#actor!reader

at twenty-two years old, your name carried the kind of weight most actors spent decades chasing.

not because you were loud or chased headlines, but because every role you touched became unforgettable. you were the actress critics called “emotionally dangerous” because people never watched your dramas casually, they felt them. deeply and pathetically at that. the kind of performances that left people staring at ceilings at 3 a.m. wondering why fictional heartbreak suddenly felt personal.

your rise happened obscenely fast.

at seventeen, you played the younger version of the female lead in a historical drama and completely overshadowed actresses twice your age with barely fifteen minutes of screentime. one crying scene alone went viral across korean platforms overnight, and directors began requesting you specifically after that.

at nineteen, you starred in your first lead role in the netflix drama ‘winter static’, a romance about two strangers communicating through old cassette tapes left inside a train station locker.

the drama exploded internationally, and tiktok edits of your scenes reached millions overnight. people quoted your monologues religiously, which was kind of stupid for you since they were just words stuck in your brain at this point.

your face appeared on billboards from seoul to tokyo to paris.

then came ‘velvet hour’ and ‘salt to the sea’, then the thriller ‘silhouette hearts’ that earned you your first baeksang arts award for best actress at the age of twenty-one. youngest actress in the category to win in over a decade.

after that, everything changed.

luxury brands fought over you. you became the global ambassador for miu miu and later the face of dior beauty in asia. campaign photos of you covered entire department stores. airport pictures became articles within minutes. fashiom editors loved your “old cinema” aura, soft eyes, elegant posture, expressions that looked heartbreakingly human even in still photographs.

and despite your fame, people adored you for smaller reasons too, your quirks became internet lore at some point. you were kind of awkward with the camera but in an endearing way, you didn’t know how to behave at award shows and came across as a socially akward person.

it wa also maybe the way you always carried disposable cameras instead of using your phone, and how you wrote handwritten letters to the staff after filming ended. how you fell asleep absolutely anywhere, chairs, makeup rooms, car rides shorter than ten minutes. fans also noticed you had a tendency to mirror people unconsciously. if someone leaned closer while talking, you did too. if someone laughed quietly, your voice softened automatically. interviewers said conversations with you felt strangely intimate because you listened with your entire attention and never felt unapproachable. there were compilation videos online titled:

“y/n being accidentally affectionate for 8 minutes straight.”

your management hated those videos. but the internet ate them up.

you also had one particular reputation in the entertainment industry: mv queen.

not because you appeared in many or anything, because every mv you touched became viral.

at eighteen, you starred in txt’s emotionally devastating “ghosting” inspired visual film project, playing a girl remembered through fragments an old footage. the chemistry between you and the members had fans posting edits of tiny interactions for months.

a year later, enhypen chose you for a vampire-themed comeback trailer where you portrayed a girl that anchored them to the mortal world. your final scene, holding member jake’s inanimate body in the sea, became one of the most replayed teaser moments of the year. you had a gift for making music videos feel cinematic instead of performative.

you understood silence, micro expressions, longing.

which was exactly why the cortis creative team wanted you.

specifically you.

mainly because of you name and the reputation you carried but also because “blue lips” wasn’t supposed to feel like a regular idol music video. it was supposed to feel like a lost teenager being put in an adult world after spending years as a trainee, caught on camera.

and your role inside it was very important. you would play the embodiment of what martin talked about in the song. the metaphor of swimming in a pool for a long period of time, referring probably to his trainee days.

you weren’t a girlfriend, not a muse either, something slightly in between.

the director had apparently rejected over thirty actresses before seeing one clip of you from ‘velvet hour’. a scene where your character silently cried while pretending to smile during dinner.

that was it.

the director reportedly paused the screen and said: “that’s her.”

⋆˙⟡. ⋆˙⟡

so two weeks later, you found yourself seated inside a glass walled meeting room at the company building of one of the biggest rising fifth-generation groups in korea.

rain tapped softly against the windows outside while managers discussed paperwork around you, the conference table covered in contracts, visual references, concept photos drowned in blue tones.

You sat calmly in an oversized cream sweater, lazily spinning an expensive fountain pen between your fingers while your manager reviewed the conditions carefully.

“the filming schedule overlaps slightly with the milan campaign,” your manager noted, he was an overly serious guy with coffee problems.

one of cortis’ executives nodded immediately. “we’re prepared to accommodate her availability entirely.”

another added quickly: “the director is willing to reorganize scenes around her schedule if necessary.”

you tried not to smile, because it always felt surreal when entire productions adjusted themselves around you now. like you were more essential than you imagined.

at twenty-two, that level of influence still startled you sometimes. things came easy for you but that came with a price to pay.

the creative director slid a storyboard toward you, inside were rough sketches of scenes:

a flooded apartment, blue lipstick stains on skin, hands trembling beneath neon lights, a drowning scene, but everything weirdly coincided with the whole cortis aesthetic.

you skimmed through quietly. “it’s emotionally heavy,” you murmured.

“that’s why we wanted you,” the director admitted honestly.

he looked almost nervous speaking to you. you’d noticed that recently. older directors tended to treat you less like a rookie actress and more like someone they genuinely wanted approval from.

“the members were personally involved in choosing the female lead,” another staff member added.

“oh?” you glanced up with mild curiosity.

the director smiled faintly. “there was unanimous agreement.”

you tilted your head slightly. “that’s flattering.”

your manager laughed softly. “you say that like it isn’t obvious.”

you ignored him, not in a rude way but just because sometimes he made you look like a stuck up celebrity without meaning to.

the meeting continued for another hour, image rights, overseas distribution, teaser appearances, confidentiality agreements.

standard things. pleasantries if you will.

but eventually the conversation shifted toward the actual emotional dynamic of the music video.

the director leaned forward slightly, a head full of ideas, “the role requires natural chemistry with the members,” he explained. “especially james.”

your eyes flickered briefly toward the storyboard page featuring him.

you had had time to check who all the members were beforehand, not because you didn’t know them but because you simply never had a free moment to really give it a try.

cortis were monsters internationally right now, but james stood out even among them to you, he was extremely unfiltered, goofy even, alternating between insane visuals and unhinged moments. you heard he also had a reputation for being painfully outgoing offstage.

you had watched interviews while preparing for the meeting, he always spoke out and gave his opinion, always made funny faces and enjoyed things way too much.

the director continued speaking. “the emotional core of the mv revolves around your connection with him specifically, it’ll be grief and pain.”

your manager nodded. “understood.”

then the director smiled suddenly like he just remembered something,

“the members actually wanted to meet her personally tonight if she’s comfortable.”

you blinked. “tonight?”

“there’s a team dinner.”

your manager looked at you questioningly. you considered it for a moment before shrugging lightly.

“sure, i can make that work.”

⋆˙⟡. ⋆˙⟡

and that was how, three hours later, you ended up entering a private hot pot restaurant room alongside two managers while five of the most talked-about idols in korea immediately stood up to greet you.

the room smelled warmly of broth and spice and low golden lighting reflected against polished wooden walls while steam curled softly from the simmering pots placed at the center of the table, the restaurant itself was cozy, sat tucked away in a quieter street of Seoul, the kind of place celebrities favored because paparazzi rarely bothered searching for it.

your manager walked slightly ahead of you as an employee guided both of you toward the reserved room.

“you’ve worked too much this week,” your manager muttered quietly while checking his phone. “try to eat properly tonight.”

“i always eat properly.”

“you had strawberries and iced coffee for dinner yesterday.”

“oh yeah… forgot about that.”

he sighed deeply. “one day I’m going to retire because of you.”

you smiled innocently just as the sliding wooden door opened.

inside, the members of cortis stood almost immediately. they bowed politely, intimidated not so much, but just cordial and respectful.

“thank you for coming,” one of the managers said warmly.

“thank you for inviting me,” you replied.

you greeted the members one by one.

martin was immediately charismatic, respectful but outwardly comfortable as if he treated this more like a job interview or a way to get more experience.

keonho shook your hand while joking that the pressure surrounding this music video already felt “oscar-level.”, he seemed the most introverted, nervous almost.

juhoon greeted you politely before admitting his sister would probably disown him if he didn’t get a selfie with you eventually, he seemed chill and easy to be around.

seonghyeon seemed calm and observant, speaking gently, a little nervous but growing confidence over the course of dinner.

and then there was james.

quiet.

polite.

a little reserved.

not at all what you’d expected, you were almost waiting to see him unhinged as he was on cortis’ reels, joking around, but he was way calmer, after all it wasn’t unknown that idol put on a bit of a show on-camera when asked.

he bowed respectfully, offering a soft greeting before pulling your chair out slightly without making a big deal out of it.

the dinner started slowly, mostly conversations between management teams about, and promotional timing. they talked about their new album, about how ‘blue lips’ would be totally different from other mvs and much more vulnerable.

this felt entirely different from your usual work settings, even though you weren’t immensely older than them, it still felt like grabbing lunch with high school friends, in a good way. you liked people who joked easily.

when it came to talking about the music video, you asked questions about the symbolism behind the flooded apartment set.

martin became overly passionate explaining how one choreography sequence represented emotional dependency.

he scratched the back of his neck with a small laugh at some point.

“it’s kinda embarrassing when people explain it seriously.”

“you wrote it,” juhoon replied. “you explain it.”

martin groaned dramatically while everyone else laughed softly.

the director slid one of the concept pages toward you. unlike the earlier boards filled with blue neon lights and cinematic references, this one was simpler.

a swimming pool with dark water and rippled reflections.

a figure submerged too long beneath the surface.

you looked up curiously.

martin rested his elbows against the table before speaking quieter this time.

“the song’s about being a trainee.”

you recalled seeing somwhere that he had spent 6 years as a trainee.

“i trained for years before debut,” he continued. “and eventually it starts feeling like you’re swimming without knowing where the edge of the pool is anymore. or at least that’s how i’d like to put it you know?”

“you’re exhausted all the time,” he continued with a small shrug. “but everybody around you is exhausted too, so you convince yourself it’s normal.”

your eyes drifted back toward the image of the water. cold enough to turn lips blue.

“the pool represents training?” you asked softly.

martin nodded. “the longer you stay in cold water, the harder it becomes to feel anything properly. but you still stay inside because leaving feels worse.”

for a moment, nobody joked, certainly not you, you hadn’t experience being a trainee, but you connected easily with words and experiences, so much that his words resonated with you in a silly way, really. You didn’t usually expect tha level of emotional intelligence coming from a person around your age.

then seonghyeon spoke gently.

“the song isn’t really about giving up though.”

martin nodded again.

“yeah.” his expression softened slightly.

“it’s more like… asking the people beside you if they’ll keep swimming too.”

that sentence stayed with you.

maybe because you understood it immediately.

not as an idol or anything. but as someone who entered the entertainment industry young enough to mistake exhaustion for ambition.

“that’s why the music video can’t feel overly glamorous,” the director explained carefully. “we want emotional intimacy more than perfection.”

suddenly all the visual references clicked together inside your head.

“you know what’s ironic?” martin said suddenly, picking his chopsticks back up. “the company hated the original demo.”

everyone burst out laughing.

“no seriously,” keonho added. “they said it was too depressing.”

the mood lightened again after that, but the conversation stayed centered around the song’s meaning now.

the members began sharing small pieces of their trainee experiences naturally.

long practice nights and monthly evaluations, the weird emotional numbness that came from repeating the same routines endlessly.

at one point, seonghyeon admitted quietly:

“you stop noticing how tired you are after a while.”

your expression softened instinctively. that sentence felt familiar too.

actors weren’t trained the same way idols were, but exhaustion translated across industries frighteningly well, especially when being underage in such a cruel industry.

“you just adapt to it,” you agreed.

several eyes turned toward you.

you laughed faintly. “filming is similar sometimes.”

“how long was your longest shoot?” keonho asked.

“twenty-one hours.”

the members stared at you in horror.

“damn that’s illegal.”

“it probably was.” you shrugged like it was no bigdeal

“what drama was that?”

“salt to the sea.”

martin physically pointed accusingly. “that drama emotionally destroyed my mother.”

“i’m getting blamed for a lot tonight… i mean not that i don’t usually get accused of sending people into meltdowns…” you cringed.

“you should. that shit was brutal.”

the table laughed again.

but then James spoke quietly from beside seonghyeon.

“i watched the behind-the-scenes documentary for that.”

your gaze flickered toward him.

he continued calmly, almost thoughtful.

“you kept filming even after collapsing during the staircase scene.”

you blinked once in surprise, very few people remembered that, probably you and your manager… that was about it.

the documentary itself had only shown brief footage before the production team cut the cameras.

your manager immediately sighed beside you.

“she scared everyone that day.”

“i was fine.”

“you passed out, y/n.”

“temporarily. see i came back.”

martin looked genuinely alarmed now. “why do actors live like nineteenth-century poets?”

“occupational hazards i guesss”

james smiled faintly into his drink at that.

“he watched all your dramas actually, big fan,” juhoon added helpfully, almost matter of factly.

keonho leaned dramatically across the table, chopsticks projecting sauce across the surface.

“he also defended your ending in velvet hour for two hours. which is weird since you killed someone and all.”

“because people misunderstood the symbolism—” james started.

“he took notes...”

you let out a soft laughter before even thinking. real laughter, the kind that makes your shoulders shake slightly.

at some point the staff began discussing practical filming concerns.

rain machines, and underwater camera rigs. cold temperature precautions and all the other overly serious things.

your manager immediately interrupted:

“she’s sensitive to cold filming environments.”

you groaned softly. “ah you say that like i’m an elderly victorian child.”

“you get sick every winter.”

“that’s just my immune system, i should be okay.”

the members laughed, then unexpectedly, james spoke up quietly toward the production staff.

“the water temperature should stay monitored anyway. hypothermia risks increase during long shoots.”

you glanced toward him. you didn’t take him as a serious and practical person at all before this.

the production manager nodded quickly. “of course.”

martin talked constantly, sometimes started rapping parts of his sentences like it was normal,

keonho teased everyone equally, even you, he was still 17 and had the energy of a high schooler. it felt refreshing to hang out with people around your age rather than 40 year olds.

juhoon had dangerously quick humor, pretty nonchalant guy overall, with a resting model face that made it hard to take him seriously.

and james… james observed today, he smiled from time to time but he put his bubbly personality aside for the night.

that was the first thing you noticed. he was not himself, or maybe he was just like that all the time and you were biased by youtube videos.

at one point you mentioned casually: “i haven’t slept properly in weeks because of filming, it’s been tough.”

twenty minutes later, without saying anything, james quietly slid the least caffeinated drink on the table toward you instead of soju after noticing what others were pouring.

cute, you thought.

⋆˙⟡. ⋆˙⟡

the first day of filming began at 4:12 a.m.

you knew because you checked the time through half-open eyes while your alarm aggressively blared in your ears.

‘your driver is downstairs.’ your manager texted.

a muffled groan escaped you from beneath layers of blankets. you dragged yourself out of bed dramatically, hair messy, oversized sleep shirt hanging off one shoulder while your cat blinked judgmentally from the corner of the room.

early filming days always felt surreal, no matter how famous you became and no matter how many awards sat in your apartment collecting dust.

at four in the morning, every actor looked equally miserable.

your routine before shoots had become almost ritualistic over the years.

warm water first, never coffee immediately, your body reacted badly on an empty stomach.

skincare while still half-asleep.

voice warmups your acting coach forced into your life at nineteen.

then wardrobe references, probably the most annoying part.

your stylist had already sent final fitting photos the night before, so you scrolled through them while eating strawberries over the kitchen counter.

the styling for “blue lips” was intentionally understated compared to your previous projects. you usually ended up in chanel and dior but this time around it was way simpler. you liked that.

soft fabrics and muted colors, smudged makeup and natural hair.

nothing glamorous.

your manager arrived while you were still trying to force yourself awake properly.

“you slept three hours.” he checked the sleep schedule you had hung on the fridge.

“had to rehearse my lines for ‘if wishes could kill’”

another drama you were shooting.

he handed you iced coffee anyway, because despite his complaints, he enabled you constantly. he had worked with multiple celebrities but you were by far the most humble and hardworking one.

the drive toward the filming location stayed quiet.

seoul still looked asleep beneath pale blue dawn light while your phone buzzed endlessly with schedule notifications.

over the past few weeks, your life had become filled almost entirely with “blue lips.”

creative meetings, camera tests, wardrobe fittings, chemistry readings, storyboard revisions.

you’d met with the cinematographer twice alone just to discuss facial framing during emotional close-up shots.

rhe director was obsessive in the best possible way.

every visual detail mattered.

you also had several rehearsals with the members before filming officially began, not full acting rehearsals, but movement coordination, emotional pacing discussions, and camera positioning workshops.

those meetings unexpectedly became some of your favorite parts of preparation.

the members were involved in everything, fun to be around, and easygoing.

the filming location for day one was an abandoned motel complex outside seoul, transformed entirely by the production team overnight.

the moment your van pulled into the parking area, you could already see massive lighting rigs glowing through the early morning fog. staff members rushed everywhere carrying cables, garment bags, equipment cases.

the assistant director greeted you immediately.

“good morning y/n!”

“good morning,” you answered with a sleepy smile.

“you’re our first cast member here.”

“that’s concerning.”

he laughed. “the members finished rehearsal extra late last night, so they’re probably on their way.”

the makeup trailer smelled faintly like hairspray and coffee when you climbed inside, and for the next hour, your face slowly transformed into the exhausted melancholy the character required.

light concealer, smudged eyeliner, pale lips and a subtle shadows beneath your eyes.

the stylist adjusted your navy dress while reviewing continuity photos carefully.

“you look too healthy,” she complained.

“thank you?”

“no, for the scene.” she laughed.

she proceeded to make you look emotionally devastated again, because apparently it was a thing.

by the time you stepped back outside, the set had fully awakened, and unfortunately for your nervous system, so had cortis.

“you survived,” martin announced dramatically the moment he spotted you.

“barely.”

“you look sad already,” keonho noted approvingly.

“the makeup team worked very hard for this depression.”

juhoon immediately pointed toward your sweater, the oversized one you had put over the dress for temperature purposes. “damn youre even dressed like a cortis member now.”

you laughed softly while greeting everyone properly. the atmosphere felt noticeably easier compared to the dinner weeks ago.

familiar now, not totally strangers anymore.

even the staff interactions had relaxed over time.

then you spotted james standing near the monitor screens speaking quietly with the cinematographer.

black hoodie and messy dark hair, sleepy eyes.

he looked up when you approached.

“morning,” he greeted quietly.

“you look awake.”

a small laugh escaped him. “got some redbull, want one?”

“im good thanks, they make my heart go crazy.”

“…fair point.”

the first scene filmed that day took place inside one of the motel rooms.

the set design was extremely cortis-coded, sand in lieu of the floor, and dozens of misplaced items such as buoys and rubber ducks. dim blue lighting flooded cracked walls while rain projections moved softly across thin curtains. old cassette tapes littered the floor beside overflowing ashtrays and unfinished cups of coffee.

the room looked like something out of an abstract painting,

you sat cross-legged on the motel bed while martin paced near the window during his verse,

your role wasn’t to comfort him directly but rather just to exist beside him.

the director explained carefully before filming:

“you represent the reason he keeps enduring everything. not because you save him, but because loneliness feels lighter beside you.”

martin nodded thoughtfully, he hadn’t wanted to make this into a romantic music video but here you didn’t portray a lover but rather an emotion?

you understood immediately.

“action.” the room fell silent.

music echoed softly through hidden speakers while martin moved through the scene naturally, frustration building beneath restrained expressions. he was truly at ease with the cameras, the level of empathy needed to be an actor was really highlighted, so much so that you already begun imagining different career paths for him.

you watched him from the bed quietly, not smiling just observing while the camera cut through the room. the windows were open letting the curtains flow around martin’s figure.

the director loved it instantly.

“perfect,” he muttered behind the monitors. “don’t overact. keep it restrained.”

the next several hours blurred together in typical filming chaos. different angles, different lighting setups, endless camera adjustments.

one sequence involved all the members sitting together inside the motel’s dim laundromat at while water overflowed from broken machines slowly across the floor. another one showed you walking through narrow motel hallways illuminated entirely by flickering vending machine lights while james followed several steps behind, never quite reaching you.

the symbolism stayed subtle but emotionally heavy, it was truly nice seeing how invested they were in the artistic process.

at one point during setup delays, juhoon challenged everyone to balance grapes on their noses, it seemed like a common occurrence really, like it happened everyday.

seonghyeon succeeded immediately somehow.

martin cheated shamelessly, and you nearly choked when keonho dropped his directly into hot coffee.

meanwhile james sat across from you quietly watching them fool around.

“i really thought you’d be crazier,” you told him.

“i’m just too tired for that, i feel like u go through a threshold when you turn 20 and then you don’t have energy anymore,” he answered.

“hah, skill issues”

james smiled, his teeth peeking out as he wrapped his fluffy blanket around his shoulders.

the first real scene between you and him happened around noon. the setup was intimate visually but emotionally restrained.

a narrow hallway and a green screen for special effects purposes, you’d heard they wanted to add some kind of animal, again very cortis-coded.

your character sat against the wall while james stood nearby after an implied argument no audience would fully see.

no dialogue, just acted out emotional aftermath.

the director approached both of you before filming.

“don’t play romance,” he smiled “i know you’re used to it for the dramas etc and you’re obviously amazing at it, but right now it’s more….” he instructed carefully. “… familiarity.”

you nodded. and james beside you nodded too.

“action.”

the silence between you inside the scene felt strangely real almost immediately.

you stood while james leaned against the opposite wall, enunciating his verse while looking at you.

then slowly, without speaking, he slid a cup of vending machine coffee across the floor toward you.

that was it.

that was the scene.

the director looked content watching playback.

“…yeah,” he murmured softly. “that’s the feeling.”

⋆˙⟡. ⋆˙⟡

by lunchtime, everyone looked genuinely exhausted already.

the production team moved outside near equipment trucks while staff distributed boxed meals and drinks. without cameras rolling constantly, the atmosphere shifted completely.

less professional.

you ended up seated in a circle of foldable camping chairs beside the members near the edge of the parking lot. large plaid blankets covered everyone because the wind had turned freezing unexpectedly.

martin looked half-dead beneath his blanket cocoon.

“i can’t feel my fingers anymore.”

“that’s because you keep standing in the rain you dick face,” seonghyeon replied calmly.

“the pics go hard though,”

“you’re gonna get hypothermia, that’s gonna hit harder.” a staff member said while walking past with cardboard boxes.

seonghyeon pointed at him like saying ‘see?’

you sat between juhoon and james while balancing hot soup carefully in your hands. for the first time all day, there were no managers nearby. no stylists fixing clothes, and no directors discussing angles.

just all of you resting together.

the conversation drifted naturally between random topics.

favorite dramas, terrible trainee dorm stories, foods everyone missed while dieting.

keonho confessed he once cried over fried chicken during debut preparations.

“that’s deeply moving,” you told him, ironically.

“it was a spiritual experience, shoulda been there.”

juhoon pointed at james suddenly like a kid remembering something, “he once got emotional over taiwanese food.”

james looked confused immediately,

“that happened once and stop oversharing dude.”

“three times.” juhoon raised a finger matter-of-factly.

you smiled quietly into your drink.

the members clearly adored embarrassing each other.

eventually martin stretched dramatically in his chair.

bside you, james sat slightly hunched in his chair scrolling through his phone silently, dark hair messy from filming. the sunlight caught faintly against the silver rings on his fingers.

and unfortunately for him, martin suddenly looked down at his screen with the exact expression of someone about to ruin another person’s life for entertainment.

“oh my god.”

james immediately narrowed his eyes.

Keonho physically turned away coughing dramatically into his fist.

“you know what’s weird?”

“what?” you asked.

“i feel like we haven’t addressed the rhino in the room.”

“elephant dude…” juhoon corrected.

“no this one’s way bigger and has big ahh horns and shit.”

you sat back, digging into your lunch, as everyone shot him a confused look.

“go straight to the point.”

“bro james, show y/n your saved folder on tiktok.”

james didn’t even look up from his phone when he said it, but the immediate redness creeping across his ears betrayed him instantly. he dropped his phone backwards on his lap.

“dawg shutup.” he gave you an awkward smile, “don’t mind him.”

“what’s in the folder ?” you asked, chewing on your food like you really had no clue wtf they were talking about.

“fangirling material” keonho coughed, looking around like ‘who said dat’.

“yeah my dude right here has thousands of edits of you saved.” martin chuckled, pushing his sunglasses on his nose like they would hide his amusement.

“why you out him like that?” you smiled, glancing at james.

the latter had one of his eyebrows raised, frozen and staring straight ahead.

“it’s nothing weird or creepy, he just always talks about how you’re the best actress korea has ever known.” seonghyeon comes to the rescue.

“well that’s sweet, can i see?” you turn directly to james now, trying to get him to look up at you.

the entire circle exploded immediately.

“OH MAH GOD.”

“BROTHER STAND UP.”

james looked ready to walk directly into traffic.

“it’s literally nothing,” he muttered.

“oh its absolutely somthing,” juhoon corrected.

you laughed quietly while trying to catch james’ gaze again.

“now i’m curious.”

for a second, he just stared at you, trying to determine whether you were joking maybe. but your expression stayed open and amused rather than mocking.

eventually he sighed softly through his nose.

“you guys are evil.”

martin looked proud. “look who decided to man up.”

james unlocked his phone slowly, still visibly embarrassed, before turning the screen slightly toward you.

and immediately your eyes widened. “dang.”

not because it was creepy or anything, it was just… extensive, there was a lot, you could probably scroll down a few times and still not come to the end of it.

edits from your dramas, interview clips, award show moments, cinematic compilations with dramatic music. one fan edit from winter static with over four million likes. you stared at the screen in disbelief while james, him, visibly contemplated death beside you.

“wait,” you laughed softly, “this edit has better color grading than my actual drama.”

james rubbed tiredly at his forehead.

“i told you it wasn’t weird.” martin mouthed.

“it’s adorable,” keonho corrected immediately. “he’s like a little fan boy.”

“it’s cinema appreciation,” martin added dramatically.

you kept scrolling slowly through the folder, some videos were emotional scene compilations while others focused on your interviews or behind-the-scenes moments.

then you paused at one specific edit. it was from salt to the sea. a scene where your character silently broke down at a bus stop in the rain while pretending to smile.

you remembered filming that scene vividly, it had taken hours because emotions were raw and because portraying mental decay and insanity was harsh on you.

“you saved this one?” you asked softly.

james nodded once. “it’s my favorite scene.”

something in his voice changed slightly when he said it. you’d knew then that this wasn’t a stupid crush or anything like that, it was just someone truly appreciating someone’s art.

you looked at him curiously. “why?”

for a moment, he seemed surprised by the question itself but then he answered honestly.

“because it didn’t feel acted.”

the others had quieted now too, because james rarely spoke this openly. he kept his eyes on the phone screen instead of directly on you.

“a lot of emotional scenes feel polished i think,” he continued carefully. “but that one just felt… human. and you transmit emotions in a way ive never seen before.”

your chest tightened unexpectedly, actors spent years hoping audiences would notice performances beyond aesthetics, not beauty or popularity, and in that moment you felt seen.

and somehow james articulated exactly what you’d wanted people to get from that scene years ago. you smiled softly without realizing it.

“thank you.” he finally looked up then.

and the expression on his face almost made your stomach flip unexpectedly, because he looked relieved, like he’d worried you might misunderstand him completely.

martin abruptly pointed between both of you.

“see this is why they have chemistry.”

“i been saying.” keonho added.

“oh my god,” james groaned, rolling his eyes.

“you literally analyze her scenes like a film professor,” juhoon added. “no really y/n we have to put up with his shit all the time.”

“meanwhile I just cry and move on,” keonho admitted.

“that’s cause you lack emotional depth,” martin informed him.

“you cried during toy story 3 my dude, fuck you mean emotional depth.”

“that movie is devastating.”

you laughed again, warmth settling naturally into your chest now. and honestly? there was something strangely touching about discovering that james admired your work so genuinely before ever meeting you. not in the shallow celebrity-crush way people often assumed.

he paid attention, and it explained a lot actually. from the thoughtful comments during rehearsals to the way he approached scenes carefully.

entually you handed his phone back gently.

“well,” you announced lightly, “i’m honored to apparently live inside your tiktok algorithm.”

james looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole, but beneath the embarrassment, there was the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth now too.

thankfully martin immediately ruined the moment.

“wow,” he sighed dramatically. “cinema soulmates.”

⋆˙⟡. ⋆˙⟡

the second half of filming resumed around three in the afternoon. and somehow became even more chaotic. the official tiktok team arrived, which instantly destroyed any remaining dignity on set.

“oh no,” you muttered the moment you saw phones appearing.

“oh yes,” juhoon corrected.

you really weren’t into the whole tiktok filming thing, you’d given it a try but you looked akward more than anything.

thas how between filming emotional scenes, the members suddenly transformed into content demons. incorporating dance challenges to ‘blue lips’ choreographies that mind you, didn’t have anything to do with the vibes.

at one pointartin forced everyone into a trending transition video while staff members tried not to laugh watching from behind cameras. your manager had said something about requiring a few content for social media.

“you have experience with idol tiktoks already,” keonho accused while reviewing footage.

the social media manager immediately brightened.

“can we film one with only james and y/n too?”

james looked genuinely alarmed.

“why me?”

“fans will love it.”

unfortunately he was right.

the video itself was simple, just a slow cinematic trend using audio from “blue lips.” the concept involved james walking past the camera before the transition revealed you standing in the same hallway afterward, doing a silly tiktok dance.

easy in theory. except james became awkward anytime the camera focused too directly on him outside official filming.

“you’re overthinking it,” you told him while the staff reset lighting.

“i know.”

“pretend it’s an actual scene.”

“that’s worse.”

you laughed softly. and weirdly enough, that finally relaxed him.

the final take turned out perfect. the social media staff looked thrilled immediately.

“oh this shit is DEFINITELY going viral.” martin smiled at the screen. “‘s like two fandoms crossing.”

james looked exhausted already. “you people terrify me.”

“you chose fame my guy” martin reminded him.

“i was young and vulnerable.”

the sun had already started setting by the time day one finally wrapped.

everyone looked tired, cold and emotionally drained, but satisfied.

as staff members slowly began dismantling equipment around the motel set, you stood near the monitors reviewing final shots with the director. and honestly? the footage looked beautiful. exactly what the song deserved.

⋆˙⟡. ⋆˙⟡

you said your goodbyes to the staff slowly before heading toward your van. as you climbed inside, your phone buzzed immediately.

lee minjae: u alive?

you snorted softly. you and minjae existed in that messy category of relationship nobody defined properly. friends sometimes, colleagues, occasional hookups other times. mostly convenience mixed with familiarity.

there had never really been emotions involved, which was probably why it worked.

he wasn’t deep, he was a stable constant, always there but not too much.

you: barely

minjae: come over after shoot?

you stared at the message for a second. normally maybe you would’ve considered it. a few hours together. satisfying sex, temporary distraction from exhausting schedules.

but tonight your entire body ached, and honestly?you just wanted silence.

you: too tired tonight sorry

three dots appeared immediately.

minjae: damn they got u working like a victorian child again

you smiled faintly.

you: exactly

by the time you arrived home, it was nearly midnight. your apartment felt blissfully quiet after the nonstop noise of filming equipment and staff chatter all day.

the first thing you did was shower. a long scrumptious hot shower. enough to thaw the cold still trapped inside your muscles from the rain scenes.

then came your actual night routine, an oversized hoodie, hair clipped loosely away from your face and your skincare lined neatly across the bathroom counter.

you moved through the routine automatically by now. cleanser, moisturizer, lip mask. finally you applied a cooling sheet face mask while walking barefoot into the kitchen for tea.

you were trying to be aesthetic but that failed instantly because the taste was awful. you hated tea. your apartment lights stayed dim while city noise hummed faintly outside enormous windows.

you should’ve slept immediately, but instead, you curled up on the couch with another script resting across your lap.

your next drama project. a psychological thriller filming later that year. something about wishes and an app. the character notes were covered in your messy handwriting already, underlined motivations, emotional beats, scene interpretations. you read through several pages while absentmindedly sipping tea, still half-lost in the atmosphere of “blue lips.”

then, annoyingly your thoughts drifted toward james again. specifically the way he observed scenes afterward instead of rushing away between takes. the way he listened carefully during emotional discussions.

the saved tiktok folder probably.

you smiled quietly to yourself before tossing the script aside.

“absolutely not,” you muttered aloud.

your brain needed sleep.

you eventually fell asleep sideways on the couch beneath a blanket, script pages still scattered nearby.

⋆˙⟡. ⋆˙⟡

the next morning arrived cruelly fast. your alarm went off at 4:30 a.m.

you genuinely considered quitting the entertainment industry for a corporate job. for three full seconds before dragging yourself awake. today was the swimming pool shoot.

which meant one thing: cold.

the production studio sat inside an enormous indoor filming complex on the outskirts of seoul. when your van pulled inside, you immediately spotted massive water tanks, underwater camera rigs, lighting cranes suspended from ceilings, and crew members in waterproof gear rushing around the space.

the swimming pool itself looked unreal, huge and deep blue. artificial fog drifting softly above the surface beneath enormous studio lights.

underwater speakers played instrumental versions of “blue lips,” the haunting melody echoing strangely through the massive room.

the atmosphere felt dreamlike already. you stepped toward makeup still half-awake while staring around the set.

“this is insane,” you murmured.

one of the stylists laughed. “wait until you’re underwater for four hours.”

“don’t say things like that.” you chuckled, mentally preparing for the cold.

the styling process took almost two hours, you had to have the perfect amount of color corrector to look a certain way under the blue lights, but the makeup itself focused heavily on softness.

wet skin and smudged lashes with the signature pale lips, like someone submerged too long.

then came wardrobe, the dress waiting for you hung beside the styling rack beneath protective plastic. it was white and long, thin enough to become almost translucent underwater.

beautiful in a ghost way,

“its gonna weigh like twenty pounds once soaked,” the stylist warned while helping adjust the fabric.

“great. good news” you chuckled with her, sipping on your iced coffee.

“you’ll look amazing suffering though.”

when you finally stepped onto set fully dressed, several crew members visibly paused for a second. the dress flowed around you softly beneath the blue studio lights, already giving you an almost ghostlike appearance against the dark water.

and unfortunately, you also immediately spotted james already inside the pool.

your breath caught slightly, without you wanting, he gave you a small smile and went back to focusing.

his dark hair was completely soaked, floating against his forehead while stylists adjusted the drenched white button-up clinging to his frame underwater.

the first underwater sequence involved you diving into the pool after spotting james floating motionless beneath the surface. the symbolism represented trying to save someone emotionally drowning alongside you, from you’d been told.

the stunt coordinator explained everything carefully beforehand,

“you dive here,” he instructed, pointing toward a marked edge of the pool. “swim toward james, grab his wrist first, then pull upward.”

you nodded while adjusting your breathing, underwater filming always exhausted actors faster than people realized because everything became heavier and slower, each movement required extra strength.

after a few minutes of touch ups and the crew getting ready, you heard the director behind you.

“ready?”

you inhaled deeply. “yep, we can go ahead, i’m ready.”

the music started playing and like a choreography, you looked at the pool, seeing him in the water, the camera angled towards you as you walked, then dove.

cold swallowed you instantly, the white dress blooming around your body beneath the water while muted instrumentals echoed through the pool speakers.

across from you, james floated eerily still beneath blue lighting, eyes closed and body suspended weightlessly. you swam toward him quickly, fingers catching around his wrist before trying to pull him upward.

but the soaked fabric tangled instantly around your legs.

you both resurfaced coughing.

“cut!” everyone burst into laughter immediately.

“the dress is trying to murder me, i’m sorry, could we get it shortened maybe?” you gasped.

james pushed wet hair back from his forehead, laughing quietly too.

take two went smoother.

this time you reached him properly underwater, grabbing his arm while his eyes slowly opened beneath the surface.

the moment felt strangely intimate underwater, just eye contact and drifting fabric surrounded by blue light. you understood in that moment how one could think actors fell in love on set. this is probably how those stories started.

you pulled him upward carefully while cameras followed beside you.

“cut— beautiful!” several staff members clapped softly.

the cinematographer looked thrilled reviewing the monitor playback.

“again,” the director called. “one more for safety.”

several more takes followed afterward, some focused entirely on your expression underwater and others captured james reaching toward you weakly beneath the surface before sinking again.

by the fourth take, both of you were visibly freezing. your teeth chattered violently between resets while staff wrapped heated robes around your shoulders immediately after each cut

james looked equally exhausted.

“you okay?” you asked quietly while makeup artists fixed wet hair from his face.

he nodded once. “you?”

“yeah i’m good, cold though.”

martin suggested later, a brilliant idea really, that you guys filmed a tiktok with the sound ‘swim’ by bts, which you agreed to unwillingly.

the next sequence paired you with juhoon underwater instead. the concept was more abstract emotionally.

no rescue, no struggle, just two people drifting around each other in slow movements beneath dark blue lighting while the instrumental played overhead.

the underwater choreographer demonstrated soft turning motions and hand placements before filming began.

and once submerged, everything became eerily beautiful. your dress floated weightlessly around you while juhoon reached toward your hand underwater, both of you spinning slowly beneath the lights like fading memories. hair drifting, and fabric swirling.

at one point the director asked both of you to simply float motionless beside one another underwater while staring upward toward the surface.

the result looked haunting on playback and by the time the morning shoot finally paused, your entire body felt frozen.

staff immediately wrapped a heated blanket around your shoulders while you sat shivering near portable heaters.

wet hair clung to your neck while makeup artists tried repairing smudged eyeliner.

and then,

“rough?”

you looked up.

james stood nearby still damp from filming, oversized gray hoodie thrown over soaked clothes. you smiled tiredly.

“i can’t feel my limbs anymore.”

“good sign.”

“for hypothermia maybe.”

he laughed quietly before sitting beside you on one of the equipment cases, he reached on the small table behind him and handed you a warm drink of something.

“there you go, so you don’t get hypothermia.”

you smiled some more, fingers wrapping against the hot cup to get warm. “thanks, i owe you one.”

for a moment neither of you spoke, the massive studio echoed softly around you, crew members moving lights, water rippling gently behind cameras, distant instrumentals still playing faintly underwater.

then James glanced toward the pool.

“the underwater shots looked insane.”

“you saw playback?”

he nodded. “the scene where you grabbed my arm looked…” he paused slightly, “pretty real.”

you looked at him curiously beneath the blanket wrapped around you.

“well you were very convincing as a drowning man.”

“years of experience.”

you laughed softly.

and weirdly enough, sitting there dripping wet beside him beneath freezing studio lights felt strangely peaceful.

eventually lunch break arrived annd somehow the atmosphere felt even friendlier today than yesterday. everyone sat together around folding tables in oversized hoodies and blankets while inhaling hot food like survival depended on it.

martin looked emotionally broken already.“underwater filming was invented by sadists dude, fuck my life.”

“you swallowed half the pool, i’m dead.” keonho reminded him, cracking up.

“and lemme tell you something, that water tasted expensive. i kid you not i bet they fill it with fiji water.”

at some point seonghyeon asked about your upcoming project and everyone listened genuinely while you explained the thriller script you’d been preparing for.

“it’s like a cursed app thingy, shamanism and stuff.”

“shit that’s so cool, i wish i was an actor.” juhoon looked down.

“bro wants to be everything. model, idol, police man, dude pick a fight.” keonho turned to him.

“no but lowkey, acting is so cool, sounds exhausting though.”

“she works too much,” james said suddenly like he’d been thinking about it.

you blinked. “so do you.”

“yeah,” he admitted quietly. “but still.”

by early afternoon, your filming schedule wrapped for the day while the members prepared for additional solo scenes that didn’t involve you.

you said goodbye gradually while staff removed underwater equipment behind everyone.

“survive your scenes,” you told them while gathering your bag.

“no promises,” martin sighed dramatically.

juhoon saluted weakly from beneath three blankets.

and james looked up from his chair near the monitors.

“get home safe,” he said softly.

you smiled automatically, you did a lot of that these days.

“you too.”

then you climbed back into your van still smelling faintly like chlorine and studio fog, completely exhausted while Seoul blurred softly outside the windows on the drive home.

⋆˙⟡. ⋆˙⟡

the studio doors slid shut behind your van and for about three full seconds, silence settled across the set.

then martin slowly turned toward james with the most insufferable grin imaginable.

“so.” he wiggled an eyebrow “how’s the crush going?”

james didn’t even look up from the towel draped over his head. “i’m going to drown you in that pool i swear to god.”

keonho gasped dramatically from nearby “you’re getting violent towards your homeboy, all this…. just for a woman. what happened to bros before hoes.”

“shut yo ass up keonho” james retorted.

“that sounded defensive,” juhoon pointed out immediately.

the members were still scattered around the massive pool set wrapped in blankets while staff members reset lighting for the next scenes. Wet clothes hung over equipment racks nearby, and the dress you had been wearing was there too.

james sat near one of the portable heaters trying to thaw himself back to life. unfortunately his members refused to let him exist peacefully.

martin dragged a chair directly beside him.

“no because lowkenuinely,” he continued, “you’re down catastrophic dude, talm about some artistic respect, man fuhhhh that”

james sighed deeply. “you guys say this every day.”

“because every day you prove us right,” seonghyeon replied calmly while sipping hot coffee.

james looked betrayed. “you too dude? no support whatsoever.”

“i support realism, fuck you mean.”

juhoon pointed dramatically across the empty set where you had been standing earlier beneath your heating blanket.

“bro looked at her like she personally invented cinema. she must be one of the lumiere brothers the way he bowed down to her.”

“ah shutup man, you don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

martin physically mimicked james’ expression from earlier, staring into the distance with exaggerated emo sadness.

“‘the underwater shots looked insane dude.’”

keonho clutched his chest dramatically. “the yearning…”

james shoved martin weakly with one hand.

“you’re all actually unbearable you bunch of virgins.”

“i might be a virgin looser,” martin replied smugly, “but i’m not incorrect.”

james groaned and leaned further back in his chair, towel still hanging over damp hair.

honestly? he knew they weren’t entirely wrong. that was the problem.

at first, before filming started, the crush had felt manageable, he just thought you happened to be the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, but overall just a celebrity crush. just someone he admired for their moving work. normal. but now?

after working a couple weeks with you in meetings, small artistic gatherings and whatnot, now that you sat beside him during breaks laughing quietly into your coffee. now he knew the exact expression you made before cameras rolled.

it was becoming a bad thing. what had started as a harmless crush, tripled in size by the hours. and apparently it was painfully obvious.

martin watched him silently for a second before speaking again, this time less teasing and more curious.

“you actually like her, huh?”

james stayed quiet, which unfortunately answered the question immediately.

keonho slowly sighed, “oh he’s cooked.”

“deeply cooked,” juhoon agreed.

james rubbed at his face tiredly. “i just think she’s…” he paused.

the members looked at him expectantly.

“really easy to be around. but i don’t thinks it’s a crush, it’s just admiration.”

that softened the teasing slightly, because they understood exactly what he meant cause you never acted superior despite your fame. never made filming awkward, never demanded attention. you listened carefully during conversations. thanked every staff member individually. stayed professional while still feeling warm somehow.

even martin had admitted privately that working with you felt comfortable.

still—

that didn’t justify why james felt this way,

martin leaned forward again. “she looks like she likes you too though.”

james immediately looked up. “… huh.”

“oh my god,” keonho groaned. “there he goes.”

“I’m serious,” martin insisted. “you think she smiles at all of us like that?”

“yes?” james replied cautiously.

the entire group stared at him. seonghyeon looked almost offended.

“she definitely doesn’t. she’s under that zhao yufine shit charm.”

juhoon nodded aggressively. “she laughs at your jokes specifically. That’s important.”

“that means nothing.”

“it means everything.” they continue feeding into his delusion.

james rolled his eyes but his ears had already started turning pink again. martin looked delighted noticing it.

“and the way she looked at you during lunch?”

“please stop talking.”

“nah cause see i’m analyzing.”

“nobody asked you to.”

martin ignored him completely.

“there’s tension.”

“there’s literally not.” james rolled his eyes.

“brother she asked to see your saved edits folder voluntarily.”

keonho pointed upward like that proved divine intervention existed. “that’s basically marriage.”

james nearly choked on his drink. “yall need serious help.”

juhoon shrugged. “we’re not the one staring at an actress like she’s gta 6 with a 50% discount.”

silence, then seonghyeon added calmly:

“don’t listen to him, that shot did look kinda insane though.”

unfortunately that was true. even the staff had noticed the chemistry during playback earlier.

martin suddenly leaned back in his chair dramatically.

“damn.”

“what now.”

“now that i think about it you’re living every man’s dream.”

james narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “what that mean?”

“you have a mutual slowburn with the nation’s most beautiful actress while filming a devastating music video. shit you might be blessed.”

“you need to touch grass.”

⋆˙⟡. ⋆˙⟡

the final day of filming arrived wrapped in rain.

real rain this time, not artificial studio water or carefully controlled downpours created by production crews. actual gray skies stretched over the city from early morning onward, leaving streets slick and reflective beneath traffic lights.

your manager glanced out the van window while driving toward set.

“kind of fitting. did you grab an umbrella?”

you hummed softly in response, half-awake beneath your hoodie. last night you’d slept a little late, crawling under work. you were also preparing to be the mc of a variety show in a few months, everything was kinda crazy.

the atmosphere already felt different before you even arrived, final filming days always carried a strange emotional weight to them, even though this one wasn’t a big one, it still felt too good to end. you’d truly loved the project and the aesthetics, but especially working with the whole cortis crew. you saw shoots as a little world that people packed up once it was over.

you arrived at the set around six in the morning, as today was a shorter day, more centered around correcting any possible mistakes and issues.

today’s location was an abandoned indoor train station with graffitis on the wall. the signature blue fluorescent lights reflected against wet concrete floors while massive industrial fans pushed cold air through the enormous space probably to add visual effects onth hair. fake rainwater dripped steadily from ceiling pipes into shallow puddles arranged carefully for reflections.

The final scenes today would focus heavily on group shots, lypsincing with no excessive action.

you stepped into the makeup room while staff buzzed around quietly preparing for the day and even the stylists had stopped pretending they enjoyed early call times.

today’s makeup stayed minimal again, pale skinn, tired eyes and slight redness beneath the lashes. your stylist pinned sections of damp hair away from your face while studying continuity photos carefully.

“does this bother you? the piece of hair in your face.”

“yeah, if you could possibly pin it, please.”

“sure, should i add some more product or does that feel like too much on your head right now?”

“do whatever you think looks best, you’re the professional, either way you do amazing work.”

“you’re annoyingly kind, what are we gonna do once you’re gone.”

you laughed softly. “might need to start working on my sets.”

outside the trailer, you could already hear the members somewhere nearby arguing loudly over coffee. by the time you stepped onto set fully dressed, filming had already started on martin’s opening shots.

you paused automatically near the monitor screens. the scene looked pretty sick, martin stood alone beneath flickering station lights while rainwater dripped from dark hair onto his face, he was wearing baggy jeans as always.

you watched quietly beside the director until someone approached from your left.

“morning.”

james.

you looked up. his dark jacket hung loosely over layered black clothing while damp hair fell messily across his forehead. He looked tired too.

“morning,” you replied. “you look freezing.”

“i am freezing.”

you dug inside your pockets, “well i have these pocket warmer thingys, if you’d like one.”

he blinked once, then nodded as you handed them over, “warm, thank you”

you noticed immediately that talking to him no longer felt careful because atthe beginning of filming, every interaction carried awareness beneath it. professional politeness and measured conversation.

now things slipped naturally, like two good friends working together.

the assistant director eventually called you both toward the first setup together.

today’s scene involved you and james sitting inside the abandoned train car while rain hammered softly against the windows outside. you were supposed to be just sitting there, special effects added later to make it look like the train was moving, and to stare at the camera while james lip synced.

the director explained quietly before filming:

“remember, you’ve both stayed in the water too long by this point emotionally.”

you nodded.

“no dramatic sadness,” he continued. “you’re past that stage now. just tired.”

james glanced toward you briefly after that, and an eye contact that lingered half a second too long ended in a small smile.

“action.”

your character stared absently out the rain-covered window. and james watched you, lip syncing the word as if he were actually talking to you.

my blue lips ( we’ve been in here way too long) i’ve been feeling way too cold.

then slowly, your eyes met his, nothing dramatic. no touching. no speaking. but something unspoken passed between both characters anyway. recognition maybe. the understanding that neither of you knew how to leave the pool anymore.

“cut.”

nobody spoke immediately. the director stared at the playback monitor for several seconds before exhaling softly.

“…yeah.”

several staff members exchanged glances quietly behind cameras.

“let’s do a couple more just to be sure, but i’ve never gone through a scene this quickly, you guys are truly phenomenal.”

⋆˙⟡. ⋆˙⟡

the next few hours passed through constant filming setups around the station. one sequence involved all the members standing motionless on separate train platforms while water slowly flooded the tracks below them.

another showed you wandering through empty hallways while distorted station announcements echoed overhead. everything felt dreamlike. the emotional tone of the project had settled fully into everyone now.

between takes, the members still joked around constantly, but softer today, like everyone subconsciously knew this temporary atmosphere was ending soon.

at one point keonho started aggressively singing ‘blue lips’ while staff reset lighting equipment.

martin threw a plastic spoon at him. “shut the fuck up bro.”

“yeah dude i’m tired of the song already. i’ve been hearing it too much.” juhoon expressed.

“fair.”

you smiled quietly from your seat beside a portable heater, you had your phone in hand, you and a friend texting back and forth about an upcoming event.

james sat nearby scrolling through monitor playback again.

you nudged his shoe lightly with yours. “you re gonna watch every take?”

he glanced up. “most.”

“why?”

he considered the question briefly. “i don’t know we all look pretty fly in them, it doesn’t feel like reality.”

you smiled faintly. “so i’m not fly off screen? that what you’re saying?”:

a small silence settled before he quietly corrected himself, “no, you look pretty fly all the time i’d say, i was mostly talking about me and the guys.”

before you could respond, martin suddenly appeared between both of you holding coffee cups.

“wow.” he said, dreamy.

james closed his eyes immediately, smiling amused. “please fuck off before i loose it.”

“am i interrupting cinema?”

“yes,” both of you answered at the exact same time.

james and you were growing friendlier, talking more, like it came easy. nothing had happened technically.

but something was definitely happening.

the afternoon scenes focused heavily on physical closeness.

one setup involved james resting his forehead briefly against yours while both characters sat on the flooding train tracks, completely exhausted. this was specially intricate, because it couldn’t cross an invisible line at the risk of upsetting fans.

the director explained carefully beforehand:

“you’re comforting each other without actually fixing anything.”

the scene sounded simple, but it absolutely was not. how could you communicate a feeling that wasn’t love, but still looked like it.

the station lights dimmed low around you while cameras moved closer slowly.

“action.”

you sat facing one another in silence. water started flowing the tracks, but none of you paid attention..

then slowly, james leaned forward, his forehead touching yours lightly. warm despite the cold set.

the proximity felt startling suddenly because you could hear his breathing, feel it on your mouth. feel water dripping from his hair against your skin.

things like these happened more than you’d like to think, physical touch scenes were always complicated to film because of the body’s natural reactions to being close to someone, it wasn’t necessarily that much of a challenge with james because you didn’t mind his closeness.

and worse, neither of you pulled away immediately after the director called cut.

just half a second too long, like you’d enjoyed it.

“that’s wrap!”

the entire station exploded instantly. staff members cheering. applause echoing everywhere.

you blinked slowly beneath dripping hair while reality returned all at once.

james looked at you quietly and for one strange suspended second, neither of you joined the celebration immediately, just stood there beneath the rain staring at each other like maybe something unfinished still lingered.

then martin screamed somewhere nearby:

“YES MY CHICKENS, THATS A WRAAAAAP.”

and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

⋆˙⟡. ⋆˙⟡

james stood quieter near the monitor station speaking softly with the director while absentmindedly pushing soaked hair away from his face.

your eyes drifted toward him automatically.

dangerous habit.

he looked handsome like that, with a bandaid on his left cheek from a careless scratch.

the director eventually gathered everyone together beneath the rooftop overhang for final thank-yous.

“i mean this genuinely,” he said while looking between you and the members, “this project only worked because everybody trusted each other emotionally.”

the atmosphere softened instantly.

the cinematographer nodded toward you specifically.

“we had to chance to work with the amazing y/l/n y/n, you brought exactly the realism we needed.”

you bowed your head slightly.

“thank you for trusting me with it.”

“and thank you,” the director added while turning toward the members, “for being vulnerable enough to tell this story honestly.”

“oh no,” Keonho sighed dramatically. “that’s so artistic i might cry.”

eventually people started separating naturally, staff packing up, managers discussing post-prod, stylists collecting clothing pieces from dressing rooms downstairs.

you had just started walking toward the elevators when martin suddenly clapped loudly behind you.

“food.”

juhoon looked up instantly from inside his fuzzy blanket.

“yes.”

“i’m serious,” martin continued. “we survived hypothermia together. we deserve meat.”

“real,” juhoon agreed.

“there’s a barbecue place nearby,” seonghyeon offered.

everyone looked interested instantly. then martin turned toward you.

“you’re coming.”

you blinked. “ was that a question or do i not have a choice ?”

“you don’t.”

twenty minutes later, the six of you were crammed into a private room inside a small korean barbecue restaurant tucked into a quieter seoul side street.

the moment you stepped inside, heat hit your freezing skin instantly. actual heaven.

everyone collapsed around the low table dramatically while staff brought endless plates of meat and side dishes.

shoes were kicked off beneath seats and heoodies tossed carelessly aside. exhaustion settling comfortably over everyone.

martin immediately raised his water glass.

“to good meat”

“cheers.”

“to chlorine poisoning,” juhoon added, coughing.

you laughed softly while clinking glasses with everyone. you and james were the only ones drinking alcohol as you were the only people of age, you had picked a japanese beer while he went with strawberry soju.

the atmosphere loosened almost instantly afterward, alcohol seeped in your veins, making you instantly more comfortable. conversations overlapped naturally while grills crackled loudly in the center of the table.

martin aggressively cooked meat while pretending he was a professional chef while keonho criticized him nonstop. juhoon kept stealing pieces directly off the grill before they finished cooking.

“you people are animals,” seonghyeon muttered calmly. “someone’s gonna get food poisoning if you don’t wait for the meat to cook.”

“erm hello? i’m martin edwards park i don’t get food poisoning. the only i poison is dat beeeeaaaat.” he said the last part loudly.

“unfortunately.”

you sat beside james almost accidentally after everyone settled into seats. not that anyone failed to notice.

the conversations drifted between memories of the tiktoks you hadmade, keonho’s hand showing the videos over the table, best places to eat in the city and other non importants.

at one point juhoon asked: “what was everyone’s hardest scene?”

“the underwater one,” keonho answered immediately. “saw my ancestors man.”

“you barely submerged.”

“dude i can’t hold my breath fr long.” he rolled his eyes.

martin pointed dramatically toward you.

“hers with James on the rooftop though?”

james closed his eyes immediately like he already knew where this was heading.

“here we go,” he muttered.

“i’m serious,” martin continued shamelessly. “the tension was insane.”

“there was no tension,” james replied too fast.

you smiled, looking at him while sipping on your second beer, the table went silent briefly.

then juhoon slowly leaned back. “that sounded crazy defensive not gon lie.”

keonho nodded solemnly. “bro folded instantly.”

you hid your smile behind your cup, he was the only one embarrassed cause you genuinely didn’t mind the teasing.

“this group is a nightmare.”

“shutup cause you’d be unemployed without us.” seonghyeon said.

“no the fuck i wouldn’t?” james frowned.

he was objectively hot, now that the alcohol made its appearance in your veins. sharp jawline and all tight muscles. nah you were definitely not going there.

but it didn’t help that at some point while everyone argued about whether mint chocolate was overrated, you reached toward the grill at the exact same moment as james.

your fingers brushed lightly.

both of you paused instinctively. the warmth blooming of the tiny moment suspended strangely long beneath restaurant lighting.

“my bad” he quickly said, leaving you space to grab meat.

who would’ve thought zhao yufan was shy when provoked.

⋆˙⟡. ⋆˙⟡

somewhere between the endless teasing, food, and celebratory drinks, you and james had both crossed into that dangerous almost-drunk state.

you hadn’t controlled the drinks, just kept diving in for some more, it felt natural, like a friend gathering.

you felt warm in the cheeks, you were probably flushed red by now, loose around the edges.

james was becoming less guarded, easier, he laughed louder now, shoulders relaxed while leaning back against the wall beside you.

at one point keonho stared dramatically between both of you across the table.

“oh my god.”

james narrowed his eyes immediately. “what now.”

“you guys are literally glowing.”

you started laughin, not because it was necessarily funny but… yeah you didn’t even know why.

james was also laughing beside you, head dropping slightly while rubbing at his eyes. “you people genuinely need hobbies.”

“we had hobbies,” martin replied. “but now we’re gonna have to take you home.”

you hid your smile behind your drink, feeling way too jolly for your wellbeing.

honestly the alcohol made everything feel softer tonight, you weren’t one to drink usually but this felt right, like finally you claimed back all those teenage years spent working. the only thing that was bad though, was james’ lingering looks and the way they felt nerve-wracking. you’d promised yourself not to be stupid, and here you were.

eventually when the table became empty, everyone slowly started gathering their things. managers had long since gone home, trusting the members enough to survive one celebratory dinner without supervision. outside, the city glittered beneath rain-slick streets and blurred neon reflections like a scene straight out of cyberpunk.

cold air hit your face immediately when you stepped out of the restaurant. “damn,” juhoon muttered. “it’s so cold”

“pissesme off, we had sun last week,” keonho agreed while tightening his jacket.

the group lingered outside for several minutes beneath the restaurant awning while figuring out rides home. juhoon seonghyeon keonho and martin called an uber, while james claimed he would wait to sober up before coming back. you were gonna call a ride back home too.

the 6’3 giant looked between you and james suspiciously one last time before grinning.

“don’t do anything we would do.”

“that leaves literally nothing,” seonghyeon pointed out.

james groaned , “shutup you ball of hair.”

“fuck off receding hairline” martin shot back instantly.

“goodnight.” james deadpanned, already turning around.

everyone burst into laughter. then slowly, one by one, the members disappeared into separate cars still yelling dramatic goodbyes through open windows.

until eventually, only you and james remained beneath the glowing restaurant sign. rain had softened into mist now, cool against your cheeks while distant traffic hummed somewhere beyond the narrow streets.

you were painfully aware of how flushed you were and how undone your hair probably was, but decided not to worry, at the end of the day, he had seen you underwater, under the rain, in various weird situations.

then james caught your attention by shoving his hands deeper into his jacket pockets and glancing toward you.

“so…” he started softly. you looked up.

“do you have somewhere to be?”

the question lingered gently between you, he wasn’t pushy nor presumptuous. maybe he meant it in a friendly manner but it came across as hopeful.

you shook your head slightly. “not really.”

something subtle shifted in his expression then, probably relief.

“you wanna hang out a little longer?”

your stomach flipped embarrassingly fast, probably the alcohol.

“yeah,” you answered quietly like it was evident.

james smiled, the bandaid on his cheek crooking.

“cool.”

⋆˙⟡. ⋆˙⟡

twenty minutes later, the two of you stood inside a convenience store near the han river laughing over candy choices like idiots. the alcohol absolutely wasn’t helping.

“that shit’s gross, worst flavor ever. you can’t possibly eat that.” you frowned.

“watch me.”

that made both of you laugh for some reason, carefree, like two morons.

“what flavor do you want?” james chuckled,

“those peach ones, stop with the crap we’re not eating cherry ones.”

he laughed, grabbing the peach bag, almost letting it fall.

the cashier looked mildly amused while ringing everything up, he couldn’t recognize you with your masks. james insisted on paying, struggling to get his card to go through with how much he was swaying.

outside again, cold night air wrapped around both of you while plastic bags swung gently from james’ hands.

the han river stretched dark and glittering beneath city lights ahead, and you eventually settled onto a quiet bench near the water. the city skyline reflected beautifully across the river while distant bikes rolled past occasionally along the paths nearby.

you sat tucked into your coat while james leaned back against the bench beside you sipping canned coffee despite already being energetic enough.

“you know,” you murmured, “this is pretty nice actually. i never thought you and i would be friends.”

he looked toward you, the word friend stabbing through his heart. ouch.

“yeah me neither”

“you’re pretty cool, i like hanging with you.” you said, head dizzy.

you took a sip of water, leaning closer to him for warmth. you gestured vaguely between both of you and the river and the convenience store snacks.

“i don’t even really hang out with people actually. i mean- i have friends but i never have time to hang out. so this is nice. ”

james smiled faintly.

“yeah, i’m glad, you can call me anytime if you wanna hang.”

“i probably will if i have time. schedules are pretty tough these days, i bet you guys have it the same.”

he nodded at that, “yeah we’re preparing for upcoming shows and stuff, it’s hectic. but i’ll make time for you.” you looked down briefly at the snack bag in your lap, trying unsuccessfully to hide your smile.

“that sounds dangerous,” you murmured.

“what does?”

“you saying things like that.”

james laughed quietly under his breath. “sorry.”

“you don’t sound sorry.”

“i’m not.” james leaned back slightly against the bench, shoulder still brushing yours.

then suddenly he squinted toward your phone sticking halfway out of your coat pocket. “…is that an arcane keychain?”

you blinked. “maybe.”

his head turned so fast it almost made you laugh.“no way, you play league?” the genuine disbelief in his voice was somehow offensive.

“yes?” james stared at you for a full second.

“you’re lying.”

“i literally have the keychain.”

“that proves nothing. people fake interests every day.”

“you’re lame”

“i need proof.”

you immediately pulled your phone out. “gatekeeping lol like millions of people don’t already play it.”

james leaned closer automatically to look at the screen and unfortunately your shoulder pressed fully against his now. his eyes widened immediately.

“you actually play.”

“told you.”

“what rank?”

you narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “that’s classified.”

“oh my god you’re bronze.”

“i’m not bronze.”

“so silver.”

“i hate you.”

james looked genuinely delighted now, like a kid. “this changes everything.”

“how?”

“i don’t know yet but it definitely does.”

you laughed softly while shoving his shoulder lightly. “what about you then, idiot?”

he looked annoyingly smug suddenly. “emerald.”

your jaw dropped. “no way.”

“way.”

that’s how you both ended up yapping about league of legends, because it was easier to do that than to pretend like there wasn’t an underlying tension.

“and junglers— oh my god don’t even get me STARTED on junglers.”

“you literally play jungle sometimes.”

“yeah and every lane blames me for EVERYTHING. top dies in a 1v1 thirty seconds in? ‘jg diff.’ bot lane pushes to enemy tower with no wards and gets ganked six times? somehow it’s MY fault. i could physically cure disease and my mid laner would still ping my smite cooldown.”

he then realized he had spoken without stoping for a breath, so he did just that, your shoulder brushed his slightly while reaching into the snack bag.

your eyes were bored on his, slightly drunk but it wasn’t just that. maybe it was the whole league of legends rambling that got you going, who knew you were into geeks. but you suddenly felt way too honest.

“that was the hottest thing i’ve ever heard.” your eyes trailed on his face, your voice carrying the softest drunken slur.

james didn’t expect that, his eyes slightly widened, but his ears went red. “what? you’re serious? i didn’t know that league of legends was hot…”

you didn’t waste a second, alcohol bringing back that bold side of you, “no, you are.”

his eyes went wild, like he couldn’t believe what you had just. said. “huh?” he said dumbfounded.

“just keep on talking.”

james took a shaky breath, hand retreating to his lap, and he looked around trying to distract himself from your gaze, your absolutely breathtaking gaze. you were so much bolder than he ever was, he hid behind jokes but he would’ve never been capable of telling you all the things he wished he were doing to you right now.

your heart stumbled violently against your ribs and the city noise around you suddenly felt very far away. when james’ eyes drifted back to you, they landed on your lips before lifting back to your gaze again.

“you know what the worst part is about all of this?” he murmured, trying to change the subject for his sanity. “i can’t watch your scenes normally anymore.”

your breath caught slightly, not really understanding where this was going. “why?”

a tiny smile pulled faintly at the corner of his mouth.

“because now i know what you sound like laughing between takes.” the whole changing the subject thing wasn’t working. “i know how you feel when you’re close to me and i know what you smell like.”

you stared at him silently. and maybe kissing a friend wasn’t all that bad. not that you had ever been friends truly. friends didn’t want to undress each other. at least that’s what you knew.

the tension stretched tighter but neither of you moved. james swallowed once before speaking again, quieter this time.

“can i?” he asked softly. then even quieter: “please.”

you nodded, you knew what he was asking for. with the way he was looking at your lips, it was painfully evident.

he wasted no time cupping your jaw, knees brushing against candy bars, he kissed you.

slow at first, like he’d imagined this too many times and was terrified of ruining it now that it was real.

his mouth moved carefully against yours, warm and slightly tasting like coffee and sweet alcohol while the city blurred somewhere far beyond the river.

you felt him exhale softly when you kissed him back harder, like tension physically leaving his body.

one of your hands instinctively grabbed the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer without even realizing it.

that made something shift in him immediately, the kiss deepened, like you weren’t outside, like you weren’t two famous celebrities eating each other in public. but that was long forgotten, the alcohol taking away every ounce of responsability.

james’ thumb brushed slowly against your jaw while his forehead nearly bumped yours from how close he’d gotten on the narrow bench.

and god,

he kissed just like he looked at you.

undressing you with attention, reverence and undeniable respect. your heart hammered violently against your ribs when he pulled back barely an inch, just enough for both of you to breathe.

you found yourselves in the same position as in the filming, foreheads pressed together, warm breaths, but this time it was different, because he had just kissed the living hell out of you.

“you have no idea,” he murmured quietly, “how long i’ve wanted to do that.”

the tension somehow got worse after the kiss. because now you knew exactly how he tasted. how he sounded when he lost composure for half a second. how his hand tightened gently against your jaw when you kissed him back.

“you’re staring,” you whispered.

“can you blame me? you’re beautiful.” his nose brushed against yours, mouths opened and chasing each other’s.

your stomach flipped hard but before you could answer, he kissed you again. this time there was nothing hesitant about it. his hand slid from your jaw to the side of your neck gently, thumb brushing beneath your ear while he leaned closer against you on the bench. the kiss deepened almost immediately, not afraid to use tongues, a little messy from laughter and alcohol and too much tension finally snapping loose at once.

you kissed him back harder without thinking and that earned the quietest sound from him,barely there, almost swallowed by the river breeze, but it made your entire chest tighten anyway. james’ other hand settled instinctively against your waist, pulling you closer until your legs brushed fully against his.

the convenience store bag tipped sideways somewhere beside you but neither of you cared. your fingers slid into the front of his hoodie, bunching the fabric of his undershirt slightly while kissing him again and again and again like maybe you were both trying to make up for weeks of holding back.

being kissed by someone who already liked you this much felt unfair. you could feel it in everything. it was so painfully sweet yet so filthy, so him. like the way he gripped your waist, scared to go lower, the way his sloppy kisses sent thrills down your body, the way he kept pausing for half-seconds just to look at you before kissing you again, like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

james tilted his head slightly, kissing you deeper now while his hand ventured underneath your shirt, tentative. he wanted to pull you on his lap right then and there, but that was the alcohol speaking.

“you’re killing me,” he murmured quietly against your mouth.

“you started this.”

“i know.”

then he kissed you again immediately like he physically couldn’t stop himself, his hands brushed against the under sides of your breast through your clothes for a second before he slid them down.

at some point your hand brushed against his lower stomach and james visibly lost composure.

“oh my god,” he muttered softly against your lips.

and then, a bike sped past somewhere nearby. very nearby.

both of you froze instantly. the reality of being outside in public slammed back into place all at once. james pulled back just enough to look around quickly while still keeping one hand at your waist.

you stared at each other for half a second, out of breath, not thinking straight.

“you were one second away from climbing into my lap.” he stated.

“like you would’ve said no.”

“right here yeah, i can control myself, i don’t want anything bad happening to your career.” he said.

you breathed out, taking his hand in yours and playing absentmindedly with his fingers and rings. you didn’t know what to say and everything was a blur.

so, you didn’t know how you ended up in the hallway leading to your apartment, pinned to a wall while james kissed his way to your neck.

it had probably started when you had resolved to innocent conversation but one wrong sentence ended up in another kiss, and another, and another, until you’d been halfway on his lap on the bench, both of your hoods pulled over your heads for a minimal privacy. after that youd stood up, hands unable to leave him, and you’d called over a taxi, putting face masks back on and requested your address. the drive had been intense, you’d wanted to climb on his lap right then and there, just to see how far his kisses would go.

the second you had been out, james had pulled you closer, almost running towards the elevator, and once inside he had pinned you to the wall, making you gasp in the feverish kiss.

and now, you struggled with your key to open the door, while he was behind you, mouth on your neck, your ass pressed right against his hardness. truth is, he didn’t wanna be disrespectful but he had a thing about your ass, had to physically refrain himself for looking at it while you walked past these last few weeks, couldn’t help but imagine how it’d feel against his palms, or if he ever got to slap it while you bounced on-

you let out a moan when he reached for the hem of your hoodie, tugging at it upwards, he managed to take it off as the key finally got in, you forced the door open, and he pushed you inside. it took everything in his power not to take you right there against the door,

"bed," you said with a shaky voice.

"yeah," he nodded, walking backwards, still kissing you while you guided him through the mess of your apartment.

once in your bedroom, he didn’t look around, he was too focused on you, on how perfect you sounded against him, undone, breathy, he sat you on the edge of your bed and his hands slid up your sides under your top,slow and deliberate and stopped at your chest. both of them. full. you inhaled sharply.

"fuck," he breathed, more to himself than you.

his thumbs dragged over your tits, testing, squeezing, like he had been thinking about this in the privacy of his own mind.

"is it wrong that i’ve thought about this?." he whispered against your neck, leaving wet kisses there.

you shook your head immediately, “no… tell me about it, i wanna hear.”

he pulled your top and bra down and his mouth replaced his hands, warm and open, taking your tit into his mouth, tongue circling your nipple before he sucked, harder than you expected. you gasped, back arching off the mattress while his other hand stayed on your other breast, squeezing, rolling your nipple between his fingers, alternating between slow and sharp until you had your hands in his hair and your eyes shut tight, absolutely no remaining composure.

“thought about these so many times, how perfect they looked in that dress, in the swimming pool, you’re fucking perfect y/n, so beautiful, everywhere.”

you moaned at his words, “james”

“i know, i know pretty thing.” he said, not looking up. he dragged his teeth lightly over your nipple as he pulled away, causing you to shiver. then he dropped to his knees.

“you know how many times i had to stop myself from staring at you? cause id feel guilty, always wanted to be so respectful, but i couldn’t stop imagining you…”

he got your jeans off and pulled you to the edge of the mattress; his mouth found your inner thigh, in absolutely no hurry. he mapped out slowly in open-mouthed kisses, the slight scrape of his teeth occasionally, and you propped yourself on your elbows to watch him, his hair tousled, eyes black and wild with arousal. he glanced up, catching you looking and the almost-smile he gave you was genuinely unfair.

when he finally got to your pussy, you shuddered, thighs already trying to close around his head, one hand draped across your face in anticipation. he started with the flat of his tongue, one long stroke, as the breath punched out of you. only then did he settle in. he learned you fast: what made your hips stutter, what made you tug at his hair. his tongue working your clit in slow circles, pulling you taunt like a thread, and when he slid two fingers and curled them just right, the dual pleasure made you go crazy. you thought you’d come with that gesture alone, your chest moving up and down with uncontrolled breaths.

"there," you say. “right there… please…”

he kept the same pace, looking up at you with adoration, learning the faces you made when you were touched right. his mouth then stayed on your clit while his fingers worked that spot relentlessly.

“look at you, so pretty, so fucking pretty.” he praised against the skin of your thigh, hooking your legs over his shoulders.

he was so turned on, his pants tight with the throbbing ache between his legs, he thought he could cum in his pants just by eating you out alone. he’d seen a lot of things in his short life, but nothing compared to this. to seeing you stretched out around his fingers, ever so compliant, beautiful and wrecked.

you moaned as he found the perfect rythm, the perfect coherence of fingers and tongue, your release building in the pit of your stomach, it was usually rare for someone to make you come that fast, but you weren’t at the end of the surprise, because when your hips started grinding down on his tongue, he flipped you around, ass up, arched on the soft sheets.

and god, james thought he knew what living felt like. he thought he was pretty damn accomplished already, a promising idol career, fans, brand deals, but this? james just stared,like this sight of you was a religious experience he wasn’t worthy of. 

you whimpered just then, face buried in your pillow, and he looked down, mesmerized, surely the alcohol had worn off, but now it was a different type of drug that possessed him. “so beautiful like this, all for me. what am i gonna do with you…”

your hips moved back, triggered by his words, and your ass pressed right against his pants. james clicked his tongue, the flat of his hand grabbing your ass. “what do you want? huh? tell me what you want and i’ll give it to you.”

you preened, one hand reaching behind you, spreading your ass shamelessly, your pussy glistening with your arousal and his saliva, clenching around nothing like you just couldn’t fathom not feeling him inside of you. you were ready to beg, you weren’t normally into that, but the way he carried yourself so differently from usual, not shy, not afraid of anything, made you want to tell him he could do anything with you.

“fuck… you’re gonna kill me.” james bent down to press a kiss against your spine and you shivered, so empty… and so cold.

“please… please” you crossed one of your boundaries, you had never thought you would ever want to- scratch that- need to beg. but it felt so good, the way his breathing stopped for a second, the way his hips rutted against your bare ass, like it was the best thing he’d ever heard.

“please what, baby?” he sucked a spot on your spine, right where you had a tattoo. “tell me what you need. use your words.”

and fuck, you’d always thought you were kinda dominant… maybe? or vanilla. sex only ever cringed you out when dudes started calling the girl ‘good girl’ and manhandling them. but this? you thought you would die from the tone of his voice, reverant but so fucking firm. it made your insides turn into burning fire, made you rethink your whole view on sex.

“please… i need you to fuck me.” you spoke, like a big girl. you felt james’ tongue drag a path down your spine, until it reached your tailbone.

“that’s it, you’re doing good.” he dropped a kiss there, one of his hands going back to your pussy.

he spread you, still giving unwavering attention to your tailbone while two fingers slipped inside, earning a dragged out moan from you. “so fucking loud… such a good girl.”

who was this? cause this certainly wasn’t the james from set, the james whose ears would turn red everytime you spoke to him for too long, the james who was worried he’d be a pervert if he so much as gazed at your tits. but you had no complaints whatsoever. your soaked thighs were enough evidence. you clenched around his fingers at his words, gripping the bedsheets, and he gave your shoulder a kiss. “is that good pretty thing? you like that?”

you nodded instantly, afraid he’d stop if you didn’t manage an answer, your breathing had long turned franctic, leaving you a mess, but it’s like he knew what he was doing to you, and he wanted more. he knew how surprised you were, god even he was surprised at himself.

“you want more? yeah?” james worked his jeans open, only the zipper, as his other fingers were busy hitting that delicious spot inside of you, the one that made you reconsider pleasure. the angle made it so unbearably good that you couldn’t even manage words out.

“yes … yes fuck yes please… - please.” you babbled, ass pushing against his hand with unabashed need.

“look at you, my pretty girl is so needy.” james pushed his jeans down, along with his boxers, his thick cock resting on your ass now.

you ground your ass against him, the feeling of him so heavy sending jolts right where his fingers where working tirelessly. you were so close, so so close, and he was so good, like he had done this hundreds of times, he touched you exactly where you liked being touched. “please… fuck me.” you begged, wanting to be properly filled.

“you’re being such a good girl for me right now… you think you deserve it?” he mused, tip leaking on your lower back, so much so that at first he thought he’d came.

you nodded aggressively against the pillow, teetering on the edge of release,walls fluttering around his digits. “yes yes - fuck yes- i don’t know… please… please i’ll- i’ll be your good girl, i’ll listen, just please.”

this was new for you, so foreign, but it felt somehow right, like you relished in his praise, his taunting tone. james was all man, and you were already ruined.

“so desperate, my sweet thing…” he sped up his fingers, cock now shamelessly grinding against the skin of your behind. “you’re gonna be a good girl and take what i give you okay?”

you nodded, because his hands were driving you insane, and now he was pinching your nipple, twisting it between his fingertips, and you were a goner.

your orgasm crashed into you like a train, body lapsing into convulsions while you didn’t even try to be keep sane anymore. you moaned over and over not caring about how loud you were, about how vulnerable you were, ass spread for him as he made you cum with only two fingers, and he kept praising you, like you were a precious thing, like he couldn’t believe he was getting to see you like this, he whispered sweet things in your hair, fingers never stopping.

only when he was satisfied with the mess between your legs, he flipped you around, on your back, his mouth immediately latching onto your neck, careful not to leave any marks that could harm your career, he spread your legs, throwing his shirt across the room, and settled between your thighs, cock heavy on your lower stomach. “you did so good… might have to do that again but this time i wanna see your face.” james said agains your jaw, mouth brushing but not quite touching.

your fingers raked through his hair, softly tugging, until he was groaning, cock slipping to where you needed him the most. when you felt his tip nudge your clit, you arched, breasts touching his chest. “so wet, look at you baby…” he kissed your cheek then forehead. “you want me to fuck you, yeah?”

you nodded incapable of forming coherent thoughts, your legs wrapping around his waist, “i’ll fuck you my love, i think you deserve that don’t you? you’ve been so good to me, came on my fingers like a champ…” james kissed your pulse point, cock sliding between your folds.

his forehead pressed against yours, he cursed, guiding the tip at your entrance. “are you sure my pretty girl?” you nodded immediately, hips chasing him. james wrapped his hand around his cock, almost like he had to restrain himself from burying himself inside of you, and he slid the tip inside, cursing. “shit… so wet baby.”

you whimpered, as he took in the sight of your pussy accommodating his length, squeezing on only the tip of him. he slid in ever so slowly, and when he was fully seated inside, he didn’t move. he thought he could cum from just the feeling of you, squeezing him, the tight fit, your moans… he couldn’t take it. “fuck… you’re taking me so well pretty thing…”

he took a second, grounding himself, before finally moving. he slid all the way out before slamming back in, kicking the breath out of your lungs. you moaned, so close to him in all the senses of the word, filled to the brim with only him. your heels dug on his lower back, you felt him so deep that you wanted to honestly cry.

you wrapped weak fingers around his wrist, without thinking it through, and guided his hand on your neck. it wasn’t something you thought you’d ever enjoy, but there you were, his hands so fucking attractive you could only think about them choking you. so he did exactly that, following your movements, he wrapped his fingers around your neck and squeezed, mouth slightly open at the sight of you, you were being so good, so perfect.

“so beautiful with my hand around your neck, you know that right ? you know how fucking pretty you are?” he rasped, eyes wild with want, and devotion. “answer me baby,” his lips trailed down your neck.

you nodded, gasping, but he didn’t seem content with that response, his cock dragging inside of you. “nuh-huh, words baby. i need to make sure my girl is aware- fuck- of how beautiful she is.”

and there he was, calling you his girl, you didn’t mind it one bit, cause somewhere in your head you were already ready to be his. “yes—… i know… fuck i know.”

james pushed impossibly deeper, knocking the sense out of you, “good girl,” and he showed you, just how pretty you were, every drag of his cock sending you closer to a devastating edge.

“mmmh… james” you moaned, the intimacy of the moment overtaking you, “- need more”

“yeah?” he reached for one of your leg, lifting it to rest on his shoulder. “there, better?”

you nodded, the pressure in your lower belly unbearable, the new angle dragging sounds you didn’t even know were yours out of your mouth. he fucked you harder into the mattress, his hands around your neck never too overwhelming, whispering sweet nothings interrupted by curses agains your skin.

“m so- so close…” you said delirious, arms wrapped around him, pulling him impossibly closer.

truth is, you had never felt so good, and that scared you, you were discovering another side of you, another side of him, and it was so dangerously good. you wanted to crawl into his skin, keep him around forever.

“mmhh… so tight, you’re squeezing me so tight sweet girl, are you gonna cum for me?” he pushed in faster and deeper, if that was only possible.

your walls fluttered around him, nails digging on his back, and you felt him twitch inside you, he wanted to tease you, edge you until you couldn’t take it anymore, but he was so close he couldn’t sustain that, he ached for you, wanted to bury himself inside of you and never leave.

“so so so sweet… so good to me, you’re doing so good my princess…” he whispered, feeling you getting closer and closer.

one last push was all it took, your orgasm shook you beyond reason, you trembled against him, moaning his name over and over, you weren’t even sure how long is lasted, james kept dragging out your pleasure, until he was the one violently twitching.

he buried his face in your neck, rutting inside of you, “oh fuck fuck fuck… so fucking… good” his hips snapped fast, “i’m cumming, i’m cumming… shit.” you felt him come inside, thick and warm, filling you up until it dripped between your thighs. james kept panting, pushing it deeper, before he crumbled on top of you, exhausted with the force of his release.

it dawned onto you just then, how fucking gone you were.

⋆˙⟡. ⋆˙⟡

what had undeniably been the best sex of your life ended with you both falling asleep jus like that.

exhausted by the alcohol, the tension, the day of filming, and the world wrecking sex. james didn’t pull out, he tucked you against him, still buried deep inside, and in a beat you were both asleep.

what was, as unspoken as it was, supposed to be a good time, nothing much more, ended up in- well… much more.

you started seeing often. when the screening of the music video came around and you saw the chemistry you had on screen, you remembered glancing at him through your lashes across the room, he’d felt the same things. you snuck out right after, kissing like lovesick teenagers not worried about loosing their jobs. he fucked you in the bathroom, loosing himself in you all over again. it happened a couple of times after, until one day, balls deep inside of you, he asked if you could be his. it was an evidence for you, and you retorted that you were already his.

that was how you ended up falling in love with him, pushing aside every boundaries you once had about dating, you couldn’t care less about anything. he loved you like a sickness, and that was enough to make the risk worth it.

Shane freezes, then cuts you a guilty look, hand still on the doorknob. “Y/n. Fuck. Uh, I —”

You leverage yourself off the couch, groaning as your back cracks, then hit the main lights. “Well, don’t let me interrupt your Superspy mission. Your shoes are by the door.”

You’re not quite sure why you feel a little hurt; it wasn’t like you had hooked up. Even if you had, Hollander didn’t owe you anything — and you’d done your fair share of sneaking out before dawn, too. 

“That wasn’t… It’s just that my plane leaves in an hour and a half.”

You glance at your watch. It’s 6:30 a.m. How good was Hollander’s internal clock? It’d only been about four hours since you collapsed on the living room couch. Your mouth tastes dry; you probably should have brushed your teeth last night, after all. 

“You want a ride? It’s a fucking nightmare trying to catch a taxi around here.” You ask, shaking out your shoulder and stretching your arms above your head, the tips of your fingers brushing the strange texture of the popcorn ceiling. 

Shane blinks at you — and then his eyes drop to the exposed sliver of skin between your jeans and hoodie. You grin, holding the stretch a beat longer than strictly necessary before dropping your arms. 

“We left my rental car at the lot, last night. I was probably gonna head back there.” He says, avoiding eye-contact. You’re not sure why he’s suddenly so quiet and withdrawn. It gnaws strangely at you; you want to put a smile back on his face, watch his eyes light up again. 

“I can drive you, if you’d like. Or call an Uber. Whatever you’d prefer.” You mumble, purposefully casual, already trudging toward the kitchen. “Either way, let me make a cup of coffee first. You want one?”

“Uh, I’ll take a cup of tea, if you have it.” Shane lets the door ease close, posture relaxing slightly. There’s a beat, and then: “Y/n?”

You spin back towards him. “Yeah?”

His thumbs are hooked in the front of his pants, and he’s rocking back and forth slightly on his heels. You want to approach, but you’re a little worried he won’t react well, so you lean easily against the wall instead. 

“Did I, uh, say anything weird last night?”

Your expression softens. “No. Not at all. Just — oh, yeah. Something about your buddy Hayden, snoring?”

You watch Shane slump in relief, and a small smile tugs the corner of his lip back up. “Oh, yeah. His wife, Jackie, says it’s a defense mechanism. Drowns out the kids crying.”

You laugh, surprised. “Parent of the year, huh?”

Hollander looks down, smiling. “There’s a lot of them, in his defense.”

He’s loose again, and you grin happily, making a sweeping gesture towards the kitchen. “Well, don’t just stand there, Hollander. Let me make you breakfast.”

Shane nods, and follows after you. You open kitchen cabinets haphazardly until you find the small tin of tea bags, and sort through until you find one that Shane would like. He watches, fondly.

“You can drive me.” Shane says, suddenly. 

“What?” You ask, slightly startled. 

Shane looks down, hesitant. “Uh, to the parking lot, if you’d like. You don’t have to call an Uber.”

“Yeah, alright, Hollander.” You say, trying to mask some of the glee, pulling the kettle out from under the counter. You can play this cool. “You want some pancakes first?”

“I’ll have some yogurt.”

“Boo.” You joke, already crossing to the fridge.

//

An hour later, you’re pulling back into the parking lot at the rink. There’s a cutting chill in the air when you get out of the car, and you shiver. “Jesus Christ.”  

Shane looks over and laughs. “Weak.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You already made that joke last night.”

Shane hops down from the passenger side and crosses over, leaning back against the hood of the car. “Yeah, about that. Thanks for dealing with me last night; I was exhausted from the game, and then dinner…”

You smile. “Of course, man. Don’t worry about it. I was wiped just watching you skate around.”

“Mhm.” He pauses, hesitating slightly, then continues, in a slightly rushed voice. “I have pretty good stamina, though. Dunno about you.” 

You blink in surprise when you realize he’s flirting. 

“I’ve never gotten any complaints.” You answer, then lean down into his space and tug his jacket straight. “Maybe you’d have to weigh in.”

Shane’s eyes glaze slightly, mouth opening to respond when his phone rings. He jumps, shuffling back slightly, and fumbles for the device. 

He glances at the screen before looking back up apologetically. “It’s Hayden. Uh, Hayden Pike, from my team? He’s probably wondering where I am…”

You smile. “Go ahead.”

Shane wanders away to answer the call, and you blow out a breath. Holy shit. He was hitting on you, right? Were you hallucinating this? You wouldn’t be surprised — the smattering of freckles over his nose did make you feel a little dizzy.

You’re jolted from your thoughts when Shane approaches again. 

“I gotta go,” he says apologetically. “Team’s leaving in a few.”

“Of course,” you say, slightly disappointed, and walk with him back to his car. He unlocks it a couple feet away, spins back on his heel, and offers his hand after a beat of hesitation. You look at it bemusedly before reaching down to shake it. He grips your palm, squeezing once, before withdrawing. 

“Thanks for letting me crash at your place,” Shane says, and you tuck your hands into your pockets, desperate to protect the warmth of his palm on your skin. 

“Happy to.” You reply. “I’ll, uh, see you around?”

Shane smiles, climbing into his car, and starting the engine. “You have my number.”

“I’ll call you, then?” You ask.

“I’ll pick up,” He responds. 

You stand there until his car pulls out of sight. 

//

“Alright, alright. Um, kiss, marry, kill: Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Scott Hunter.”

You grin, slouching back in your seat. “Aw, c’mon. I’m media trained better than this.”

The interviewer, Bradley, laughs, leaning forward further in his chair. “Just for the interview! Not in real life. Our viewers want to know.”

You glance at the scrolling comments of the livestream on the device Bradley has rigged up next to him. This is what they wanted to know?

“Uh-uh. I’m scared shitless of my PR guy.” You respond, dryly. You can see said PR guy, Greg, frantically making an ‘X’ with his arms behind the camera, and figure that you’ve caused enough problems for one press-tour. 

If someone made another compilation of all the unhinged shit you say during interviews, Sam would never let you hear the end of it. And, since this is a livestream, Greg had made you swear to be on your best behavior three times in the van. 

Sam’s been determined to drum up hype around the Bond movie now that filming is wrapping up, and you’ve found yourself in front of cameras answering interview questions with Rose more than in your own bed, which is fucking with both your head and your sleep schedule. 

You can’t help but let your mind wander back to a couple weeks ago, when you were kicked out of your bed because Shane Hollander needed it more, and not because you had to go sit in an uncomfortable chair for an hour and a half and answer questions about your sexuality (still bisexual), your dating life (still very much private), and whether or not you were dating Rose (nope). 

Were the interviewers aware you were filming a movie, you wonder? It sure seemed like Bradley wasn’t.

Bradley demurs, letting it go. “Rose?”

“Shane Hollander’s pretty cute,” she laughs. “I have no idea who those other people are, though.”

Bradley grins. “No? How do you know Shane?”

“Ah, he and Y/n are buddies,” Rose says, nudging your elbow. “We had dinner a few weeks ago.”

Bradley raises an eyebrow, suddenly looking infinitely more interested. “Just buddies? Nothing…more?”

“Woah, alright.” You say, leaning forward in your chair. “We’re just friends; let’s not start any rumors. I know I’m a bit of a manwhore, but let’s not tarnish Shane’s image here, yeah?”

“Uh, yeah. Of course. Sorry,” Bradley says, and you force yourself to gentle your face back into an easy grin. Rose has straightened, and is sending you a slightly concerned look. Greg’s face is in his hands. He looks up to catch your eye, mouthing Manwhore?

“You want to hear about this one time Y/n accidentally got stuck in his trailer?” Rose interjects, suddenly, and you pretend to groan as she launches into the story you’re pretty sure she’s told at every single cast-dinner to date.

Bradley leans forward, elbows balanced on his knees, and smiles camera-wide. “Yes!”

//

“Didn’t know that we were such good friends,” Shane teases, pushing his glasses back up from where they’d slipped down his nosebridge, face slightly pixelated. You flip off your phone from where it’s propped up against a pepper-shaker on the counter, and hear him crow over the FaceTime. 

“Oh god, you watched that?” You ask. “Uh, less sass, more instructions, please, sweetheart.” 

You’re stirring dubiously at the pan in front of you, and Shane tuts from behind you, the sounds garbled through the speaker. 

“I feel like you’re not trusting the process.” Shane accuses, barely veiled delight in his voice.

“Probably because the process has been disgusting so far, Shane. I don’t know how I let you trick me into making one of your macrobiotic diet meals.” You retort, poking dubiously at a wilted leafy green with your spatula. 

“You need to be eating more kale.” Shane nags, and you sigh. 

“I eat plenty of kale.”

“Kale chips don’t count.”

“What? Why not?”

You’re trying not to enjoy the domesticity of this too much. You’ve been calling Shane for a few weeks, now; short, stilted check-ins that had grown into nightly calls. It’s still patently unclear exactly what you were — as far as you were aware, Shane wasn’t publicly out, and you didn’t want to pressure him into anything. 

“I — why do you think he asked you that?” Shane says after a few beats, quieter. You turn down the fire on the burner and turn back to your phone, resting your forearms on the counter. 

“What?”

“When that interviewer asked if we were just friends. I — is it obvious?”

“He was just being an asshole,” You answer, slightly concerned. “Nothing’s obvious.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Shane says, fingers drumming at the temples of his glasses. “We are friends. And it’s not like I’m gay, or anything.”

“What?” 

“I just don’t want anyone to misunderstand,” Shane says, sitting up. “I mean, I know you’re bisexual, but we aren’t anything.”

There’s a stab of hurt, and you frown slightly. “I, um. Yeah. Of course.”

“Just so no one misunderstands,” Shane repeats. You nod, numbly. Fuck, you need to pull it together. 

“I, uh, I gotta go,” You say, suddenly feeling off-balance.

Shane frowns. “Oh, sure. I’ll see you later, then?”

“Yeah. Have a good night.” You hang up, squeezing your eyes shut, gripping the edge of the counter. What the hell is wrong with you?

//

The left-hook catches you across the jaw, hard, and your head snaps back with a sickening crunch. You let yourself get knocked to the side the way you’ve coordinated with the stunt department, tucking in your shoulder and letting it absorb the impact. 

“Fuck. C’mon, big guy. Where are your manners?” You joke, scrambling backward, angling so the camera can catch the panicked grin on your face.

Ivan scowls, gropes for his gun, and raises it. Your eyes go cross-eyed staring at the barrel. “Aw, fuck.”

“Cut!” Sam hollers, and your posture slumps. Production’s chatter fills the small space immediately. Ivan shoves the prop gun back into his waistband and offers you a hand, which you take gratefully. 

“Did I hit you too hard?” He asks, taking your chin in his hand and turning your face side-to-side. 

“Nah, I’m good.” You respond, shaking out your shoulders. “Barely glanced me.”

You cut a gaze to Sam, where he’s perched in his chair reviewing the footage. “Did it look okay?”

Sam throws up a lazy thumbs-up, still talking animatedly with his assistant. 

The scene’s an important one, so you shake off your exhaustion and lean against the cold marble of the bathroom sink, where the fight scene takes place. Filming’s been brutal, lately, and it didn’t help that you still can’t get Shane fucking Hollander out of your head. 

Rose approaches you, handing you a cup of coffee, and you take it from her with a grateful “Thanks.”

She nods, then boosts herself up to sit next to you on the counter, tugging until you slot yourself between her legs and lean down to rest your forehead on her shoulder. 

“You alright?” She asks. 

“Fantastic,” You respond dryly.

“Not gonna run off so you can call Shane from the break room?” Rose prods. 

You take a long pull of the coffee. “No.”

She takes a glance at your face, and reaches up to smooth the wrinkle between your brows with her pinky finger. “Alright, then. Want to run some lines?”

“Sure,” You breathe, grateful for the break. You wished you were talking with Shane Hollander right now, wish you could be silently tracing his freckles through the phone screen, nodding along as he talked shit about Tampa’s defense. The Voyageurs were playing them in Montreal tomorrow, and you hated how you were probably still going to watch the game, watch the way the Hollander on his jersey stretches out over his broad back. 

Rose pushes you back, hops down off of the counter, and affects a terrible Russian accent. “Bond! It is time for you to make a choice…”

You blink, let yourself settle back into the persona, and run the scene with her until you aren’t thinking about Canadian hockey players, or interviews, or glasses. 

That night, you let yourself go straight home and sleep.

//

It’s still dark outside when you jolt awake. You’re exhausted, and your entire body aches with a dull thrum — playing Bond was fun, but the guy got tossed around a lot. You’re not quite sure why you thought it would be a good idea to do your own stunts. The exhaustion is bone deep, almost pressing down on your chest, and you take a second to breathe, tossing an arm over your eyes. Fuck. What time is it?

You grope around for your phone, finding it wedged behind your pillow, and tap on the screen. 4:00 a.m. Of course. There’s a missed call from Shane, and your thumb hovers over the notification before clicking the phone off. 

Shane. You think about him, vaguely, while you stretch and sit up on the bed, thumbing the TV on with the remote on your bedside table and flipping dejectedly through Netflix. You laugh when the streaming platform recommends a romantic comedy you had done a few months ago and linger on the title card until it starts to play a short preview. 

Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy had been one of your first roles outside of action movies. You’d played Renée Zellweger’s young boy toy, and you had thoroughly enjoyed sharing a screen with the Hollywood legend. Your character was ridiculous, so you’d leant into it — you let them dress you in tight white shirts and gave the camera your bedroom eyes when the Director had shouted for it. 

You think, belatedly, of what Bridget would do in your situation. 

Montreal was three hours ahead of Vancouver, so Shane was probably already up. And you shouldn’t be dodging his calls just because you can’t control a crush. You’re calling him back before you can quite realize what’s happening. 

He picks up on the second ring. “Y/n.” He sounds slightly relieved. 

“Hey, Shane. Sorry I missed your call. I had a rough filming day yesterday, and I just crashed as soon as I got home.”

“Oh, uh, no worries.” He says. “I — can I tell you something?”

“Uh, yeah.” You respond. 

“Promise you won’t make fun of me?”

“I told my mom I wouldn’t make promises I won’t keep, sweetheart.” You joke, and Shane exhales. 

“Seriously. Look, I’ve been thinking about this since we called the other day, and…”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Of course.” You correct, hastily. 

“I think I was so scared about the interview because it wasn’t entirely wrong,” he begins, hesitant, like he’s grinding the words out. “I — look. There’s not a single out guy in the NHL, and I freaked out.”

You hum, encouragingly, and he continues. “Not that I’m gay! But I… I don’t think I’m straight, either, Y/n. I… you make me feel things, and I — I don’t know if I’ve felt this way before. We aren’t nothing.”

You might be able to hear your pulse in your ears. 

“I’m sorry I lied. To you.” He says, and you feel yourself letting out a breath. 

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t apologize.” You say, and he makes a keening noise at the pet-name. “Look, fuck, do you want me to come see you? I can fly to Montreal.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course. It’ll be a day trip. I think I need the day off, anyway. I’ll fly up, catch your game, and then we can talk.”

“I — I’d like that.”

“Alright, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon, then?”

The cameras captured everything. Every smoky lilt in his words.

The reporters react exactly how he expects — forced laughter, pens scribbling. They think it’s flirting.

They have no idea.

He’s not thinking about press tours or rehearsed kisses.

He’s not thinking about the easy bond you share or the way you pour your soul into your scenes.

He’s thinking about the way you looked at him during that last table read — like you knew exactly what he was imagining.

He’s thinking about the third day of shooting, when his hand lingered on your waist half a second too long after a scene cut.

He’s thinking about your body.

He's thinking about the way you moan into his mouth when he's three fingers deep inside you.

He's thinking about the way your pussy drips around his cock.

And he wants it.

Now.

His steps were heavy, determined. He did not hear the reporters calling out his name, he did not see the director waving him over; for all he sees is the way the sheer lace and satin looks on your body, kissing your skin like a lover.

He ain't no lover, but he would kiss that body.

He smiles at the interviewer you were talking to, sliding his arm around your waist, one of his huge hands caressing your shimmering skin.

He breathes you in, lips brushing your ear—relishing in the shiver of your body, thanks to him.

“Come with me.”

Not even a whisper.

A breath in the shape of a command exhaled against you.

The cameras captured everything. The hungry look in his eyes. The hands holding you—guiding you away.

“Darling, you wore this for me, didn't ya?”

You didn't have words. You could only nod—despite knowing he isn't looking at you— too busy steering you through the sea of well dressed men and women.

“Wanna feel you now, girl. Let me see that pretty pussy cry for me.”

The flashes went off in succession, each marking the start of something no one would be able to erase.

Did it really matter?

Did his—and your—career really matter more than the raw pleasure you drew from each other's body?

A sane man would say to wait for the prying eyes to blind away. But Bucky was anything but sane tonight.

His grip on your arm tightened, his pace quickening as he walks down the carpeted staircase.

“Gonna take you home, sugar. Can't fucking wait to rip this dress off you.”

He ignores the valet, he ignores the fans.

Opening the door and pushing you in, ignoring your startled gasp, he ignores the flashes.

His hands were shaking, the steering wheel too unstable. He tries to take a deep breath, focus on the road.

But you were sitting right next to him, eyes wide and glassy from the city lights and nerves—and he couldn't think no more.

He needs you.

Now.

Slamming the brakes, he looks over at you. “You better take those panties off right now, princess. We're not reaching home tonight.”

The little dark alleyway was safe enough, right?

“Bucky…”

A hand wraps itself around your throat. “Nuh-uh. I didn't ask you to speak, doll. Take those off and get in the back.”

His eyes were darkened with lust barely restrained by the small voice in his mind whispering—reminding him to stay sharp.

The other voice, the one that sounded a lot like him, reminded him of the way you scream out his name.

He blinked.

And when he opened his eyes back again, he was sprawled on the leather. Cock heavy and throbbing inside your pussy as you bounced on him.

He slaps your ass, the smack echoing in the interior of his brand new car.

Red hand prints making themselves home on your soft skin. Drool drips down your lips, too dumb and fucked out to speak up anything other than desperate little noises.

His hand snakes up your waist to your ribs, up to your chest as he bunched the expensive fabric in his first before ripping it off.

Your startled gasp did nothing more than mildly amuse him. In fact, he seemed rather pleased to be aware of the fact that you would have no way to walk out of this car without making headlines.

“God— look at those tits… So pretty. All f’me….” He pinches your erect nipples—hard—making you arch away from him, but his tight grip on your waist didn't let you escape.

“Don’t run from it. You're all fucking mine.”

His hand leaves your nipples and reached to cup the back of your head, pulling you in for a kiss. Teeth clashed together, tongues melting into each other as you panted into his mouth.

Grabbing your hips, he slams you down harder on his cock. Setting a brutal rhythm as he used you like a fucktoy, all for his pleasure.

“Yeah, bounce on it, honey. Show me you're my desperate little slut,” his voice was rough, the steely edge now breaking away into gravel.

“Bucky—aah! You're—”

He clamps his hand over your mouth, his palm slick with your juices and spit. You blabber against his damp skin, muffled cries of pleases and oh gods leaving your mouth.

He thrusts up into you, thick thighs clenching as pleasure bled into his core.The car rocked with each push and pull, no doubt revealing the sinful activities you two were partaking in to the world outside.

“Fuck it, girl, fuck yourself dumb on this cock. Make it take.” He throws his head back on the seat as you continued riding him within an inch of your life.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as you reached your orgasm— too much, too fast. You sob out his name as you drench his thighs and the seats below.

“Tsk tsk, you made a fucking mess, princess. This pussy couldn't take all this cock huh? Was she too sensitive today? Did I make her cry too much?”

Your head falls on his shoulder as he continued thrusting into your pussy. Cursing with a loud groan, he fills your hole up with his release. Shudders leaving his body as he draws out his orgasm for as long as possible.

His hot, sticky cum against your inner walls had you squirming on top of him. He chuckles as he looks over at your ruined makeup and teary eyes.

Gone was the little starlet that smiled at the cameras.

For all you were now was his messy little girl.

All for him.

I don't have words except I actually prefer when my men are soft.

… needless to say, you weren’t exactly surprised when you woke up to your phone ringing. even less surprising was hearing charles sniffling and begging you to get a flight out because he’s just seen you die a very gruesome death in the movie and now he desperately needs cuddles. he’s definitely got a collection of stuffed animals he uses when he needs comfort but you’re not available, and his favourite is a floppy bunny. charles is holding onto that bunny like his life depends on it after watching your movie.

you end up having to call one of the other drivers and ask them to keep him company until you get there. when you do, expect to be within arm’s reach of your boyfriend at all times.

gabriel bortoleto:

he’s actually kind of offended that the writers had the audacity to kill you off. the second he realizes what’s about to happen he’ll start angrily ranting about “how dare they!!” and all that.

then he sees you covered in the (fake) blood and you’re so clearly pissed off even though you’re dying and he just … slowly … trails off … until he’s just staring at the screen. he doesn’t even respond when you poke his arm to see if he’s okay. all that’s going through his head is holy fuck you look hot when you're angry and covered in blood—

it takes you a little while to realise what’s actually going on, and you gotta just kinda keep poking and teasing him until he breaks out of it. let’s just say if you wanna go all out for halloween that year … gabi’s definitely on board.

ollie bearman:

i actually think he really likes horror movies even though they give him nightmares? ollie loves them and finds them so interesting and even though he’s so tense the whole time he just … he loves them! so when he finds out that you’re gonna be in a horror movie?

he is so excited.

ollie makes a whole night of it. he’ll order food from your favourite restaurant, set up a lil blanket fort for the two of you, make sure you know that he’ll be extra jumpy that night, and then get your movie set up on his laptop. he can’t watch horror movies on big screen because the detail makes it too scary for him. so you’ll just have to get used to watching things on a laptop screen, sorry.

finally he gets to cuddle up to you and he’s so excited to watch your movie!! he gets most of the way through before your character gets killed off and ollie … he just shuts his computer immediately.

the whole rest of the night is just spent assuring your boyfriend that you’re fine, you’re not upset about your character’s ending, and also that yes, all of the actual horror bits in the movie were fake. then—and only then—will he start talking about the actual quality of the movie and praising your acting.

©koalapastries :: please do not copy or rewrite my work on any platform !!

author’s note: please note that i am a wimp who can’t watch horror for the life of me 😅

comments + reblogs appreciated !!