#who knows maybe we'll find the laundry lady again

[hannieehaee]

HOT TO GO!

18+ / mdi

summary: moving into a quiet apartment complex you expected to find nothing but solace, not your most entertaining situationship to date OR the three times you kept it casual with your new neighbor vs the one time he made things serious.

content: neighbor!jungkook, strangers2lovers, situationship (kind of), fwb, jk's a lil bit of a himbo in this fic, afab reader, smut, three smut scenes lol, penetrative sex, dry humping, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, etc.

wc: 7.1k

a/n: this is honestly just a silly and unserious fic that's mostly smut lol i hope u guys enjoy it<3

masterlist | patreon

"Oh, wow, uh, hey."

"Hi?", you looked at the stranger in curiosity, though still very shocked by the adonis of a man who had suddenly knocked on your door.

He cleared his throat and shook his head as if rebuffing himself to speak again, "Fuck, okay, that was such an uncool first impression. What I meant to say was 'Welcome to the neighborhood,' but you just caught me off guard. Sorry."

"I caught you off guard? You're the one who knocked on my door."

"Yeah, not gonna elaborate on that," he chuckled sheepishly, extending his hand, "Hi, I'm Jungkook, your neighbor," he introduced himself.

You chuckled in return, letting his ambiguity slide as you briefly shook his hand, providing him with your name, "Hi, Jungkook. I'm new here, if that wasn't obvious."

"No, yeah, you can really tell the difference between you and the old lady who used to live here. She was- wait, fuck. Did she-"

"No, Jungkook, she's not dead. The landlord told me she just moved into some retirement home," you clarified.

"Thank god," the boy sighed in relief, "Me and Mrs. Louis go way back. She used to bake me cookies on Sundays."

"Oh really? Well, you won't be getting any cookies from me. Sorry," you joked.

Cocking his head to the side, he lifted his eyebrows, "We'll see about that."

"What does that even mean?"

"I can be very convincing."

Was he flirting? Through a cookie euphemism?

"Are you-"

"Anyways, if you need any help with moving in, let me know. Maybe coming over to help build some furniture?", he suggested, "I like to be on a friendly standing with all my neighbors," he smiled as he disregarded his prior flirting, almost as if it had never happened.

"I'm your only neighbor. There's only two apartments per floor," you recalled, still amused by his oddity.

"Exactly," he winked, and with that, he turned to leave, heading back to his own apartment, "See you around."

It was through that very short interaction that you first met your neighbor, Jungkook. Despite how odd he had seemed, he carried a charm that intrigued you (though his pretty appearance also drew you in).

Closing your door, you went back to what you had been doing previously, a smile of disbelief on your face as you tried to come up with some believable reason to scout him for help – as he had offered – just to see him again.

Unfortunately, most of your stuff had not arrived yet, so you truly had nothing you could possibly use as an excuse to get him to come into your apartment so soon. It was nice, though, to know that your new neighbor was as friendly as he was (and as attractive, might you add).

~

"Hey, neighbor."

"Oh, hi, Jungkook. Did I forget to tell you my name last time?", you wondered why he'd omit your name, unless you had been too distracted last time staring at him to remember.

The next time you saw Jungkook was a day later at the apartment complex's laundry room located at the basement of the building. From what you'd seen the few times you'd walked by it on your way to the elevator, no one really seemed to use it. No one except Jungkook, apparently. You'd also come to find out that this apartment complex seemed to be occupied by mostly elderly people, with you and Jungkook being some of the few exceptions.

Eyeing you up and down in a not very discreet way, his eyes landed back on your face before responding, "No, just got distracted, sorry," he chuckled similarly to how he'd done last time.

This was the second time you'd seemingly caught him off guard, but you weren't complaining. The thought of your presence taking him out of focus gave you a slight boost in confidence, especially considering how attractive he was.

You eyed him curiously, noticing he had no laundry with him nor was he using either of the four washing machines located in the room. As soon as he came in, he took a seat on top of the washing machine next to the one you were currently putting your clothes into. When you smiled at him questioningly, he had no reaction, simply smiling back.

"What are you doing?", you asked whilst continuing your prior task, almost paying no mind to him.

"Just hanging out," he responded simply, swinging his feet back and forth as they hovered due to the stature of the washing machine he was currently sitting on.

"What, with me?"

"Yup. Just trying to be neighborly, is all. Shouldn't be down here all alone," he reasoned, "Can I help you? I love doing laundry."

You scoffed at that, "Really? You love doing laundry? Also, I don't need a bodyguard," you hadn't taken offense to his comment, but you'd found it somewhat amusing. He clearly just wanted to spend time with you, which admittedly made you feel slightly bashful. However, there was no harm in making him work for it a little more.

With a huff, he got off the washing machine and leaned down to help you organize your laundry, dividing it between colors, "I'm known as somewhat of a laundry fairy", he nodded seriously.

"Oh, so you do other people's laundry, then?"

"Yep," he nodded, "It's a whole profession. I part-time as bodyguard too," he joked, continuing to shuffle through your clothes.

"The perfect man," you retorted back, sarcasm in your tone.

"Exactly. You could make really good use of me," he winked, finishing up his pile of clothes and moving onto yours, beginning to place them inside the washing machine.

"Are you asking me to use you?", you braved it and flirted back, turning to look up at him.

The air in the room was comfortable, yet it now had a hint of something more. What it was, you weren't sure. Although Jungkook had hinted at being attracted to you when you first met a day prior, you'd never had a flirtation move so quickly. It usually took a bit more conversation before getting to the more suggestive comments, but the pleased look on his face as he looked down at you made you too excited to backtrack.

"I'm surprised it took you this long to get that. Was my self-invite to your apartment yesterday not hint enough?", he followed along, putting down the article of clothing he had in his hands to take a small step towards you, now leaving a very small distance between you.

"Oh? Was that what that was? I think I'm gonna need you to be a bit more specific. Spell it out for me, maybe?", you tilted your head to the side teasingly, almost as if daring him.

"Aw," he placed his hand on his chest, as if hurt, "That's my bad, pretty. I'll be a little more forward from now on, okay?", he coo'd, leaning down and letting his nose nudge against your own lightly.

"So, are you? Or are you all talk?", you dared him, tilting your face upwards, almost meeting his lips.

With a muted grumble, he closed the gap, pulling you towards him with a pull from your waist. Humming against your lips, he pressed you up against him, practically molding you to him as he allowed the kiss to become heated. The air in the room became even heavier somehow, causing you to mute any outside forces that could possibly take you away from a constant chorus of Jungkook playing in your head.

The kiss had no time for hesitance or shy meetings of lips as it instantly occupied the otherwise silent room with wet sounds of tongues intertwining and almost inaudible moans shared between lips. The harsh surface of the washing machine behind you almost felt like nothing as Jungkook's lips continued to distract you while his arms lifted you to sit on it. Legs opening, you welcomed him to stand between them, pulling him in my his shirt to ensure not even one second of distance between you was allowed.

Your head tilted back almost on its own accord as his lips trailed down your neck, humming into your skin after every kiss and occasional nibble of skin.

"J-Jungkook ... What if someone sees?", your common sense finally made an appearance, though you made no move to stop him.

"No one uses the laundry room here, it's fine. We have the place to ourselves," he breathed out between kisses, making his way back up to your lips.

With a scarily practiced finesse, his tongue snuck its way into your mouth, easing yours into copying his movements. Your resolve wore down quickly after that, following along with every touch of his on your skin. Despite not being one for casual hookups, it was impossible for you to deny the immediate chemistry you'd had with your neighbor. Who would casual sex with your neighbor going to hurt anyway?

His lips soon took your mind away from any further thought on the manner, trailing down your neck while his hands came up to wander under your tank top, tracing your skin with his calloused fingertips as goosebumps began to form. With soft hands and a rough tongue, Jungkook had your brain emptying at a worrying speed, now becoming a shell of yourself with nothing but Jungkook in mind. Just some kisses and some hand action already had you as putty under him, what a shame.

"Can I take this off?", he murmured against your lips, hands itching under your shirt as it rode up due to his movements.

"Mhm," you conceded, your own hands going under his shirt and feeling up the muscular skin of his back.

With your consent, his hands trailed their way back out from under your shirt, reaching down to help you out of it. Underneath was a tiny piece of fabric you could barely call a bralette, doing a terrible job of hiding the goosebumps on your skin or the hardness of your nipples. His tatted hand went up to toy with a clothed breast, murmuring praise against your cheek as he angled his head to look down at your chest. His eyes trailed to yours, finding them empty of any thought and far too wanting of more of his touch.

"How about this?" he practically whispered, one hand on your breast while the other went to toy at the strap of your bralette that had fallen from your shoulder to the meatier part of your arm, fingering at it softly, almost as if teasing whether or not he'd pull it all the way down or not.

"Yes," you almost whimpered, needing the skin-to-skin touch on your chest. Your back was already arched towards his chest, your body pleading him for more without any further words necessary.

He sighed once the job was done, your chest now fully naked for him and the rest of you almost equally as nude. It was only a tiny pair of shorts with some teeny tiny panties underneath that prevented him from your full nudity. In the meantime, he was still fully clothed. But somehow you didn't mind. His touch on your body was enough to keep you satiated. Surely you'd have your turn to enjoy his own nudity later on.

A groan left him upon hastily removing your shorts, now able to feel the heat coming from between your legs through the offensively thin panties you had on. Dragging you from your thighs, he placed you on the edge of the washing machine as he himself pulled down his pants just enough to leave him with boxers and some beaten up tank top. With a huff, he began intermittently connecting your crotches, bumping his hardness against your heat with a grumble. The art of dry humping might've been lost among many, but you were thanking any higher power that Jungkook was not one of the many to disengage with it.

"You're so warm already," he sighed, face pushing its way to your neck, nosing at your scent, "'n smell so fucking good ..."

Your nails dug to the skin of his shoulders, obsessed with the drag of his cock against you. He was hitting that sensitive, swollen spot that bad you wanting to give him a key to your apartment just so he could come over and do it over and over again.

"So fucking soft n pretty," he mumbled, "God, can't believe I got such a pretty little neighbor all to myself," he rambled on and on, "Gonna make you cum like this, okay, gorgeous? Promise I'll give you more next time, just- fuck ... just caught me off guard again's all ..." all his words were slurred, clearly marking the approximation of an early orgasm. What might've been a turn off for many others had your own high approaching just as fast. A hunk of a man such as Jungkook losing himself to mere dry humping? Sign you up!

"Me too," you almost whined, mouth open as you practically drooled at the feeling of that size and girth, excitement growing within you.

"Yeah? God, so fucking good n perfect," the praise was never ending, greatly aiding your impending orgasm.

With one last groan of your name, Jungkook's hips sped up, now dragging you more harshly into him in desperation for his orgasm. It was only a few moments into his own orgasm that you came too, too stimulated from his extensive play with your chest earlier on and simply too wound up to not find release with someone as attractive as he was.

In other circumstances you would've been embarrassed at how easily your body reacted to his own, but Jungkook seemed just as affected, still panting at the exertion his high had taken from him.

"Sorry," he chuckled breathlessly a few moments later, wide boba eyes staring at you with a shy smile, "I don't usually welcome people to the neighborhood by jumping them like that, hah, I hope I didn't overstep," he needlessly apologized as he helped you clean up with nearby towels and aided you in redressing you and himself.

Giggling at him couldn't be helped — he was far too cute. He was the perfect mixture of cuteness and hotness that it made you frustrated if you thought about it for too long.

"Jungkook, I promise you that was a very appreciated welcome," you laughed as you patted his shoulder reassuringly, stepping down from the washing machine.

"Great," he nodded with a smile, though still a but shy, "Let me help you with your laundry now, then? I won't jump you again, I promise."

"Maybe for next time, then?", you attempted to flirt, high fiving yourself internally when you pulled a shy chuckle out of him.

Next time you saw Jungkook was back in your apartment.

Maybe you should've expected him to be on the other side of that door, specially considering you hadn't met anyone else since moving here, but you also hadn't expected him to be so continuously forward.

Within less than a week of being here, you'd met Jungkook, flirted with him, hooked up in the laundry room and proceeded to wash your clothes with his aid — as it turned out, he really was better than the average person at doing laundry. And now, you were curious as to what the next thing to come would be.

After a few knocks on your door, you resumed drying off your hair and walked over to the door, skin still damp and thin robe wrapped around you. Being almost nude, you decided to be smart and look through the peephole before admitting a stranger into your home. Looking through it, you found the one person you'd hoped to see every time you left the apartment; Jungkook.

Had it been anyone else, maybe you would've bothered to ask him for a few minutes in order to get dressed before attending to the door. However, seeing as Jungkook had already seen you almost fully nude, it seemed dumb to do so. That, plus the fact that you were pretty sure how today's visit would go.

"Hey," he said casually when the door was opened.

Donning yet another tank top, the contour of his muscles could be easily seen as he leaned against the frame of the door. A confident and suave smile was on his lips the moment his eyes did a once-over of your body, clearly taking notice of the singular layer of clothing you had on.

"Huh," he hummed, "You're making this too easy for me," he chuckled, letting himself in when you stepped aside to silently welcome him.

"Hello, Jungkook," you ignored him, closing the door behind him, "Are you here to help me unpack?", you questioned upon seeing him approach the few boxes located in your living room and eyeing their contents curiously.

"Yeah. Figured you were taking too long to invite me over, might as well invite myself," he said distractedly, focus all spent on a bunny figurine he found in your boxes, mumbling a quiet 'cute' to himself.

"Let me get dressed and then we can start," you said, beginning to walk to your room while he sat on the floor, beginning to open some boxed furniture you hadn't even bothered to eye since its arrival.

Already in the other room, you heard Jungkook call over before you could close your door, mentioning something about 'You'll end up undressed anyways, but okay,' causing you to chuckle to yourself.

It only took you a few minutes to moisturize and dress yourself in some comfortable loungewear, able to hear Jungkook's ruckus all the way from your room. Despite his slight awkwardness shining through sometimes, he seemed to be a very confident guy, so it made sense to you that he'd made himself at home almost immediately upon his arrival.

Heading back to your living room, you found him sat comfortably on the floor, boxed materials to build what appeared to be a bookshelf laid in front of him while he eyed a manual. Originally, he had implied that his intention to go visit you had been for another hookup, so it amused you that he had actually taken his own words literally and decided to help you out with your furniture.

As you took a seat next to him, you decided to voice out this thought to him, "Wow, you're actually going to help me unpack?" you asked amusedly, hands reaching out to copy the way in which he assembled some pieces together.

He shrugged, "It's the neighborly thing to do," he reasoned, "Plus, the sooner you're unpacked, the sooner we can do more fun stuff."

Despite it being said so casually, it was more than enough encouragement for you to put your mind to the task, knowing that the unexpected help of your hot neighbor was way better than the alternative of getting all your moving in duties done by yourself.

It took about two hours to get done with most of your unpacking, combined with putting together the few pieces of furniture you had bought and neglected to build. The last of it was found in your bedroom in the form of a few boxes of skincare and clothing you'd been too lazy to unbox, opting to instead use whatever you needed at the time and leaving the rest unpacked. Jungkook tutted at you disappointingly at this, lightheartedly scolding you for not simply organizing your stuff as soon as you moved in and revealing to you how organized he was himself.

"Is there any box you want me to stay away from?", he wondered as he rummaged through one of the various boxes you'd moved onto your bed to organize.

"Nope, what do you mean?", you wondered, pulling out a hair dryer and placing it in its rightful spot before walking back over to the bed.

"Well, for instance ..." he trailed off, pulling out a tiny piece of lace you'd forgotten was in the box labeled as 'clothes' Jungkook was currently going through. He gave you an awkward smirk, his mind seemingly battling between being smug at the thong in his hands and affected by the thought of you wearing such a garment.

Immediately, your eyes widened, a gasp trapped in your throat before you jumped at him to grab at the lace, only for him to pull it back with a laugh, now holding it above your reach. You continued to pull at him, letting out an annoyed 'Jungkook!' to express your annoyance, but still laughing at how childish he was behaving.

He let you take hold of the thong after a few more slaps to his hard chest, laughing at your frustration. To prevent your further attacks, he grabbed onto your wrists, deciding to hold you against him as you let go of the panties and paid mind to him instead. Far too casually, he leaned down and trapped you in a soft kiss, humming against your lips as his hands wrapped around your waist and your own went to his shoulders. You damned him in your mind, chastising yourself for how easily it was for you to become entranced by his touch.

"You knew what was in there, didn't you? Hmm? Seductress," he joked against your lips, though the tone of his voice didn't make you laugh, especially not when it was said in an airy whisper between open mouthed kisses.

"Shut up," you grumbled, pulling him closer, unwilling to let the kiss end.

With masterful expertise, Jungkook managed to lay you down on the space of the bed empty of boxes, hands going under your shirt to trace the soft skin of your back. His lips trailed down to your neck and reaching down to the space of your chest not covered by your tank top, grumbling against your skin.

"You smell so nice," he sighed, "So fucking soft too," he continued, not shy in feeling your skin and even breathing you in.

Tuned with you, he disconnected from you to eye you for permission to remove your shirt, dragging it away from your body after a nod of confirmation from you and proceeding to remove his own. Your hands imitated his own, also feeling up his toned body as you continued to kiss. Now leaning atop you, he ground his crotch against your own, groaning into your lips at the basic pleasure he received from it.

"How far do you wanna go?", he murmured as he ground into you, "I'll do whatever you want. I owe you, remember?", he continued, referring to your encounter at the laundry room where he promised to fuck you properly next time.

"Do whatever you want," you replied, looping your lips again, "Just- fuck, do anything," you practically pleaded.

Chuckling, he nodded, opting to lay you down properly, moving aside any boxes that were in the way so you could lay all the way back while he trailed his way down your body, tugging down the tiny shorts you'd opted for a few hours earlier. You sighed at the realization of what was to come, ashamed to admit you'd been wondering how that piercing would feel between your legs.

"So soft here too," he mumbled, kissing up your thighs distractedly, making his way up to that area between your legs that was calling his name, "Fuck, 'n smell so good," his nose practically pressed up against the very thin layer of cloth separating him from your cunt, shamelessly breathing you in as he dragged his nose to press into your clit before pulling away.

A mute whine was pulled out of you, making your thighs attempt to close without much thought, only to make his arms wrap around your legs and pull them in opposite directions in order to separate them. He took a quick moment to pull your underwear down your legs, immediately going back to wrap around your legs to keep a wide enough space for him to enjoy you.

He began tentatively, almost as if testing out how he would go about having you. It only took some encouraging mewls from you for him to really put his heart into it, diving in as his tongue delved into your cunt, moaning against you. He hummed and groaned into your cunt, especially so whenever your hands would pull at his overgrown mullet, pulling him even closer to you. Taking advantage of his large nose, he nosed at your clit while his tongue played with your cunt. Your mewls and the scratching against his scalp should've been more than enough indicator that he had you at the palm of his hand.

"Baby," he moaned against you, refusing to create any distance between you, "you taste so good, fuck," he cried out, as if he were the receiver of the pleasure. But then again, maybe he was — or at least that's the gist you got from the commotion happening under you as the bed bumped with every movement of Jungkook's hips humping against it.

"K-kook, fuck, right the- oh, fuck ... right there!", you cried when his fingers joined in on the equation, tongue focused on your clit while his fingers curled inside you to perfection.

It was embarrassing how soon you felt your orgasm approaching, but you didn't blame yourself, not when a 10 was on his knees, whimpering against your cunt and letting endless muffled praise leave his lips while his tongue refused to let out. You lost control of yourself at some point, unashamed in the way you pushed his face against you, closing your thighs around his head and ground into his face. This only caused a high pitched whine to leave Jungkook, following your silent instruction for more and giving in to you twice as hard.

"Cum, baby. Wanna taste, fuck, please," he pleaded, looking up at you for a quick moment, making your brain leave you entirely at the pretty eyes he was making up at you, practically begging for your orgasm to come.

If you were boneless and defeated before, you were more so now, losing yourself to your orgasm as the pretty boy continued to lick and suck at your release, humming as if he had just been provided the most satiating meal. The humping of his hips never stopped either, only accelerating upon your high and only halting when you'd gone down from it, insisting on pulling him up the bed to claim his lips, wanting to enjoy them while the arousal was still fresh on him.

"God, fuck, you're nasty," he chuckled breathlessly when your tongue quite literally attacked his mouth, insistent on tasting yourself on his lips. This was clearly not a complaint, but more like a happy realization, as Jungkook practically reached down your throat as he tongued at your mouth, providing you with your own taste and moaning endlessly as he did so.

"Did you cum?", you asked between kisses, eyebrows pinched with worry that you wouldn't get to play with him this time around either.

He chuckled, a bit embarrassed, "No, pretty. Almost, though. I can just finish myself off if you're tired or-"

"No!" you interrupted, not shy in reaching down to his still clothed cock, feeling the length through his clothed ad he shuddered, "Let me suck you off? Fair trade, right?", you suggested, wanting nothing more than that size inside you one way or another.

"Oh, you sure? I don't want to force you or anything-"

You interrupted again, gesturing at him to flip you over so he could be under you this time around, "No, Kook. Please? I really want it. Can I have it?", you decided to be a bit mean, playing up the begging under the assumption that a guy like Jungkook would probably enjoy it.

You were right.

"O-oh, okay, beautiful," he rasped, hands in a frenzy to undo his sweats so he could give you access to his dick, "Just, fuck, give me a second. I don't wanna cum right away," he blushed, giving you a sweet peck before leading you to your knees while he sat at the edge of the bed.

With an excited giggle, your hands joined his own to help him lower his pants and boxers just enough to give you access to his length — the same one that had dragged against you until completion just a few days prior. His groan at your touch was immediate, body physically shuddering when you wrapped your hand around it and eyed it with hunger. His hands laid on his thighs, fingers itching as he attempted to hold his reactions back.

"Can I?", you asked, leaning closer to it as your hand remained wrapped around it.

"Yes, just, fuck, don't laugh when I cum too soon," he warned with a whine.

Another giggle left you before finally lowering your head down to his own head, lips wrapping around it and suctioning meanly. With a hum, your tongue lightly licked at the tip, earning a mixture of a groan and a sigh from the man north of you. Your hand remained wrapped around his length, twisting while you tortured the tip with your mouth. To ensure you could really drive him crazy, your other hand joined in, playing at his balls and earning yet another sound of supplication from him.

"G-god, fuck, wait- Don't- Fuck, more, baby, please," he begged, hand shyly going to the back of your head to lightly encourage you to engulf him in your mouth.

"Want my mouth?", you asked as you let go of him, though still lightly licking at the sides of his dick, unwilling to stop teasing for as long as you could help it.

"C'mon, baby. I gave you my mouth, just- Oh, fuck, yes," he sighed when you decided to practically down the majority of his dick, enveloping as much as you could while using your hand to jerk off the small percentage of it that couldn't fit into your mouth.

You decided to show off as much as you could, taking him far enough to gag and pushing through it for as long as possible. The whines and whimpers coming from the man above you were more than enough reward for your efforts.

"F-fuck, you don't have to g-gag, baby, shit, don't force yourself," he panted out, barely able to get those words out without effort. This only encouraged you further, puffing out air from your nose in order to obtain as much oxygen as possible. You knew he wad almost at his end, so you used every asset available to you to break him. You took breaks to breathe every so often, but other than that, you were practically a machine attached to his cock.

"Okay, shit, fuck," he stammered out curses, "Gonna cum, pretty, w-where? In your mouth? Please? Fuck, let me cum in your mouth," he rambled while his hands made a mess of your hair as he attempted to keep it away from your face. His hips also began a slow and shy grind against your face — a barely visible movement but still completely present. It represented his lack of control as you blew his mind away, something which went straight to your core.

You nodded, humming against his dick knowing it'd cause a vibration that'd have him keening for his orgasm. And right you were, as his hands shamelessly pushed your head into his cock without a second thought, clearly too overcome with the pleasure of his orgasm to worry about gagging you with his cum. You, however, took it like a champ, reasoning that within some seconds you'd get to breathe properly again.

"G-god, baby, just like that ... C-cumming, shit" he cried, hips still pushing into your mouth. You wished you could see how his whiny demeanor manifested onto his face — those gorgeous features must've looked breathtaking when pleasure was all he felt.

Finally, you gasped out for air after having swallowed as much as you could manage, with some of it dripping past your lips. Jungkook let himself lay back on the bed to catch his breath while you remained on your knees catching yours.

This lasted very little when Jungkook suddenly decided to use his brute strength to drag you up on the bed, sitting your still wet middle on his flaccid self, pulling you in for yet another tongue-filled kiss. He hummed and moaned and whined as he licked every remnant of his essence from your mouth, causing a similar reaction from you.

After the fact, you shuffled yourself off him and made space on the bed to huddle up to his side, which he welcomed by cocooning you under his arm and pulling you flush against him. It was comfortable and silent for a few moments as you continued catching your breaths and letting the sweat on your bodies transpire — you also made a mental note to invite him to take a shower (with you, maybe).

"You moving in next door was not on my bingo card, but thank fucking god for that," he chuckled after a few moments of silence.

"Yeah? You didn't stalk your previous neighbors for a hookup?", you joked, receiving a devious squeeze of his strong arm in retaliation.

"Shut up," he tutted, "You like that I'm like a dog following you around."

Fair enough.

Silence then took over again, up until the two of you were rested enough and decided to get back to the task at hand — putting furniture together and unpacking anything that was left boxed (though you decided to leave any boxes that may contain panties away from his reach).

It was easy for you to fall into fun conversation with Jungkook, which only led to him staying over for far longer than anticipated, taking up your day and even ordering takeout for you to eat after getting all the grunt work out of the way. A shower was had, though you mutually agreed for no funny business (other than a good ten minutes of making out under the water, but that didn't count in your eyes). Since he lived right next door, he managed to extend his visit up until the last minute, entertaining you more than anything had in the past week of moving in.

One month into your new place and you decided the move was probably one of the best decisions you'd ever made. You'd come to find that Jungkook's old neighbor was not the only old lady living in the building, but that the neighborhood was mostly made up of old people (which, granted, Jungkook had warned you of in passing). That gave to a slightly boring home life, but you liked it better this way. Jungkook being your sole young neighbor was more than enough, specially with how often he went out of his way to seek you out.

After those first two hookups, no time for anything else was really had. This made you embarrassingly needy. The anticipation for finally having actual sex with Jungkook was too much too handle, specially when he'd still occasionally bump into you and catch you off guard with a kiss (which usually led to a make-out far too filthy for the public setting). You'd started your new job a week after moving and Jungkook was occupied by some reason or another, meaning that you'd only really see each other in passing. Although you'd text and keep up with each other, the frustration continued to build up.

The third time you were really able to get Jungkook alone was a little over a month after moving in.

You weren't particularly proud of how it is that you got him back in your apartment, but in your defense, you were ovulating that night and feeling particularly needy. Knowing that Jungkook was a bit of an unserious man, you knew that some pull from you and he'd put everything aside to come crawling. The thought itself made you feel powerful.

With a single 'accidental' text (maybe it was a lewd image, you'll never tell), you began to hear obnoxious knocking on your front door — within seconds of delivery, might you add. Excitedly, you walked over to the door, opening it to find a breathless Jungkook holding up his phone with your conversation pulled up, the incriminating picture taking up his screen.

"You're so mean to me," he managed to say before you pulled him in with a kiss, kicking the door behind you and turning around so he could press you up against the now closed door.

"Mean? I didn't do anything," you feigned between kisses, already lightheaded.

"I've been wanting to come over," he sighed into your lips, trailing down to your neck to catch his breath, "Just been so busy, fuck. If you wanted me so bad, you could've just come visit. I'd drop anything to have you," he continued, unable to unglue his lips from your skin. His hands mirrored his sentiment, grabbing at every curve with a desperation you hadn't seen from him before.

"I thought you were the one that was supposed to be chasing after me?", you joked with a breathless chuckle.

"Sometimes I need a little encouragement, baby. Need to know I'm not just bugging you," he replied as he undressed you almost as if it were second nature to him.

Walking you back into what he knew to be your room, he laid you down, now donning nothing but your panties. He soon after matched your nudity, stripping of his muscle tee and sweats, making his way on top of you as he'd done last time.

"Will you be mad if I fuck you?", he rasped, one hand at your boobs and another rubbing at your cunt through the thin layer covering it.

"You're an idiot," you deadpanned, "I'll be mad if you don't."

Needing no further confirmation, his hand slipped past your panties, rubbing circles on the puffiness of your clit while continuing to kiss you. This didn't last for long, simply being used as an aid to lubricate you with your own wetness as his fingers reached a little souther to smear your slick around while his thumb continued to play with the swollen bud.

Already unclothed, Jungkook took his hand away from you, resulting in a whine from your lips to his and moving his hand onto his own arousal. Jerking himself a few times, he stopped kissing you in favor of leaning back to look down at you while twisting his fist on his dick. After quickly fishing for a condom from his discarded pants, he went back to his previous position, rolling it in while you nagged at him to hurry.

Before actually entering you, of course he had to piss you off one last time by teasing your clit with the tip of his cock, groaning when he felt you flutter beneath him. One kick from you was enough for him to chuckle and finally enter you, groaning in unison with you at the feeling.

"Jesus Christ," you groaned when you felt him begin bottoming out, inch by inch filling you up enough to cause an unknown level of pleasurable pain. You hadn't stopped to think what that size would feel like inside you — or at least as much as he was able to get in.

Above you, Jungkook looked tortured, still and with a wincing look on his face as he waited for the green light to begin moving in and out of you. It took you a few moments longer, nimble fingers digging into the muscles of his arms before you finally nodded at him to move.

"Fuck," he groaned upon finally beginning to pick up a pace, biting his lip and his eyes almost rolled back.

"More," you urged, falling in love with the feeling of him immediately.

Your eyes were crossed, your fingers digging far too painfully into his skin, your legs wrapped around him like a vice, everything was far too intense far too quickly. He obeyed your plea immediately, making matters worse for you, having already been blowing your mind prior but now simply melting it.

"How do you feel this good?", he grunted. His arms reached your thighs, pulling you up a bit to hammer into you at a better angle, "Should've fucked you since that first day, shit. How'd I get such a pretty- fuck, such a pretty girl delivered right to my door?", he went on, sweat building on his skin.

The slapping of skin sped up with the proximity of Jungkook's orgasm, just as yours followed along. His hands were restless, attempting to hold you up while also thirsty to feel every possible inch of your body.

"Please tell me you're close, or else this is going to be really embarrassing for me," he muttered onto your skin.

With a chuckle, you confirmed your incoming high, whining when he finally let himself go and sped up in order to reach his own orgasm, now more relaxed knowing you were right with him.

He let out some uncharacteristically high moans as he filled up the condom, groaning and stilling once he was finally done. You joined him mere seconds later, arching your back and pressing your chest against his own as bliss encompassed you. Despite the sticky sweat covering you both, Jungkook let himself fall against you, pulling out and placing the condom aside momentarily so he could lay beside you while you caught your breath.

In the almost silent room, Jungkook nuzzled against you and kissed the sweaty skin he could reach, hands playing with your hair as he pressed you up against him.

"Would it be bad if I asked you out? Or should I have done that before seducing you in the laundry room?", he wondered out loud, leaving love bites on your neck.

You laughed at how random he could be, appreciating how he spoke his thoughts aloud most of the time, "You can ask me out, I won't bite. Unlike some people," you muttered the last part, giggling when he gave you a slightly harsher bite.

"You like it, don't lie," he muttered, suddenly getting up and dragging you with him despite your whine in negation, "C'mon, we're going to take a shower, have a quickie, and then I'm taking you out for some boba," he decided, using his inhuman strength to pull you up and drag you to your restroom.

"But-"

"C'mon, I've been wanting to ask you out since you moved in, I'm already late," he hushed you, carrying your basically limp body to the restroom with the promise of a fun night, something you did not have it in you (nor did you want to) deny.

to read short 1.6k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my jk monthly tier on patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, oral (f receiving), etc.

wc: 433 (teaser); 1619 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Are you ever going back to your apartment?", you murmured, though it was likely muffled by the large body wrapped around you.

"What, already tired of me?", asked Jungkook as he continued to nose at your skin, a habit you realized he had soon after making things official. He had a sensitive nose, he'd said once, always enjoying the cosmetic products that gave you that floral scent he adored.

After a month of officially dating, Jungkook had become the human manifestation of a leech. It was rare for him to leave tour side whenever you so happened to have free time and would take advantage of the proximity between your apartments.

Being frank, this was something you loved about him. Still in the honeymoon phase, there was nothing better than getting to see your boyfriend at any given time, especially when he was the one seeking you out. He made you feel wanted and like you were a necessity for him, almost as if he had an addiction to you.

That being said, the man just would not leave your apartment.

Now, this wasn't too much of a bother thus far. You liked it, in fact (at least for the most part). He was quite clean while also being laid back, which was a great combination to have in a person who was practically taking on the role of your roommate.

He did, however, prove to become a distraction when it came to your day to day life. You allowed yourself to indulge in his company too much, leading to a huge drop in your productivity.

But what could you do? He was addictive.

"You love having me around, don't lie to yourself," he continued, "What, tired of waking up to head?", he joked, hands making their way under your shirt to cheekily trace your skin.

"Waking up to head?," you asked incredulously, "You woke me up by tickling me, you menace."

He chuckled, adjusting himself on the bed so he could climb on top of you, knees settled on each side of you and hands slowly bringing your top up.

"Okay, fine. Maybe I've been a bad guest. Let me make it up to you?", he grinned, snaking his way down your body until his head was leveled with your stomach, kissing the skin he'd freed just moments prior.

"Better make it worth my while or else I'll start charging you rent for every hour you spend in here."

"I'll move in. Don't threaten me with a good time," he joked, knowing most of his time was spent here with you regardless.

...

find the 18+ continuation on patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

[rocksandrobots]

Phantoms of the Past: Ch. 5 - Best friends, Boyfriends, and Barons Part 1

"Hey Miss Itamae! Ready for a whole new school year? Hee...hee...eeeh.... yeah, fine." Hiro gave up trying to make small talk with the lunch lady as she unceremoniously slopped meatloaf onto his plate.

Today was the first day of the fall semester and the start of Hiro's second year at SFIT.  It felt odd to him, to look back and realize just how much time had passed; how much things had changed during the previous year.

A year ago, today, he had been attending Tadashi's funeral and now he was going about his life as if everything was normal. Well, almost normal. He was also moonlighting as a superhero, adopting an out of time teenager as his new big brother, and befriending deadly robots.

Life was weird.

Of course it wasn't as if he could ignore his loss completely. He had noticed the flowers and cards placed at the foot of Tadashi's memorial over by the exhibition hall. People still remembered that his brother had died a hero. Folks that he didn't even know had left their condolences today, though most of the gifts were from Tadashi's teachers and friends.

Hiro had particularly noticed a painting Honey Lemon had left, of her, Tadashi, and the rest of their friends. He also spotted Gogo sitting out there early that morning, lighting a candle in his brother's memory. He had given her her space, choosing not to interrupt. Gogo and Tadashi had been especially close.

Hiro remembered how excited his brother had been when Gogo finally agreed to go out with him. Tadashi had hurried about their bedroom, a couple of days before the fire, fretting over where to take her on their first date. A date that they had never gotten to go on. At the time Hiro had teased him relentlessly, never passing up the chance to deflate his brother's ego. Now it was just another bittersweet memory to look back on.

Fred abruptly snapped him out of his mournful reflection. "Steve." was all he said as he grabbed Hiro by the shoulders.

"Steve? Uh, my name is Hiro, remember Fred?"

"No, no, no, Steve was the name of the ninja robot that Trina found. She said he was held in a warehouse downtown, along with all the other ninjas. Don't you see, that's our big break! We find this warehouse and then we can track down the mysterious bosu!"

Hiro wearily placed his tray down on the table and took a seat next to Wasabi.

"Fred, it's the first day of school. Can't this wait for later?"

"But-"

"Hiro's right Fred," Wasabi interrupted, "Just because you have all the time in the world to play superhero doesn't mean that we do. We still got our own lives to take care of."

Fred looked hurt at that. "I'm not playing! This is important work. We have a city to protect and this crime boss is just going to keep coming after us if we don't figure out how to stop them."  

Wasabi rolled his eyes. "Then you just go on and do that. In the meantime the rest of us have class to attend. I'm heading early to set up for my first lab."

"But labs won't open for like another hour." Hiro pointed out, confused. "They're still cleaning up from the robot attacks last week."

"Ah, he just wants to get there early so that he can see his boyfriend again." Fred complained.

"Sam's not my boyfriend. He's just a colleague, and at least I'm doing something other than obsess over superheroing." And with that Wasabi stormed off, while Fred slouched into the cafeteria chair with a huff.

"Listen, Fred, why don't you go on patrol with Minimax for a while. I'll help you track down this warehouse after school is over with." Hiro said.

"Okay," Fred reluctantly agreed, "but I'm not 'obsessing'."

"I know Fred, but the rest of us also have school to worry about. We just don't have the same amount of free time as you do."

"I know." Fred sighed before walking off.

                                                ---------------------------

"Sorry Hiro, but we're kind of busy right now." Honey Lemon regretfully informed her friends.

Fred and Hiro had met up after school as promised. Wasabi had declined to join them on their quest and so they had decided to recruit the girls instead. Though this also seemed to be a fruitless endeavor.

"Yeah, we're kind of in the middle of something." Gogo finished as she leaned back in a reclining chair and placed two cucumber slices over her eyes.

They had found the girls at a spa. Honey Lemon sat next to Gogo with curlers in her hair, and they apparently weren't the only ones out having a beauty day.

"Can't you see we're having some girl time?" Karmi asked, annoyed, as she examined her nails.

"Yeah, Hiro, go take your weird superhero hobby elsewhere?" Megan added.

"It's not weird!" Fred insisted.

"If this is supposed to be a girls only event, then why is he here?" Hiro said, pointing to Varian, who sat next to Megan.

"Uh, getting a manicure obviously." Varian rolled his eyes and then leaned over to show Carol, who was beside him, two bottles of nail polish. "Do you think I should go with the midnight blue or just stick with black?"

"Hmmm... I think either would be nice," she replied.

"Ooooh, have you tried the seaweed wrap they have here? It's great." Fred chimed in.

Hiro rolled his eyes, "Okay, so what are you two doing after this? Could you take up patrol tonight?"

"Nope." Gogo said.

"I promised my brother Carlos that I would help him move into his new dorm room. He starts at UCLA this week and Gogo's offered to drive me there. We won't be back till tomorrow morning." Honey Lemon explained.

"Okay, well, we'll just-"

"Alright, I'm ready." A voice called out, interrupting him.

Trina walked out from behind a door at the back of the spa. Her bulky gigantic metal body was gone and in its place was the frame of a young woman, dressed in a t-shirt, pants, and a cropped jacket. She looked very much the same as the day Hiro had first met her, at the bot fights. Only this time her hair had been cut and styled into a short mohawk and dyed a light purple.

"What do you guys think?" She asked as she twirled around.

Everyone shouted encouragements to her, and Varian cheekily whistled.

"You look nice, Trina." Hiro complimented.

Trina snorted and rolled her eyes. "In your dreams, Hiro." She said, leaving the teenage genius confused by what he had said wrong.

Ignoring him, Trina walked over to the rest of the girls, "Thanks for the clothes... and for everything else." She sheepishly added.

"Hey, no problem." Megan replied. "They look good on you."

"Yeah, and if you need anything else just ask." Karmi added.

"Not to mention it's always fun to have a spa day," Carol piped in. "This was a good idea Varian, thanks for inviting me along."

"Sure thing. When Trina said she wanted help with finding a new wardrobe, I figured all of you would like to go shopping too.... and also y'all know more about clothes than I do."

"Hey, Trina," Fred interjected, "that warehouse where you foun- I mean, met 'Steve', do you happen to remember where it was located?"

Trina gave Fred a frown.

"Oooh, who's Steve?" Karmi asked, happy to gossip, "Is that your boyfriend Trina?"

"No." She said, "The place you're looking for is over in Good Luck Alley, next to Louie's."

"It must've been a bad breakup." Karmi whispered into Honey Lemon's ear, she wasn't very good at keeping her voice down.

"Yeah… he kind of... broke alright." Honey Lemon nervously added, unsure what to say.

"Uh, yeah, well thanks for the tip Trina. We'll be going now, bye." Hiro said as he hurried Fred out the door. He had had enough of awkward conversations and makeovers.

                                               ---------------------------

"Fred, wouldn't it be better if we brought our robots along at least?" Hiro whispered.

"You want to sneak around an abandoned warehouse with those two?" Fred whispered back, "I love him, but Minimax doesn't know how to be quiet, like at all."

Hiro sighed, Fred had a point. Baymax also wasn't the best at stealth missions. Hiro slid into the alleyway and peered through a dirty window. He couldn't shake the sense of deja vu as he remembered how he and the robotic nurse had tracked down his missing microbots a year ago at a similar warehouse. They had both been nearly killed by Callaghan when the villain had caught them snooping around. He would prefer to avoid such a scenario again.

"It doesn't look like anyone is here." He said.

"See any ninja robots?" Fred asked as he also pushed by to get a look, pressing his nose against the glass.

"No… Fred, this may be a dead end. Trina already raided the place and no doubt this Bosu would have abandoned the hideout if it was compromised."

Fred pouted, "Maybe… Buuuut, we could always man a stake-out and find out for sure!"

"Fred, I have homework to do. Maybe some oth-"

"Oh please! Just for an hour, or two? Please, please, please? Pretty please? I'll do your homework for you."

"I don't want you doing my homework."

"Okay, chores then; I'll wash Varian's dirty socks and underwear for a… a week… no, a month! Come on, I know how much you hate doing laundry."

Hiro sighed and watched his friend crawl on his knees and beg. "Does it really mean that much to you?"

"Yeeeesss."

"Okay, and no, you don't have to do the laundry either."

Hiro turned to walk out of the alley and Fred got up and followed him.

"That's good, cause I don't actually know how to wash clothes. Usually, Heathcliff does all the laundry. Last time I tried to, I just flooded the washroom."

"Do you have any survival skills? Like at all?"

"Nope. Unless it's kicking bad guys' butts! Ooh, hey, we can host the stake-out at Louie's across the street. I'm starved."

                                               ---------------------------

Hiro and Fred took up a window booth inside the restaurant. The establishment had recovered from the police raid from a few months back and was now serving food as usual; though Hiro had already spotted the advertisement for the next upcoming 'bot fight.

A couple of hours past and they had both eaten their meals, plus dessert, along with Fred going back for seconds. Now they were both nursing a couple of cups of coffee, though Hiro's was going cold; it wasn't great coffee.

"Fred…"

"Yeah."

"It's been three hours now."

"I know."

"No one's showed up."

"Not yet."

"Look it's been… 'fun', but I'm going home now."

Hiro got up to leave but Fred grabbed him by the sleeve.

"Oh but… uhh… we haven't even tried the uh… hot dog sushi special. I hear it's really good."

Hiro leaned his head back slowly and closed his eyes in frustration. He didn't want to snap at Fred, really he didn't, but he was quickly losing his patience.

"Fred… no one is coming. Let's just call it a night and try again some other time. Okay." And with that he yanked his hand away and began to walk off.

Fred didn't follow. Instead he sat in the booth, his eyes downcast, staring blankly at nothing. It wasn't his usual pout either. It was something else. Some deeper sadness that few saw from the usually optimistic teen.

Hiro began to worry. He walked back, and stood there waiting for Fred to jump back up all excited again for his return, only he didn't.

"Fred, what's wrong?"

Fred sighed but couldn't bring himself to answer.

"Look, I know that this superhero business is important to you, so much so that you'll probably wind up making a career out of it, which is great, but the rest of us are not going to be doing this for the rest of our lives. We also have to keep up with our studies, chores, our jobs, and what little shred of a social life we have."

"That's not it… I mean yeah, it's a part of it, but that's not why I asked you to come along."

Fred finally looked Hiro in the eye and tears threatened to spill.

"I just miss my best friend, okay."

Hiro looked at him confused.

"I didn't want to say anything, cause… cause he's your brother and I didn't think you'd want to be reminded about him being gone any more than you already have… but today has just been really hard… remembering what happened… I just thought getting out and doing something fun, getting both our minds off everything, might be better than just… just being alone. You know? Especially today."

Fred didn't even have to say Tadashi's name for Hiro to know who he was talking about.

Hiro sighed and slumped back down into the booth.

"I'm sorry…. I… I guess I just… I don't know. I didn't think...."

"No… no, don't. Of course you didn't think. I mean who wants to be reminded of that. The whole idea was to not think about it. And I just ruined it all by bringing it up. Gah…. I'm so sorry."

Fred put his arms over his head and brought his knees up to his chest as if trying to make himself as physically small as he felt. Hiro just had to laugh at the sight in spite of himself.

"It's okay Fred. You're not going to upset me just by talking about Tadashi."

Fred peaked his head out from between his arms. "I'm not?"

"No. I mean he was your friend too."

"My best friend! Man, Tadashi and I, we got up to all sorts of trouble. He was always down for anything. I mean, did he tell you about the time we crashed my cousin's bar mitzvah? As in, we literally crashed. He drove the sport's car into the buffet table by mistake… We couldn't find the parking and then there was this wet patch in the parking lot and we skidded… Oh and then there was the time Mole dared us to a drag race using scooters and Tadshi had the idea to attach rockets to mine and I went flying.. I tell ya, man, Mole wouldn't live it down for a whole week after. He kept demanding a rematch, but I mean it was fair. He was using his butler to ride for him in his place."

Hiro could barely contain his laughter, "Wait… wait… you and Tadashi did all this?"

"Yeah."

"Why have I never heard of any of this before?"

"I don't know, but he's the whole reason why I got the mascot job in the first place. I knew I could never get into the school myself, but I thought we could hang out together more if I went. He's also the one that introduced me to everybody else."

"Then how did you two meet?"

"Oh at the grocery store."

Fred said this as if it was the most obvious of explanations but Hiro looked as confused as ever. So Fred continued on.

"He was there getting chewing gum and I was buying a shopping cart. Like an actual shopping cart."

"Why?"

"Yeah that's what he asked too. So I told him, 'I'm going to ride down Dead Man's Hill in one.' And he said, 'Dude, that's so rad. You're totally going to die.' And I said, 'Yeah, I know. You wanna join?' And he did. We rode all the way down from the top of Lumbar Street to the docks… and landed right in the bay. It was awesome! We screamed our heads off the whole time. It was so awesome, in fact, that we walked back to the store and bought another cart just to do it again. That was back when we were both still in high school, and we've been best buds ever since. You know… until…"

Hiro looked at Fred sadly. There so much about his brother that hadn't known about, hadn't even thought to ask. What else had Tadashi not shared with him? Probably a lot, I mean why tell your kid brother about your social life? And there's no way that he'd have brought those crazy stunts up around Aunt Cass.

"I never knew any of that… Those are some really cool stories. Thanks for sharing them."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and you know, you don't have to drag me on some superheroing mission just to hang out and talk."

Fred looked guilty at that.

"I… I know… but it's like what you and Wasabi have been saying. Everyone else has something… something to motivate them, and y'all all do all these really cool things and I'm… I'm just me. I don't really have anything but superheroing. Unless you just need someone to make a mess."

"That's not true. Fred, you're great at a lot of things. You could go to school or get a job, if you wanted to. I just thought superheroing was all you wanted."

"Hiro, I can't even do laundry without messing up. I mean all you do is throw the clothes into a machine and push a button, and yet somehow I managed to screw even that up. All I know is comic books, and superheroing, and I'm not even the best at that! What would I even go to college for? I can't… I'm not a genius. I'm not a businessman. I'm not an accountant, or an artist, or an athlete. I'm not anything. I've no talent. I'm not even good at being rich. I've never fit in with the socialite crowd."

"Fred."

"Yeah?"

"You're good at being a friend, and if I have to sit here list off everything else you're good at then we'd be here for another three hours or more. So how about we head home and tomorrow I'll show you how to work a washing machine, and you can teach me how a stake-out is supposed to really go cause we're not getting anywhere here."

"Or are we?"

"What do you mean?"

Fred was no longer looking at Hiro but past him. He pointed to the window behind Hiro, and Hiro turned around to see for himself.

An elderly gentleman, dressed in an old fashioned military outfit, complete with a monocle, was entering the warehouse. He had a giant mechanical arm and a steam boiler strapped to his back.

"Baron Von Steamer."

                                               ---------------------------

Fred and Hiro found themselves standing in the alley peering through the warehouse's dirty windows for a second time that day. They saw Baron Von Steamer stomping around inside. He seemed irritated as he grumbled to himself and knocked boxes out of the way, as if searching for something.

"What's he doing?" Fred loudly whispered.

Just then Steamer found what he was looking for, a tea cup. He poured himself a cup out of a teapot he had placed on an old fashioned stove that was hidden towards the back and then sat down on top of a crate to sip his drink.

"It must be 'tea time' for him." Hiro said dryly.

Fred narrowed his eyes, "I bet he's just hatching his next nefarious scheme. Planning on how to take us and the city down. What do you think he wants with portals?"  

Just then Steamer stood up and ruefully kicked away a busted up robot that had fallen out of a storage crate in his previous hunt for the tea cup.

"I don't think Steamer is our guy." Hiro said, "He hates modern technology, so why would he build ninja robots? Also, like you said, what would he want with portals? All he's after is your dad, and so far the Bosu hasn't gone after Boss Awesome yet."

"But they might. Remember what Roddy said? That Kensei guy used to be active during Dad's heyday but never got caught. What if, it's because Steamer had two villain identities!"

"That seems like a stretch."

"Okay, well, what if Steamer works for this Bosu? Like Sue and Sparkles?"

"That's more plausible, I guess."

Hiro turned to peer through the window again, but Streamer was gone.

'Wait, where did he go?'

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? A pair of interlopers." A curt British voice  came from behind them.

Steamer must have noticed them and snuck around the back, cutting them off.

Hiro grabbed his phone in order to call his super suit, but Von Steamer nabbed his hand and yanked him off the ground, causing him to lose hold of his phone.

Fred was just as unfortunate, as Steamer held him in a choke hold in his metal arm.

"Waaaait," Steamer said as he eyed them both up closely, peering at them through his oversized monocle, "I know you two. You're friends of Boss Awesome's baby child!"

"I am Boss Awesome's baby child!" Fred protested before Von Steamer gave him a hard squeeze with his cyborg arm. Fred wheezed in pain.

Hiro reacted quickly and kicked the steampunk baron in the shins.

Von Steamer howled in pain and dropped Hiro in surprise, though he managed to keep his grip on Fred. He also had stepped on Hiro's phone while nursing his injured leg.

Hiro ducked and ran as Steamer regained his senses and pulled out a brass gun that was connected to the boiler on his back with a hose. He pulled the trigger and scalding steam shot out. Hiro ducked again to avoid it.

As he ran out of the alley way he heard Steamer shouting after him, "Yes, run back to Boss Awesome little one. Tell his baby child I have their friend, and either he, or they, must show up to face me or else!"

Hiro spared a glace backwards and saw Baron Von Steamer dragging Fred back into the warehouse.

"Fred!"

"Hiro!" Fred called out to him before being pulled into the darkness.

Hiro panicked. What could he do? Finally, he decided that getting help was the best option. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, fighting back his worry.

[buckys-little-hoe]

We’ll meet again | Platonic!Avengers x Reader

Pairing: Platonic!Avengers x Reader

Summary: No matter when and where, you always sing the same song, so your teammates ask themselves why you sing that song. The answer shocks them.

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of car accident and death.

A/N: It’s a little bit different from the other things. Hope you’ll still enjoy it! :)

—

You hum a song quietly as you fold your laundry together. You are standing in the laundry room right now because your favorite shirt got dirty. You were walking earlier and Sam had pushed you into the mud. The smell of detergent is in the air. You enjoy the calm, no annoying teammates who put their curious noses into your affairs. You put your cell phone on the dryer and pull the headphones out of your ears. You digress with your thoughts as you put sock after sock together. "Let's say goodbye with a smile, dear. Just for a while, dear. We must part. Don't let this parting upset you. I'll not forget you, sweetheart.” Your voice is gentle and has something mesmerizing.

Bucky also notices this, sneaking up as always. It is a habit that he cannot take off. That's why you don't notice him. Once again, the former assassin is grateful for his quiet steps. "We'll meet again. Don't know where. Don't know when. But I know we'll meet again some sunny day.” Without any worries you continue singing while he leans against the bare wall with a smile. He knows the song, he is sure of it. When he went to war, his colleagues with a relationship had been serenaded by their girlfriends. It was comforting if someone would not return. Quite sad actually, the more he thought about it. "Keep smiling through. Just like you always do. ‘Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away." You put your shirt in the basket and pick it up. When you turn around, you almost get a heart attack.

Bucky stands before you with a bright smile. "I like your voice, doll," he says with honesty and your cheeks turn red. Oh god, that’s embarrassing. The thoughts shoot through your head. "Uh ... thanks Bucky," you reply shyly and disappear through the open door.

—

"So will you please say hello, to the folks that I know. Tell them I won't be long. They'll be happy to know that as you saw me go. I was singing this song.” Your voice echoes through the ventilation shafts. Clint lies on the cool metal and listens to your voice with his eyes closed. You are taking a shower and Clint was actually on the way to his hidden nest, but your singing stopped him. You would never find out that he had been listening. What did the archer have to lose? It's not the first time he's eavesdropping on his teammates. But with you, there is something else. He just can't stop listening. Your voice expresses so much sadness and hope that he can only wonder what had happened. Why do you sing it with so much feeling? But right now he's just enjoying the song. He doesn't know it. It sounds older. He likes the text.

"We'll meet again. Don't know where. Don't know when. But I know we'll meet again some sunny day. “, You sing with your eyes closed. The water runs over your naked body and the heat loosens a few knots. You take the shower so warm that even the window and mirror are fogged up. Will the pain go away at some point?

-

"So you want please say hello. To the folks that I know. Tell them I won't be long. They'll be happy to know. That as you saw me go. I was singin 'this song.” You stand with your back to your teammates. You're preparing dinner tonight. Your friends are all sitting in the living room.

"I love her voice, but why does she always sing the same song?" Steve asks after a pleasant silence in which they could only hear your singing.

"I thought only I have noticed." Sam shrugs. Natasha rolls her eyes and pushes him off the couch. Bucky looks at her gratefully and she gives him two thumbs up.

“Maybe you just have to make wishes like to the DJ," Tony sarcastically puzzles. Now everyone is rolling their eyes in annoyance.

"I assume it's Lady Y/N's favorite song," Thor intervenes. Wanda nods in agreement.

"We'll meet again. Don't know where. Don't know when. But I know we'll meet again some sunny day. “ You finish the song quietly and add the sauce to the noodles.

"Maybe she has a deeper connection to the song," Bruce says. Tony shakes his head.

"I think you are interpreting too much into it, Dr. Banner. “, Vision says and everyone is muttering now.

"The food is ready!" You call with a smile and interrupt the discussion. Everyone gets up and goes into the dining room. After eating, everyone stays seated with a full belly. It is exceptionally quiet. This almost never happens when all Avengers are present.

"Y/N, we wanted to ask you something," Natasha says after a moment's hesitation. Your heart stops. Did you do something wrong? Didn't it taste good?

"Yes?" You try to keep your nervous tremors under control and you can do it.

"Why do you always sing the same song?" Clint asks, falling into the house with the door. You sigh quietly and try to smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. Your heart weighs heavily and you blink the tears away.

“Back then I was in the car with my parents on the way to school. Unlike any other day, my mother went with us because my father wanted to drive her to the doctor who was on the way. Vera Lynn’s We’ll meet again was playing on the radio. I was angry with my parents because I was afraid to be late to school. My father wanted to drive her there anyway.” You take a deep breath. It's okay, you can do it. You can talk about it. "So we were arguing. My father stopped concentrating on the street and we got involved in an accident. The song didn't stop playing. Unfortunately, I did not pass out. Instead, I heard the song and saw my dead parents for about five minutes.” You finish your story and look into the faces of your comrades. During your story, the color was gone from their faces. Clint regrets asking. "The song helps me to remember that I'll see them again someday. That at some point I will have the chance to apologize. “, You explain.

Bucky, who is sitting next to you, takes your hand into his and squeezes it once. "They forgave you long ago, I'm sure of that," Thor says with an encouraging smile. He too had lost his mother after an argument. If anyone can empathize with the pain, it's him.

"It'll get easier," Steve assures you.

He's right. It will get easier. It just takes time.

[themonkeycabal]

Slightly random but Hodgepodge request: the end of chapter 4 of Its Alright We'll Be Up All Night from the lady who was being followed's perspective. Just a wee snippet of how that wee interaction went down perhaps? Please.

Well, since you said please:

***

Izzy Taveres just wanted to get home. She was having one of those days — her shift at the restaurant ran over with a huge family party that ended in a brawl and a police raid. The train was late, she missed her bus, and now she had to walk because she couldn't justify paying for a cab for five blocks. All of which meant she was going to be even later, and the babysitter was going to charge her extra. And it just … ugh. Her feet hurt, her head hurt, her uniform smelled like sour wine and marinara sauce, and now she was going to have to take down the laundry before she could go to sleep and she really hoped she could find a few quarters in the couch cushions or the junk drawer. God, what a day.

Sighing softly, she trudged down the sidewalk. It was late enough that the streets were relatively quiet. A handful of cars, not many pedestrians. Which is why her heart jumped when she heard the footsteps start up behind her. Closing her eyes briefly, she took a deep breath, and then shook her head. She was being silly. The street was well lit, there may not have been much traffic, but there was *some*, and the neighborhood was a long way from desolate. Still, she pulled her bag a little closer to her body, and slipped a hand into the outer pocket where she had that can of gel pepper spray her sister gave her.

Her steps picked up, and so did her heart rate, as she crossed the eerie black void of a mid-block alley. The footsteps behind picked up with hers and her mouth went dry.

Izzy most definitely did not need this. She really, really did not need this. She could not afford this, absolutely not. She had just enough to get her and Mia through to the end of the next week, and then she'd get paid. If she lost tonight's tips, it would be so much harder. She'd probably have to ask her sister for another loan.

The footsteps got closer. Oh God, she hoped her tips was all they wanted. She had an eight-year old daughter, and while being a single mom was hard, going home to her kid made everything worth it. That's all she wanted, to go home to her daughter. Oh Lord, help her. Please help her.

She thought she felt fingers brush her back and a sharp tang of adrenaline and terror filled her mouth. Pulling out her pepper spray, she hunched her shoulders, and tried to be brave as she turned around to face her attacker. Except, she couldn't help but squeeze her eyes shut, which probably wouldn't help. However, before she got all the way around, she heard a weird yelp and a thud, and that presence behind her wasn't there anymore.

Prying open one eye, still hesitant, still afraid, she peeked towards the alley as a man in a black leather jacket stepped out dusting off his hands on his jeans. Another, much larger, man turned towards her and held out his hands, trying to show he was harmless. Except he really was huge and she almost straight up hit him with the pepper spray on instinct.

"Our pardon, miss; we didn't mean to alarm you," he said in a deep, accented voice.

Two more men followed behind the first pair, and Izzy backed away and clung, with a shaky hand, more tightly to her pepper spray. Despite the big guy's attempt to appear not threatening, it was late, dark, and she was out-numbered and terrified.

"Hi, I'm Steve," greeted one of the approaching men. The guy next to Steve turned off and murmured something to the man in the jacket and they both stepped into the alley.

"And I'm Thor," greeted the large man.

Wait …

"Thor?" Izzy repeated, feeling dazed from the still swirling churn of fear.

"Yes," the man grinned a broad smile that flashed in the dim light.

"And … Steve? You're not Steve Rogers, are you?" That could not be right. Not even a little bit. But the big guy was both really big and he had long hair and she'd seen plenty of pictures of Thor. And maybe Steve Rogers looked like, you know, Steve Rogers, but it was still kind of dark by the alley and hard to see clearly. Also her eyes were still kind of squinted. The city could really put a freaking light near the alley. Who designed this lighting? That was terrible and dangerous. She was sending somebody a scathing email when she got home; which, thank God, it looked like she actually would.

"I am," he said gently. Then he waved a hand at the other two who had reappeared form the alley. "And this is—"

"Clint," said the guy in the jacket. Then he thumped the back of his hand on the last man's shoulder and said, "Vasily."

"Stop calling me that," the last guy growled. He looked over at Izzy and hesitated a moment before he muttered, "James."

"Okay," Izzy said. She had no idea who Clint and James were supposed to be, but Captain America and Thor were enough to assure her that she was probably safe.

The fear and adrenaline started to drain, leaving her feeling shaky and a giving her a strange, hollow queasiness in the pit of her stomach.

She would NOT throw up in front of Captain America. She wouldn't do it. Mia would never, ever let her live that down. Actually, she wouldn't be telling Mia about 90% of this story, but her daughter would love to hear that Izzy met the Avengers. Or, two of them at least. Or maybe four? One of them could be the guy with the arrows, maybe the blond in the black jacket? Nobody ever got a good look at Hawkeye without his bow, so who could say? And the other guy, long, dark hair to below his chin, didn't look like Tony Stark for sure, and it's not like Tony Stark would introduce himself as James. So … Hulk? What did Hulk look like when he wasn't green? Did anybody know? Except Hulk didn't have long hair. Except, Hulk was also ginormous and green. And if he could turn big and green, maybe his hair changed length, too?

"Ma'am?"

Oh, Steve Rogers was talking to her while she was stuck in her weird post-terror Avengers spiral. "What? Sorry, I was … just trying to get my head together."

"We were wondering if you'd mind if we walked you home?"

"Uh," she hesitated. Yes, she would like four Avengers to walk her home. Duh. But, also, she was a confident woman with a can of pepper spray who wasn't afraid of the streets (except when she was, because somebody had to put a light on that alley and she would make sure it was done if she had to personally shout at every member of the neighborhood council). "It's not far. You don't have to. I appreciate you … uh, doing whatever it was you did? Was there a mugger? Because I thought— well, I thought I heard somebody but then it was just you? But …"

James and Clint cast quick looks into the alley and shrugged. Steve didn't turn around but his smile looked a little tight. Thor just grinned some more. There was totally a mugger. Though, the mugger was probably currently unconscious or tied up or something. Maybe both. Served him right.

"It's no bother," Thor said. "We were on our way home, as well. We can walk together, as friends."

"It's really fine. I'm fine. Thank you. Besides, don't you live in Manhattan?" Yes, yes, please good-looking Avengers, walk her home. Also, stop trying to tell them not to, mouth. God.

"Our friend," Thor gestured to James, "is opening a tavern in the area. We were walking back from … dinner?" He glanced at Steve, who nodded back. "Yes, dinner. We had hotdogs. And ice cream."

"But not together," Clint offered.

Thor nodded. "Because that would be disgusting."

"Right," Clint agreed, then he frowned. "Although…"

"There was the jalapeño ice cream," Thor murmured back at him.

"Mother of God," James muttered and rubbed at his face with a gloved hand.

Why did he have a glove on? It was like 80 degrees out. And only one glove at that. What was he? Michael Jackson? Oh, maybe that wasn't nice. Maybe he had a problem with his hand. And he was embarrassed by scars or something? Or if he was Hulk, maybe one arm was always green? Wow, Izzy, how insensitive.

Wait … he was opening a tavern in the area? Maybe there'd be jobs. It would be amazing to get a decent job closer to home. Actually, she'd love to move out of the area, because it was getting more and more expensive every day, but her apartment was rent controlled and they'd have to cart out her rotting corpse before she gave that up — aside from their daughter, it was the only good thing her ex-husband The Bum ever gave her before he ditched them to go 'find himself' in Jersey. Plus, Mia's school was close and it was a good one. But, anyway …

"Well, thank you again, but I need to get home," Izzy said, and gave them a wave as she turned to head back up the street.

Steve and Thor fell in beside her. She couldn't bring herself to try to shoo them off again. Besides, AVENGERS! The other two walked behind them.

"You know, I think your bar needs a theme," Clint said.

"What do you mean?"

"Something to get people in the door," Clint explained. "Hey! You know what's due to come back? Tiki bars!"

"What's a tiki bar?" James asked sounding like he didn't want to ask but couldn't stop himself from asking.

"They're awesome. I'll show you."

Izzy had some big doubts about the long-term appeal of a tiki bar. The novelty would turn to tacky really quick. And were they ever really 'in'? She glanced over her shoulder and saw them both on their phones.

James snorted a laugh and tilted his phone's screen towards Clint so he could read it. "Darcy says, 'tell Clint to shut up.' Shut up, Clint."

Clint glowered and shoved his phone back in his pocket; there would be no tiki bar. "Darcy's no fun. She used to be fun, but then she started hanging out with you and her fun level cratered."

"You could have Thursday specials," Thor suggested brightly. "I'll bring you a few casks of Asgardian ales. There are several I think you'll like, though you'll have to mix them with something else. They're far too strong for you mortals. But there are no finer brews in any realm." Thor looked at Izzy and winked. "Thursday is named after me, you know. Thor's day."

That was so weird. She knew he was Thor, but somehow it didn't hit her that he was THE Thor. Or, she knew that, but it wasn't real until he said that, and that mean that he was like hundreds of years old. Or thousands? So weird. "I … remember that from school, I think."

Thor chuckled, mostly to himself. "Ah, Midgard. I love this place."

"Uh, where is the bar going to be?" Izzy asked, changing the subject to one her brain could actually wrap itself around.

Clint waved a hand towards the other side of the street. "You know that big hole in the ground on Havermayer?"

"By the bridge, yeah. Oh, there?" That was disappointing, it was a hole in the ground, and holes in the ground weren't anywhere near being a bar. Plus, Izzy didn't work construction. Well, not yet. If the pay was good, she just might. Also, if they'd hire her without her having any experience. But, she was a hard worker and she'd learn. She could sling concrete. Maybe. She was a hair under 5'1", but that couldn't be disqualifying, could it?

James looked reluctant to talk in general, but he nodded and shrugged at the same time like he was talking and trying to be uninterested at the same time. He wasn't rude or anything, just not very present. "The building on the corner."

"Where the Rosebud Family Restaurant used to be," Izzy said, feeling relieved. Not the hole in the ground! Then she scrunched up her nose and made a 'blah' face. "That place was terrible. I don't know how it lasted so long, it was open thirty years. I think I found cigarette ashes in my hashbrowns once."

"Gross," Cling said with a laugh.

Even James chuckled a little. "We won't serve hashbrowns."

This caught Clint's attention again and he asked, "What will you serve? You know what I miss?"

"I don't care what you miss," James said in a flat voice as he glanced away, his eyes scanning the street restlessly. Looking for trouble? Or looking to escape?

"Bratwurst," Clint said, ignoring him. "The hotdogs tonight reminded me. They were okay, but nobody does good brats here. You'd think maybe somebody would, but no. It's a Goddamned crime."

James pursed his lips and looked up at the sky and Izzy couldn't tell if he was thinking about it, or thinking about strangling Clint. "Maybe."

"I know a place in Iowa," Clint pressed, as if he sensed weakness and was going to take advantage. "They sell all sorts of sausage. German family, they've been making them for like a hundred something years. I worked in their warehouse over one winter when I was a kid. I got paid in liverwurst. Awesome job."

"Remember Mr. Sawicki with the hotdog cart, Buck?" Steve asked with a wistful sort of laugh. "He had the best franks in the city, I haven't found any that taste as good."

"I remember," James said quietly. He glanced at Clint, who gave him a triumphant little smirk.

"My guy does awesome frankfurters," Clint confirmed.

With a sigh, giving in, James nodded. "Give Darcy the number."

"My daughter would eat hotdogs for every meal if I let her," Izzy said, chatting with her new Avengers friends, as one does. Friends who were opening a bar and maybe she'd get a job. No! She wasn't going to try to leverage getting nearly mugged into a job. But, they did bring it up.

Steve's face brightened. "You've got a daughter? How old?"

"Eight," Izzy said smiling back. "And if you stick those hotdogs in a disgusting cornbread mess and fry it, you'll have her loyalty forever."

"I love corndogs," Clint said. Izzy didn't know any of them really, but somehow the idea that Clint — or Hawkeye, if that's who we was — loved corndogs didn't surprise her one bit. "We had some good ones back in the circus. Well, if Cookie remembered to change the oil. Sometimes he didn't for a few days." Clint grimaced and looked away.

The circus?

"It'll be a while," James said, looking thoughtfully across the street. "We just got the place last week. Now we've got to gut it. But Darcy wants to strip the brick off the whole building."

Steve nodded. "It's not that bad, but it doesn't fit."

"Not bad?" Clint echoed, his face twisted in disbelief. "It's horrible. The worst of the 70s. You guys are lucky you missed the 70s. I mostly missed them, but I saw the reruns. That was enough."

Izzy knew the building, it was dingy yellow brick and it looked like a horrible, soulless, government box. It was big and yellow and definitely didn't fit with some of the older brick in the neighborhood. "How do you strip brick?" She asked. "Sand blast it?"

James shook his head. "I guess they have to take this off all the way down to the framing."

"That's a lot," Izzy murmured. It would be a looooong time before that bar opened.

"We'll start in a couple days," James told her.  "But, yeah, there's a lot to do. Probably won't open until the first of next year."

Izzy tried not to pout, and then started thinking about transitioning into construction work again. Being able to walk to work would be a dream come true.

Steve hummed quietly and gave the other man a sympathetic glance. "Kind of rotten timing — starting up just when Darcy's going out of town."

James ran his hand over his face and sighed. "Fur— uh, Nick will be onsite supervising, at least at the start."

"Nick?" Thor asked. "As in …" he covered one eye with his hand and gave James a leading look. "I thought he was dead."

James dropped his head and looked uncomfortable and ashamed, and like he wanted to go back and hide in the alley with the mugger.

Izzy frowned. Except, maybe she didn't want to know. There was drama and then there was probably Godly and Avengers-level drama that she was maybe better off not knowing about. She was curious, it would make for damned fine gossip, but also, might get her black-bagged and tossed in a secret prison somewhere. She had a daughter who needed her. Curiosity wasn't worth the risk.

Clint jumped in and gave them all a sharp look, before quickly sliding his eyes to Izzy and then back to Thor. "You're thinking of our other friend Nick."

"Oh," Thor said and then he seemed to clue into what they were talking about. Good for him; Izzy was lost. "Our other friend Nick. Unlike this Nick, who is not dead. Nick … Hair … son. Yes, Nick Hairson. Harrison. Such a … magnificent head of hair. Not as magnificent as my own, of course, but very nice."

They were crossing under a streetlight, but it was still not exactly day time bright, so Izzy couldn't be sure, but it looked like a little bit of Thor himself died inside when he said all that. The Avengers were horrible liars. Which, she supposed, is what you'd hope for from heroes and role models. And, as a regular person, it was nice to know that even the Avengers could be really bad at something. It balanced the universe.

Izzy saw the lights over her building's front entrance and let out a slow, quiet breath. She made it. With help, but she made it. This long, horrible day that almost went so much worse, but somehow ended up just kind of strange, was almost over. She still had to do laundry, which sucked, and pay the babysitter, which also kind of sucked. But, she made it home safely.

"This is me," she said, waving towards the front doors. "Thank you for walking with me. I appreciate it."

"Of course," Steve said, sticking his hand out for her to shake. "I'm sorry, I don't think we ever asked for your name."

"Izzy Taveres."

"It was nice meeting you, Ms. Taveres."

Steve gave her hand a friendly shake, and then Thor was next, wrapping his giant paw around her little hand. She felt like a toddler next to him. Good lord, he was huge.

"A pleasure, miss."

"Oh, hey," Steve said, as she was now shaking Clint's hand. "What's your daughter's name? I've got something for her." And he pulled a trading card out of his wallet. She saw the Avengers 'A' and his picture in uniform.

James made a sound like a stifled laugh. "You carry around Captain America cards?"

Steve firmed up his jaw and gave the other man a flat look. "Sometimes there's kids."

"Her name's Mia," Izzy said and, okay, today mostly sucked, but the look on Mia's face when she gave her the card would be worth it all. The kid was going to light up like a Christmas tree. It was very thoughtful of him to carry them around, James. Don't be a jerk. Which she, of course, didn't say out loud; she was still hoping for that job.

Steve nodded and took a pen out of his jacket and carefully wrote 'To My Friend Mia' and then his name across the card.

"Now me," said Thor, taking the card and signing his own name. Next he handed it to Clint, who signed it 'Hawkeye' with an arrow as the crossbar on the "H".

James waved his hand, "I'm not one of you jokers." Ah, okay, he wasn't the Hulk. James also didn't shake Izzy's hand, and he hung back away from them a bit, part of the group but also still a little uncomfortable about it. He didn't ignore her, though, and he dipped his head at her in a little bow and offered a little smile. "Ma'am."

Izzy carefully took the card from Clint and waved it in the air to dry the ink so it wouldn't smear. "Well, thanks again guys. Mia will love this."

"Sure thing," Steve said. "Have a nice evening."

There were a trio of additional goodbyes and then the four men started back down the street. Thor's laughter echoed against the buildings and at one point James shoved Clint into the street and Steve yanked him back onto the sidewalk.

Taking out her keys, Izzy unlocked the security door, and trudged up the stairs, her exhaustion on hold as she planned out the carefully edited, but still exciting story she'd tell about how Mom Met the Avengers.

Izzy looked down at the card in her hand and laughed. The Avengers. What a crazy night.

##

[duanecbrooks]

A Sight For Sore Eyes     It's what could be called an old-time flick, having been released in--steady yourself--1969.       It features two leads who have long, long, long since gone off the radar, namely Jacqueline Bisset and Jim Brown (Actually, Brown has only sunk from sight as an actor. He has for some time had a third-act career--he began as a pro-football heavyweight, remember?--as an entrepreneur).         Having been released in, as was mentioned, 1969, its filmic style and the motivations of its characters would, in this overflowing-with-political-correctness age, likely be dismissed as greatly dated, even rather philistine.               However...     As the theatrical film The Grasshopper, which first unspooled in said year and which stars said folks--and which, in a leonine change-of-pace, I saw not on DVD but (and this is not a typo) on YouTube--proves, it is very much worth re-visiting, being--say what you will about it being Old Hat--an incisively-written, maturely-directed and, its strongest suit, sensitively-performed drama about following dreams, dealing with what life throws at you while you pursue those dreams, and, at last finally, is a cautionary tale concerning the fate of those who thoroughly, totally surrender their positivism, who allow themselves to be entirely swept up in all the crap that comes their way. The long-popular assertion goes: "Be careful what you wish for, for you might well get it." What The Grasshopper, with considerable style and genuinely impressive intelligence, says is: "Be sure to have a realistic perspective about what you wish for, otherwise there'll be hell to pay."             Let's get to the picture itself.                 We open with its heroine, 19-year-old Christine Adams (Bisset), sneaking down the steps of her house and outside--the latter after leaving a good-bye note for, as we'll come to discover, her parents--carrying luggage and, eventually, getting into a convertible and driving off. After she goes a distance, we see her car conk out and Christine having to hitch a ride. As she and her driver are riding along, she fills him, and us, in on her story: She's going to L.A. to hook up with her boyfriend, who works in that city. Also: Her past home life was far from tranquil, as is demonstrated via a flashback, wherein Christine thinks back to her incessantly warring parents. It all culminates in Christine giving her driver, and us, a verbal sketch of what she wants her life to be ("It's very simple. What I want is to be totally happy, totally different, and totally in love"). In time she's taken up by one Danny Raymond (Corbett Monica, a stand-up performer who was quite popular at the time), a Las Vegas-based comic whose humor fails to impact our girl (He freely acknowledges: "I'm not too funny, but you can't expect brilliance in the middle of the desert").           We press on. While transporting Christine, Raymond stops off at his employment base, namely Vegas, where he attends to some business and Christine takes in the sights and, in time, is summoned back to Raymond's side (He has the hotel announcer intone: "Will Christine The Hitchhiker please report to the front desk?"). Eventually she, and we, meet Tommy Marcott (Brown), a former pro-football star who is employed by the hotel as, well, a lure, as a celebrity whose fame is used to bring in customers. We also see Raymond trying to get close to Christine and she firmly resisting ("No, Danny. I like you. You're a lot of fun") but Raymond not being in the least dissuaded ("Stick around a few more minutes. I hate to be alone"). At last finally Christine gets to L.A. and Eddie, with whom she entreats to have a baby with her. Yet life with Eddie turns out to be far from the Paradise Lost she imagined and hoped it would be, as her job as Eddie's sister bank teller, she finds out to her dismay, is routine and boring (In an attempt to put some life into her life, she hands a customer the following note: "This is a hold-up. Give me your money and don't touch the alarm"). At one point she goes for a walk and, gazing into the windows of the other apartments, she sees the inhabitants fighting between themselves and otherwise engaged in the kind of dullish, mind-numbing activities she hates with a passion. Thus our gal leaves Eddie and returns to Vegas and Raymond.             To go forward: At first Christine's hooking back with Raymond turns out to be very pleasant for both of them (We see Christine happily lying in bed next to Raymond and his saying into the phone: "I gotta go now, 'cause there's this gorgeous girl just dyin' for my body"). Yet it all ends when Christine is informed by Raymond that his ex and their offspring are coming to visit. Next we see our heroine audition for a position as a showgirl. At first her auditioner is quite skeptical (Christine: "I did Little Women in school." Auditioner: "Did you do it nude?"), telling her: "Showgirls gotta have gigantic tickets [breasts]." Christine doesn't shirk at the least upon hearing this, firing back: "In my hometown I was considered one of the over-developed girls." At last finally Christine unbuttons her blouse and proudly shows her auditioner her "tickets," which causes the auditioner to happily hire her (The auditioner asks Arnold, his barber at the time: "Would you pay $12.50 to look at that [Christine's fully-exposed bosom]?" When Arnold smiles affirmatively, that to the auditioner is the deciding factor, which causes Christine to say: "Thank you, Arnold"). From there we witness our girl as part of the hotel's regular showgirl line-up and getting the 411 from a sister showgirl ("There are only two kinds of dancers in this line: great dancers and girls with friends") and, later, catching a performance by the hotel's resident rock group, The Ice Pack, wherein she becomes fast friends with a devoutly homosexual member of the group. Their friendship develops to the point where Christine informs him of her hopes and dreams ("I was thinking of becoming a stewardess...I like people. Maybe I'll meet a nice guy") and, after debating whether God did indeed create the world or whether the human race evolved from monkeys, standing side-by-side one night and gazing at the stars (Christine: "When you look out there, there's got to be a God." Homosexual buddy: "Or one hell of a monkey").     Going on: Christine's former beau Eddie comes to town, accompanied by his wife and their baby, all of whom, after a visit with Christine, make her quite wistful. Afterward she has further association with Marcott, who makes it abundantly clear that he kowtows to nobody unless he absolutely has to ("I used to be eight years old...I don't say anything unless I mean it"), and rebels when, during a conversation with some financiers, his employer casually manhandles him ("Don't do that, man. You make me feel like a piece of meat"). We then see Christine and Marcott riding a merry-go-round and the former further contending what she wants and expect regarding her life ("Sure I know what I want out of life. No, I don't. Yes, I do") and the workings of her inner self ("No matter where I am or what I'm doing, somewhere in the back of my head I'm thinking somebody is having more fun than I am"). They talk more and they exchange dialogue on Christine's priorities concerning her romantic life (Christine: "I hurt that guy I grew up with [Eddie]. And he hurt me." Marcott: "Everybody gets hurt"). Christine fervently urges that she and Marcott live together rather than get married but he loses no time shooting down that notion ("I've been that route. I don't want a chick to shack up with. I don't want a pad, I want a home"). At long last they decide to elope, which, when the woman at the Vegas chapel they turn to sees them with another couple, makes her quite antsy (Woman, into the phone: "I'm serious, Ted. A white girl, a Negro, a Jap, and a sissy").             Grasshopper moves forward. Now Ms. Tommy Marcott, Christine sets herself to getting her new hubby a less degrading job with the hotel. While swimming, she pushes to one of the aforementioned hotel's bigwigs for Marcott to given higher standing and, when the bigwig balks, she flatly spits water in his face. Next we see her with another hotel higher-up making the same case and, again, being unsuccessful (Higher-up: "Only your husband is special at shaking hands." Christine, walking angrily away: "You're a bastard"). The ante is upped when Roosevelt Decker (Ramon Bieri), a particularly wealthy financier, enters Christine's life. She--unwisely, as she, and we, will come to discover--accompanies him to his hotel suite and, not surprisingly, Decker loses no time in making a play for her. Also not surprisingly, she fully rebuffs him ("Mr. Decker, I really enjoy talking to you. Can't we just be friends?"). Decker, alas for her, doesn't take this well, first openly disparaging Christine's hubby ("I'm as good as any nigger"), then going on from there to literally beat the crap out of her. When she arrives home afterward, she shuts herself up in the bathroom. When Marcott forcefully orders her to open the damned door ("If you don't open the door, I'm gonna break it down"), she does and he, along with us, get a full view of her battered and bruised face. Cut to Decker playing golf and Marcott coming after him right there on the greens. Decker runs away but Marcott soon catches up to him and gives him the same aggressive beating that he gave Marcott's wife. The very next scene has the Marcotts in a car, hubby at the wheel, driving away from Vegas and he making it fulsomely clear that from now on their lives are going to be very different ("I'm gonna find myself a job where I don't have to play the clown. And you're gonna be my wife").             We continue. We next see our young lady at a laundromat, washing clothes and unmistakably bored peeless. In an attempt to enliven things, she spreads laundry detergent upon the floor and does an impromptu dance for the others doing their laundry. Following is a scene where Christine's old buddies, The Ice Pack, sneak up on her and following that are scenes wherein she had the same blast with them as before. It all bleeds into her growing disenchantment with her life with Marcott and it culminates in her flat-out confronting him (Christine, standing defiantly over him as he's sitting in a chair: "You don't really like my friends [The Ice Pack], do you?" Marcott: "Look, Chris, are you trying to start a fight?" Christine, still defiantly: "Yeah, maybe I am. Anything to liven things up around here"). Yet Christine comes to shake off her antagonism toward her husband and open herself to him ("I thought if I loved you, everything would be all right"). Things, however, go badly when Marcott, in the midst of shooting hoops on outdoor basketball grounds, is fatally gunned down, no doubt by a fellow specifically hired by Decker. This of course devastates Christine, who deals with her mega-anguish by, during the ride back from the funeral, ordering the driver to stop and pick up these two hippie types whom she sees standing around ("I don't give a damn what you think! Pick them up or I'm gonna jump out!"). We proceed to see Christine pouring her heart out to her homosexual pal ("The worst part is, I can't even grieve for Tommy...If only I knew [my crying] was for Tommy and not for me") and said buddy coming clean regarding whether or not she'll get justice concerning Marcott's murder ("I don't think [the authorities are] even gonna touch Rosie Decker"). Having experienced the real deal in the aforementioned way, Christine returns to Vegas and her former employer, who offers her financial assistance--which she adamantly refuses ("Wait, let me get my tin cup"). Her ex-boss then suggests that she go back to hometown and try for "civilian" work--a suggestion she also rejects ("And be a secretary for $300.00 a week?...I don't want my life to be a cliche"). It's here where her former boss-man throws down the gauntlet: "You're not that talented. You got a pretty face and a nice body...You're an average girl. Why are you knocking yourself out [to Be Somebody]?" Our heroine's response cuts right to the heart of the matter: "Why not?"             Going forth: Christine next hooks up with one Richard Sherman (Joseph Cotten), a highly rich older man who gives her a fur coat. Christine, naturally overjoyed at receiving such a present, hugs Sherman--which brings forth a lighthearted admonishment from him ("Christine, you'll break something!...There are certain rules you must follow when you're dating an older man"). Christine, for her part, solemnly assures him that he really and truly is The One ("I think what I've always wanted was a mature man, someone with whom I can have a real relationship"). Yet we next see the utter insincerity of her words, as we see her making out bare-ass-naked in the shower with Jay (Christopher Stone), a singer with The Ice Pack, who's also jaybird-naked. Christine, along with the rest of us, get the inside skinny on Jay's doings since Christine last saw him ("I didn't leave [The Ice Pack]. They fired me") and she gives him, and us picturegoers, the inside skinny about her actual needs ("I need someone. I'm lonely, Jay. I want to be in love"). Next: Christine is back with Sherman, who warmly extols her ("I'm not going to bore you with the old story of my wife not understanding me...You saved the day"). Afterward we see Chris back with Jay, who angrily lights into her ("Do you love me, Christine, or do you just think you do?...[W]hy don't you try the only thing you were ever any good at--balling?"). Jay winds up leaving Christine a "Dear John" note, and Christine, having reached the end of her rope emotionally/psychologically, gets this pilot to sky-write "Fuck it." (This being 1969, we natch don't see the full statement) As Christine is being taken in by the cops, she's asked how old she is. She replies rather listlessly: "22," which says volumes about all she's been through and the emotional/psychological toll it's all taken on her.             There's The Grasshopper, a skillfully-made cautionary tale about what happens to those who don't take care while pursuing their dreams. Ramon Bieri wholly chills the blood as Christine's eventual assaulter. The men in her life--Brown, Cotten, Monica, Stone--are all virile and appealing, each in their own ways, to make you see why Christine stayed with them as long as she did. The then-red-hot writing team of Garry Marshall and Jerry Belson (also Grasshopper's producers) come up with many engaging characters and many heart-tugging romantic entanglements. And as director, Jerry Paris--who would work with Garry in the future, helming many a Happy Days episode--deftly pushes the proceedings along, never, ever allowing even an iota of schmaltz or grandstanding to show. And one of the picture's key numbers, "Used To Be," is sung with impressive feeling by the intensely-beloved Carol Burnett sidekick Vicki Lawrence.               And at last finally there's Jacqueline Bisset. She is, quite simply, radiant. With her stylish beauty, her beauty-queen charm, and her lightning-rod energy, she absolutely walks off with the picture. Her smooth good looks and her volcanic sexiness positively dominate every scene she's in, easily heralding her breakthrough performance in her signature theatrical film The Deep (Fess up: Is there any one of us men who, when we look back on said picture, does not mightily drool at the memory of the opening when, while underwater, Bisset exposed her oh-so-succulent breasts?). Indeed, it's Bisset's Grasshopper portrayal that brings out this unarguable fact: Motion pictures were the most effective as a visual medium, when they entirely eschewed aesthetic considerations and presented luscious, well-bodied players who enchanted us with their vitality and their charm. It was the 1950s cinematic sexpot Ava Gardner who, in her classic personal/professional memoir, freely acknowledged, concerning her heyday: "I wasn't an actress--none of us kids at Metro [-Goldwyn-Mayer] were. We were just good to look at." In point of fact--and Bisset in Grasshopper abundantly proved this--pictures were at their best when they sidestepped artistic aspirations and simply gave us performers who "were...good to look at." (Television is, in the main, fantastically moronic. But the redemptive factor regarding it is that it's a visual medium. There's none of this crap about the director or about how some star "fell in love with the script." All that's necessary is to put Pamela Anderson or Carmen Electra or whoever on camera showing skin--or to put Kerry Washington on camera, period--and the battle is won)                     It was the fiercely-esteemed big-screen director Bruce Beresford who, in a forward to a compilation of picture reviews by a then-well-known critic, asserted: "I know it's not politically correct to say it...but...watching beautiful girls can do a lot to relieve tedium." It is "watching" Jacqueline Bisset, the "beautiful girl" of The Grasshopper, that "does a lot" to keep said picture from becoming "tedious." And how glad we are to have that specific "relief."