#no one wants to talk about how cool and good that song is

[bexxa12]

STUDIO SECRETS|| JJ x Y/N

{Summary}

Jungkook, a musical prodigy whose voice captivates millions, finds himself drawn into a world beyond the spotlight. His path crosses with the enigmatic daughter of his esteemed producer, a woman whose secrets run as deep as the melodies he crafts.

Chapter 3

WC: 2,210

The door closed behind her, the sound echoing through the studio like a final note of a symphony. Jungkook couldn't shake the feeling that she had left an indelible mark on him, a spark of something he hadn't felt in a long time. 

Mr. Kim cleared his throat, the spell broken, and Jungkook turned back to the task at hand.

They worked into the night, the energy in the studio palpable. The walls seemed to hum with the power of their collective passion, the music growing more intense with each passing hour.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air, melding with the faint metallic tang of new technology and the nostalgic scent of worn-out vinyl records.

As Jungkook played, Mr. Kim's eyes never left the monitors, scrutinizing every note and beat with a meticulous precision that had made him a legend in the industry. 

His graying hair was swept back in a neat style that defied the chaos of the cables and instruments scattered around the room

Finally, the last note of Jungkook's song faded into the quiet embrace of the studio. Mr. Kim leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh, his eyes closing briefly as if to savor the sound that had just filled the space. He opened them and nodded, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

"Good job, Jungkook," he said, his voice gruff but warm. 

"We're done for the day. That was the final take."

The song they'd been crafting together had finally come alive, a fusion of beats and melody that felt like a piece of his soul.

As Jungkook stepped out of the music booth, the cool air washed over him, a stark contrast to the warmth of the spotlights.

"It was nice to finally meet her." Jungkook said casually, as he approached Mr. Kim.

Mr. Kim's eyes lit up at the mention of his daughter, Y/N. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. 

"How did she seem?"

"Determined, like you," Jungkook observed, chuckling.

Mr. Kim's expression grew thoughtful. "She's got a good head on her shoulders, that one."

Jungkook nodded, picturing the young woman who had visited the studio earlier that day. 

She had the same sharp gaze and focused demeanor as her father, yet there was a warmth to her that was all her own.

"Yeah, she was pretty intense," Jungkook said, smiling. 

"But in a good way. She talked about her cases like they were the only things that mattered in the world."

Mr. Kim's eyes twinkled with pride. 

"That's her alright," he said. "Her passion for justice is unrivaled."

The conversation grew quiet as they both reflected on the day's achievements and the paths their lives had taken. Jungkook had always admired the producer's dedication to his work and family. 

The way he balanced the two, especially in the fast-paced world of music and entertainment, was inspiring.

Mr. Kim's phone buzzed on the desk, breaking the silence. He picked it up, squinting at the screen. 

"Looks like Y/N is stuck at the office again," he said with a sigh. "She's always working."

Jungkook leaned against the soundboard. "Is she okay with that?" Mr. Kim rubbed his temples. 

"It's tough, but she loves it. Says she's fighting the good fight. Sometimes, I wish she'd take a break though."

Jungkook nodded sympathetically. 

"You've taught her well," he said. "She's following her dreams."

Mr. Kim couldn't help but smile. 

"I just want her to be happy," he said. "And if that means fighting for justice, then so be it."

Jungkook nodded. 

"You know, I've never met anyone quite like her. Most people in my line of work are chasing fame or fortune, but she's out there making a difference."

Mr. Kim's expression grew contemplative. 

"Yeah, she's one of a kind," he said, a hint of wistfulness in his voice. 

"When she told me she wanted to be a lawyer, I was worried it'd consume her, but she's found a way to keep her passion from becoming a burden."

Jungkook nodded thoughtfully. 

"I can see it in her eyes," he said. "The same fire you have for music, she has for justice. It's pretty amazing."

Mr. Kim's gaze drifted to his phone's lockscreen. In the picture, his daughter, Y/N, was a young girl, her tiny hands clutching a makeshift microphone, mimicking her father's every move as he worked in the studio. 

He couldn't help but wonder if she had inherited his love for music, or if it was his passion for his work that had inspired her to pursue her own dreams with such fervor.

"Well," Jungkook said, breaking the silence, "we should start wrapping up. It's late." Mr. Kim nodded, his eyes lingering on the picture before he set the phone down. 

"You're right," he said, standing up and stretching. "Let's get you home. You've earned it."

Jungkook grabbed his bag and jacket from the chair, feeling a mix of excitement and exhaustion. As they walked out of the studio, the cool night air was a welcome change from the stale air-conditioning. 

The city outside was alive with the hum of traffic and distant laughter. 

"You know," Jungkook began, "I never thought I'd find a producer who understands me so well."

Mr. Kim chuckled, his eyes never leaving the descending numbers. "You've got a unique style, kid," he said. "It's been a hell of a ride working with you."

"Same to you," Jungkook said, his smile mirroring the producer's. "Couldn't have done it without you."

"Hold on a sec," he said, turning to Jungkook with a sudden seriousness. 

"You ever think about what comes next?"

Jungkook cocked his head, a bit confused by the shift in tone. 

"Next?" he echoed.

Mr. Kim nodded, his eyes searching Jungkook's. 

"Yeah. You're on top of the world right now, but there's more to life than just music, you know?"

Jungkook took a moment to digest the question, his thoughts drifting to the moment he'd shared with Y/N during her visit. 

"Sure," he said, his voice a little softer than before. "But music is what I know. It's who I am."

Mr. Kim clapped him on the back. 

"I know, I know," he said. "But don't let it consume you. There's more to life than what's in there," he said, gesturing to the studio.

Jungkook nodded, understanding his mentor's concern. He knew all too well the pressures of the industry and the toll it could take on one's personal life. 

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, his voice earnest.

Jungkook couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in his chest. Mr. Kim's words echoed in his mind, prompting him to consider the future beyond the glitz and glamour of the music world.

"You've got a big heart, Jungkook," Mr. Kim said, his voice gentle. 

"Don't let the industry change that."

Jungkook nodded, feeling the weight of Mr. Kim's words. He knew the path ahead was fraught with challenges, but he was determined to stay true to himself. 

"I won't," he promised, his voice firm.

Mr. Kim nodded back, his eyes reflecting a silent understanding. 

They walked towards Mr. Kim's car, the rhythm of their footsteps syncing with the distant sound of the city's heartbeat. Jungkook broke the silence once again, "You know, I haven't been home in a while," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia.

"Yeah?" The producer's tone was curious. "I think it's time," Jungkook said, looking up at the neon lights of the city. "It's been too long since I saw my family." Mr. Kim's gaze followed Jungkook's, understanding the unspoken longing in his voice. "They'd love to see you, I'm sure," he said.

Jungkook nodded, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "Yeah," he said. "But it's more than that. I miss the simplicity of it all. The quiet mornings, the smell of mom's cooking."

Mr. Kim chuckled. "Sounds like you're due for a visit," he said, unlocking the car door. 

Jungkook slid into the passenger seat, his eyes lingering on the cityscape as the Mr. Kim started the engine. 

"I hope so," he said, his voice a mix of excitement and apprehension. "It's weird, you know? Being famous and all, but still feeling like the kid who used to run around the neighbourhood."

Mr. Kim nodded as he pulled into the flow of traffic. "You're still that kid, Jungkook," he said. "Don't let the lights and cameras fool you. They're just a part of the show."

Jungkook leaned his head against the cool window, watching the city lights blur into streaks as they drove through the night. His heart felt a tug of longing for the simple life he'd left behind.

The producer's words resonated deeply within him, reminding him of his roots and the importance of staying grounded.

As they pulled up to Jungkook's apartment complex, the stark contrast between the bustling streets and the quiet residential area was palpable. 

Mr. Kim put the car in park and turned to him, his expression a blend of pride and concern. "Take some time, Jungkook," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a man who had seen too much of the world. "Go home, recharge, and remember what's truly important."

Jungkook nodded, his eyes reflecting the neon glow of the city. "I will," he said, his voice filled with a newfound resolve.

Meanwhile, in the bustling law firm across town, Y/N was deep in thought, her eyes scanning through a mountain of case files that threatened to topple over at any moment. 

Her office was a beacon of order amidst the chaos of the open-plan workspace, her desk a bastion of neatness in a sea of clutter. 

Her concentration was shattered by the abrupt ring of the office phone. She picked it up, her heart racing from the sudden noise. 

"Yes?" she barked into the receiver, expecting yet another urgent demand from a colleague.

"Y/N, the senior partner wants to see you in the conference room," the voice on the other end said. "Now."

Her heart skipped a beat. This was unexpected. She'd been burning the midnight oil for weeks, but she hadn't anticipated a meeting at this hour. 

Y/N quickly gathered her thoughts and her files, straightening her blazer and taking a deep breath before heading down the hallway. The sound of her heels clicked against the marble floor, each step echoing through the late-night emptiness of the law firm. 

She could feel the weight of anticipation growing heavier with every stride.

The conference room was a stark contrast to her cluttered office. It was sleek and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows that revealed the sprawling cityscape outside. 

The senior partner, a sharp-featured man with a reputation for his no-nonsense approach, sat at the head of the table, his expression inscrutable. Y/N took a seat opposite him, her palms damp with nerves.

"You've been working hard," he began, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "Very hard."Y/N nodded, her eyes never leaving his. 

"Thank you, sir," she said, her voice steady despite her racing thoughts.

The senior partner leaned forward, his gaze intense. "We've noticed your dedication, and we have a case that requires that level of commitment."

Y/N's eyes widened. This was the moment she'd been waiting for. A chance to prove herself, to show that she was more than just the daughter of a legendary music producer. 

"What is it?" she asked, her voice betraying the excitement she felt.

The senior partner slid a thick file across the gleaming mahogany table. "We're taking on a high-profile case," he said.

Y/N's heart raced as she reached for the file, her fingertips brushing against the cool metal of the folder. It was the kind of case that could make or break a career. 

The kind that had the potential to change lives. She felt the weight of it in her hands, the pages thick with legal jargon and the stories of those in need of her help.

The senior partner began to lay out the details, his voice measured and precise. 

"It's a murder trial," he said. "The defendant is a man named Lyle Castellanos. He's been in the system before, but this is his first degree charge. If we win, we could set a precedent."

Y/N's eyes scanned the file, her heart racing. A murder trial. This was bigger than she had ever imagined. The gravity of the situation settled heavily on her shoulders, but she felt a strange sense of excitement. This was it, her chance to make a real difference.

"You'll need to leave for Busan tomorrow," the senior partner said, his tone no longer one of praise but of urgency. "The case is complex, and we need you to be fully prepared."

Y/N's eyes snapped up from the file. 

"Busan?" she repeated, surprise colouring her voice. The city was a world away from the bustling streets of Seoul, where the law firm was situated.

The senior partner nodded, his expression unyielding. "The case is there," he said. "We've got witnesses to interview, evidence to review. It's a fresh start for you, Y/N. A chance to show us what you're made of."

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart hammering in her chest. 

"I won't disappoint you, sir," she said, her voice firm.

The senior partner's eyes narrowed. "I'm not looking for perfection, Y/N," he said. "I'm looking for someone who won't back down from a challenge."

Y/N met his gaze without flinching. "Then you've come to the right person," she said, her voice steady. 

"I'll take the case."

[apuff]

society if people cared that destroya is about a kickass giant robot that destroys battery city

[seagull-scribbles]

Was inspired by @mushtoons HC’s and came up with my own silly little thought 💙💅❤️

[licorishh]

"The Bible is so sexist blah blah blah" okay. When it talks about how you can avoid doing stupid things in Proverbs it uses a man in its examples and personifies wisdom as a woman though which I think is pretty funny

[girlthativealwaysbeen]

pata hai last kuch din i was very busy with my project kyunki final dena tha and binding karni thi etc to wo karwayi then i went to the bookfair bekaar tha then parso submit karne jaa rahi to subah accident hogaya (bhai ki bike skid hogayi and we fell down) and now i have a big ass blue bruise on my upper thigh and my parents don't even know lmao and kal ek science conference thi to i had to sit in an auditorium for 6 hours listening to accomplished people speak. that's what you missed now your turn

omg i knew everything in this except for the accident cause i stalk your blog vigorously everyday are you okay!!!!!!!!!! did you get tetanus shots!!!!!!!!!! also on your upper thigh oh no that's where future jiju is supposed to write MINE na as per our beloved song guilty as sin?

[thats-my-passion-right-there]

I finally saw the mean girls musical (the movie one) I have so many fucking thoughts oh my god

[mewharley]

so idk how to explain when I think someone is good looking

because it's a rare occurrence and like I just agree that they look good, that have some charm but that's that

I don't actually want to pursue anything with them or be sad if they have a partner or think about them after that or smth, idk what people actually do or think when they see someone attractive ??? (I've seen people try to give them their contact info and I'm like what but you don't know them ???)

that being said, I had never seen Bruno Mars before but that man is (was?) good looking

pretty wild because when i notice it's about women not men

but I was watching some videos and I'm like ??? how ??????

[boy-armageddon]

YES my username on yt is a blood bros reference :33 i need to go to crimes world again i know in my heart and soul that i love her but i seldom show her attention .. i need to care her more ..

HOOFRAY!!!! also pretty please do!!!!!!! for me!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[hide-your-bugs-away]

Thank you to the state of Ohio and English record producer Mickie Most for giving me a wonderful eclipse day, yesterday 🙏

[dbphantom]

I LEFT FOR ONE DAY AND THE LOGO LOOKS SO LOONEY TUNES NOW OMFG LET'S FUCKING GO!!!!!!

[indigodawns]

.

[kuromi-hoemie]

i can't believe i used all my tags on this. i have MORE TO SAY. honorable mentions i will not elaborate on: pikmin, runescape, OG animal crossing.

the reason for all my tags is because there's a difference between "most fun" and "most important" and feel like if they're important u should at least say why :3

[exopelagic]

talking to him more very much achieved. we just talked for like 4 hours in the kitchen holy shit I need to sleep

[tearlessrain]

please help me- i used to be pretty smart but i’m having so much trouble grasping the concept of diegetic vs non-diegetic bdsm!

gfkjldghfd okay first of all I'm sorry for the confusion, if you're not finding anything on the phrase it's because I made it up and absolutely nobody but me ever uses it, but I haven't found a better way to express what I'm trying to say so I keep using it. but now you've given me an excuse to ramble on about some shit that is only relevant to me and my deeply inefficient way of talking and by god I'm going to take it.

SO. the way diegetic and non-diegetic are normally used is to talk about music and sound design in movies/tv shows. in case you aren't familiar with that concept, here's a rundown:

diegetic sound is sound that happens within the world of the movie/show and can be acknowledged by the characters, like a song playing on the stereo during a driving scene, or sung on stage in Phantom of the Opera. it's also most other sounds that happen in a movie, like the sounds of traffic in a city scene, or a thunderclap, or a marching band passing by. or one of the three stock horse sounds they use in every movie with a horse in it even though horses don't really vocalize much in real life, but that's beside the point, the horse is supposed to be actually making that noise within the movie's world and the characters can hear it whinnying.

non-diegetic sound is any sound that doesn't exist in the world of the movie/show and can't be perceived by the characters. this includes things like laugh tracks and most soundtrack music. when Duel of Fates plays in Star Wars during the lightsaber fight for dramatic effect, that's non-diegetic. it exists to the audience, but the characters don't know their fight is being backed by sick ass music and, sadly, can't hear it.

the lines can get blurry between the two, you've probably seen the film trope where the clearly non-diegetic music in the title sequence fades out to the same music, now diegetic and playing from the character's car stereo. and then there are things like Phantom of the Opera as mentioned above, where the soundtrack is also part of the plot, but Phantom of the Opera does also have segments of non-diegetic music: the Phantom probably does not have an entire orchestra and some guy with an electric guitar hiding down in his sewer just waiting for someone to break into song, but both of those show up in the songs they sing down there.

now, on to how I apply this to bdsm in fiction.

if I'm referring to diegetic bdsm what I mean is that the bdsm is acknowledged for what it is in-world. the characters themselves are roleplaying whatever scenarios their scenes involve and are operating with knowledge of real life rules/safety practices. if there's cnc depicted, it will be apparent at some point, usually right away, that both characters actually are fully consenting and it's all just a planned scene, and you'll often see on-screen negotiation and aftercare, and elements of the story may involve the kink community wherever the characters are. Love and Leashes is a great example of this, 50 Shades and Bonding are terrible examples of this, but they all feature characters that know they're doing bdsm and are intentional about it.

if I'm talking about non-diegetic bdsm, I'm referring to a story that portrays certain kinks without the direct acknowledgement that the characters are doing bdsm. this would be something like Captive Prince, or Phantom of the Opera again, or the vast majority of bodice ripper type stories where an innocent woman is kidnapped by a pirate king or something and totally doesn't want to be ravished but then it turns out he's so cool and sexy and good at ravishing that she decides she's into it and becomes his pirate consort or whatever it is that happens at the end of those books. the characters don't know they're playing out a cnc or D/s fantasy, and in-universe it's often straight up noncon or dubcon rather than cnc at all. the thing about entirely non-diegetic bdsm is that it's almost always Problematic™ in some way if you're not willing to meet the story where it's at, but as long as you're not judging it by the standards of diegetic bdsm, it's just providing the reader the same thing that a partner in a scene would: the illusion of whatever risk or taboo floats your boat, sometimes to extremes that can't be replicated in real life due to safety, practicality, physics, the law, vampires not being real, etc. it's consensual by default because it's already pretend; the characters are vehicles for the story and not actually people who can be hurt, and the reader chose to pick up the book and is aware that nothing in it is real, so it's all good.

this difference is where people tend to get hung up in the discourse, from what I've observed. which is why I started using this phrasing, because I think it's very crucial to be able to differentiate which one you're talking about if you try to have a conversation with someone about the portrayal of bdsm in media. it would also, frankly, be useful for tagging, because sometimes when you're in the mood for non-diegetic bodice ripper shit you'd call the police over in real life, it can get really annoying to read paragraphs of negotiation and check-ins that break the illusion of the scene and so on, and the opposite can be jarring too.

it's very possible to blur these together the same way Phantom of the Opera blurs its diegetic and non-diegetic music as well. this leaves you even more open to being misunderstood by people reading in bad faith, but it can also be really fun to play with. @not-poignant writes fantastic fanfic, novels, and original serials on ao3 that pull this off really well, if you're okay with some dark shit in your fiction I would highly recommend their work. some of it does get really fucking dark in places though, just like. be advised. read the tags and all that.

but yeah, spontaneous writer plug aside, that's what I mean.

[hairmetal666]

Eddie owns a record store, gets to talk about music everyday. Life is good. Great, actually.

He's consolidating the Christian rock section on a quiet Wednesday morning when it happens. A man with swoopy dark hair, tight dark blue jeans, and a plum Member's Only jacket walks in, and doesn't take his Ray Bans off even once he's solidly inside.

Eddie is awestruck. This dude is gorgeous. Heart stopping. He watches him browse in quiet astonishment, unable to say anything until he blurts, "Can I help you find something?"

The man smiles--Eddie's heart stops--and he says, "Nah, just browsing. Your sign caught my eye."

And he's still not quite with the program, the rich honey of the man's voice taking him totally by surprise. "Ah, oh, it did?" He manages after a few long beats. "Painted it myself."

"No shit? It's great."

"Thanks, man. I also think it's some of my finest work."

The guy laughs. "How can I know unless I see some of your other pieces?"

Eddie's face heats, but he's never been known for having good impulse control. "Maybe you'll get lucky."

Spots of pink bloom on the man's cheeks and the tips of his ears. "And here I was, thinking I was getting special treatment."

Eddie cocks his head, smiles big. "Well, the day's still young." It's so risky and stupid; no way this guy is queer, but he grins at Eddie, laughs a little too.

"That right? Well, tell me your latest recommendations."

"For you?" Eddie eyes him up and down. "Wham!"

The guy's laugh is warm and rich and Eddie wants to drown in it. "Big of you to say for a someone who's only listened to Enter Sandman for the last four months."

Eddie cackles, points a be-ringed finger. "It's a good song! A great record."

"Hey, I've got no problem with Metallica. I just don't think you should be casting aspersions on Wham!."

"Casting aspersions, do you have a word of the day calendar or some shit?"

"No! It's toilet paper."

Their snickers grow until they're both hysterical, needing to lean against a display to stay upright.

It's like he's living in a dream, hitting it off with a beautiful man who just happened to stumble into his store. They catch their breath and Eddie uses the time to grab a record off a nearby shelf.

"Here," he says. "Try this."

"Joni Mitchell?"

"Don't tell me, Wham! fan, that you're too cool for Joni."

"Nah, she's my best friend's favorite. How much do I owe you?"

"On the house," Eddie shrugs.

"Shit, that's generous. Thanks, man. Now, about your art--" He glances at the shiny watch on his wrist. "Fuck, is it really 3:15? Goddamnit, I gotta get going."

And Eddie wants to call him back, doesn't want this dream encounter to end, but he's dashing to the door--

And just like that, the man is gone, the only evidence it ever happened the lingering chime of the bell over the door.

The bell clatters again, and his head wrenches up hard enough it hurts his neck.

"Was that Steve Harrington?" the customer shrieks.

"No," he scoffs. Except. Except. The hair and the clothes and sunglasses and the face and his lips--

"No!?" He feels the way his eyes have gone wide with panic. He didn't just flirt with Steve Harrington. Of course not. Not ever. He would've recognized--

He runs to the racks of magazines in front of the register, grabbing the latest issue of People. The cover features a glossy, polished photo of the man who just left the store. The one who had the highest grossing movie of the summer alongside his co-star, Julia Roberts. The one who, according to the article within, is in Chicago right now shooting a new movie. The one who Eddie flirted with. The one who flirted back.

He groans and covers his face with his hands. At least he'll never see Steve Harrington again.

---

Harrington comes back.

The second time, he's wearing a jewel blue polo and fitted slacks, Ray Bans nowhere to be seen.

"Got anymore recommendations?" Steve asks.

"What?" Eddie's still trying to accept that Harrington came back.

"I finished Joni. It was good. Recommend something else for me."

Fully with the program, he reaches to the rack behind him, handing the vinyl to Steve without ever taking his eyes off him.

"Seriously?" Steve deadpans.

"Tell me you don't deserve it after last time."

Steve studies the cover of Metallica, a complicated look on his face. "Fine, but you have to listen to the album George Michael released last year."

He mimics getting shot in the heart. "After my magnanimous first suggestion, you dare to punish me with Freedom?"

"Think of it more as an opportunity."

"To regret every decision I've ever made?"

"To expand your musical horizons."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Fiiiine. It's a deal."

Steve beams. "Good! Ring me up."

And Eddie, he'd comp it again, but Steve gives him this look that tells him not to try it.

As they pass the magazine racks, Eddie points at one featuring Steve on the cover. "That thing you wore to the Vanity Fair party last month was hideous."

Steve snorts, then laughs. "Thanks. My stylist decided to go for something--"

"--terrible?--"

"Avant garde."

"Oh, is that what they're calling it these days?"

Steve pays, throws Eddie one last smile, "next time?"

Eddie nods, already certain this time is the last one.

---

He keeps coming back.

Eddie tries not to read into it.

Steve is straight, famously has a girlfriend. former horror movie child star turned cinema wunderkind, Nancy Wheeler. They're always on the covers of the tabloids, in ever more improbable stories about affairs and secret babies and french countryside weddings.

But he keeps coming back. And eventually, they grab dinner. And that dinner becomes lunches, movies, clubs, concerts. Eddie's in paparazzi photos, and there's no speculation about their relationship. Steve has a girlfriend.

But sometimes. Sometimes Steve will rest his hand on Eddie's nape, his lower back, let it linger. He'll trace a finger down the tattoos on Eddie's forearms or the patches of his battle vest. He'll lean too close when they talk, unafraid to press their bodies together. And he catches Steve's eyes on his mouth more than once, his pupils wide.

Over the next few weeks, Steve's gaze on Eddie's mouth gets hotter, his looks longer, and it's killing him. All he wants to do, all he ever wants to do, is close the distance between them, appease the gnawing beast of desire in his chest.

But Steve has a girlfriend.

They don't talk about her, not even when he knows all about Steve's best friend, Robin, and the gang of kids who adopted him, or Joyce and Hopper, his surrogate parents. Never Nancy.

He tries not to read into it.

---

They're supposed to meet for dinner. Steve scored reservations at a trendy new restaurant, but Eddie's late. Astronomically, horrifically late. It's pouring rain, it takes fifteen minutes to get a cab, traffic is a nightmare.

Out of patience and time, he decides to run the last few blocks to the restaurant. By the time he reaches the building, he's soaked to the bone, spluttering harsh breaths through mouthfuls of rain.

Steve is walking in the opposite direction, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat.

"Steve?" He calls.

He turns and this is the first time Eddie's seen him angry. "You're late," Steve's eyes rake over him, and his face softens in an instant. He takes Eddie's wrist, leads him into an alley where the buildings are close enough to block some of the rain.

"What happened?"

"Traffic."

Steve's gaze go all soft and gentle, and Eddie's knees buckle a little. "You look like a drowned rat."

"Yeah, well." Eddie scoffs. "We can't all be beautiful movie stars."

"You're more beautiful than I could ever be, even soaking wet."

He shakes his head, ignoring the cascade of butterflies; Steve shouldn't say things like that. His vigorous movement sends wet strands of hair slapping him in the face.

Steve reaches out, softly brushes it back.

Eddie stops breathing.

Steve closes the distance between them.

What a thing, to be kissed by Steve Harrington. What a terrible, glorious thing.

He breaks it fast, face red, can't catch his breath. "Nancy," is all he can say.

"Nancy?"

"You have a girlfriend."

Steve's face scrunches. "She's not my girlfriend."

Eddie's mouth drops. "Yes, she is." They went to the Oscars together.

"Eddie." Steve takes a few steps back. "Eddie. I'm gay."

He laughs, an ugly honking thing. "C'mon. What could she possibly get out of that?"

Steve's eyes widen, eyebrows reaching his hairline, mouth pursed in a bitchy line. It takes Eddie a minute but, "Ohhhhh. So, it's all--?"

"It was the best way."

"But you're--?"

"I thought you clocked me immediately! Wham!???"

"That was because of the jacket!"

"Have you ever met a straight man who dresses like I do and likes George Michael??"

"That describes five dudes I see a day!"

"And you thought they were straight??"

Eddie stares into the middle distance, replaying some of those interactions, and--"Huh. Okay. I get hit on at work waaay more than I realized."

"For fuck's sake, Eddie!" He's shaking his head, but Eddie sees the way the corners of his mouth shake with suppressed laughter.

"I'm sorry! You have a very public straight relationship!"

Steve giggles, pulls Eddie close. "Is this okay?"

"So okay."

"You do like me back?"

"Are you kidding! Thought I was going insane, how much I want you."

"And now?"

"Come back to my place?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

And Eddie, he's seen Steve playing at love dozens of times, but this--right here, in a soggy, smelly alley where they're both soaking wet--it's more perfect than any movie.

[rqnarok]

summary: make up sex with old man!logan.

cws/tags: smut, mdni! oldman!logan. insecure!logan. petnames. logan calls reader ‘kid’. jealous!logan. daddy kink. oral (f receiving). not proofread. 

Logan can’t be ‘mad’ at you for more than a day. He just fucking can’t, alright?

He tried to keep his hands to his own as a protest of yesterday's quarrel. Logan still doesn’t know if it’s meant to be a punishment for you or himself. 

The older man does know that when he’s jealous, he’s doing it in a self-destructive way.

How he isolates himself and avoids you instead - because he knows that he doesn’t deserve you. A fucking hundred-year-old something who’s angry all the time, who’s aloof to the world, and who’s pining over someone as pretty and young as you. 

It fucking wound him too when he pretends nothing ever hurt him, that the way you laugh too loud at the guy’s jokes at the pub did not have any effect on him. That he had to pretend as if he’s not an insecure old man who just wants you all to himself by making things worse. 

“C’mon.” It’s all that Logan could force out as he skims through whatever he’s pretending to read, ignoring the way his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth in ferocity, “What’re you on, huh? Y’ve got no reason to throw a tantrum like this, kid.” 

He sees the moments when your gaze changes, hurt bleeding into the orb, “You’re mean, Logan.” It wounds him - but this kind of confrontation is all he’s ever known. 

Hell, he doesn’t even know why you decided to stay with him. He thought you’d leave in the middle of the night of the first month after figuring out how much of a failure of a man he is. 

So when he goes back from his tiring work and still sees your figure cooking dinner for him in the kitchen, he fucking loses it. His breath gets stuck in his lungs as he watches you stroll around with one of his henley shirts, humming softly the tunes of your favourite song. 

Maybe he’d use a different type of confrontation now—maybe he’d talk about his feelings more often. He’d do everything not to lose this sole sight: His pretty girl being so domestic that he can’t help but get so shamelessly hard.

The way he tried to gain composure and not to lose his coolness but fails miserably at the sight of his your shirt riding up to give him a good view of your perky ass as you reach something from the top cabinet. 

Logan takes you by surprise when he wraps his arms around you, nipping and kissing the soft skin below your ear—his way to say sorry - it’s all my fault.

“Will ya’ forgive your old man, sweet girl?”

He hates how he sounded so unconfident - so different from his younger self.

But when you lean your back onto his chest and shyly nod, his worries are buried. Logan hauls you up with a smile, the bone-cracking sound reminds him of his old age. He rumbles in laughter when you squeal in surprise before spreading your thighs apart on the kitchen counter, pulling your legs around his head so he can eat his dinner. 

His big nose drapes around your clothed pussy before groaning at the smell of you. Cursing himself from avoiding you yesterday when he could have had this. “Y’ve got such a pretty pussy, baby. ‘S mine, huh? My pussy.” He says as he takes off your panties.

The statement itself and the scratchy feel of his ragged beard made you arch your back from the rough surface, “A-ah, ‘s yours, Daddy.”

“Tha’s right.” Logan licks a stripe of your dampening pussy, deeply humming in delight when you let out a high-pitched whine and subconsciously locking your legs tighter to pull him closer. You trail your hands down and tug at his greying hair while he laps you up and fucks you with his tongue. Making you come undone in just a span of a short time.

Logan wipes his mouth and beard as he stands before you in quick breaths, looking at you all apologetically: I’msorry I’msorry I’msorry-

You’re teary-eyed, blinking up at him - whining for him to fuck you hard now - to make up his stupid faults. 

Stupid old man who thinks he’s not worthy of you.

 Logan groans as he tosses away his belt, holding the base of his cock as he teasingly drags the head on your wet folds, “Ssh. Let Daddy make it up t’ya, alright? Daddy’s gon’ give it to you now, baby.”