sound of his wet thighs hitting yours with the shower water mixed between. his thumbs are drilling into your hips but you don’t care– you can only focus on the way he’s drilling into you at a rough, quick pace.

your neighbour fucks just as good as you thought he would.

jake suddenly stops, both of your chests heaving. your slightly glad he stopped, you were feeling too close to the edge for your liking. he sets you down on your feet and gives you only one command, “turn around.”

you do as he says and press the palms of your hands against the shower wall. you feel jake’s hands slide down your body, resting on your hips before a harsh slap hits your ass, making you jolt forward in shock.

“fuck i love your ass— always so perky and teasing me in the halls.” jake grunts out, his hand soothing over the wet, red skin of your ass. “wanted to fuck you as soon as i saw it, fuck.”

his grunted confession makes you whimper out, your pussy clenching around nothing– needing jake’s cock back inside of you. you hear jake chuckle deeply behind you, almost completely covered from the sound of the water, but sure enough you feel the tip of his cock enter your folds. he teases you, rubbing it up and down, collecting more of your juices before sliding back into you at once.

your jaw drops open against the shower wall. you don’t think you could ever get use to the feeling of him so deeply inside of you.

jake starts to fuck you again, going at a slow, rough pace. everytime he slides back into you its hard- making your body jolt against the shower wall in front of you. you can feel every vein of his cock sliding in and out against your pussy walls. you feel almost drunk on jake’s cock.

“oh my god i could fuck this pussy forever,” jake grunts out behind you, “feels so fucking perfect.”

“i-i know,” you answer him, feeling the same way as his cock fills you.

“fuck, c’mere,” jake says and before you can move, he’s moving you for you. he grabs your body off the wall and pressing you close to him– your back right against his chest with his cock still lodged inside of you.

his voice is in your ear as he sinks his hand down across your body and in between your legs, his fingers finding your enlarged clit so easily. your cry out at the touch, your head resting on his shoulder. his other arm wraps completely across your neck, holding you against him, subtly taking away your oxygen.

jake starts to pound up into you harshly again, his hips not stopping as he fills you over and over again. his tip feeling like it’s bruising your cervix. his fingers massage rough circles into your clit.

“just like that jake! just like that!” you cry out the best you can, his arm still choking you. the lack of oxygen to your head makes the pleasure feel 100 times better. “please don’t stop!”

jake groans and grunts into your ear as he fucks you, and you think that this is the best position to be in. every fiber of your body feels like it’s on fire as jake pleasures you completely. your pussy is clenching so hard around his cock that it’s driving both of you crazy.

"i'm close," he grunts, his jaw clenched with effort. "gonna fill that sweet pussy with my cum."

his words send you spiraling towards another climax. you tighten around him, your nails digging into his arm as you ride the wave of pleasure.

"cum with me, baby," he growls, his voice hoarse with desire.

your orgasm crashes over you, and you cry out his name, your body convulsing around his cock. jake follows, his thrusts becoming erratic as he empties himself deep within you. the feeling of his warm cum inside of you makes you moan out– you’ve thought about his cum inside of you so many times.

jake lets go of you as he slides his cock slowly out of your sensitive pussy, and you start to lean into the shower wall to be able to stand up, but jake catches you again. he chuckles to himself, finding it amusing how weak and fucked out you are.

he still stands behind you, and presses a soft kiss into your temple, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

jake’s hands move over you with a softness that’s almost surprising, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you. his touch is gentle, reverent, as he reaches for the soap, lathering his hands before he begins to wash you, starting with your shoulders and working his way down, slow and careful. his fingers glide over your skin, soothing and patient.

“just relax,” he murmurs, voice low and tender, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as his hands move over your arms, washing away the lather in smooth strokes. he’s so close, his warmth mixing with the heat of the water, and you can feel his breath ghosting along your skin as he leans in, pressing another gentle kiss to your cheek.

he moves with a rhythm that feels natural, like he knows exactly what you need. his hands move lower, taking their time, massaging every knot of tension out of you with a patient, unhurried calm. it’s intimate in a way you hadn’t anticipated, and you close your eyes, letting yourself lean into him as he tends to you.

“you’re beautiful, you know that?” he whispers, his lips brushing against your forehead. his hands slide up to your shoulders again, moving slowly up to your neck, fingers gliding through your hair, working the shampoo through your scalp with careful, almost delicate movements.

you can’t help but wonder if he says that to every woman as he washes their body and hair for them. you’ve never been in this situation before, and you wonder if he has since this almost seems like a natural setting for him. jake’s so handsome and outgoing, you’re sure he has. you’re sure his words have no real meaning behind him– just a dialogue that he says to everyone after he’s fucked them.

when he tilts your head back to rinse, his touch is steady, supportive, and he keeps one hand cradling your head as the water flows over you. his other hand moves to your back, tracing small circles as he presses a kiss to the side of your face, his lips lingering there for a long moment.

it feels so intimate, so caring and natural. like you’re meant to be with jake in this moment. you aren’t sure how you’re supposed to just live beside him after this.

“i could stay like this forever,” he murmurs, his voice a quiet confession, and it sends a warmth through you that goes deeper than just the heat of the water. as he rinses the last of the suds away, he trails soft, lingering kisses along your shoulder, your collarbone, his hands gentle and sure as he holds you close.

you don’t know what to think of his words. does he mean to be in this shower– or be with you forever?

jake turns off the shower, and there’s a quiet that settles over you both as the water stops. he steps out first, grabbing a towel and gently wrapping it around you, taking his time to dry you off. his hands are gentle, moving over your arms, your back, as he dabs the last traces of water from your skin.

you notice how slow and gentle he’s going with you– you push the thought away of him going so slow because he wants to be with you longer.

he reaches for your pajamas, and you let him guide your arms into the sleeves. he slides the fabric over your shoulders, his touch lingering just a second longer each time. once you’re dressed, he grabs another towel, his fingers combing through your hair with a softness that makes you feel cared for in a way that feels almost foreign. he dries each strand with careful strokes, brushing your hair out until it’s smooth and soft.

you wonder how he knows to brush your hair like this.

“all done,” he murmurs, his voice warm, and he places a gentle kiss on the top of your head, pulling you close for a moment. you both move to the bed, and as you settle under the covers, jake’s still wearing just his towel, water glistening on his shoulders in the dim light.

he stands beside your bed, a soft smile on his lips as he looks down at you with your head placed right in the middle of your pillow. he thinks you look like an angel this way.

“stay with me tonight?” you ask, the words slipping out before you can think twice.

“sure, baby.”

jake slips under the blanket beside you easily, resting his head on the pillow and draping his warm arm over your body. he nuzzles his face into your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple for the last time.

with his arm around you, the steady beat of his heart next to yours, everything feels so calm, like the world has shrunk down to just this, just him. the thought scares you, but sleep takes over your mind completely.

you fall asleep to the warmth of his touch, his arm holding you close, feeling safe for the first time.

you wake up to an empty bed, and you don’t need to look to know that jake isn’t there. you lay there for a moment, still tangled in the sheets, listening for any sound that might mean he’s somewhere in your apartment—a faint shuffle in the kitchen, the hum of the shower. but it’s silent, and somehow, you already knew it would be. you almost laugh at yourself, at the small part of you that still thought he might stay,

it’s almost funny, in a painful kind of way, how you let yourself believe, even for a night, that he could be different. you knew from the beginning he wasn’t the type to stick around, knew your neighbor was all charm and smiles. he’s never been into relationships, never been one to stay. just a one-night thing, nothing but something physical, no strings, no promises.

why would it be different with you?

you finally sit up, feeling the soreness in your body, a leftover reminder of last night. your hair’s a mess, sticking in odd directions, and you push it back, your fingers tangling in the strands. a sigh slips out, unbidden, as you turn your head, your eyes settling on the wall—the wall that separates your apartment from his. it’s strange, how close he is, right there, on the other side, maybe still asleep or already gone about his morning.

close, yet so distant. so far.

you stare at that wall, at the invisible line between you, and for a moment, you let yourself think about how easy it would be to knock on his door, to say something, anything. but you know it wouldn’t matter. because last night was just a blip to him, something that meant nothing beyond the moment.

but for you, it left more than just temporary bruises on your neck and hips.

@ taeghi, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

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orientaltasty · 2 years ago

Video

youtube

Creamy Fettuccine Alfredo Recipe

How to Make Fettuccine Alfredo with white sauce

Ingredients ¼ cup butter 1 cup heavy cream 1 ½ cups freshly grated Parmesan cheese 1 clove garlic, crushed ¼ cup chopped fresh parsley

Directions 1- Gather all ingredients. 2- Melt butter in a medium saucepan over low heat. Stir in cream and simmer for 5 minutes. 3- Add cheese and garlic; whisk continuously until heated through. Stir in parsley and serve.

Homemade Alfredo Sauce

The best homemade Alfredo sauce recipe made from scratch with only a handful of natural ingredients. It’s so easy, comes together in just minutes, and will knock your pasta socks off! Store-bought Alfredo doesn’t even compare.

If you love Alfredo like we do, you won’t want to miss our Chicken Alfredo or Shrimp Alfredo recipes!

Is there anything better than the combination of butter, cream, and cheese? Maybe a warm chocolate chip cookie. Maybe. This homemade Alfredo sauce recipe is rich, creamy, and completely luscious. It’s just begging for some warm pasta to coat.

What is Alfredo Sauce? Alfredo Sauce is a rich, smooth and creamy white sauce perfect for serving with cooked pasta. Authentic Italian Alfredo sauce is typically made with Parmesan cheese, butter, some warm pasta cooking water, and salt. Over the years, it’s been adapted to include heavy cream – I think we can thank the Americans for that one. Lol.

Alfredo Sauce Recipe Ingredients Most Alfredo sauces are made with only Parmesan cheese, butter, cream, and salt. But we took the liberty of adding in some garlic and extra seasonings to make it that much more delicious. This is the only recipe you will ever need! Here’s the breakdown:

Parmesan cheese: For optimal results, use real Parmigiano-Reggiano right off the block. Avoid those shaker-style containers or tubs filled with pre-shredded cheese. They don’t melt properly, making your sauce grainy. And they simply don’t taste nearly as good as fresh. Butter: Either unsalted or salted work great. If using salted butter, I recommended omitting the additional salt until you’ve tasted the sauce and then add extra, if necessary. Heavy Cream: We use heavy whipping cream for the ultimate indulgence. This will give you the creamiest, richest results. Go big or go home, right? You certainly can use regular heavy cream, though, and it will still be wonderful! (See note below for lower-calorie options.) Garlic: We use a mix of garlic powder and fresh garlic, which we think is perfect. If you want a more subtle garlic flavor, you could cut back on one or the other. Seasonings: Salt, pepper, and dried Italian seasoning. This trio of spices really takes the sauce up a level. Parmesan cheese is already salty, so we’re only adding in a touch more.

Frequently Asked Questions Can I make Alfredo Sauce with milk instead cream? Yep! To us, this sauce is meant to be indulgent, so we go all out and use heavy whipping cream, but if you want to lighten it up and cut back on calories a little, we get it! Regular heavy cream, half-n-half, or whole milk can definitely be used. Keep in mind, that the less fat content, the less thick the sauce will be. How to thicken Alfredo Sauce? We think our recipe is thick enough, but if you want it even thicker, you have a couple options. (1) Make a roux: In a pan over medium heat, melt some butter and then whisk in an equal amount of flour; whisk constantly until combined and smooth, then whisk a little bit of that into the simmering sauce. (2) You can also make a slurry: in a small bowl, whisk together a little cornstarch in with some cold water until the mixture is smooth. Slowly, whisk the slurry into the simmering sauce until the desired consistency is reached. Is it gluten free? Yep! This recipe does not include a roux made with flour, so it is considered gluten free.

Can I use white sauce instead of Alfredo sauce? Is Alfredo sauce and white sauce the same? What is Alfredo white sauce made of? How to make Alfredo sauce?

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beautyandhealthtips123 · 2 years ago

Text

Anonymous woman dropping fusilli pasta on table

Pasta doesn't make you fat. How much pasta you eat makes you fat. See more...

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caramelkoo · 2 months ago

Text

my soul back home. [1]

pairing : Jungkook X reader

genre : frenemies to lovers, writer!jungkook, pilates instructor!oc.

summary : your best friend receives your wedding invitation and realizes he doesn't have much time left before he loses you once and for all.

warnings : slight angst, they fight over a packet of pasta, bickering, oc is a pilates girly yayyy, Jungkook is super protective of the oc, misogyny, body positivity, strong language, hate at first sight.

a/n : heyy my besties, i just wanted to show my gratitude to all of you who read my last work. im so so so grateful to each one of you. it's almost 2am for me and i just couldn't wait to share this. Enjoy and let me know how you like it. xoxo. 💕

༺♡༻

6 years ago

Jungkook's growling stomach diverts his attention from the five page essay he's been trying to work on but barely has written a word. Blaming it on his hunger, he gets and up and decides to make himself some white sauce pasta also known as his comfort food. His mom used to make him when he was a child back in the days just so he can get done with his homework without making her work for it.

When he got into a fight in seventh standard and came back home with a nasty cut under his lip, his mom made it again. It's been his go to ever since.

"Shit" as soon as he enters the kitchen though, he realizes that he ran out of pasta last week when his friends came over.

Picking up his car keys he drives up to his closest supermarket. The lady behind the counter smiling at him as per usual. She must be around 60 year old and every time Jungkook has stopped by to pick anything up, she has been super sweet to him. Not to mention how badly she wants him to meet her granddaughter. He wonders if her granddaughter knows about her grandmother trying to set her up with a stranger.

"How you doin' today, boy?"

"Hey miss Cathy, you having a good day?"

"So far so good" Jungkook walks further inside the store and searches for the pasta packet he came here for. When he spots it, he reaches for it unaware of the hand that goes for the very same packet.

The vanilla and caramel like scent hits him like a truck and when he looks beside him, he freezes. The girl which stares back at him has brown hair which matches the color of her striking eyes. There are freckles all over her nose and cheekbones making it look like a group of stars decided to make a home there on her face. Her glossy lips are parted in surprise, her almond shaped eyes wide. Why does he feel warm all of a sudden? Is the air conditioner off?

"hello?" her voice breaks him off his trance. The girl's eyes have gone narrower now.

"I need the packet." He hears her say again. As beautiful as she might be and as badly as he wanted to get on his knees and.. no !! not going there, he couldn't let her take the pasta. Not when it's about his essay. if he doesn't finish it soon his professor is going to have his head on a platter.

"Oh no no no no no no, I need this and I saw it first so I'm getting this"

"Okay first of all that doesn't make any sense. People can see it things from outside the store, does that mean they own it? plus can you not buy it from some other store?"

now he was getting irritated. she had the audacity to look so gorgeous and on top of that she was fighting over a pasta packet?

"It does. No matter how badly you need it, I need it more."

The girl takes a step forward, "Listen, I have no idea what do you need it for and not that I'm interested but I have to make my little sister her favorite pasta with extra cheese or she is not going to leave me and my boyfriend alone."

See, Jungkook is a simple guy. He likes something and he goes for it. If it was some other place, maybe his college or a restaurant, he would have approached the gal and asked for her number oh so politely but this right here? It's a war and he hates losing. No matter how cute the opponent is.

"I'm sure you can persuade her with a popsicle or two. you can find them at the counter right there" he points towards the counter. "Now let me have the pasta because I need to eat my weight in it so that I can finish my essay and be done with it, alright?"

She scoffs, "You're infuriating you know that?"

"Heard somebody call me that once but I believe they were looking for the word 'lovable'" he shrugs and snatches the packet before making his way to the counter silently hoping miss Cathy does not mention her granddaughter again.

The pretty girl yells behind him, "HEY!! WHAT ARE YOU? 5?"

He places the item on the counter and pays the amount before walking out of the store. God, he was starving. Much to his disappointment, someone calls him out.

"Boy, wait!!!" Fuck, it's Miss Cathy again.

He turns towards her forcing himself to smile, "Yes, ma'am?"

"You know my granddaughter-"

"Miss Cathy, I wish I could give you a minute but I'm actually in a hurry. You see, my brother is visiting with his two year old and it's been a long journey for him and he's starving and I need to-"

Jungkook tried his best to lie through his teeth, he really does until a voice interrupts him. That very same voice.

"Really now? And here I thought somebody was so hungry, they started twitching just by the thought of someone else having that packet of pasta" the pretty girl in yellow sundress folds her arm over chest. "Does she know her tits push up when she does that?" Jungkook thinks.

She continues, "Grans, I didn't know you let liars into your shop?"

Wait, WHAT?! Did she just call Miss Cathy "Grans"? Would you look at that? They weren't lying about the world being small. Who would have guess that the girl he's been trying to avoid is the same girl he can't ever avoid for the life of him.

Miss Cathy's loud wheeze echoes through the store, "Trust me y/n, he's a good fella. Jungkook, this is my granddaughter, y/n. The prettiest, my girl."

She looks so proud while introducing her and rightfully so, if she were his, he would also take pride in that. Minus the pasta fight, though. The thought scares the shit out of him and maybe that's why he runs. His feet move rapidly not stopping until he's facing his car in the parking lot.

How the hell did he even let that thought enter his mind? One minute he was sneering at her and now he wanted to make her his? He began imagining what would it be like to call her, his? Quickly starting the engine he drives himself to his apartment. Later that night, he takes a cold shower and fucks his hand while thinking about the same vanilla and caramel scent.

༺♡༻

present time

Jungkook has always loved being alone, his solitude has been something which he absolutely appreciated. Being the eldest son of his family he's been the one to pick up everyone's pieces but when it came to him, nobody served that purpose so he ran. Ran away from his home, from the chaos, the noise and most importantly the responsibilities. That's not to say that he's a quitter but when you have a father sitting on your chest all the time and making it extremely hard for you to live your life, you might as well be called one. He chose his peace and he does not regret anything about it.

Unfortunately though, he left something very precious back home and as much as it hurt him to do so, he knew he couldn't not escape.

The room is quiet enough that he can hear his heart beating straight out of his chest and his breathing turning ragged. When he came back from his early morning run he did not expect to find a wedding invitation in the mail box. he wasn't even planning on checking the damn mailbox if it wasn't for the small part of him wanting to do so.

The man had the whole day planned and now he was standing in the middle of the hall feeling like somebody dropped a huge rock on his chest and said "deal with it" with a piece of paper in his hand he can't wait to burn or tear into pieces. He needs to sit down.

He unlocks his phone and finds your number at the very top of his dial list. You guys were talking last night only about your studio being renovated and it confuses him to the core as to why you didn't mention anything about your wedding.

"Hey, what's up?" your voice greets him, cheery as always.

"You're getting married?" the words seem bitter on his tongue.

"Oh my god, finally. You got the invitation" a dagger through his stomach would hurt less right now. He runs his fingers through his hair, messing them up and continues.

"Were you ever going to tell me about it?"

"No because I wanted it to be a surprise. I asked Taehyung and Cynthia to do the same as well. Aren't you glad you happened to check your mailbox, huh?"

Jungkook blinks, once and then again. He was having a hard time comprehending all of this. Hadn't he checked the mailbox, would you have gotten married and never told him about it? He was going to throw up. When he replies his voice is brittle.

"Listen, can i call you again? I need to run some errands"

"Sure, but don't-" he hangs up and runs to the bathroom before emptying his stomach.

༺♡༻

5 years ago

Sweat drips down from your forehead, your chest moves up and down from how fast your breathing has gone. A moan slips out as you spread your legs a bit wider.

"Just one more aaaaand perfect. Now release" the Pilates instructor's voice reaches to your wet ears. You place yourself down on the mat.

"Fuck, she'll kill me one of these days" Your routine has already been fucked up because of your college exams and after finally being fed up of sticking your nose in the books, you had decided to get on with Pilates. You fell in love with it a year ago.

After working your body in the gym and realizing that high intensity workouts are no good for you, you gave low intensity workouts a chance and boom! The clouds parted and now you're almost in the best shape of your life.

You have never loved your body as much as you do now and if your 13 year old self could look at you, she'd give you a pat on the back. She wouldn't believe that people no longer make fun of her for not having thigh gap or slender arms. Indeed, it took several lunges, roll ups, spine twists, ab burners to get there.

It's not like you have the most anime like body, no. But you have finally stopped beating yourself up over it, accepting the fact that people's negative opinions are just a reflection of their own insecurities.

Your phone pings with a notification and you pick it up. It's the guy you've recently began talking to on hinge. Your boyfriend, now ex, broke up few months ago because he suddenly thought sleeping with his manager would be something you'd look past. Clearly, he was wrong and now he can choke on a thorny dick for all you care.

When your best friend, Cynthia had suggested to join a dating app just for the plot, you did it. Besides, what more could go wrong? An hour of swiping left and two cups of coffee later, you came across a guy with pictures of a guitar, a black cat and a chess board. In your defense, his cat was cute.

The texts reads, "Are you free on the upcoming Saturday? My buddy said there's a new coffee shop and they sell the best hazelnut frappe in existence."

You think before replying. According to the stats, it's the ninth day since you have started talking. Isn't it too soon to be going on a date? Although, there is a small part of you who wants to say "fuck it" and go. Before your thoughts go spiraling you go with the latter.

"Sure. Hazelnut frappe is my favorite" locking your phone you prepare to take a long hot bath. After all, you've earned it.

༺♡༻

Turns out the nerdy guys possessing a hobby of playing chess are not worth it. At least this one isn't. You wonder if you killed a bunch of kittens in your past life because seriously? When you said yes to the date two days ago, the thing you expected the least was your date constantly talking about how many hours he spends in the gym, which protein shake he drinks, even mansplaining about the NHL team he's been obsessed with. Guess you should have seen it coming from the way he couldn't even wait till ten days to ask you on a date.

Honestly, whenever you go on dates you can't help but expect the other person to be on their worst behavior. For example, you can expect the guy to dress badly, smell badly, show up late or conventionally not show up at all. This guy right here is outright insane and has failed to stay in his lane. You were getting agitated at this point.

"And then BOOM!! he shoots the most legendary shot of his life. This is what happens at NHL, you-" he stops when you stand up from your place.

"Excuse me, I'll just be back in a second" you place the napkin on the table as you grab your purse hoping the washroom has a secret exit or something.

But before you could even take a step forward, his voice stops you.

"Oh I know where this is going, You'll excuse yourself politely and then run away like some coward huh? Typical escape plan for you girls?" His voice sounds so nasty and when you turn towards him he's scowling at you like YOU'RE the one who was being a twat the whole time.

you mumble, "What do you mean?"

He stands up and walks towards you. You really try to ignore people staring at you but you're only human. The sudden rush of emotions have caused your mouth to go dry. It's hard to process what's happening.

"What I mean is that you're probably gonna go in there, call your best friend and ask her to help you escape because you can't stand another second with me" he raises his right eyebrow up.

"Sir, please you're causing trouble for everyone. I suggest you to please sit down"

This is beyond embarrassing. If you were planning to give this guy another chance earlier, there's no way in hell you're going to do that now. Over your dead body. So you do the only thing that makes perfect sense. Your hands fly and you hit his cheek with so much force, you swear you hear his jaw pop.

There are several gasps around you. If you're going to get booed on, you might as well make the most out of it.

His face turns sideways before he stands up straight. He raises his hand to hit you back but suddenly, out of nowhere, a hand grabs his forearm and yanks it away. You instantly know who it is. It's the same arm you wanted to twist a year back at the grocery store.

"Get your filthy fucking hands away from her"

After an year of trying to forget about him, he's here yet again and he's saving you from this asshole. You couldn't decide if you should be thrilled about him coming at your rescue or worried about him being back.

460 notes · View notes

moremaybank · 5 months ago

Note

your pregnancy brain hitting hard, and you forget how to make jj’s favorite dinner. and you get so emotional because all you wanted to do was to treat him, but you can remember how to create the sauce

dad!jj lover til the day i die !!!!!

the kitchen's a mess when jj finally makes it home.

you're covered head to toe in flour and the residue of egg whites. the failed pasta dough is clumped onto your nimble fingers, and tears are welling in your eyes when your eyes meet with his.

"baby...what's goin' on in here?"

your lip quivers, "you've been workin' so hard for me 'n the baby. w-wanted to do somethin' nice for you but i can't remember how to make the pasta."

he smiles, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip when he thinks about your sweetness. tooth-rotting and addictive, even when he should already be sick to his stomach.

"it's okay, mama. you're pregnant, s'posed to be takin' it easy. keepin' our baby all calm 'n shit."

"but how are you supposed to have sauce w-without pasta?" your voice wavers and it tugs at your boy's heart.

"we can order food, babygirl. don't gotta cry. c'mere." he pulls you into his arms, leaning his cheek against the crown of your head after leaving a kiss there. "you're so special. my favourite girl in the world."

"i love you, j. 'm sorry i'm such a psycho lately."

"i love you too, angel. every psychotic part of you. now sit your fine ass down 'n relax."

concepts ; concepts (ii)

554 notes · View notes

upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year ago

Text

Simmer #7

CH7. Spice Box | The Menu [4.1K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

Eddie held the door open for you as you approached the trailer, hand waving you in as he smiled, shy.

The trailer was tidier than you’d ever seen it before, a valiant effort made in anticipation for your arrival. The usual piles of washed laundry were moved from the dining booth bench, the ashtrays moved from the living room coffee tables. The trailer was unusually quiet, smelling like mountain cedar, if the can of air freshener on Wayne’s armchair was anything to go by.

You did your usual, despite the way you felt like you were there for the first time. For a first date. But you toed off your shoes by the door and lingered in the kitchen, fingers twisting together as you wondered what came next. This? This part was new, this was different.

Eddie smiled shyly as he followed behind, hands skimming your shoulders as he squeezed past you and the counter, opening the fridge. The white-yellow glow filled the room, clashing with the pink sunset that came in from the living room blinds.

“Okay, what are you feelin’?” Eddie said into the refrigerator, his fingers tapping on the door. “We got stuff for omelettes, I could do pasta, oh, hey, I make a mean gnocchi.” Eddie emerged with a quart of pesto, wiggling one of the diners' plastic containers at you.

You smiled, shrugging easily because you’d be happy with some toast if it meant Eddie kept looking at you like that. You leaned against the dining table edge, lips pressed together and trying your hardest to keep it together. Eddie looked too pretty in the sunlight, that peachy pink golden flow, the last rays turning his brown eyes the colour of caramel as he looked at you.

“I don’t mind,” you told him softly, “anything you make will be good.”

Eddie grinned, bashful, cheeks pink and he held his hand out to you, coaxing you into holding onto his fingers so he could tug you forward. You were supposed to look in the fridge too, check out the mountains of fresh ingredients he liked to pack into it, the tubs of homemade sauces and pickled veg. But instead, you stumbled into the boy, socked feet touching his boots, knees bumping.

It was awkward in an innocent way, your smile shy and matching Eddie’s, his faltering a little when he realised how close you were. His hand held yours a little tighter and when he realised you weren’t moving away, well shit, he didn’t bother to either. His fingers twisted in yours, thumb running over the backs of your knuckles and he swallowed hard as he looked down at you.

“Uh, we could, uh, I could make some lasagna. Or, or a stir fry?” Eddie stumbled over his words, brows furrowed in concentration as he studied each part of your face. The line of your nose, the fan of your lashes, the curve of your lip. “If you want. I don’t, I don’t mind cookin’ whatever.”

You felt bolder than ever when you let your hand slip from Eddie’s and climb up his forearm, finger wrapping around the cords of muscle there, thumb rubbing at the sensitive skin on the inside crook of his elbow. It made the boy still, lips parting in surprise. It felt nice to be this close, chests almost touching, Eddie’s hand falling to hold your waist instead, fingertips pushed to the soft cotton of your sundress.

“I’m not, I’m not really all that hungry, right now,” you told him softly. You were nervous, wondering if this was supposed to happen this way. If this was supposed to happen this soon. But you couldn’t bring yourself to step away.

The refrigerator door was still open.

Eddie nodded, agreeing. “Yeah, sure. No, same. We can eat later, if you want.” You watched his Adam’s apple bob, felt his fingers squeeze a little tighter at the plush of your hips. “How’s your head feelin’?”

You smiled at his concern and met his gaze. This much eye contact wasn’t all that surprising but the fact you hadn’t been interrupted yet by someone yelling about hot dog bugs or asking where the napkin refills were was. “It’s fine,” you promised him. “Doesn’t hurt anymore.”

A lie, it was a little tender. But definitely no concussion. You’d iced it when you’d gotten home but for a shorter time than you should’ve, too preoccupied with the idea of jumping into a warm shower and shaving every inch of your leg in preparation for your date. If anything, the idea of spending time alone with Eddie was what had your head spinning.

“Good,” Eddie nodded and you could see him thinking, too much, before he sucked in a quiet breath and lifted a hand to cup the back of your neck. His hand was big enough that it curled all the way round, his thumb tucked into the space under your ear, right along your jaw. You wondered if he could feel your pulse - he probably could. You wondered if he could feel that way it was fucking racing. “Doesn’t hurt, if I do this?”

You were scared to move, worried if you shook your head it would break the spell, scared that Eddie would stop touching you. So you whispered instead, one word on a shaky breath that made Eddie’s eyes get a little wider. “No.”

Eddie pushed his thumb to your jaw a little firmer, suddenly not as worried about touching you, holding you now like you wouldn’t shatter underneath him. “So this is okay?” He whispered back and oh my god, it was more than okay, it was exactly what you wanted and you were still in the middle of his kitchen with the refrigerator light casting over your socks, your shins.

You licked your lips and gave a small nod, eyes trained on his mouth and you heard the boy suck in a breath. “Yeah, it’s okay.” You swallowed, throat bobbing and Eddie felt it under his hand, the movement making him dizzy. “More than okay.”

His thumb moved up, skimming over the apple of your cheek, fingers fanning out over the side of your neck until they were pushing into your hairline and pulling goosebumps from your skin. You didn’t realise you were both walking you backwards until your hips hit the counter. It was a soft bump, everything Eddie did was gentle and his eyes were watching yours the entire time, searching for any hesitation.

It’d been a while since he’d been in a situation like this, but he was pretty fucking positive there was none there.

You confirmed his thoughts by clinging to the front of his shirt, fingertips tugging the material so he’d take the hint and move closer, meeting his chest with yours and it was as much of a first move as you could manage. Shyness still swallowed you, your heart beating embarrassingly fast and all you wanted to do was push up onto your toes and press your lips to Eddie’s but if he rejected you now - for whatever reason - you think you’d have to quit your job and move back to Chicago.

Your back was against the worktop edge, softened only by the way Eddie let his other hand cup your hip and your chest was against his, chin tilted up to look at him, eyes half lidded and matching his own. You could see every freckle, the fan of his lashes, a tiny silver scar on the left corner of his bottom lip that you’d never noticed before. You wondered if he was close enough to feel the heat from your face, the way your bones must’ve been rattling from the thunder of your heartbeat.

It was delicious, the way he crowded you, thumb pushing into your cheek so you’d tilt your head up for him, noses almost brushing now, just waiting for something to give. It had been two months of working alongside Eddie Munson, two months of being his friend, learning how he worked, what each of his smiles meant, how lucky you were to receive one.

Two months of wondering how much longer it would take until he would kiss you.

He licked his bottom lip, tongue peeking out just slightly, eyes studying every move you made, so hesitate, so unsure, as if the way you were pressing yourself against him wasn’t enough of a clue. “We could, uh,” Eddie cleared his throat, nervous. His hand was squeezing the dough of your hip over your dress, the soft material bunching in his palm. “We could watch a movie, if you wanted.”

He said it so distractedly that you were sure the boy didn’t actually know what he was asking. Eddie’s pupils were blown wide, eyes dark, a familiar sight except there wasn’t the haze of smoke between you both now. You smiled, nervous and shy and giddy and brave all at once.

“I don’t wanna watch a movie, Eddie,” you breathed and out and the boy folded, the boy melted like butter under the hot sun and you saw his brows draw together, his tense shoulders fall in relief and then he was nodding, eyes on your mouth and moving closer and closer—

“Oh, thank fuck,” he sighed in return, pushing into you in a rush, his lips crashing to yours before he even finished talking.

It felt like kismet, that first kiss. It felt like it was supposed to happen, because after your heart soared and your stomach somersaulted, Eddie moved his head one way and tilted yours the other, drawing him closer still with your fingers hooked into the collar of his T-shirt. He made the softest noise, nose pushed to your cheek, his thumb dragging over the corner of your mouth and when you gasped for him, his tongue touched your bottom lip, a silent question.

More?

You parted your lips for him, kiss deepening, Eddie’s hand on your waist gripping you tighter as your tongue licked over his and you couldn’t remember when kissing someone felt like this. It felt like a summer heatwave, like someone taking care of you, it felt like a bowl of the most perfect food pushed in front of you, like cracking your fucking head off a table and watching the world spin.

There wasn’t any noise in the trailer except for the hum of the still open fridge door and the soft, breathy sounds from both of you. A sigh, a gasp, a muted groan. It was easy to get caught up in it, no one to interrupt, a whole evening, just for you two. It was a long time coming, a simmering pot, finally bubbling over and when you let out a little moan when Eddie’s hand trailed from your jaw down to your neck, fingers splayed over your throat, the boy pulled back to pant heavily and swear.

Any shyness you’d ever felt was gone with the way he was looking at you, curls falling across flushed cheeks, lips swollen and probably a matching yours. You reached for him, desperate, your hands tangling into his hair as you tried not to pout. “Don’t stop. Please, Eddie,” you whispered and your voice cracked with need and god, it made Eddie’s eyes stutter shut, jaw dropping before tensing.

“Fuck, fuck,” he was whispering, moving back to you with an eagerness that was almost overwhelming.

You thought he was going to kiss you again, but he ducked just slightly and you squeaked when you felt his palms, warm and calloused and so fucking big, wrap around the backs of your thighs. He hauled you up, setting you on the edge of the kitchen counter so you were at his height and both of you ignored the angry squeal of the coffee container, the bread bin and mug stand as your body pushed them out of the way. A new pace was set now and Eddie’s mouth was back on yours before you could ask.

A desperate, messy kind of kiss, deep and longing and all tongues and teeth. The boy nipped at your bottom lip, groaned when you whined and you didn’t even think twice about bringing your legs up to his hips, caging him in and pulling him against you until you felt the scratch of denim again the cotton of your underwear.

It should’ve been too much too fast, it should’ve.

But it wasn’t.

“This okay?” Eddie asked you breathlessly, words gasped between kisses. He pulled back just slightly, hands cupping your hot cheeks, thumbs soothing over the apples of them. His forehead pressed against yours, a grounding touch. “We don’t have to— just tell me if you wanna stop, yeah?”

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut because you were already pulling him back to you and Eddie followed willingly, one hand dropping to your knee, coasting upupup until he was squeezing at the dough of your thigh and groaning into your open mouth. You felt like a couple of teenagers, making out somewhere you weren’t supposed to, getting felt up by your crush in his parents kitchen. It made you dizzy, it made you wet, embarrassingly so. A dirty, hot throb that wrecked your body and lit up, electric, every time Eddie touched you somewhere new.

He didn’t go any higher, his hand stayed there, respectful as he could be when you were kissing him like you didn’t ever want to stop. A few inches below the hem of your dress, practically a gentleman, but his tongue was doing wonderful things against yours and when you rocked yourself a little, using your arms around his neck to press yourself against him, Eddie’s own hips canted forward and he moaned.

It made it easier to drop his other hand from your neck, fingertips skimming just along the curve of your breast before he was dripping your waist and pulling you into him. It wasn’t the best place to be grinding against each other, not when the sofa and his bed were both so close by. But the height of the counter made for the perfect kind of friction and it was dizzying being so close, to be so wrapped up in Eddie. He smelled the same, like lemongrass and smoke and a little bit of cologne.

And when you gripped his curls a little tighter than before and tugged, Eddie fucking whined into your open mouth, barely kissing, just panting into each other's lips and his gentlemanly touch on you wavered. His hand skirted up, fingers sliding under the hem of your red dress and when they skimmed over the elastic edge of your underwear, he was swearing, eyes squeezing shut tighter and raking his blunt nails back down your thigh.

You shuddered, ripping away from Eddie’s lips to suck in a breath but the boy only moved to your neck and you keened at the touch, opened mouth kisses along the line of your throat, his tongue peeking out to lick across your skin, teeth grazing and fiu let him, head thrown back until the already tender spot hir against the kitchen cabinets.

It didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered.

Not when Eddie was dragging his fingers across the neckline of your dress, pushing your sleeve out of the way to expose your shoulders, kissing and sucking at the crook of your neck, mouthing his way down your chest, no bra straps to get in his way. You sighed, the sound coming out with the letters of his name, a noise that made him groan aloud and fuse his lips back to yours, your fingers splayed out over his jaw so you could keep him there.

You were on fire. It was hotter than being in the kitchen. The simmering pot was spilling over now, the flames were licking higher and the lid of it was crashing to the floor, jolting you back to reality.

You pulled back, sucking in air, eyes unfocused and the world was spinning too fast and god you just needed to—

“We should slow down,” Eddie gasped, sounding as wrecked as you felt. His hands were still on you, his forehead resting on your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath, two hands smoothing up and down your thighs. “Fuck, you’re— that was—”

“Yeah,” you agreed and god you sounded drunk. “I know.”

You tried to diffuse the heat, tried to turn down the flame so everything went back down to a simmer, smiling softly as if the kitchen was on metaphorical fire and Eddie wasn’t harder than he’d ever been in his life. “Umm, do you, d’you wanna eat now?”

Eddie laughed into your neck, cheeks flushed rosy pink and he was hot all over, breathless and the happiest he’d been in a long time. He hummed, nodding before he pulled back, dotting a kiss to your lips, much more chaste than before. He couldn’t help himself, placed another on your cheek, your jaw, the slope of you nose too.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grinned. “How does a grilled cheese sound?”

You laughed too, nodding, because you didn’t think you’d be able to focus on chopping up ingredients or kneading out a dough right now either. “You gonna make it real fancy for me?”

Eddie beamed, brows scrunched together in disbelief, like he was shocked you had to even ask. “What? Sweetheart, please,” he pushed one last kiss to your lips, grimaced at the open fridge door and kicked it shut witn his foot. “S’gonna be the fanciest grilled cheese you’ve ever had.”

—————

“You have a hickey,” Robin poked at your neck, stating the news very matter of factly as she leaned in between the drivers seat and yours.

You batted at her hand, eyes wide, cheeks hot as you leaned back to glare at her. “What? No I don’t.”

Steve snorted and pulled into the diner parking lot, joining Eddie’s van and the other few cars that were waiting for a late breakfast. “Wow, that sounded so believable,” he deadpanned. “Enjoy your hot date with the chef last night?”

The day after your dinner with Eddie only egged on your good mood. A bright day, with blue skies and warm air, the kind of Sunday morning that was straight out of a photograph, big white clouds, sunflower fields in the distance, the smell of coffee and waffles coming from the diner doors.

Eddie had dropped you back at your apartment late, later then he should’ve when he was starting work at six am the next day but you’d stayed to eat grilled cheeses on the sofa with him, pretending to watch some B-roll horror movie as you talked about everything and nothing, legs draped over his lap.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried to say but your words got tangled in a grin and they came out too happy, making Steve’s eyes roll as he climbed out of the car.

“You’re a fuckin’ awful liar,” he told you over the roof and Robin snorted in agreement, bending down to peer at her reflection in Steve’s window. She snapped her gum, baby pink against rose coloured lip balm and flipped Steve off when he popped her bubble. “And we’re all late, ‘cause someone couldn’t find their keys, c’mon.”

It felt like a proper friendship, the way you walked around the side of the diner with Steve and Robin, jostling each other and laughing when they took it too far, the girl shrieking when Steve pulled her into a headlock, encouraging you with a grin to give her a noogie. And the laughter bled into the kitchen when you all stumbled into the fire exit door reserved for staff, smoke breaks and crying sessions in the alleyway. But the laughter stopped when you caught sight of Eddie at his station, whisking a bowl of egg yolks and butter, exactly like you expected him to be at eleven am on a sunday.

You didn’t expect the girl, though. Or recognise her.

Strawberry blonde and petite, her uniform shorter than yours, her elbows leaning on Eddie’s station as she beamed up at him. She was pretty. Really pretty.

She turned at the noise of the three of you coming into the kitchen, laughter still on Steve’s lips, a faux argument brewing between him and Robin as they tailed off towards the lockers. You stayed standing, a little shocked. You weren’t sure why, you knew there was staff you hadn’t met before, seasonal members of the diner who split their time between Jim’s and other jobs. She wasn’t doing anything wrong.

She was just— standing too close to the boy you spent the night making out with.

Eddie had put down the bowl and whisk, cleaned his hands on the front of his apron and smiled at you, his face lighting up at the sight, a genuine slice of joy in what was about to be an awkward moment. He said your name, almost shy, looking like he didn’t know how to greet you.

“This is, uh, this is—” he gestured to the girl, trailing off when she bounced over to you, hand extended.

“I’m Chrissy, it’s so nice to meet you,” she gushed. “You’re new, right?”

“Uh, kinda,” you laughed a little weakly. You didn’t feel new anymore. You felt like you belonged. You told her your name, even though she’d already heard Eddie say it. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

No one else really knew what to say then and your plans to greet Eddie with a kiss seemed ruined. The boy looked at you as if he were thinking the same, his smile lopsided and sweet. But he dished the eggs into a pot and started scrambling them, brushing away a stray curl with the back of his hand and he asked you, “have you had breakfast?”

You rolled your eyes, affection lingering there and you relaxed a little, knowing this routine, loving this routine. You grabbed your apron from the hook, tying it round your waist as you brushed past him, a hand skimming his lower back, the closest thing you could do to a greeting.

Chrissy tracked the movement with curious eyes.

“Not yet,” you told him softly and you ached to perch yourself on the stool by his station - your stool - but Chrissy had already walked back over and claimed it. “You gonna tell me off?”

You said it shyly, a hint of flirt there, cheeks warm and smile soft as you gazed up at the boy. Eddie responded in kind, the tips of his ears turning pink and he tried to scowl at you, brows pinching together but he grinned like he couldn’t help it. “I would, if I knew it would work,” he smiled down at you, head tilted to the side all lazy. “You want some eggs? Or I could make you some pancakes?”

And before you could tell him that eggs were perfectly fine, Chrissy’s voice interrupted, she was pushing herself onto the table, leaning on her hands, cheeks coloured with a pretty pink blush and squished together. “Don’t tell me I leave for the summer and you’ve got another favourite waitress already,” she pouted, lips shiny and glassy and pink. “I thought I was your number one, Ed.”

Her words made you feel too warm. That rolling heat that creeped across your chest, your neck, your face. An awfully uncomfortable sensation, anxious, unsettled. You tried to laugh when she did, but the sound came out weak, stilted. Chrissy was looking at Eddie, confident, playful, so sure of herself.

She looked at him like she really knew him, like there was an inside joke that you didn’t know about.

You backed away, ignoring how Eddie’s hand tried to catch yours. “Uh, I’m actually not that hungry,” you smiled but it wavered. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. “Thanks though. I’ll, um, I’ll catch up with you later. It was nice meeting you, Chrissy,” you nodded at her, hoping she didn’t see your glassy eyes before you turned and left them in the kitchen.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson au #linecook!eddie

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bratzkoo · 1 month ago

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operation: laundry love | joshua hong

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: software developer! joshua x reader Genre: fluff, love at first sight Rating: PG-15 Word count: 9.1k~ Warnings/note: requested by a lovely anon!

summary: Joshua Hong falls in love at first sight with you at a laundromat and schemes his way into making you like him back.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @escoupseu , @yanabaaaaaaarysheva , @spnyin , @sousydive , @gyuguys , @gyubakeries

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

Joshua Hong had always considered himself a practical man. At twenty-eight, he had a stable job as a software developer, a tidy apartment, and a cat named Algorithm. His life was as orderly as the code he wrote, each day neatly compartmentalized into routines and habits. Laundry day was no exception—every other Saturday, 2 PM sharp, he'd trudge down to Suds & Bubbles, the local laundromat, with his precisely sorted clothes.

But on this particular Saturday, as Joshua pushed open the glass door of Suds & Bubbles, his well-ordered world tilted on its axis.

The laundromat was busier than usual, probably due to the unseasonably warm weather that had everyone in town suddenly remembering their summer clothes. The air hummed with the whir of washing machines and the occasional beep of a dryer reaching the end of its cycle. The scent of detergent and fabric softener hung thick in the air, mingling with the faint mustiness of old magazines stacked on a nearby table.

Joshua's eyes swept the room, looking for an empty machine. That's when he saw her.

She was standing in front of a washing machine, her brow furrowed in concentration as she examined a shirt with the intensity of a scientist studying a rare specimen. Her hair was piled haphazardly atop her head in what might generously be called a bun, secured with what appeared to be a pencil. She wore oversized sweatpants and a faded t-shirt that proclaimed "I'm not arguing, I'm just explaining why I'm right."

To Joshua, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

As if sensing his gaze, she looked up, meeting his eyes. For a moment, Joshua forgot how to breathe. Her eyes were warm, like flecked with gold, and crinkled slightly at the corners as if she was perpetually on the verge of laughter.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice snapping Joshua back to reality. "You wouldn't happen to know how to get spaghetti sauce out of a white shirt, would you? I've been staring at this stain for so long, I'm starting to see pasta shapes."

Joshua blinked, his brain scrambling to form a coherent sentence. "I, uh... have you tried pre-treating it?" he managed to stammer out, mentally kicking himself for such a mundane response.

She sighed dramatically, holding up the shirt. "I've pre-treated it, post-treated it, and given it a stern talking-to. Nothing seems to work. I'm beginning to think this shirt has a vendetta against Italian cuisine."

A chuckle escaped Joshua before he could stop it. Her deadpan delivery and the absurdity of the situation broke through his initial panic, and he found himself relaxing slightly.

"Maybe it's more of a Chinese food fan," he offered, surprised by his own attempt at humor.

Her eyes lit up, and she let out a laugh that seemed to bubble up from her toes. "Oh my god, you're right! I should have been feeding it lo mein this whole time. How could I be so culturally insensitive to my own clothing?"

Joshua felt a warmth spread through his chest. He'd made her laugh. He, Joshua Hong, notorious for his dry technical explanations and inability to remember punchlines, had made this gorgeous, funny woman laugh.

"I'm Y/N, by the way," she said, extending her hand. "Y/N L/N, destroyer of shirts and apparent oppressor of Italian-American textiles."

"Joshua," he replied, taking her hand. Her skin was soft, and he had to resist the urge to hold on longer than socially acceptable. "Joshua Hong, software developer and... uh, laundry doer."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a smirk. "Laundry doer? Is that the technical term?"

Joshua felt heat creep up his neck. "Well, I... I mean, I'm not a professional or anything. Just a guy who, you know, does laundry. Sometimes. Well, every two weeks, actually. It's kind of a schedule thing, and—" He cut himself off, realizing he was rambling. "Sorry, I'm not usually this..." He gestured vaguely, unable to find the right word.

"Articulate?" Y/N supplied helpfully, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"That's one way to put it," Joshua said, managing a self-deprecating smile.

Y/N's gaze softened. "Hey, no worries. We all have our off days. Although," she added, glancing around the laundromat, "I'm not sure anyone's really on their A-game in a place like this. I mean, look at that guy over there."

Joshua followed her gaze to see a middle-aged man trying to stuff what looked like an entire month’s worth of clothes into a single washing machine.

"I think he's trying to create a black hole of socks and underwear," Y/N stage-whispered. "Should we alert NASA?"

Joshua snorted, then quickly tried to cover it with a cough. He wasn't used to finding things genuinely funny, especially not in a laundromat of all places. But something about Y/N's observations and the way she delivered them with such casual humor was infectious.

"Maybe he's conducting an experiment on the compression capabilities of cotton blend fabrics," Joshua found himself saying.

Y/N's eyes widened in mock seriousness. "Of course! How could we have missed it? Clearly, we're witnessing groundbreaking laundry science in action."

They both burst into laughter, drawing curious glances from other patrons. Joshua felt a mix of exhilaration and embarrassment. He wasn't used to being the center of attention, but with Y/N, it somehow felt... right.

"So, Joshua the Laundry Doer," Y/N said once their laughter had subsided, "since you're clearly an expert in all things wash and fold, any other tips for a hapless stain-battler like myself?"

Joshua's mind raced. This was his chance to impress her, to show off his knowledge. But as he opened his mouth to launch into a detailed explanation of stain-removal techniques, he caught sight of the playful glint in her eye. She wasn't really looking for a lecture on laundry. She was teasing him, keeping the banter going.

For a moment, panic threatened to overwhelm him. He wasn't good at this kind of thing. Flirting, joking around—it wasn't in his usual repertoire. But something about Y/N made him want to try.

"Well," he said, affecting a serious tone, "as a certified laundry professional—"

"Oh, you're certified now?" Y/N interjected, raising an eyebrow.

"Absolutely. I have a degree in Sock Pairing from the prestigious University of Wash and Tumble Dry."

Y/N gasped dramatically. "I've heard of that place! Isn't their mascot the Fighting Lint Roller?"

Joshua felt a grin spreading across his face. He was doing it. He was actually engaging in witty banter. With a beautiful woman. In a laundromat. If his friends could see him now, they'd never believe it.

"That's the one," he confirmed. "Our battle cry is 'We'll press your buttons!'"

Y/N doubled over laughing, clutching her sides. "Oh my god, stop," she wheezed. "I can't breathe!"

Joshua felt a surge of pride. He'd done that. He'd made her laugh so hard she could barely breathe. It was a heady feeling, one he wanted to experience again and again.

As Y/N's laughter subsided, she wiped a tear from her eye. "Oh, man. I haven't laughed like that in ages. You, Joshua Hong, are dangerously funny. They should put a warning label on you."

Joshua felt his cheeks heat up at the compliment. "I, uh, thanks. You're pretty funny yourself."

Y/N waved a hand dismissively. "Nah, I just state the obvious. The world's a pretty ridiculous place if you pay attention." She glanced down at the shirt in her hand, then back at Joshua. "Speaking of ridiculous, I should probably actually try to wash this thing before it becomes sentient and decides to take over my wardrobe."

"Right, of course," Joshua said, suddenly remembering why they were both there in the first place. He glanced around, spotting an empty washing machine a few feet away. "There's a free machine over there if you need one."

Y/N followed his gaze and grinned. "My hero! Saving me from the horrors of waiting for a free washer. Truly, your laundry powers know no bounds."

As they walked over to the empty machine, Joshua felt a mix of emotions swirling in his chest. He was elated at having met Y/N, at the easy way they'd fallen into conversation. But there was also a twinge of sadness. Once she started her laundry, she'd probably go sit down, maybe read a book or play on her phone like most people did. Their interaction would be over, just a brief, bright moment in an otherwise ordinary day.

Y/N opened the washing machine and started loading her clothes, chattering away as she did so. "You know, I've always wondered why they make these things so deep. Are they expecting us to wash a family of four's entire wardrobe in one go? Or maybe it's for people who only do laundry once a year and need to fit everything they own in here."

Joshua chuckled, leaning against the adjacent machine. "Maybe it's in case you need to hide from the Laundry Police."

Y/N paused in her loading, a pair of jeans dangling from her hand as she turned to look at him. "The Laundry Police?"

"Oh, you know," Joshua said, warming to his theme, "they patrol laundromats, making sure no one's mixing their colors and whites. Very strict about fabric softener usage too."

A slow grin spread across Y/N's face. "Let me guess, their motto is 'To protect and pre-treat'?"

"Exactly!" Joshua exclaimed, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. He quickly tried to rein in his excitement, reminding himself that he was supposed to be playing it cool. "I mean, uh, yeah. Something like that."

Y/N's expression softened, and she tilted her head slightly as she looked at him. For a moment, Joshua thought he saw something in her eyes—a flicker of interest, maybe? But before he could analyze it further, she turned back to her laundry.

"Well, in that case, I'd better be extra careful," she said, her tone light. "I'd hate to get arrested for improper sock sorting."

As Y/N finished loading her clothes and closed the washing machine door, Joshua realized with a start that he hadn't even begun to do his own laundry. He'd been so caught up in talking to Y/N that he'd completely forgotten why he was there in the first place.

"Oh, shoot," he muttered, glancing around for another empty machine.

"Everything okay?" Y/N asked, pausing with her hand on the detergent dispenser.

"Yeah, just... I kind of forgot to actually start my own laundry," Joshua admitted, feeling his cheeks heat up again.

Y/N's eyes crinkled with amusement. "The laundry expert forgot to do his laundry? Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

Joshua ran a hand through his hair, chuckling despite his embarrassment. "I guess I got a little distracted."

Something flickered in Y/N's eyes at that, but it was gone so quickly Joshua wasn't sure if he'd imagined it. She glanced around the laundromat, then pointed to a machine in the corner. "There's one over there if you want to get started. Unless..." She hesitated for a moment, then continued, "Unless you want to share? I've got plenty of room in here, and it'll save you some quarters."

Joshua's heart leapt at the suggestion. Sharing a machine meant they'd have a reason to stay together, to keep talking. But he didn't want to seem too eager.

"Are you sure?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual. "I wouldn't want to impose."

Y/N rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Please, it's a washing machine, not a kidney. Besides," she added with a wink, "I could use someone to protect me if the Laundry Police show up."

And just like that, Joshua's resolve to play it cool crumbled. He grinned, already reaching for his laundry bag. "Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?"

As they loaded their clothes into the machine together, their hands occasionally brushing, Joshua felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the humid laundromat air. He snuck glances at Y/N, taking in the way she hummed softly to herself as she worked, the little furrow that appeared between her brows when she concentrated on measuring the detergent.

Y/N caught him looking and raised an eyebrow. "What? Do I have detergent on my face or something?"

"No, no," Joshua said quickly. "I was just... thinking."

"Dangerous pastime," Y/N quipped.

"I know," Joshua replied automatically, then blinked in surprise. "Wait, did you just quote 'Beauty and the Beast'?"

Y/N's face lit up. "You caught that? Most people miss it!"

"Are you kidding? It's only one of the best Disney movies ever made," Joshua said, his usual reserve forgotten in his enthusiasm.

"Agreed!" Y/N exclaimed. "Talking furniture, a library to die for, and a heroine who's more interested in books than boys? Sign me up!"

As they finished loading the machine and Y/N started the cycle, Joshua felt a sense of contentment wash over him. Here he was, doing something as mundane as laundry, and yet he couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed himself this much.

Y/N turned to him, a mischievous glint in her eye. "So, Laundry Master, what do you usually do while waiting for your clothes to wash? Let me guess, you have a special meditation technique for achieving perfect fabric softness?"

Joshua laughed, shaking his head. "Nothing so exciting, I'm afraid. Usually, I just sit and work on my laptop or read a book."

"Ah, a man of simple pleasures," Y/N nodded sagely. "Well, how about we shake things up a bit? I've got a deck of cards in my bag. Fancy a game? I warn you though, I'm undefeated in Go Fish."

"Go Fish? Really?" Joshua asked, amused.

Y/N shrugged, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "What can I say? I'm a woman of sophisticated tastes."

As Y/N rummaged in her bag for the cards, Joshua marveled at the turn his day had taken. He'd come here expecting nothing more than clean clothes and maybe a chance to catch up on some work. Instead, he'd met Y/N—funny, beautiful, ridiculous Y/N—and now he was about to play Go Fish in a laundromat like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Y/N triumphantly produced a battered deck of cards from her bag. "Aha! Prepare to be thoroughly trounced, Joshua Hong. Your laundry expertise won't save you now!"

As they settled into a game, the rhythmic tumble of the washing machine providing a soothing backdrop, Joshua couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, his orderly life could use a little chaos. And if that chaos came in the form of a beautiful woman with a penchant for terrible puns and children's card games, well... he was more than okay with that.

It was, he decided, the best laundry day ever.

Joshua Hong had never considered himself a schemer. In fact, he prided himself on his straightforward nature. But as he sat in his apartment the day after his fateful meeting with Y/N, he found himself plotting like a character in one of those romantic comedies his sister was always trying to get him to watch.

"Okay, Algorithm," he said to his cat, who was perched on the arm of the couch, watching him with typical feline indifference. "We need a plan."

Algorithm yawned in response.

"Thanks for the enthusiasm," Joshua muttered. He pulled out a notebook and began to scribble furiously. "Step one: Figure out Y/N's laundry schedule."

He tapped his pen against his chin, thinking. "She mentioned she usually does laundry on Saturdays, but not every week. So maybe... every other week? Or possibly every third week?"

Algorithm meowed and jumped off the couch, apparently bored with Joshua's romantic strategizing.

"You're right," Joshua sighed. "I'm overthinking this. I'll just have to stake out the laundromat every Saturday for a while. That's totally normal and not creepy at all, right?"

Silence greeted his question.

"Right," he answered himself. "Perfectly normal."

And so began Operation Laundry Love, as Joshua had dubbed it in his head (though he'd die before admitting that to anyone else).

The next Saturday, Joshua found himself at Suds & Bubbles, a bag of laundry in hand despite having done his washing just the week before. He'd had to dig into his "emergency clothes" drawer to have enough to justify a trip.

As he pushed open the door, his heart sank. No Y/N. The laundromat was occupied by the usual Saturday crowd: a harried-looking mother with three small children, an elderly man reading a newspaper, and a college student who appeared to be using the dryer as a makeshift desk for her laptop.

Joshua sighed and resigned himself to actually doing his unnecessary laundry. As he loaded his clothes into the machine, he couldn't help but smile, remembering how he and Y/N had shared a washer the week before.

"You look happy for someone doing laundry," a voice behind him said.

Joshua whirled around, his heart leaping into his throat. But it wasn't Y/N. Instead, he found himself face-to-face with the elderly man, who had set aside his newspaper and was now regarding Joshua with amusement.

"Oh, uh, I just... really like clean clothes?" Joshua offered weakly.

The old man chuckled. "Son, I've been coming to this laundromat for thirty years, and I've never seen anyone smile like that over a washing machine. Unless..." His eyes twinkled mischievously. "You wouldn't happen to be waiting for someone, would you?"

Joshua felt heat creep up his neck. "What? No, I'm just... doing laundry. Like normal. Because it's a normal thing to do. Normally."

"Mm-hmm," the old man nodded, clearly unconvinced. "Well, I hope your 'normal laundry' shows up soon."

As the man shuffled back to his seat, Joshua groaned internally. Was he really that transparent?

The answer, as it turned out over the next few weeks, was a resounding yes.

Every Saturday, Joshua found himself at Suds & Bubbles, armed with increasingly creative excuses for why he suddenly needed to do laundry so frequently.

"I spilled an entire pot of spaghetti sauce on myself," he told the amused attendant one week.

"My cat decided my closet was his new litter box," he explained to the harried mother the next.

By the fourth Saturday, he'd run out of plausible excuses and was seriously considering actually spilling something on all his clothes just to justify his presence.

It was on this fourth Saturday, as Joshua was contemplating the merits of "accidentally" upending a bottle of ketchup on himself, that the bell above the door chimed. He looked up, more out of habit than hope at this point, and nearly dropped the detergent he was holding.

There, silhouetted in the doorway like some laundry-bearing angel, was Y/N.

She was wearing faded jeans and a t-shirt that proclaimed "I'm not procrastinating, I'm doing side quests," her hair once again in its chaotic bun. To Joshua, she had never looked more beautiful.

Y/N spotted him almost immediately, her face breaking into a grin. "Well, well, well," she said, sauntering over. "If it isn't the Laundry Master himself. We've got to stop meeting like this, people will talk."

Joshua, who had been mentally rehearsing casual greetings for weeks, found himself suddenly tongue-tied. "I, uh... hi," he managed.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Wow, they really should put a warning label on you. 'Caution: Excessive wit may cause spontaneous combustion.'"

That broke through Joshua's panic, and he felt a grin tugging at his lips. "Sorry, I left my witty retorts in my other pants. I'm here to wash them."

Y/N laughed, the sound cutting through the monotonous hum of the washing machines. "There he is! I was worried the Laundry Police had gotten to you and stolen your sense of humor."

"Nah, they just put it through the spin cycle. It's a little dizzy, but intact."

"Oh, good," Y/N nodded seriously. "A dizzy sense of humor is a small price to pay for clean clothes and freedom from laundry-based tyranny."

As they bantered, Joshua felt the tension leaving his shoulders. This was why he'd been coming back week after week, enduring knowing looks from the regulars and inventing increasingly ridiculous laundry emergencies. Not just because Y/N was beautiful (though she absolutely was), but because talking to her felt as natural as breathing.

"So," Y/N said as she started loading her laundry into a machine, "do you always do your laundry on Saturdays, or am I just lucky enough to catch you during your weekly sock-sorting séance?"

Joshua froze for a split second. This was it, the moment of truth. He could confess that he'd been coming here every week in the hopes of seeing her again. Or...

"Oh, you know," he said, aiming for casual and probably overshooting into 'trying way too hard to sound casual', "laundry emergencies wait for no man. Or woman. Or... person of any gender, really."

Y/N's eyes narrowed slightly, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Laundry emergencies, huh? Sounds serious. What was it this time? Rogue red sock in with the whites? Denim uprising?"

"Actually," Joshua said, warming to his theme, "it was a catastrophic coffee spill. My entire wardrobe now smells like a coffee shop."

Y/N nodded solemnly. "Ah, yes. The dreaded Cappucino Fiasco. I've seen it claim many a good outfit. You were wise to seek help immediately."

As they continued to load their respective machines, Joshua marveled at how easy it was to fall into rhythm with Y/N. They moved around each other seamlessly, passing detergent and fabric softener back and forth without a word, as if they'd been doing this dance for years instead of having met only a few weeks ago.

"So," Y/N said as she closed the door of her washing machine with a flourish, "what's your strategy for killing time while the laundry gods work their magic? Please tell me it's more exciting than last time. If you pull out a deck of cards again, I might have to report you to the Fun Police."

Joshua grinned. "I'll have you know that Go Fish is a game of intense strategy and skill."

"Uh-huh," Y/N nodded, clearly unconvinced. "And I'm the Queen of Sheba."

"Your Majesty," Joshua said with an exaggerated bow.

Y/N laughed, then grabbed his arm and started pulling him towards the door. "Come on, Laundry Boy. There's a coffee shop next door that does a mean latte. I think we can risk leaving our clothes unattended for a few minutes. Unless you're worried the Sock Gnomes will strike?"

Joshua allowed himself to be led, his arm tingling where Y/N was touching it. "Sock Gnomes are no laughing matter," he said seriously. "They're a menace to matched pairs everywhere."

The coffee shop, as it turned out, was a tiny hole-in-the-wall place that looked like it had been decorated by someone's eccentric grandmother. Mismatched chairs surrounded wobbly tables, and the walls were covered in a truly bewildering array of artwork, ranging from serene landscapes to what appeared to be a portrait of a cat dressed as Napoleon.

"Wow," Joshua said as they entered, the scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries enveloping them. "This place is..."

"A glorious affront to interior design?" Y/N supplied helpfully.

"I was going to say 'unique', but yeah, that works too."

They ordered their drinks - a simple black coffee for Joshua and something that sounded more like a dessert than a beverage for Y/N - and settled at a table in the corner. The chair Joshua sat in promptly made an ominous creaking sound.

"Don't worry," Y/N said, noticing his concerned look. "If it collapses, I promise to laugh only a little before calling for help."

"Your kindness knows no bounds," Joshua deadpanned.

As they sipped their drinks, the conversation flowed as easily as it had in the laundromat. They discovered a shared love of terrible puns, a mutual disdain for people who talk in movie theaters, and a surprising amount of overlap in their taste in music.

"No way," Y/N said, her eyes wide. "You like The Microphones too? I thought I was the only person under 40 who'd heard of them!"

Joshua nodded enthusiastically. "They're amazing! 'The Glow Pt. 2' is one of my all-time favorite albums."

"Okay, that settles it," Y/N declared. "We're officially friends now. I don't make the rules."

Joshua felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the coffee. "Friends, huh? Do I get a membership card or something?"

"Better," Y/N grinned. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a slightly squashed packet of gum. With great ceremony, she extracted a piece and presented it to Joshua. "I hereby bestow upon you the Gum of Friendship. Guard it well."

Joshua accepted the gum with equal solemnity. "I shall treasure it always," he vowed, then promptly unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth.

Y/N gasped in mock horror. "The sacred Gum of Friendship! You've destroyed it!"

"I'm savoring our friendship," Joshua countered. "It's minty fresh."

They dissolved into laughter, earning curious looks from the other patrons. Joshua couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed this much. Being with Y/N was like being caught in the best kind of whirlwind - exhilarating, unpredictable, and utterly delightful.

As their laughter subsided, Y/N glanced at her watch and yelped. "Oh shoot, our laundry! We've been here for almost an hour!"

They hurried back to the laundromat, half-expecting to find their clothes strewn across the floor or absconded with by the mythical Sock Gnomes. But everything was just as they'd left it, their machines humming away peacefully.

"Crisis averted," Y/N sighed dramatically. "Though I have to say, part of me was looking forward to staging a daring rescue mission for our captured clothes."

Joshua grinned. "Maybe next time. I'll bring my laundry-themed superhero costume."

"Oh? And what would that look like?" Y/N asked, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Well, obviously a cape made of dryer sheets," Joshua began, warming to the ridiculous idea. "A utility belt stocked with stain removers for every occasion. Oh, and a mask that looks like one of those mesh laundry bags."

Y/N nodded approvingly. "Don't forget the catchphrase. Every good superhero needs a catchphrase."

"How about... 'It's time to clean up this mess!'" Joshua suggested, lowering his voice to a gravelly superhero register.

Y/N burst out laughing. "Perfect! Watch out, evil-doers. The Laundry Avenger is here to take you to the cleaners!"

As they continued to riff on increasingly absurd laundry-themed superhero ideas, Joshua marveled at how comfortable he felt. Usually, prolonged social interaction left him drained, but with Y/N, he felt energized, like he could keep talking for hours.

All too soon, their laundry was done, and they found themselves standing outside Suds & Bubbles, clean clothes in hand.

"Well," Y/N said, shifting her laundry bag to her other shoulder, "this was fun. Who knew doing laundry could be such an adventure?"

Joshua nodded, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. He didn't want this to end. "Yeah, it was great. Maybe we could, uh..." He trailed off, suddenly unsure.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Joshua took a deep breath. It was now or never. "Maybe we could do this again sometime? The laundry thing, I mean. And the coffee. Or, you know, just hanging out. If you want."

Y/N's face broke into a wide grin. "Joshua Hong, are you asking me on a laundry date?"

"Maybe?" Joshua said, then, gathering his courage, "Yes. Yes, I am."

"Well, in that case," Y/N said, pretending to consider it seriously, "I suppose I could pencil you in for my next laundry day. Someone's got to make sure you don't fall victim to the Sock Gnomes, after all."

Joshua felt like his heart might burst. "It's a date. A laundry date."

As they parted ways, Joshua couldn't keep the grin off his face. He'd done it. He'd successfully engineered an "accidental" meeting, and even better, he'd secured another one.

Operation Laundry Love, he decided, was a resounding success.

Little did he know, Y/N was walking away with a similar grin on her face, thinking to herself, "I wonder if he realizes I don't usually do my laundry on Saturdays?"

But that, as they say, is a story for another load of laundry.

The next few weeks passed in a blur of laundry detergent, coffee dates, and increasingly elaborate excuses for Joshua's constant presence at Suds & Bubbles. He had become something of a legend among the regular patrons, who watched his blossoming relationship with Y/N with the rapt attention usually reserved for soap operas.

"What's the crisis this week, son?" Mr. Jenkins, the elderly man who had first caught onto Joshua's scheme, asked one Saturday.

Joshua, who had just arrived and was scanning the laundromat for any sign of Y/N, startled at the question. "Oh, uh... paint," he said, grabbing wildly at the first excuse that came to mind. "Lots of paint. Everywhere. I'm thinking of taking up abstract expressionism."

Mr. Jenkins nodded sagely. "Ah, yes. A noble pursuit. Though I must say, your clothes look remarkably clean for someone covered in paint."

Joshua glanced down at his spotless jeans and t-shirt, realizing his mistake too late. "I... changed before coming here?"

"Of course, of course," Mr. Jenkins said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "And I'm sure it has nothing to do with the charming young lady you've been meeting here every week."

Before Joshua could stammer out a response, the bell above the door chimed. He turned, his heart doing its now-familiar leap as Y/N walked in.

She was wearing a sundress today, her hair for once free of its usual chaotic bun and falling in waves around her shoulders. Joshua felt his breath catch in his throat.

Y/N spotted him and grinned, making her way over. "Well, if it isn't my favorite laundry buddy," she said. "What's the disaster today? Attacked by a rogue sprinkler system? Fell into a vat of maple syrup?"

Joshua, still a bit dazed by her appearance, blurted out, "Paint."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Paint?"

"Uh, yeah," Joshua said, committing to the lie. "I'm taking up abstract expressionism."

Y/N's eyes lit up with mischief. "Oh really? And here I thought you were more of a performance art kind of guy. You know, the kind where you keep showing up at a laundromat week after week, pretending to have laundry emergencies."

Joshua felt his face heat up. "I... what? No, I just... I mean..."

Y/N laughed, the sound bright and clear in the humming atmosphere of the laundromat. "Relax, Joshua. I'm just teasing. Though I have to admit, I am curious about this sudden interest in art. Care to elaborate while we wait for our clothes to wash?"

Still a bit flustered, Joshua nodded. As they loaded their machines (Joshua had actually brought laundry this time, having run out of clean clothes due to his frequent "emergencies"), he found himself spinning an increasingly complex tale about his newfound passion for abstract art.

"So there I was," he said, warming to his theme, "staring at this blank canvas, when suddenly I was struck by inspiration. I grabbed the nearest paint can and just... let loose."

Y/N nodded solemnly. "As one does. And the paint just happened to get all over your clothes in the process?"

"Exactly!" Joshua said, relieved that she seemed to be buying it. "You know how it is with artistic passion. Sometimes you just can't contain it."

"Mm-hmm," Y/N hummed, her eyes sparkling with barely contained laughter. "And what, pray tell, was the subject of this masterpiece?"

Joshua, who knew about as much about art as he did about deep-sea fishing, panicked. "It was... a commentary on the existential dread of modern laundry practices?"

There was a beat of silence, and then Y/N burst out laughing. "Oh my god," she wheezed, clutching her sides. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, and I love it. Please tell me you're going to display this masterpiece in a gallery. I would pay good money to see a painting about the existential dread of laundry."

Joshua, realizing he'd been caught out, couldn't help but join in her laughter. "Alright, alright," he admitted once they'd both calmed down a bit. "I may have exaggerated the paint situation a tiny bit."

"A tiny bit?" Y/N asked, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "Joshua Hong, I do believe you've been telling me tall tales. I'm shocked. Shocked and appalled."

"Would it help if I said I was inspired by your artistic influence?" Joshua offered, grinning.

Y/N pretended to consider this. "Hmm, flattery will get you everywhere. But I think you owe me a coffee for this blatant deception. And maybe a painting about laundry-based existential dread."

"Deal," Joshua said, relieved that she seemed more amused than annoyed by his fib. "Though I warn you, my artistic skills are limited to stick figures and the occasional smiley face."

"Perfect," Y/N declared. "I expect nothing less than a masterpiece of stick figure angst surrounded by washing machines. You have one week to deliver, Mr. Hong."

As they made their way to what had become their usual table at the coffee shop next door, Joshua marveled at how comfortable he felt with Y/N. The nervousness that had plagued him during their first few meetings had given way to an easy camaraderie, punctuated by their shared love of terrible jokes and pop culture references.

"So," Y/N said once they were settled with their drinks (a simple latte for Joshua, and something that seemed to consist mostly of whipped cream and caramel for Y/N), "now that we've established your budding career as an abstract expressionist, what's really been going on with you this week?"

Joshua, caught off guard by the sincere question, found himself answering honestly. "Oh, you know, the usual. Work's been pretty hectic. We're launching a new software update next month, so everyone's been pulling long hours."

Y/N nodded sympathetically. "Sounds stressful. Is that why you've been coming to the laundromat so often? Blowing off steam by cleaning your clothes?"

There was something in her tone, a hint of... what? Hope? Curiosity? Joshua couldn't quite place it, but it made his heart rate pick up.

"Well, that's part of it," he admitted, deciding to take a risk. "But mostly... I've been hoping to run into you."

Y/N's eyes widened slightly, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Oh," she said softly. Then, a smile spreading across her face, "You know, you could have just asked for my number. It would have saved you a fortune in quarters."

Joshua groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I know, I know. I just... I wasn't sure if you'd want to hang out outside of our laundry days. And then it became this whole thing, and I didn't know how to bring it up without sounding like a complete weirdo."

Y/N reached across the table, gently pulling his hands away from his face. "Joshua," she said, her voice warm with affection, "you are a complete weirdo. But you're my kind of weirdo."

Joshua felt a surge of warmth in his chest. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Y/N confirmed. "Now, are you going to ask for my number like a normal person, or do I need to write it on a dryer sheet and hide it in your laundry?"

Laughing, Joshua pulled out his phone. As they exchanged numbers, he felt as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. No more elaborate excuses, no more anxiously waiting at the laundromat hoping Y/N would show up.

"So," he said once their numbers were safely stored in each other's phones, "now that we've entered the digital age, what do you want to do for our next non-laundry related hangout?"

Y/N's eyes lit up. "Oh, I have the perfect idea! There's this new escape room place that just opened up downtown. The theme is... wait for it... a haunted laundromat!"

Joshua blinked. "You're kidding."

"Nope!" Y/N said, grinning. "It's called 'Spin Cycle of Terror.' Apparently, you have to solve puzzles related to missing socks, detergent bottle clues, and a vengeful dryer spirit. It's supposed to be hilariously bad."

"That sounds absolutely terrible," Joshua said. Then, unable to keep the smile off his face, "When do we go?"

Y/N clapped her hands in excitement. "I knew you'd be up for it! How about next Saturday? Unless you have another painting emergency, of course."

"I think I can clear my schedule," Joshua said dryly. "Though I may need to stock up on laundry-themed good luck charms. You never know when a vengeful dryer spirit might strike."

As they continued to chat, making plans for their upcoming escape room adventure, Joshua found himself marveling at the turn his life had taken. A month ago, he would never have imagined himself looking forward to a cheesy haunted laundromat experience. But with Y/N, even the most ridiculous activities seemed like the best way to spend an evening.

The week leading up to their escape room date (and Joshua's heart did a little flip every time he thought of it as a date) passed in a flurry of text messages. Y/N, it turned out, was a prolific texter, sending Joshua everything from random song lyrics to photos of particularly interesting clouds to long, rambling messages about her day.

Joshua, who had never been much for texting, found himself eagerly checking his phone at every opportunity, just in case Y/N had sent something new.

"Dude, what's got you so smiley?" his coworker, Hoshi's, asked one day after catching Joshua grinning at his phone for the third time in an hour.

"Oh, uh, nothing," Joshua said, hastily putting his phone away. "Just... a funny meme."

Hoshi's raised an eyebrow. "A funny meme that's been making you check your phone every five minutes for the past week? Come on, spill. You've met someone, haven't you?"

Joshua felt his face heat up. "Maybe," he admitted.

Hoshi's whooped, drawing curious glances from their other coworkers. "I knew it! Our little Joshua is all grown up and in love. So, who's the lucky lady? Or gentleman? Or non-binary individual?"

"Her name is Y/N," Joshua said, unable to keep the smile off his face. "We met at the laundromat."

Hoshi's's eyebrows shot up. "The laundromat? Seriously? Man, and here I thought all those cheesy rom-coms were lying to us. Good for you, buddy. When do we get to meet her?"

The question caught Joshua off guard. He and Y/N had been in their own little bubble for the past few weeks, but the idea of introducing her to his friends and coworkers made everything feel suddenly more real.

"I... don't know," he admitted. "We're still figuring things out."

Hoshi's nodded understandingly. "No pressure, man. Just know that when you're ready, we're all dying to meet the girl who's got you checking your phone like a lovesick teenager."

As Saturday approached, Joshua found himself growing increasingly nervous. This would be their first real date outside of the laundromat and coffee shop. What if things were awkward? What if the easy rapport they'd developed over shared loads of laundry didn't translate to other settings?

By the time Saturday evening rolled around, Joshua was a bundle of nerves. He changed his outfit three times before settling on a simple button-down shirt and jeans, then spent an inordinate amount of time trying to get his hair to cooperate.

"It's just Y/N," he told his reflection, trying to calm his racing heart. "You've seen her elbow-deep in dirty laundry. This is no big deal."

But as he arrived at the address Y/N had sent him, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was, in fact, a very big deal.

The escape room place was tucked between a trendy vegan restaurant and a vintage clothing store. A neon sign proclaimed "Spin Cycle of Terror" in lurid pink letters, complete with a cartoon ghost emerging from a washing machine.

Joshua was so busy staring at the sign, wondering what he'd gotten himself into, that he didn't notice Y/N approaching until she was right beside him.

"Pretty epic, right?" she said, making him jump.

"Y/N! Hi! You... you look great," Joshua stammered, taking in her appearance. She was wearing a dress patterned with tiny washing machines and bubbles, her hair pulled back in a messy bun with what appeared to be a clothespin.

Y/N did a little twirl. "You like? I figured if we're going to face a vengeful dryer spirit, we might as well dress the part."

Joshua laughed, feeling some of his nervousness dissipate. "It's perfect. I feel underdressed now. I should have at least worn a shirt with a sock pattern or something."

"Next time," Y/N said with a wink. "Now come on, we've got some laundry-based puzzles to solve!"

As they entered the escape room, Joshua was hit with a wave of artificial lavender scent. The room was set up to look like the world's most over-the-top laundromat, complete with washing machines that seemed to be made entirely of glitter and dryers that emitted an ominous red glow.

"Welcome to the Spin Cycle of Terror," a bored-looking employee droned, clearly having repeated this speech many times. "You have one hour to solve the mystery of the missing socks and appease the vengeful spirit of Agatha Cleanpress, the laundromat's former owner. Failure to do so will result in you being cursed to fold fitted sheets for all eternity."

"Jokes on them," Y/N whispered to Joshua. "I already can't fold fitted sheets."

Joshua snorted, earning a glare from the employee.

"Your time starts... now," the employee said, hitting a button that started a comically large timer on the wall.

What followed was an hour of the most ridiculous, pun-filled, laundry-themed puzzle-solving Joshua had ever experienced. They deciphered clues hidden in detergent bottles, played a memory game with different types of stains, and even had to perform what the instructions called a "sock puppet séance" to communicate with Agatha's spirit.

Throughout it all, Joshua found himself laughing more than he had in years. Y/N attacked each puzzle with enthusiasm, her running commentary on the increasingly absurd challenges keeping Joshua in stitches.

"Oh come on," she exclaimed at one point, elbow-deep in a bin of mismatched socks. "How is this even a puzzle? This is just my normal laundry experience!"

As the final seconds ticked down, they found themselves facing the last challenge: a riddle that would supposedly reveal the location of Agatha's missing lucky sock and put her spirit to rest.

"I am not alive, but I grow; I don't have lungs, but I need air; I don't have a mouth, but water kills me. What am I?" Y/N read aloud.

They looked at each other, momentarily stumped.

"Not alive but grows... needs air... water kills it," Joshua muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Y/N's eyes suddenly lit up. "Fire!" she exclaimed. "It's fire!"

They looked around frantically, spotting a cardboard fireplace in the corner that they had dismissed earlier as mere set dressing.

Racing over, they found a hidden compartment containing a single, sparkly sock.

"We did it!" Y/N cheered, just as the timer buzzed.

The room was suddenly filled with the sound of canned applause, and a holographic image of a ghostly old woman appeared.

"Congratulations," the 'ghost' said in a voice that sounded suspiciously like the bored employee who had greeted them. "You have solved the mystery and found my lucky sock. You are now free from the curse of eternal fitted sheet folding. Please exit through the gift shop."

As they emerged from the escape room, still high on their victory, Joshua felt a surge of affection for Y/N. Her hair had come partly loose from its bun, her cheeks were flushed with excitement, and she was clutching the sparkly sock they'd been allowed to keep as a souvenir.

"That," Y/N declared, "was the most ridiculously awesome thing I've ever done."

"It really was," Joshua agreed, still grinning. He hesitated for a moment, then added, "You know, I never thought I'd have this much fun pretending to be cursed by a laundromat ghost."

Y/N bumped her shoulder against his playfully. "See? This is why you need me in your life. To introduce you to the wonderful world of laundry-based entertainment."

As they walked out onto the street, the cool evening air a refreshing change from the lavender-scented escape room, Joshua felt a surge of courage.

"Hey," he said, his heart racing, "do you want to grab some dinner? I mean, if you're not sick of me after an hour of sock sorting and ghost appeasing."

Y/N's face lit up. "Are you kidding? After all that excitement, I'm starving. Plus, I think we need to celebrate our victory over Agatha Cleanpress. Any ideas?"

Joshua thought for a moment, then grinned. "Actually, I know just the place. How do you feel about continuing our laundry theme?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Color me curious, Mr. Hong. Lead the way!"

Twenty minutes later, they found themselves standing in front of a small, quirky restaurant called "The Soap Suds Café."

"No way," Y/N breathed, taking in the washing machine-shaped menu boards and the waitstaff dressed in what appeared to be high-fashion interpretations of laundromat uniforms. "This is amazing. How did you even know about this place?"

Joshua rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling a bit sheepish. "I, uh, may have done some research on laundry-themed attractions in the area. You know, just in case."

Y/N turned to him, her eyes sparkling with amusement and something else... was that fondness? "Joshua Hong, you continue to surprise me. And here I thought I was the queen of ridiculous themed experiences."

As they were led to their table - a booth made to look like the inside of a front-loading washing machine - Joshua felt a warm glow of satisfaction. He'd managed to impress Y/N, to make her smile that radiant smile that never failed to make his heart skip a beat.

The menu, as it turned out, was just as themed as the decor. Appetizers were listed under "Pre-Wash Cycle," main courses under "Heavy Duty Wash," and desserts under "Fluff and Fold."

"I can't believe this place exists," Y/N said, giggling as she perused the menu. "Oh my god, they have a cocktail called 'Fabric Softener.' I don't know whether to be impressed or terrified."

"Why not both?" Joshua suggested. "I'm leaning towards the 'Spin Cycle Spritzer' myself."

As they ordered their meals (Y/N chose the "Delicate Wash Delight," a surprisingly elegant salad, while Joshua went for the "Heavy Duty Burger"), they fell into easy conversation, recounting their favorite moments from the escape room.

"I still can't believe you managed to untangle that giant knot of sheets so quickly," Y/N said, shaking her head in admiration. "If laundry folding was an Olympic sport, you'd definitely take the gold."

Joshua felt his cheeks warm at the praise. "Well, I had a pretty great partner. Your sock puppet séance was a thing of beauty. I think you might have missed your calling as a laundry medium."

Y/N struck a dramatic pose. "What can I say? The spirits of lost socks speak to me. It's both a gift and a curse."

As their food arrived (served on plates designed to look like old-fashioned washboards), Joshua found himself marveling at how comfortable he felt. Here he was, in a ridiculous laundry-themed restaurant, with a woman he'd met only a few weeks ago, and yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"You know," Y/N said, pausing in her attack on her salad, "I have a confession to make."

Joshua felt a flutter of nervousness in his stomach. "Oh?"

Y/N nodded, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I don't actually do my laundry every Saturday."

Joshua blinked, processing this information. "You... don't?"

"Nope," Y/N said, popping the 'p'. "I usually do it on Sundays. But after we met that first time, I started coming on Saturdays. You know, just in case a certain software developer with a penchant for laundry emergencies happened to show up."

Joshua felt his jaw drop. "You mean... all this time..."

Y/N grinned. "Yep. Looks like we were both playing the 'accidental' meeting game. Although I have to say, your excuses were way more creative than mine. I just pretended to have a very messy lifestyle."

For a moment, Joshua was speechless. Then, he burst out laughing. "I can't believe it," he managed between chuckles. "Here I was, thinking I was being so clever."

Y/N joined in his laughter. "Hey, you were! I was impressed by your dedication. The paint excuse was particularly inspired."

As their laughter subsided, Joshua felt a wave of affection wash over him. "You know," he said softly, "you could have just asked for my number too."

Y/N's smile turned a bit shy. "I know. But where's the fun in that? Besides, I kind of liked our laundry day meetups. They were... special."

Joshua nodded, understanding completely. There was something magical about those Saturdays, something that might have been lost if they'd rushed into regular dating too quickly.

"Well," he said, raising his 'Spin Cycle Spritzer', "here's to laundry emergencies, escape rooms, and ridiculously themed restaurants."

Y/N clinked her 'Fabric Softener' against his glass. "And to new beginnings that smell like lavender detergent."

As they continued their meal, the conversation flowed easily from topic to topic. They discovered a shared love of obscure indie bands, debated the merits of various streaming services, and somehow ended up in a heated but good-natured argument about the best way to organize a bookshelf.

"I'm telling you," Y/N insisted, gesturing with a forkful of salad, "organizing by color is the way to go. It's aesthetically pleasing and makes your bookshelf look like a rainbow!"

Joshua shook his head, grinning. "But how do you find anything? What if you can't remember what color the book cover is?"

"That's half the fun!" Y/N exclaimed. "It's like a treasure hunt every time you want to read something."

As Joshua opened his mouth to retort, he was struck by a sudden realization. He could see himself having this exact debate years from now, in a shared apartment, surrounded by a mix of his meticulously organized books and Y/N's color-coded chaos. The thought should have terrified him - Joshua had always been cautious about relationships, preferring the safety of his orderly life. But instead, he felt a warm glow of contentment.

"Earth to Joshua," Y/N's voice broke through his reverie. "You okay there? You looked like you were a million miles away."

Joshua blinked, focusing back on Y/N's concerned face. "Sorry, I just... I was thinking about how much I'm enjoying this. Being here, with you."

Y/N's expression softened. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Joshua confirmed. Then, gathering his courage, he reached across the table and took her hand. "I really like you, Y/N. And not just because you make laundry day the highlight of my week."

Y/N turned her hand in his, interlacing their fingers. "I really like you too, Joshua. Even if you do have terrible ideas about bookshelf organization."

They shared a laugh, the tension of the moment breaking into something warm and comfortable.

As they finished their meal and stepped out into the cool night air, Joshua felt a sense of possibility that he hadn't experienced in years. Whatever this thing was between him and Y/N, wherever it might lead, he knew one thing for certain: his life would never be the same.

"So," Y/N said as they walked, their hands still linked, "same time next week at the laundromat?"

Joshua pretended to consider this. "I don't know, I might be busy. You know, with all my abstract expressionist paintings and laundry emergencies."

Y/N nudged him playfully. "Come on, I'll even let you borrow my lucky sock."

"Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse?" Joshua said, grinning. Then, more seriously, "Although, maybe we could meet somewhere that doesn't involve washing machines next time? Not that I don't love our laundry adventures, but..."

"But it might be nice to see each other in a setting that doesn't smell like fabric softener?" Y/N finished for him.

"Exactly."

Y/N nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I'd like that. Although I have to warn you, I may not be as charming without the backdrop of spin cycles and dryer sheets."

Joshua squeezed her hand gently. "Somehow, I doubt that."

As they reached the corner where they would have to part ways, Joshua felt a reluctance to let the evening end. "So, um, I'll text you? About our next non-laundry related hangout?"

Y/N nodded, her eyes twinkling. "You better. And who knows? If you play your cards right, I might even show you my color-coded bookshelf someday."

"I look forward to it," Joshua said, meaning it more than he'd ever meant anything in his life.

They stood there for a moment, neither wanting to be the first to say goodbye. Then, in a move that surprised even himself, Joshua leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Y/N's cheek.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he said softly as he pulled back, his heart racing.

Y/N's cheeks were flushed, but she was smiling wider than ever. "Goodnight, Joshua. Thanks for a wonderful evening."

As Joshua watched Y/N walk away, he touched his lips, still feeling the warmth of her cheek against them. He had come a long way from the man who had walked into Suds & Bubbles a few weeks ago, his life as orderly and predictable as his laundry routine.

Now, as he made his way home, Joshua felt as though his world had been turned upside down in the best possible way. His thoughts were a whirlwind of escape rooms and laundry puns, of shared laughter and intertwined fingers.

One thing was certain: Joshua Hong was falling, and falling hard. And for once in his life, he was perfectly happy to let the cycle run its course.

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