#can you tell im excited already for the movie

[kuzoowl]

Save me Reze movie save me!

[calypso-rt]

this is my first req ever but im obsessed with your honeymoon fic and i can't stop thinking about eloping with rafe??? just going away and getting married without telling anyone. just us two. vows are intimate af. soft emotional rafe. coming back to the obx as mrs. cameron. AHHHH pls <3

elope

-> Rafe x F!Reader

Summary: When a spur-of-the-moment decision leads to a chaotic, love-drunk elopement, you and Rafe Cameron find yourselves navigating married life with zero preparation, but with plenty of laughter, stolen kisses, and the smug satisfaction of returning to the Outer Banks as Mr. and Mrs. Cameron. 𓏌

-> ily anon for your sweet words and unique request, hope I made ur first request worth it <3

✈︎ The Getaway

It starts as a joke. A stupid, reckless, deliriously in-love kind of joke.

You’re both sprawled out on the couch, legs tangled, some movie playing in the background that neither of you are actually watching. Your fingers are absentmindedly tracing patterns on Rafe’s arm when you sigh dramatically.

"What if we just ran away and got married?"

You expect him to smirk, maybe throw back some witty remark about how you’re already his anyway. Instead, he lifts his head, eyes glinting with something dangerously close to excitement.

"Say the word, baby."

You scoff, assuming he's messing with you. "Yeah, okay, Rafe."

"No, really." He’s upright now, turning to you completely. "We could. Just go. Right now. You scared?" His lips twitch like he’s challenging you.

You roll your eyes. "Oh please. If anything, you’d be the one chickening out."

That’s all it takes.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re throwing clothes into a duffel bag while Rafe is… well, not. He’s just standing in your doorway, watching you with the dumbest grin.

"Rafe, pack something," you huff.

"I’ll just buy stuff there," he shrugs, ever the rich boy.

"Where’s your bag?" you demand.

He shrugs. "Figured I’d just wing it."

"RAFE."

"What?" He laughs. "Babe, I got my wallet, and I got you. What else do I need?"

You groan, but before you can argue, he’s tugging you out the door, fingers locked around your wrist as if he’s afraid you’ll change your mind.

You won’t.

By the time you get to the airport, you’re both giddy, high off adrenaline, grinning like a couple of kids sneaking out past curfew.

"Are we actually doing this?" you ask, clutching onto his arm as he coolly slides his black Amex across the check-in counter.

Rafe just smirks, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"Babe, we were married the second you said ‘What if?’"

...

A Chaotic “I Do”

Turns out, when you spontaneously elope, you don’t exactly get a say in where you end up.

You and Rafe take the first flight out, purely because it’s the next one boarding. And now? You’re standing in the middle of an airport, squinting at a Welcome to the Bahamas sign.

"Okay, solid choice," Rafe says, sliding his sunglasses on like this was all part of the plan.

"We literally picked it at random."

"Yeah, but still. Ocean, sun, you in a bikini? Feels like fate."

You both go straight to the nearest beachfront shop, which is exactly what you’d expect: cheap sunglasses, “I ❤️ the Bahamas” T-shirts, and neon-colored swimsuits.

"Babe, look at these!" Rafe holds up a pair of matching floral-print button-down shirts.

You wrinkle your nose. "Absolutely not."

Rafe tosses one in the basket anyway.

By the time you check out, you have the most ridiculous wedding attire: a flowy white sundress for you (not quite a wedding gown, but it works), and some linen pants and a half-unbuttoned shirt for Rafe (because of course).

You both needed a place to get married. The only available option? A tiny beachside chapel run by an old woman named Martha, who takes one look at the two of you, disheveled, sun-kissed, grinning like fools, and nods approvingly.

"Y’all are one of those love-drunk couples, huh?" she says, already reaching for a pen.

"You have no idea," Rafe smirks.

The ceremony is absolute chaos.

There’s no music, just the sound of waves crashing outside. The ring situation is even worse. Rafe had to buy a cheap one from a souvenir shop (it’s literally got a tiny turtle on it, but he swears he’ll get you a real one later).

Martha starts speaking, but you barely hear it because Rafe keeps whispering things in your ear:

"I still think we should’ve gone for the floral shirts." "Babe, stop laughing, you’re gonna ruin the moment." "Damn, you look good in that dress. Gonna have a hard time focusing, baby."

You swat at his chest, but your cheeks hurt from smiling.

And then, somehow, you’re at the part where she asks if you take Rafe to be your husband.

You don’t even hesitate.

"I do."

Rafe’s eyes soften just a little. "Yeah," he says, voice warm and thick with affection, "I do, too."

And just like that, you’re married.

"Now kiss your bride," Martha says, and Rafe doesn’t waste a second, dipping you down in the most dramatic kiss, nearly toppling both of you into the sand outside.

"See, baby?" he murmurs against your lips. "Told you we were married the second you said ‘What if.’"

...

The Honeymoon Phase

🍊 Breakfast in Bed (Kind of…)

You wake up to the smell of something…burning.

"Oh, no."

Before you can even sit up, Rafe bursts through the door, balancing a tray with way too much confidence for someone who is actively sloshing orange juice everywhere.

"Morning, wifey," he grins, way too pleased with himself.

"Rafe—"

"Made you breakfast." He plops the tray onto the bed, which, by the way, now has a bright orange stain soaking into the sheets, and gestures proudly.

It’s… a mess. The toast is questionable, the eggs are slightly charred, and there’s a very concerning amount of butter on the pancakes.

"You set something on fire, didn’t you?" you ask.

"What? No. Maybe. Doesn’t matter." He shoves a buttery, sticky, orange juice-soaked pancake toward your mouth. "Eat up, Mrs. Cameron."

🏝️ Beach Walks (feat. Rafe’s Need to Be Dramatic)

The sand is blazing hot, and you try to walk normally, but one step in and you immediately yelp, hopping from foot to foot.

Rafe laughs, but before you can even complain, he scoops you up effortlessly, arms wrapped firmly around your waist.

"I gotcha, baby."

"Rafe—"

"Shhh, just let me be your hero."

You roll your eyes, but you don’t protest.

"Y’know," he smirks, adjusting you in his arms, "technically, carrying my wife across the sand is, like, tradition or something."

"That’s for crossing a threshold, not—"

"Baby. Let me have this."

⚭ Introducing You as ‘My Wife’ Every Chance He Gets

It starts off cute.

Like when he checks into the hotel: "Reservation for Mr. and Mrs. Cameron."

Or when he orders drinks: "And one for my wife. She just married the luckiest guy in the world."

But then? He just doesn’t stop.

☀️ At breakfast: "My wife will have the French toast. She deserves the best, obviously." ☀️ To the surf instructor: "My wife’s never surfed before, but she’s a natural at everything, so I’m sure she’ll be great." ☀️ To random people: "Oh, you like her dress? Thanks, my wife looks good in everything."

At some point, you just start staring at him every time he says it.

"What?" he grins.

"You really love saying that, huh?"

"Saying what?"

"‘My wife.’"

"Well…" He leans in, kissing your temple. "It’s my favorite thing to call you."

And just like that, you’re completely ruined for him.

...

💍 The Ring

You're standing in front of the mirror, adjusting your hair, mentally preparing to leave this dream-like trip behind. The past few days had been perfect: messy, chaotic, and perfect.

"You ready?" Rafe's voice is casual... too casual.

"Yeah," you sigh, turning to face him. "As ready as I’ll ever be."

And that's when you see it.

A small, velvet box in his hands.

"Rafe—"

"Hold on," he interrupts quickly, flipping the lid open before you can say anything else.

And there it is.

The ring.

It’s beautiful, an actual engagement ring, nothing like the cheap little band you impulsively grabbed at the tourist shop before the ceremony. The diamond catches the light, shimmering, sparkling. It’s classic, elegant, and somehow… so you.

"You—" Your voice catches in your throat. "Rafe, when did you—?"

He rubs the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish, which is insane considering it’s Rafe Cameron standing in front of you. "I might’ve, uh, left the hotel at, like, four in the morning to find a jewelry store."

Your mouth opens, then closes. "You did what?"

"Babe, you deserve a real ring." His voice is softer now, serious in a way that makes your heart do dangerous things. "Something that actually… I don’t know, means something. Something that lasts."

You blink. "Rafe."

"I know we did this all backward, but…" He grins, taking the ring out of the box and sliding it onto your finger. "Had to get you something that actually makes people jealous."

You laugh, but your eyes are already misty as you look down at your hand, his hand still wrapped around yours.

"It’s perfect," you whisper.

His smug little smirk softens. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He grins, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Good. ‘Cause you’re never getting rid of me now, Mrs. Cameron."

...

🏡 Back to the Outer Banks As Mr. & Mrs. Cameron

The Pogues’ Reaction

JJ nearly chokes on his beer when he sees the gold band on your finger.

"Shut the fuck up," he says, eyes wide as saucers. "You married Rafe?"

"Congratulations," Kiara deadpans. "Or… condolences?"

Pope just rubs his temples, processing the insanity. "You guys were barely even dating!"

Rafe throws an arm around your shoulder, looking insufferably pleased with himself. "Guess we’re just efficient."

Sarah stares at you, then at Rafe, then back at you. "You— You eloped? Like, actually eloped?*"

You shrug, suppressing a mischievous smile. "Well, yes."

"Bro," JJ turns to Rafe, baffled beyond belief. "You’re a psychopath."

Rafe just smirks. "And now she’s stuck with me forever."

The Kooks’ Reaction

Topper’s jaw drops. "You did what?"

"Married her," Rafe repeats casually.

"You can’t just— That’s not—*" Topper just splutters for a second. "Why wasn’t I invited?"

"There was no invite," you explain, smirking at his distress. "It was very in the moment."

"So you—" Kelce pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to comprehend this absolute madness. "You just ran off and got married. Just like that."

"Yup."

"You’re both insane," he says, but there’s a smile creeping onto his face. "But also… kinda iconic?"

𓏌 Married Life

Everyone’s still reeling from the news. Your phone hasn’t stopped blowing up.

JJ threatens to throw a “belated bachelorette party” despite it being entirely too late.

"You do realize you’re a Cameron now, right?" Topper reminds you every chance he gets, as if you somehow forgot.

Rafe won’t stop introducing you as his wife, relishing every second of people’s reactions.

You catch him randomly grinning at you like a lovestruck idiot.

"What?" you ask one night, curled up on the couch together.

"Nothing," he murmurs, smirking. "Just like saying Mrs. Cameron in my head."

[cheftsunoda]

Hi! Could you do a story where a single mom and her kid are put somewhere and the kid recognizes one of the drivers voices from their role in cars? The kid once they hear the voice they could go to the driver and ask for an autograph. Could it maybe have some social media in it. I just think it might be cute. Thank you.

movie star — lh44

smau + blurbs

lewis hamilton x!single mom reader

yn gets invited to the paddock by her brother who happens to work for the ferrari team. yn brings along her young child, ella, who happens to be a huge fan of all the cars movies. what happens when ella recognizes lewis’ voice just from his few set of lines?

fc : zaar goedemans

not proofread

(a/n) : i was inspired to write about lewis again im sorryyy. such a cute idea love :)

—

yourusername

autodromo enzo e dino ferrari di imola 📍

liked by lewishamilton, scuderiaferrari, yourbff & 52,097 others.

yourusername : ella’s excellent knowledge of the cars franchise got us an exclusive tour from a very special racing legend;) thank you @/lewishamilton ❤️

tagged : yourbrother, yourbff & lewishamilton

—

yourbrother : didn’t even thank the one who brought you to the paddock in the first place…🥴

liked by yourusername

yourusername : thanks hoe

yourbrother : a “thank you so much. you are the best brother ever” would’ve been preferred.

liked by yourusername

yourusername : we can’t all have what we want now can we?

scuderiaferrari : The cutest little tifosi ❤️😁 You both are welcome back anytime!

liked by yourusername

yourusername : the biggest honor ❤️🫶🏻

yourbff : i walk away for two minutes and you are off with lewis fucking hamilton🤭 best weekend with you and my niece tho❤️

liked by yourusername and lewishamilton

yourusername : what can I say? the man is a smooth talker

liked by lewishamilton

charles_leclerc : Ella did not seem too impressed with me😭 It was so nice to meet you guys, hope she had the best time!

liked by yourusename

yourusername : great to meet you, charles! get yourself in a cars movie and she will love you:)

liked by charles_leclerc

yourusername : if it helps I know @/yourbff was never excited to meet you

liked by charles_leclerc

yourbff : yn pls stop embarrassing me

liked by yourusername and charles_leclerc

lewishamilton : Definitely the first time I was ever recognized for my voice acting instead of my driving😁 Love to you both 🫶🏽

liked by yourusername

georgerussell63 : WAIT! is this the adorable little girl with the hot mum you were talking about??

liked by yourusername and lando

lewishamilton : that is the last time I ever tell you anything

username00 : who is this girl??

username8 : her brother is an engineer for Ferrari I believe

—

I don’t know what kind of spell my brother cast on me to agree to this, but somehow, I let him talk me into dragging my four and a half year old through a Formula 1 paddock.

“To be fair,” he said this morning as he handed me the guest passes, “it’s not every day your daughter gets to see real race cars up close. You’re the cool mom now.”

The “cool mom” is currently sweating through her sundress, trying to keep her child from launching herself into a garage.

Ella’s been buzzing since the second we walked in, practically vibrating with excitement. “Mommy,” she whispers like it’s a big secret, “do you think there are Cars cars here?”

I bite back a laugh. “Sort of. These are real race cars. No eyes on the windshield, though.”

She seems skeptical but accepts the answer—until she hears a voice behind us.

“Yeah, we’ll be on track in fifteen. Let’s go over that telemetry—”

Ella gasps. Like, audibly.

I glance over my shoulder just as she whips around and bolts. “Ella!” I call after her, panic rising. “Come back here!”

Too late. She’s already launched herself at a man in red Ferrari gear—who turns just in time to catch her before she crashes into his legs.

“I knew it!” she squeals, staring up at him with wide eyes. “Your name is Lewis Hamilton! Like in Cars! You were the car in the movie! The British one with the shiny paint!”

Lewis—yes, that Lewis Hamilton—blinks down at her, clearly stunned. And then?

He laughs. Full-on, genuine, belly laugh. “Wow, I haven’t heard that in a while.”

I catch up just as he crouches down to her level, still smiling like she just made his entire year.

“I liked your voice,” she says seriously. “You sounded fast.”

I feel like melting into the concrete.

“I’m so sorry,” I rush out, cringing. “She’s been obsessed with Cars lately and heard your voice and… well, now here we are.”

He looks up at me and flashes that movie-star smile. “No need to apologize. That might be the best fan interaction I’ve ever had.”

My cheeks are burning, and not from the sun.

“I’m Lewis,” he says, standing now—still holding my daughter’s hand like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Yeah,” I say, trying not to sound like a complete idiot. “I figured.”

He glances between me and Ella, and I swear I see something spark behind those sunglasses. Something soft. Curious. Maybe even interested.

Ella’s still talking a mile a minute, hands animated as she tells Lewis about her Lightning McQueen pajamas and how she thinks Ferraris are “way cooler than Francesco Bernoulli, actually.”

Lewis listens like she’s giving a press conference. Nods, laughs in the right places, even kneels down again when she starts talking about how she wants to be a race car driver when she grows up. It’s… oddly heart-melting.

“She’s got good taste,” he says, standing again after she finishes her full review of Cars 2. “And quite the memory. I think I said four lines in that movie.”

“She watches it on loop,” I reply with a sheepish smile. “I think she could recite it backwards by now.”

“Poor you,” he jokes, then chuckles. “Actually, I take that back. That’s a solid film.”

“Strong performances all around,” I say, trying to keep it light, though my heart is hammering. I’m talking to Lewis Hamilton. Casual. No big deal.

He grins, and I swear the sun gets just a little brighter. “You’re her mum?”

“Yeah,” I say, glancing down at Ella, who’s now twirling around like she’s doing celebratory donuts. “My brother works with Ferrari, so he invited us for the day.”

“Ah. The guy in the headset who looked mildly panicked when she ran over?” he teases, gesturing toward Matt a few garages down, who’s giving me a thumbs-up and a very smug grin.

“That’s him. He’s never letting me live this down.”

Lewis laughs. “Well, I’m glad he brought you both. It’s nice having a bit of joy in the paddock for once. Most people here only run toward me if I’ve said something controversial.”

“Ella just thinks you’re a cool car,” I say, smiling.

“Honestly, I’ll take that over a journalist any day.”

There’s a beat of silence, but it’s not awkward. It’s… comfortable. Easy.

Then he surprises me.

“Can I get you a coffee or something?” he asks, glancing back toward the hospitality suite. “We’ve got some time before the next briefing. And I kind of want to hear more about your daughter’s movie critiques.”

I blink. “Are you—are you asking me out in the paddock?”

He shrugs, that same charming grin on his face. “Just coffee. Unless you want it to be more.”

My face feels like it’s on fire.

“I’d like that,” I manage. “I mean—the coffee. Not necessarily more. I mean—not not more. Just… yes. Coffee is good.”

He laughs again, clearly entertained by my slow-motion trainwreck.

“Come on,” he says, offering a hand. “I promise the coffee’s better than the movie acting.”

As we walk side by side, Ella skips ahead of us, humming the Cars soundtrack like she’s soundtracking our entire lives.

—

I don’t know what I expected when Lewis Hamilton invited me for coffee, but it definitely wasn’t this. Not sitting across from him on a shaded terrace at the Ferrari hospitality suite, both of us laughing while Ella colors in a cartoon car on a napkin someone kindly fetched just for her. Not the easy conversation. Not the way he kept looking at me like he wanted to memorize my face. And definitely not how comfortable it all feels.

“Okay,” he says, leaning back in his chair after Ella proudly announces that her drawing is him and “not Lightning McQueen this time.” “I have to ask.”

Uh-oh.

“Are you…” He glances at me, then lowers his voice, playful but deliberate. “Single? Just to be sure.”

I blink. Then laugh, a little surprised. “That obvious?”

“Not obvious,” he says, smiling. “But I don’t go around offering coffee to taken women. Or, you know, giving them the ‘Cars 2’ VIP experience.”

My cheeks warm. “Well, yes. I’m single. Been single for a while, actually.”

He nods once, and I swear I see something shift in his expression. Something a little more… serious. But still soft.

“Good,” he says, then pulls his phone out from the pocket of his red Ferrari team trousers and hands it to me. “Because I’d really like to see you again. Properly. Outside of this chaos.”

I blink down at the phone in my hands. He opened the contact app. My name is already typed in at the top.

“I mean—if you’d want to,” he adds, suddenly a little less sure of himself, which I find wildly endearing. “No pressure.”

I look up at him and smile. “Lewis, you let my daughter lecture you on Cars 2 for ten minutes and still wanted to talk to me after.”

He grins.

“Yeah, I’d want to.”

I type in my number, hesitating only slightly before adding a little 🚗 emoji at the end of my name, then hand it back to him.

He looks at it, chuckles under his breath. “Perfect.”

Ella tugs on my sleeve, then looks up at Lewis with hopeful eyes. “Can you be in Cars 4 too?”

Lewis raises his brows at me, pretending to think. “That depends. Will your mum come with me to the premiere?”

I nearly choke on my iced latte.

Ella looks between us and shrugs, already focused on her next drawing.

And just like that, I know this day is going to be one we won’t forget.

—

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, yourbff, georgerussell63 & 75,099 others.

yourusername : in love with life <3

—

username00 : oh it’s lewis 100 percent. those r his tattoos

username5 : never ever thought I’d see !dad lewis

yourbff : hold on I’m screaming

liked by yourusername

charles_leclerc : Hope Ella likes the helmet! It was one of my first when I was young ❤️

liked by yourusername

yourusername : you are an angel! she absolutely loves it and i told her it came from “Charles the cool Ferrari guy” 🫶🏻

liked by charles_leclerc

username00 : Charles gave the child an old helmet?? Im screaming

username10 : omg it’s Roscoe

georgerussell63 : does ella like mercedes??

liked by yourusername

yourusername : unknown. however she would probably like you as she associates British accents with being fast :)

liked by georgerussell63, lando and lewishamilton

lando : smart kid

liked by yourusername

—

It’s been a month since our first date, and honestly? I still don’t believe any of it’s real. Sometimes I catch myself smiling like a lovesick teenager when I’m washing dishes or folding laundry, just remembering the way Lewis looked at me over coffee that day. The way he waited for Ella to finish her story before speaking. The way he texts me goodnight every night, no matter what country he’s in or how late his schedule runs. He’s busy — obviously. He’s Lewis Hamilton, and that comes with endless media, team meetings, travel, and the weight of an entire sport on his shoulders. But he’s never once made me feel like a burden. Never once made Ella feel like too much. We’ve spent weekends together when he’s in town. Park visits. Breakfasts in my tiny kitchen. Late-night talks on my couch with Ella fast asleep in the next room. I’ve watched them build a little world of inside jokes and shared grins. And every time I see them together, my heart squeezes. Still, it’s been five days since we’ve seen him in person, and Ella’s already asked when he’s coming back “from the big car work.” I miss him too. More than I expected to. More than I probably should, after only a month. My phone buzzes just as I settle on the couch with a glass of wine.

FaceTime from Lewis ❤️

I answer without hesitation. His face fills the screen, slightly fuzzy from wherever he is — a hotel room, judging by the neutral headboard behind him.

“Hey,” I say, smiling. “Didn’t expect to see your face tonight.”

He grins, and something about it looks a little softer. A little more tired than usual.

“Hi, beautiful. Had to see you. And maybe ask when I can get a certain tiny helmet-wearing human back in my arms.”

I laugh, shifting the phone so he can see Ella’s drawing of a “race car house” she made earlier. “She misses you. She told the preschool teacher you live in the Cars universe.”

He chuckles, then goes quiet for a second. “I miss you both.”

My breath catches. He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like it’s not still blowing my mind every time he chooses us.

“I miss you too,” I admit. “It’s not the same without you here.”

There’s a pause. Then, he leans closer to the camera, a little more serious now.

“I’ve been thinking,” he starts. “I’ve got back-to-back races coming up, but I don’t want to go another couple weeks without seeing you. Or Ella. What if… you came with me? Both of you.”

I blink. “You want us to travel with you?”

“I do,” he says gently. “Only if you’re comfortable. I know it’s a lot — new places, media, the chaos. But we’d make it work. I’ll take care of everything. I just…” He runs a hand over his jaw. “I want you there. Both of you. It already feels weird being away.”

My heart flips. Like actually flips.

“She’d lose her mind,” I whisper, stunned.

He smiles. “I hope so.”

“And me?” I tease, raising an eyebrow.

His eyes soften. “You already have.”

—

There’s something surreal about standing outside my apartment at 6 a.m., suitcase at my feet, coffee in one hand, watching Ella bounce in place like she’s about to launch into orbit.

“Do you think the jet has snacks?” she asks for the fifth time in ten minutes, clutching her tiny backpack like it holds national secrets. “Like popcorn? Or cookies? Or astronaut food?”

I laugh softly, brushing a piece of hair out of her face. “I’m sure it has snacks, babe. You’ll probably get to pick.”

She gasps. “Even juice?”

“Even juice,” I nod solemnly.

She’s practically vibrating now, and I can’t blame her. I’m nervous too…not because I don’t want to go, but because it feels like such a big step. Not just a vacation or a getaway. It’s a real peek into his world, the fast paced, private jet, race weekend chaos that Lewis calls normal.

And the fact that he wants us there? That he asked for us?

A sleek black SUV pulls up to the curb, and Ella freezes like a deer in headlights. “Is that him? Is it Daddy Lightning?”

I stifle a laugh. “Is that his new nick name?”

The door opens, and there he is — hoodie pulled up, sunglasses on, all sleepy-smile and early-morning calm.

“Morning, ladies,” he says, stepping out and immediately crouching to Ella’s level. “Are we ready for our big adventure?”

She throws her arms around him without hesitation. “Do you live on the plane?”

He laughs, lifting her up with ease. “Not quite. But we’ll be on it for a few hours, so that’s close enough, right?”

She nods seriously. “Do I get to sit in the front?”

“We’ll see what the pilot says,” he winks.

Then his eyes meet mine over her shoulder, and something quiet passes between us. It’s warm. Grounded. Like he sees me in the middle of all this whirlwind, and still chooses me anyway.

“Hi,” he says gently.

“Hi,” I smile, nerves melting the second he takes my suitcase from me like it’s instinct.

The ride to the airstrip is a blur of laughter, Ella’s endless questions, and Lewis glancing over at me like he can’t believe this is real either.

And then we’re there — standing at the base of a sleek private jet, the sun just beginning to rise behind it. Ella clutches my hand and whispers, “This is like the movies.”

I squeeze hers. “Yeah, it really is.”

Lewis helps us up the steps, his hand on my back, and the second we step inside, Ella gasps.

“It’s like a flying living room!”

She’s right — plush seats, soft lighting, snacks already set out like a welcome gift. Lewis sets our bags down and gestures for her to explore.

“Make yourself at home,” he grins. “You’re officially part of the team now.”

She spins in a slow circle, then plops into a seat with a giggle. “Best. Day. Ever.”

And I can’t help it — I look at him, heart full to bursting, and whisper, “Thank you.”

He turns to me, eyes soft. “You don’t have to thank me. This just feels… right.”

And as the engines hum to life and Ella starts singing the Cars theme under her breath, I realize he’s right.

—

The second we step into the paddock, Ella’s already tugging at my hand, eyes wide like she’s just walked into Disneyland for motorsport lovers. Which, to be fair… she has. She’s got her oversized Ferrari cap on — gifted by Lewis, obviously — and her little team tee that nearly reaches her knees. There’s a lanyard with her paddock pass bouncing against her chest, and an expression on her face that says she’s exactly where she belongs. We’re barely past the entrance when she spots someone and gasps dramatically.

“Mama,” she hisses. “UNCLE FERRARI!!”

Before I can even ask what that means, she’s bolting straight across the walkway — and right into the arms of Charles Leclerc.

He lets out a surprised laugh but catches her easily, crouching down as she throws her arms around his neck like they’ve known each other forever.

“Bonjour, petite fille,” he grins, his accent soft. “Uncle Ferrari?”

Ella nods solemnly. “You’re the red one. My favorite.”

From a few steps behind us, my brother bursts out laughing.

“Oh really, Ella?” he calls over. “What does that make me then?”

She blinks at him, thinking very hard. “Uncle Ferrari boss.”

I nearly choke.

Charles is now laughing, absolutely delighted. “You’ve been upgraded,” he tells my brother with a wink.

“You see what I deal with?” I murmur as I walk over, cheeks warm.

My brother grins. “Honestly? She’s already more popular in this paddock than most of our drivers.”

He’s not wrong.

And then—like some sort of comedic timing conspiracy—Lando Norris strolls in, clearly intrigued by the toddler-sized Ferrari fan in Charles’s arms.

“What’s all this?” he asks, eyes twinkling as he bends down. “Who’s this little legend? Is this the Ella?”

Ella turns her head, still in Charles’s arms. “Who are you?”

Charles chuckles. “That’s Lando. He drives the orange one.”

She squints. “Like… orange Lightning McQueen?”

Lando gasps, offended and flattered all at once. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever called me.”

Right on cue, George Russell appears, sunglasses on, sipping something green and healthy-looking, clocking the scene instantly.

“Don’t tell me we have a new favorite on the grid?” he says with a teasing glance at Charles.

“She already declared me Uncle Ferrari,” Charles says smugly.

“Uncle who?” George repeats, eyebrow raised. Then he leans down toward Ella. “And what am I then?”

She eyes him, deadly serious. “Uncle Sunglasses.”

George looks personally attacked.

“She’s not wrong,” I mumble, trying not to laugh.

Charles passes Ella back to me and says, “You’ll have to earn new titles, boys.”

I smile as Ella curls back into my arms, thrilled and smug and totally in her element.

Lando looks at me for the first time — really looks. “You must be YN.”

“Guilty,” I laugh. “And mildly horrified by the chaos she’s already caused.”

“No chaos,” George grins, offering a hand. “Just a ray of sunshine — and, let’s be honest, the new face of the Ferrari junior program.”

Charles nods sagely. “It’s settled then.”

—

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, lando & 122,099 others.

yourusername : well ella has started collecting f1 drivers like infinity stones

tagged : yourbff, charles_leclerc, lando, georgerussell63 & lewishamilton

—

charles_leclerc : uncle ferrari is her favorite, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise ❤️🇲🇨

liked by yourusername

yourbrother : the second she realized how cool charles is — I became chopped liver 😁

liked by yourusername & charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc : nah bro she gave you a promotion…you are still clearly number one here 😁

liked by yourusername and yourbrother

yourbff : she is just like her auntie fr

liked by yourusername

yourusername : I can’t with you

username00 : this is so cute omg

username10 : and the heart hand with lewis. They are def dating

lando : uncle orange lightning 💪🏻🧡 I should ask for a movie deal

liked by yourusername

yourusername : ella would def help write the script

F1 : Ella is definitely going to make Cars 4 happen and half the grid will be starring in it! 🎬

liked by yourusername

yourusername : probably called “all my uncles are race cars“

georgerussell63 : honestly uncle sunglasses makes me sound like the fashion icon i am. such an honor.

liked by yourusername

carmenmmundt: is ella looking for an aunt sunglasses ??❤️

liked by yourusername

yourusername : she is looking for any excuse to extend our family😁 welcome ❤️

liked by carmenmmundt

lewishamilton : you all might be uncles but daddy lightning reigns supreme 🤍

liked by yourusername and lando

yourusername : still can’t believe that’s your new name 🤦🏻‍♀️

liked by lewishamilton

lewishamilton : it’s my honor

liked by yourusername

—

lewis’ pov

Three months. Ninety-something days since our first date. And somehow, it already feels like a lifetime — in the best way possible.

I’ve fallen in love twice in that time. Once with YN. And once with the tiny, bossy, endlessly curious human who came with her.

Ella.

She’s currently sitting cross-legged on the floor of my hotel suite, wearing her favorite Ferrari hoodie (that she refuses to take off even when it’s 24 degrees outside), munching on grapes, and watching Cars for what I think is the third time today. Maybe fourth. I’ve lost count.

YN is finally getting the full day to herself I’ve been begging her to take — massage, facial, lunch with her best friend, the works. I practically shoved her into the spa robe myself this morning while Ella shouted “BYEEEEEEEEE MAMA!” like she wasn’t secretly obsessed with her.

Honestly? I was more nervous than I thought I’d be.

It’s one thing to be with YN and Ella, our little trio. But just me and Ella? On our own?

Turns out, I didn’t need to worry.

We’ve been building forts. Making up names for the pit crew. Drawing faces on fruit. She told me earlier that my beard makes me look “wise like a lion.”

I’ll take it.

Right now, she scoots closer to the couch, then climbs up beside me without a word. I put the remote down and wrap an arm around her shoulders automatically.

“Still tired, munchkin?”

She nods, rubbing her eyes. Then she curls into my side and rests her cheek against my chest like she’s done it a hundred times before.

We sit in silence, just the hum of the movie in the background and the soft weight of her against me. It’s the kind of stillness that feels sacred.

Then, out of nowhere, she mumbles it.

“Love you, Daddy.”

My heart actually stops.

It takes a second for my brain to catch up. I glance down, thinking maybe I heard her wrong — maybe she meant teddy or Laddy, the dog from the movie or some imaginary character I’ve missed — but no.

She’s looking up at me with sleepy eyes and the softest smile.

Like she knows.

“Did you…” I start, my voice catching. “Did you just call me—?”

“Daddy,” she repeats, gently. “You’re mine, right?”

Something in my chest breaks wide open.

I gather her into my arms fully now, holding her like she’s the most precious thing I’ve ever touched — because she is.

“Yeah, baby,” I whisper into her hair. “I’m yours. Always.”

And I mean it more than I’ve meant anything in my life.

When YN texts me an hour later.

how’s my wild child??

She’s perfect. Everything’s perfect.

Remind me to tell you what she said today.

(You’re gonna cry, by the way.)

—

your pov :

I knew something had shifted the second I walked back into the hotel suite.

It wasn’t anything dramatic. The lights were low, Ella was tucked into bed, and Lewis was sitting on the couch in one of his hoodies, staring down at his hands. Calm. Still. But there was something in the air — soft and heavy, like a truth waiting to be spoken.

He looked up when he heard me come in and smiled that quiet kind of smile I’ve only seen him give when it’s just us. No cameras. No circuits. Just him and me and Ella.

“Hey,” I said, voice gentle. “How’d it go?”

“She was an angel,” he said softly. “You should go to the spa more often.”

I laughed and walked toward him, kicking off my shoes and sitting beside him on the couch. “Did she make you watch Cars again?”

“Twice,” he nodded. “And she made Lightning McQueen a girl this time. She renamed him Elaina.”

“Of course she did.”

He looked at me then — really looked at me — and I felt the air shift again.

“She said something today,” he said, voice lower now. “Something kind of big.”

My heart stilled. “What do you mean?”

“She called me ‘Daddy.’” His voice cracked the tiniest bit. “Just… said it like it was the most normal thing in the world.”

My breath caught.

Tears welled in my eyes instantly — fast, overwhelming, real.

“She what?” I whispered.

“She looked up at me, smiled, and just… said it.” He paused. “And I swear, YN, I’ve never felt anything like that in my life.”

I covered my mouth with one hand, completely undone.

“She’s never called anyone that before,” I said, barely able to get the words out. “Not once.”

“I know,” he said, scooting closer. “And I didn’t want to tell you just to tell you. I wanted to tell you because… I realized something.”

I blinked up at him, heart pounding.

“I love her,” he said simply. “So much it scares me. But I love you, too. Completely. Quietly. Loudly. All of it.”

My breath hitched. His eyes never left mine.

“I don’t want this to be casual,” he continued. “I don’t want to be your maybe. I want to be your person. I want to be hers. I want to be ours.”

Tears slid down my cheeks, but I was smiling now.

“You already are,” I whispered.

He leaned in, resting his forehead against mine.

“So then let’s make it official,” he murmured. “No more soft launches. No more pretending we’re not already a family.”

I kissed him — soft, grateful, all-in — and whispered against his lips.

“Okay. Official.”

And it felt like the most natural, beautiful yes I’d ever given.

—

lewishamilton

liked by yourusername, yourbrother, charles_leclerc & 5,090,787 others.

lewishamilton : didn’t just fall in love with my beautiful girlfriend but also fell in love with her mini me ❤️ my girls for life

—

yourusername : my whole heart ❤️😭 we love you sm

liked by lewishamilton

yourbrother : did not have lewis hamilton becoming my brother in law on the bingo card for this season but so happy for you guys!

liked by yourusername and lewishamilton

yourbff : never thought id see her become a wag😭🤭 so happy for you both. thank you for making my best friend so happy lewis

liked by yourusername and lewishamilton

charles_leclerc : So happy for you both❤️ and give my sweet little ella a kiss from uncle ferrari

liked by yourusername and lewishamilton

georgerussell63 : Happy you found two people who make you as happy as you deserve to be, brother. Even if one of those people calls me uncle sunglasses 😎

liked by yourusername and lewishamilton

yourusername : maybe one day if you’re lucky you’ll manage to get an uncle george out of her but no promises

liked by georgerussell63 and lewishamilton

georgerussell63 : nah I wouldn’t trade being uncle sunglasses for anything in the world ❤️

liked by yourusername and lewishamilton

lando : ella really said im gonna meet my goat, get my mom a boyfriend and add like 20 uncles to the family and made it all happen. she is rlly that girl

liked by yourusername and lewishamilton

yourusername : she loves her uncle orange lightning 🫶🏻

liked by lando

—

🧚🏻🦋🌙🌵🪲

[rafesteddy]

Is it possible if we could have any more dilf!rafe and milf!reader? Im literally obsessed with the family dynamic atm!!

Hi bb 💕💕💕 of course!! Thank you for your ask. This story is meant to be read either alone or with the rest of the au. Thank you for your ask!!

+18 -> smut | on prom night, a very protective rafe wrestles with old grudges, growing pains, and the realization that letting go might be the hardest part.

𝓭𝓲𝓵𝓯!𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓸𝓷 𝔁 𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓯!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

c/w: pet names, swearing, praise, dirty talk, fingering, cum tasting, older rafe, roughish, semi-public male oral <- in a car with tinted windows, he is driving, intentional texting errors, ⚠︎ smut cross-posted on my nhl account. ⚠︎

cameron kids= Max (18), Winnie (17), Rory + Poppy (4)

You’re standing out in the front yard with your camera, doing everything you can not to cry while your daughter twirls around in her prom dress—glowing, radiant, almost too beautiful to look at.

Her boyfriend’s got his arm around her waist, holding her like it’s second nature. They keep catching each other’s eyes and laughing over nothing, cheeks bumping, sneaking little kisses between whatever secret they’re whispering like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

It’s sweet. It’s perfect. And honestly? It’s a little brutal. Because no matter how grown she looks, she’s still your baby.

Your husband’s next to you, taking pictures with his phone, but you can see it clear as day—he’s tense. His smile is forced, fingers stiff around the edges of his phone. He hasn’t said more than two words to JJ, who’s mere feet away. It’s awkward… painfully so. But what’s new between the two of them? Your husband never forgot how much he hated him. And now? Now that guy’s kid is dating his baby girl.

It’s hard to imagine this would be a bigger deal… And it would be, if the kid wasn’t a literal angel: polite, gentle, thoughtful, smart; a D1-bound quarterback. He’s good. But try telling Rafe that.

Your daughter squeals, adjusting her corsage, leaning into her boyfriend with the biggest grin on her face as the limos pull up. She gasps, eyes snapping to you. “Oh my God. Mom, I forgot my clutch!”

You look over at Rafe, lost in his own world as he looks between the young couple and his archenemy, going through his own existential crisis; jaw clenched, eyebrows drawn together like this is all somehow a personal attack on him. “Baby…”

“Mhmm…” He grunts as his eyes continue to survey the scene.

“… Baby?”

“Sweetheart,” he sighs, meeting your eyes before drawing a deep, pensive breath.

“Just take a second. Take a breath… Get the purse.”

He gives you a look, lips drawing to the side, wanting to protest like he’s afraid if he lets his guard down for a moment the thoughts that he’s been stewing on will manifest. “Yes, ma’am,” he mutters, then turns and stomps toward the house.

You watch him disappear through the front door, then turn back to your daughter. The yard is buzzing with excitement, teens gathering their things as they wander toward the rented cars.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

You look down at your phone, rolling your eyes as you see three back-to-back text messages coming in. “Where’s the purse, baby?” You mock his deep voice under your breath as you unlock your phone. Not surprised in the slightest that he’s stalling to prolong the inevitable.

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

The twins are bouncing with excitement, already changed into their pajamas, stuffed animals hugged tight.

Sarah’s in the kitchen grabbing snacks for movie night, laughing as your son climbs all over him like he’s part jungle gym, part superhero. Meanwhile, your daughter’s standing off to the side, arms crossed, Cameron-pout on full display—a full-blown daddy’s girl—not thrilled in the slightest about him leaving.

“C’mon now,” Rafe says, gently tugging her closer. “Be right back, princess. I’ll kiss you on the head when I get home, okay? I’ll be there in the mornin’ when you wake up.”

She narrows her little eyes at him, her buttoned-nose furrowed in frustration.

“I heard mommy’s makin’ blueberry pancakes for breakfast,” Rafe adds as he cocks an eyebrow, hoping for the best, his smile widening as her face lights up over something so simple.

“No way.”

“Way.”

“I am?” you ask through a laugh as you loop your arm through your purse, pulling it on your shoulder.

“She is,” Rafe confirms, shooting you a smile and wink. “Isn’t she the best?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes as he kisses your daughter’s forehead and sends her off.

The you both step outside into the quiet; the cobblestone driveway glowing under soft light. Rafe reaches for your hand as the front door clicks shut behind you. You barely get a step down the private lot before he loops his finger under your dress and tugs the hem upward with a cocky smirk.

“Rafe!” You gasp, swatting his hand as your skirt falls back down, looking back toward the house with a smile.

“They didn’t see, pretty,” he murmurs, totally unbothered. “Besides I needed a distraction. My brain was spiraling again.”

“You’re not gonna lift my dress every time you start panicking about your daughter growing up.”

“I mean…” He steps a little closer, stuffing his hand in his pocket, the other draping around your shoulders as he dips down to press a kiss on your head. “I could just pull it down next time, get a glimpse of these,” he hums, reaching over to give your boob a playful squeeze, “for balance.” He lets out a sleazy little laugh as you giggle.

Rafe spins you around and pulls you in for a kiss: deep and sweet. The kind that says ‘sure, I might be losing my shit, but you’re my favorite way to come back down’. He opens the passenger door for you, still grinning as you slide into the car.

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

The two of you sit side by side at a table on the water. The twinkling lights strung from the patio of the Island Club swaying in the breeze. Dinner was delicious, drinks were flowing, and Rafe… was present.

You could see it in the way he stared out at the water for a second too long. The way he blinked back to you like he’d just remembered where he was, and even so he wasn’t deep in thought. Almost like he wasn’t clenching his fists or checking his phone every two seconds or trying to crack a joke to distract himself from the ache in his heart.

But even still, he was there with you. Holding your hand, letting you finish your wine without interruption. He ordered your favorite appetizer before you could, stole bites from your plate like it was his job, kissing you tenderly after every lingered glance.

At one point, you were both leaned back in your chairs, full and content, watching the last sliver of sun bleed into the horizon when he said, “She told me they’re headin’ to Lexi’s after prom.”

“She did?”

He nods, sipping his drink. “She didn’t need to tell me that… She’s seventeen. Fuck, baby, I mean I woulda lied for the hell of it. I sure as shit wouldn’t have told Ward where I was goin’. And she just told me—didn’t even need to ask.”

“Yeah, baby?” You hum as you tip your head on his shoulder; Rafe’s fingers twinning in yours. “What else did she say?”

“Bonfire, snacks; some movie, I don’t know.”

“What about Jackson? Are juniors and seniors gonna be there?” You question this time, feeling your own unease rise about her possibly mingling with upperclassmen.

“Just juniors. She said ‘he didn’t care… He just wanted to be with her.’”

“Sounds familiar,” you smile as you squeeze Rafe’s hand.

He gives you a look—the one he always does when he’s caught remembering being seventeen with you. “Hmm… Sounds about as much, sweetheart.”

“They’re sweet,” you say quietly as you snuggle in a little closer. “We raised a good one, Rafe.”

“She’s everything,” he breathes. “My stubbornness and your heart—”

“We get to do this all over again in a couple years.”

He groans like it hurt, but he smiles anyway. “Twins too… Better start stocking up on wine now.”

You glance down at your phone, thumb tapping the screen as you check the time. It’s late enough. The twins are definitely asleep by now—if not completely passed out in a pile of stuffies and blankets, at the very least curled up on the couch mid-movie with drool on Auntie Sarah’s shoulder.

You look at Rafe, swirling the last sip of his whiskey, that lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he sees the twinkle in your eye; the man no doubt thinking about taking off the lingerie you teased him with earlier.

“So?” You ask, soft and suggestive as your foot brushes against his under the table.

“That time, huh?” He smiles as he pulls out his phone as well, checking it.

His brows furrow slightly. The smirk slips a little. Not in a full-blown way, just enough to make your stomach flip.

“What?” You ask as you lean in. “Did Sarah send something?” Rafe doesn’t answer right away. “What’s going on, baby?” You press again; still no answer.

You reach across the table and snatch the phone from his hand before he can stop you. Your eyes flick to the screen to check what’s going on, eyes widening on the screen as you see the flashing pin on a tracking app. And your daughter’s car, not where she said she’d be.

You stare down at his phone, then up at him. “Why are you tracking her, Rafe?”

“I don’t just track her, sweetheart. I track Max too… It’s a scary place out there, okay? Ya’ll are all I have,” he stammers. He takes a deep breath, blowing it out his nostrils as he tries his best to collect himself. “I’m trackin’ her because of this—”

“—Because she’s at the beach?” You question, letting your annoyance bleed through each word.

“She didn’t tell us she was going to the beach,” he says, voice tight. “So yeah, baby—that’s why I’m doin’ it.”

“Well, what now?”

Rafe tilts back in his chair, pushing out a shaky, uneven breath. “Guess we’re takin’ a trip to the beach—”

“Rafe…”

“If anything we’ll check and leave—”

“—Baby.”

“We will check. And, we will leave.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing your purse. Rafe stands and tosses some cash on the table before looking down at you.

“Nothing more, baby. I swear. I’m not gonna enjoy my night if I don’t know that she’s safe. Just a piece of mind.”

“And what if you see something you don’t wanna see?”

He stops in his tracks looking at you like you just dropped a weight on his chest. “What do you mean by that?”

You arch a brow as you take his hand, rising to your feet. “I mean… you found a condom wrapper in her bathroom, Rafe. So again—I ask—what if you see something you don’t wanna see?”

Rafe runs a hand down his face, letting out a long, deep breath. “Guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

The two of you pull into the quiet parking lot, headlights cutting through the soft fog that’s rolled in off the water. It’s dark but not deserted—distant voices, the occasional pop of laughter, the soft flicker of firelight down by the shore.

Rafe leans forward, squinting out the windshield. “They’re probably hidin’ somewhere,” he mutters, tone edged with something sharp. “Thinkin’ he’s bein’ slick.”

“Mhmm…” You flick your hand lazily in their direction, spotting them almost instantly, right in plain sight.

The two of them are sat side by side in front of a small fire, shoes kicked off, a blanket pulled over both their legs. Winnie’s head tilted on Jackson’s shoulder.

Rafe exhales through his nose, and it’s not quite relief, but it’s not disappointment, either. And at that moment you realize he didn’t want to be right—he just didn’t want to be wrong either. You take out your phone, open your messages, and type:

You: Hope you’re having a good night sweetie. Be safe.

Barely ten seconds pass before your daughter’s phone lights up on the sand. You see her glance down at the screen, smile, and start typing back. Then your phone buzzes.

Winnie: we’re having a great night!

Winnie: we left the party because it got kinda crazy. Jax was worried it might get busted.

Winnie: we’re down to the beach

Another second later, she sends a selfie—her cheek pressed against Jackson’s, both of them grinning, firelight flickering. No red cups. No chaos. Just two kids who genuinely like each other, making a smart choice together.

Rafe’s jaw ticks as he looks at the photo. He leans back in his seat, sighing as the guilt hits him square in the chest.

“Goddamnit.”

“Mhmm…”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just—I don’t know. This shit is hard,” he huffs.

You smile and reach over, lacing your fingers in his. “Why don’t we get out of here, baby… Go for a little drive on our way home.”

Rafe nods and pulls out of the lot, his jaw set, one hand tight on the wheel as the silence stretches between you. The engine hums low, but he doesn’t say a word.

He’s still wound up—his whole body carrying the weight of everything he’s been trying to hold back. The guilt, the stress, the slow ache of watching his little girl grow up. On top of that, work’s been brutal lately, you know it’s been eating at him, even if he won’t say it out loud.

You watch him quietly, the way the dim streetlights flicker across his profile: strong jaw, furrowed brow, tie loosened, shirt sleeves rolled up over his thick forearms you’ll never get tired of looking at.

Even tense like this, he’s still the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen—and all you can think about is how badly you want to help him relax.

He glances over at you, still high-strung, blue eyes heavy with thoughts he hasn’t shared quite yet. He shifts in his seat, spreading his thighs a little wider, fabric stretching over them—and your gaze drops without hesitation.

Your breath hitches. All you can think about is straddling him right there in the front seat, grinding against him with your skirt bunched around your waist, the windows fogging, and music muffling your moans—

“What’re you thinking about, baby?” He asks, voice low.

You turn to him slowly, letting your voice drop into something warm and wicked. “You.”

His eyes flick to yours in surprise. “You’re thinkin’ about me?” He says, almost like he doesn’t believe it himself, half-expecting to be in that doghouse you were talking about earlier.

You smile, reach for his hand resting on the console, and guide it toward you. He exhales sharply, shoulders finally starting to drop, the tension melting into something else entirely. “You’re not mad at me, princess?”

You shake your head. “No, baby. I like when you’re protective. Can’t fault you for that. Maybe just calm down a little… Just a little.”

“Anything for you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with want.

“Wanna help you forget all those thoughts distracting you from me…”

“Distracting me from you? My girl? Impossible… But, please,” he says with a smirk, “make me forget.”

You lift his hand from your thigh, slowly, and press a kiss to the top of it—light and teasing, just like he would.

Then, with your eyes still on him, you part your lips and slip two thick fingers in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tips. Rafe’s breath catches. He flicks another glance at you, then another, making the car sway gently.

You reach over, trailing your hand down his chest, feeling the heat and tension thrumming through his body. Your nails drag lightly down his shirt’s crisp, white fabric until you hit his thigh, scratching just enough to earn a quiet exhale from him.

Your fingers graze over his bulge—growing thick and heavy beneath his designer pants—and he shifts again, jaw clenched tighter, not from stress, solely to keep his eyes on the road and avoid them rolling back.

You lean in closer, the scent of his rich cologne washing over you. Your fingers work open his belt. The metal clicks softly before you slide the zipper down. Your heart pounds with the bass, excitement swelling in your chest as he barrels through the night.

He shifts in his seat, lifting his hips so he can shove his pants and boxers down. “You sure, baby?” He asks through a crooked smile as you grip his thick dick in your fist—hardening fast in your palm, long, pulsing with need.

Your mouth waters as you stroke him slow, teasing, your thumb brushing over the head. “I need it… Is that alright?” You ask coyly. Rafe’s cock twitches in your grip, his breath stuttering as you swipe your thumb across his tip, rubbing in a bead of precum.

“Fuck,” he moans as his head rolls slightly.

“You like that?” You ask.

“Yeah… Yeah, fuck. Keep goin’,” he mumbles, his eyes on the road, but barely.

Rafe reaches over; fingers slipping under your dress. He groans at how wet you are, teasing your entrance, pushing just the tip of his fingers inside. The pace you set with your hand mirrors his—slow and purposeful, a shared rhythm that leaves you both panting.

Click.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and slide across the center console. Before he can even register what’s happening, next you take him into your mouth; his cock hot and heavy on your warm tongue.

Rafe’s whole body jerks. He draws his fingers from between your thighs, slicked with your wetness, and sucks them into his mouth, the corners of his lips curling into a smile at the taste.

“Jesus Christ, baby…” His voice is thick and hoarse. “You’re perfect. Too fuckin’ good to me.” His hand comes down hard on your ass, the sting sharp, and your moan vibrates around him as he spanks you.

A second later, his fingers knot in your hair, guiding you, controlling your pace. “Atta girl,” he groans, hips lifting gently. “Fuckin’ take it—so desperate, huh? Couldn’t wait ‘til we got home?”

You hum in response, lips and tongue working him while your hand strokes what your mouth can’t reach. His moans start spilling out, competing with the music in the car.

“Gonna make me lose it,” he pants. “That’s what you want, huh? Gonna swallow it all? Don’t wanna get dirty, baby—” he mumbles, and you can hear the smirk in his voice as his leg bounces beneath your hands, breath rough and ragged, chest rising faster now.

“Shit, baby… I’m gonna cum—” You suck him harder, throating his cock until he’s cursing and twitching, praising your name as he slams his big fist against the steering wheel, spilling down your throat.

His body unwinds in the seat and his hold loosens on your hair. You pull off slowly, watching his cock throb still as he tucks himself in the waistband of his dress pants, hissing in sensitivity as he zips back up his pants, covering himself slightly with his jacket. He shakes his head, unable to wipe that wide smile off his perfect lips.

You sit up and smooth your hair in the visor mirror, licking your lips, catching the last of him as you giggle dizzily. He chuckles, low and lazy, as he rolls his head on the headrest, locking eyes with you. “God, I fuckin’ love you.”

And then just as you lean over to press one last kiss on his lips the car’s screen lights up with an incoming call.

Deputy Shoupe

Rafe fumbles and swears under his breath on his way to accept the call, already assuming the worst. “Shoupe? Everything okay?”

“Rafe. We got a little situation down at the yacht club. Someone called in a report—female screamin’. Thought it might be a domestic or worse. Turns out… Uh, well… We found your son and that Thornton girl entangled on your yacht.”

Rafe freezes; eyes beating a few times slow as he takes it all in. “Max?”

“Yes, sir. A bag of weed, a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle, and a pocket full of Magnums—”

“—Dude. You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me right now,” your son snips as he cuts the officer off. “You’re seriously cockblockin’ me? This is harassment. We’re on my boat. S’Private property. I can’t help it if we got a little loud, alright? That’s between me and her.”

“I’m fine… Obviously,” Topper’s daughter sasses as well, her Cali-girl, vocal fry that pours through the car speakers like nails on a chalkboard.

Rafe’s jaw is locked, one vein in his temple pulsing so hard you can practically hear it. Rafe stares straight ahead, dead silent.

“You gonna arrest us for lovin’ each other now? Is that where this country’s at? You people are fuckin’ sick—”

“Tell him to stop talkin’,” Rafe sneers.

“Want me to tase him a little?” Shoupe chuckles.

Rafe mutters something under his breath making Shoupe laugh. There’s a beat of silence as you stare at Rafe, your husband staring right back at you. His features soften—the man hit with yet another wave of guilt—he was so hyper focused on your daughter that everything else flew out the window.

“It’s okay, baby,” you whisper.

He shakes his head ‘no’ and rolls his eyes, tipping his head back against the headrest.

“What do you two want me to do about all this?” Shoupe asks through another amused laugh.

“Fuck… Bring ’em into the station. Take the weed if you have to,” Rafe adds. “Leave the bottle.” You raise your brows at him and he just shrugs. “Kid’s a pain in my ass but he’s got good taste,” he mumbles. “I’ll be there in two-three hours,” Rafe finishes. “Got some shit I need to handle first.”

“Copy that.”

Click.

“We’re not gonna go get him?” You ask through a laugh as you glance back at Rafe.

He smirks, letting his hand slide higher up your thigh. “He’ll survive, baby. Might even learn somethin’… Right now, I need to take care of my girl.”

[cuteandhughesy]

auston matthews -

“you’re such a loser”.

“you’re so pretty it pains me” (said to him).

“keep still you little… troll”.

please & thank you. love your work. :)

Drunk In Love | Auston Matthews

summary: your boyfriend has to pick you up from a bar—only to find that you’re sloshed and feeling playful. prompt no. 15: “you’re so pretty it pains me” + prompt no. 28: “keep still you little…troll.”

[word count] 2.1k

warnings: drinking | drunk behaviour | suggestive dialogue

a/n: how is this my first auston work…this man was the reason I started watching hockey in 2016! i’m back to my roots with this one! also this ain’t super detailed because I don’t have the brain capacity for that 😛

🎵 drunk in love by beyoncé & jay-z

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

auston is immediately bombarded when he steps into the club. not only by the overwhelming smell of hard liquor and various sweet floral perfumes, but by jennifer—your red head bubbly best friend who's celebrating her 27th birthday.

he blinks in surprise as jennifer steps in front of him, freckles still visible even under the flashing lights. "i'm sorry," she hisses, looking over her shoulder at what auston can only presume is you, "but she's sloshed." and that confirms his suspicions.

about 20 minutes ago, he answered jennifer's call. he was expecting the worse—you've always been a naturally clumsy person when drinking, and anytime you go out partying with your friends, you're coming home with more scrapes and bruises than you can count. all jennifer really told auston was that you needed a ride home asap, being very vague about the entire situation.

auston put two and two together pretty quickly.

"it's alright," he says, eyes squinting through the dark atmosphere in search of you and the sparkly red top you left the condo in. you're easy to spot, only because you're standing on top of the bar like you're in some cheesy rom com movie, laughing loudly and dancing while everyone cheers you on.

jennifer smiles awkwardly, green eyes darting between you and your less than amused looking boyfriend. auston curses, moving through the sea of bodies until he's at the crowded bar. he gently wraps his hand around you thigh, not hard, but still firm enough to grab your attention.

you look down, and immediately you're beaming at the sight of him. "austonnnnnn," you slur his name loudly, reaching down to steady yourself on his shoulders as he helps you off the table top. as soon as your heels are back on soild ground, you're jumping into auston’s arms—not without almost missing him and falling to the floor if it wasn't for auston's reflexes.

"woah, slow down," he warns lightly, large hands a warm and steady presence on your hips as he steadies you. "hi baby." auston grins slightly, eyes barley visible under the rim of his ball cap. a hiding feature he chose on purpose—auston wasn't really in the mood to wake up tomorrow morning and read a bunch of news tabloids about him picking up his hammered girlfriend at a local toronto club.

"hi." you grin, blinking slowly. auston can feel your heat through hour top-your skin hot to the touch, the affect off one too many shots. the hair you'd previously slicked back into a pony tail is now frizzy and down—eyes glassy and not all there.

auston snickers, already moving you away from the table and back to the direction of the entrance. "are you drunk?" he teases knowingly.

"pssshhh...no!" you decline loudly, shaking your head—but the way you misstep tells a whole different story. you don't even notice that though, too busy looking at your boyfriend with an imaginary lightbulb flickering above your head, "have you come to take a shot with me?" you ask, your excitement obvious.

auston hums, "no, i'm here to bring you home."

"but im not ready to go home," you pout.

"I know, but you can come out next weekend."

his words seem to do the trick, because your face relaxes and your lips form into a lazy grin. "oh yeah," you say matter of factly like it was you who came up with the idea.

"do you have your bag?" auston asks before the both of you can step outside, "where's your phone?"

your small chain bag is slung over your shoulder—which, thank god, because auston did not want to have to search for it in the women's bathroom or under the sticky tables. "my phones under my boob," you say.

he reaches out, fingers sliding under your boob to make sure it is in fact in your top.

it makes you giggle, arching into his touch, completely oblivious. "trying to cop a feel?," you slur, way too loudly for a public space. "you freak."

auston can't help the breathy laugh that leaves him, pulling off your body once he has confirmation that your phone is sitting between your ribs and left boob. "just making sure you've got everything," he corrects your insinuation lightly, wrapping his hand back around your hips. "okay, let's go."

the cold air is a shock after spending time inside the overpacked and overheated club. you instinctively curl into his side, seeking some warmth—no matter how drunk you are, you'll always find a way to get chilled.

as soon as his car is in your line of sight, you gasp, mumbling something incoherent before attempting to run towards the vehicle. you obviously don't get far, not with auston's arm holding you upright, but that doesn't stop you from stumbling on uneven sidewalk—almost sending you to your knees.

it has you giggling but also somehow gasping dramatically all at the same time.

"careful." auston chimes firmly, digging in his back pocket for his keys to unlock the car.

"woah that was scary," you snort, looking up at him with those glassed over eyes he loves. "did you almost trip too?" you ask, dead serious.

auston opens the passenger door, "almost."

"that wouldn't of been good," you slur.

"no, it wouldn't of been." he agrees easily, guiding you into the vehicle, "okay, left foot first babe."

but you're not going that easily. you turn to your boyfriend again, face flashing in fucking betrayal like he just asked you to root for the bruins. "you haven't even kissed me yet," you whine, feet planted on the concrete while your butt connects with the car seat.

he sighs, "let's get in the car first."

"please?" you slur, leaning forward dangerously. auston grips your biceps before you can face plant to the ground, but you're completely oblivious, continuing to beg in a mixture of babbling and slurring, "you're so pretty it pains me! and I need a kiss to make me feel better."

auston takes a deep breath, staring down at you for a beat—seeing if you'll give up. but you don't, continuing to look up at him like he hung the moon and the stars, lips slightly pouted and stained as you wait rather patiently. he sighs again before leaning down and giving you a quick peck.

you beam when be pulls away, bringing your left foot into the car. "you love me," you hum dreamily.

"yeah I do," auston smiles, guiding your right leg inside the car before he leans over your body, clicking the seat belt into place.

you kiss the side of his face sloppily as he makes sure you're buckled, "I love you too."

the 15 minute drive back to your and auston's shared condo is filled with the sound of your voice, singing along to random radio songs in an impromptu karaoke session. anytime you look over at auston and see that he's not singing, you squawk loudly, poking his cheek persistently until he joins in.

thankfully you don't give him too much trouble getting back out of the car, or on the elevator ride up to your floor—the most you do is stumble and talk too loudly, but auston finds it rather funny. you resemble a baby deer, and when he tells you that, you start tearing up about how cute baby animals are.

felix, your shared dog, eyes you both grumpily from his spot on the couch as you pass, clearly upset at be woken up.

auston guides you into the bedroom, helping you kick your heels off while you continue crying, now specifically praising baby horses and their tiny little horse shoes.

he grabs your oversized pyjama shirt, which is actually one of his old men's league shirts that you'd stolen years ago when you first met. auston turns back to you, placing the shirt beside you on the bed. "okay," he starts, "arms up baby."

"why?"

"because you need to get changed," auston says.

you whine, muttering something about feeling tired. regardless you lift your arms, limbs all floppy and heavy as auston attempts taking your sparkly top off.

you wiggle and squirm, laughing as auston's calloused fingers graze against the side of your ribs. your movement makes him sigh, teetering on impatient. "stay still you little...troll."

that gets you to stop moving. "hey! that's mean." you pout incredulously.

"it's not," auston answers easily, pulling your shirt fully off. now free, your phone falls to your lap with a plop. "trolls are cute"

you arms drop to your sides quickly, "no they're not."

"shhh," he teases, pulling off your skirt and tights in one quick and efficient move. "you'll hurt their feelings."

"my boobs are out," you say after a beat.

auston snickers, pushing your head through the stretched neck hole of his old shirt. yeah, they are," he hums, moving to your arm and bending it at the elbow, “hey, put your arms through the holes."

"nooooo," you whine, falling forward to auston’s chest and wrapping your sticky arms loosely around his neck. "I wanna give you a kiss." you mumble, already in the middle of covering his scruff covered jawline in tequila scented kisses. one of your hands sneaks down his body, and before he can even blink, your grabbing his dick.

"jesus baby," his breathe hitches, pulling your hand off his length and putting it back in your lap.

you giggle, "you like that?"

auston shakes his head, putting your arms through the shirt holes before you can grab his dick again. "not tonight, you need to go to sleep."

your face falls. "you don't want me?"

"not when you're drunk."

you scoff, tears pricking your waterline as auston fully pulls the shirt down over your naked body. "you hate me." you state dramatically, arms crossing over your chest.

"not at all," he reassures you softly.

"but you don't want me."

"you're drunk." auston reiterates, which only makes you hum. he can't help the smile that pulls on his face, shaking his head in disbelief at your slurred words and usual drunk shenanigans. "okay baby, let's get you in bed."

the next two minutes are silent as your boyfriend helps you slip under the covers. you sigh happily as the cool sheets envelop around your limbs, head sinking into the fluffy pillow like you're lying on a cloud. auston leaves your lamp on, putting your phone on the beside table—making sure it's plugged in for the morning—before he turns to leave.

but just as his hand touches the door knob, you're whining. "austonnnnnn."

"yes?" he asks, brow quirked.

you make grabby hands at him like a toddler. "come lay with me."

"i'm going to," auston says, "I just gotta take felix out first."

the mention of your dog has you sitting straight up, once again wide awake. auston can't help the way he sighs, falling back against your bedroom door in what feels like defeat.

"can I come?" you ask him, voice full of hope and joy at the thought of running your hands through felix's soft and curly coat. you’ve never wanted to cuddle him more than this very moment.

auston shakes his head gently, "no."

"whyyy?" you whine, lips pouting for the hundredth time tonight. "I love him so much." you admit, voice thickening with emotion as you blink at your boyfriend through the warmly lit bedroom.

he walks back towards you, softly pushing your hair off your face. "I know you do," auston mumbles, thumb stroking your brow bone. "but you're not wearing pants and it's cold outside."

you frown deepens, a single shiny tear falling from your eye and tracing down the round of your cheek. "but," you pause, sniffling gently, "felix will think I don't love him if I don't come."

auston shakes his head, "that's not true." but you only cry more, shrinking in on yourself as sobs wrack through your body. auston coos, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead and then another to your cheek.

even drunk, you don't play about your love for felix.

"how about when I get back I bring him in here for the night?" auston proposes sweetly.

your head lifts, and the sight of your watery eyes have auston pouting. "really?"

"yeah."

and he fully intends on keeping his promise, but 30 minutes later—once the dog has done his business and trotted around the condos front grass—auston opens the bedroom door, only to find you sound asleep.

[ghostfacd]

YOU PUT THE BALLAD IN THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES | TOM BLYTH

PAIRING. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

SUMMARY. in which yn takes her career to the next level and drops a few bangers that left everyone in awe

installment of this au (recommend reading for context !!)

ynuser guys. a lil secret i’ve been holding onto for my dear life that not even my bf knows, i wrote a song for tbosas!! you’ll definitely hear it after the movie’s over and the credits starts rolling. a fun, challenging, and exciting experience and i really really felt like i outdone myself so hopefully you guys like it as much as i do 🥹 (p.s first photo is when tom and i listened to it for the first time together and he was just in awe)

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tomblyth i love you my talented songbird !!

➥ user1 time to cry he called her his songbird

➥ user2 this is a sign that i should probably move on from tom blyth.. 😔

user3 just listened to it, it was absolutely amazing. yn stays changing lives

user4 YOU’RE SO TALENTEDDD

rachezegler lucy gray irl

➥ ynuser stopp ily

conangray YN AVOCOT, I LOVE YOU! - your #2 supporter (because tom insisted on being #1)

➥ tomblyth damn right i’m #1

user5 the second pic of her and tom 🥹🥹

user6 conan and yn r the best friends we needed

user7 her life seems so fun omg im jealous

ynuser oops.. another secret?

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rachelzegler YN.

rachelzegler NOT TELLING UR OWN BEST FRIEND ABOUT IT?

➥ conangray stealing my title?? 😡😡

➥ ynuser you both are my best friends!

➥ tomblyth i thought i was your best friend?

user8 not the best friend argument 🫢

user9 GIRLL IM SO EXCITED FOR THE ALBUM

user10 she can act, she can sing, what else can’t she do?

user11 GUTS!

tomblyth hi guys! as you all know, my amazing girlfriend just released her first album — GUTS! it’s honestly such an amazing album with songs that yn has held super close to her heart. I would love it if you guys supported her because she honestly deserves the world. YN, I’m so incredibly proud to be your boyfriend.

tagged @/ynuser

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ynuser tom. im crying.

➥ rachelzegler can confirm, she’s in tears rn

user12 i am so grateful that they met each other because they make each other so happy 😓

user13 he bought her cd and album 😭😭 i need a bf like tom

user14 “i am so incredibly proud to be your boyfriend” get married already cause wow.

[sohnric]

plot twist – k. sunwoo

pairing: kim sunwoo x gn! reader

genre: coworkers au, enemies to lovers au. fluff, a poor attempt at comedy. movie theatre! worker sunwoo and reader. bitch boy sunwoo. the reader has anger issues. owner's son! sunwoo being annoying about everything. winter themes, sunwoo is a little kid about stuff but mostly the snow.

wc: 21k

warnings: swearing, a heated make out session. y/n's inner monologue is just my own feelings about this man im sorry. i watched too much of the office when writing this can you tell. also i made sunwoo's sister underage for plot reasons deal with it.

working with kim sunwoo has so far been the worst experience of your whole entire life. just his existence alone is enough to make your day completely miserable– though, one would think that working with movies on the daily would prepare you for the biggest plot twist of your life.

a/n: this took me SO LONG to write woah. i have a humble playlist for this fic if any of yall wanna listen to it while you read <3 a huge thank you goes to my best friend @csenke for being my biggest motivator and hype man when it came to this fic. thank u for being my first ever beta reader hihi i couldn't have done this without you i am forever grateful ily. also im tagging @heemingyu because whe told me to

ho ho ho! this fic is a part of the secret santa event by @deoboyznet ! @kimsohn maya, i was your secret santa this year, i hope you enjoy the fic i prepared for you

TONIGHT'S PREMIERE – UGLY TRUTH (2009)

If anyone ever asked you about your job in the movie theater, you wouldn’t really know what to say. 

You see, what may had seemed like your dream job when you were little, acquiring the fairytale vision after going to the cinema for the first time to see the Horton movie when you were just 7, quickly turned into reality one ordinary day during your junior year of university. And it wasn’t even that hard; you just dropped off your CV at the movie theater on the corner of the town's square when you saw the sign that said ‘looking for part-timers’ in a messy, giant handwriting on the glass door– and soon enough, you found yourself in the depths of the vintage-looking cinema, wearing the red uniform the owner gave you, selling movie tickets to teenagers and taking out the trash. It’s hard to enjoy the job when you’re on bathroom cleaning duty, though, and the fact that this is what you once imagined to be the most exciting job in the whole entire world turns twice as boring when you realize just how mundane it really is. 

Still, you can’t bring yourself to quit, well, because you need the money.

Do you hate working in the cinema? No. Not really. Sure, it’s kind of boring– especially on the nights when you’re selling tickets at the front and nobody comes in for hours– but it’s not that difficult. It’s not physically or mentally demanding, so you’d say that you’re still on the better end when it comes to work environment. Your boss isn’t a dick and you get paid on time– so really, if anyone asked you if you hated it, your answer would be no. 

Until one fateful day, of course. 

You’re met with a person that’s going to efficiently change this opinion around in one swift bat of their eyelashes and a drag of their hand through their messy hair.

“So… you’re the new part-timer?” a tall boy asks you one day when you arrive at work. You’re already wearing your uniform when you come through the front door– since you don’t really feel like changing in the toilets that are not staff-exclusive here– and frankly, his voice startles you on your way in.

“Yeah,” you nod, furrowing your brows at the stranger. “And you are…?”

“Sunwoo,” the boy says, matter-of-factly, as if you’re supposed to know who exactly he is now that he’s introduced himself to you. The look on your face may show that you’re still clueless, and see, that’s something that must have played with the boy’s ego. “Kim Sunwoo,” he snickers, “the owner’s son..?”

Blinking a few times, trying to remember if Mr Kim’s ever told you about having a son– he hasn’t– you gasp like a fish on the dry, nodding. “Oh… Hello..?” you mumble, not really knowing what to do with the information.

“Hi,” he says, face stone cold and motionless. Something’s wrong, but you can’t quite put your finger on it…. 

Well, you’ll have to deal with that later. “My shift starts in 5 minutes, so I gotta find Mr- your dad, and ask him what’s on my to-do list today, but it was nice meeting you,” you try to force out a polite (maybe even warm) smile before you turn on your heel and march towards the staff room, where Mr Kim usually resigns unless he is helping you out with something at the front. See, on not busy days, working at the cinema requires only one person. On Fridays, though, it can get tough. That’s when the owner makes the popcorn while you both sell and scan the tickets at the same time– sometimes you wonder why he doesn’t hire another person to help out with the job.

“Wait– newbie–”

The nickname startles you, again, as you turn around and squint at him. You have a name– and although he has no way of knowing it (other than his father telling him, but seeming that you didn’t even know about his son, Mr Kim isn’t big on sharing information)– but still, you’d love to be called by it. “It’s Y/N, actually.”

“Oh, right…” he hums, “well, Y/N, dad’s not here tonight, so… I’m… kind of in charge,” he says, nodding as he gets the words out, trying to prove his point, “he had other things to take care of, so he sent me down instead,” he explains, watching as your face morphs into one of quick understatement.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he nods, sucking on his teeth.

Thick silence overtakes the atmosphere. You feel awkward and out of place.

“So…?” you hum, waiting for him to tell you what to do. 

Because a guy your age ordering you around at work is already embarrassing enough for a university student just trying to pay for their groceries. You’re not gonna ask for the orders yourself. You still have some dignity.

“So… I could take the ticket booth and you can clean the screening room, since there are no movies on tonight?” he suggests, rocking on his heels. The boy seems a bit shaken with the new sense of responsibility, but you figure that even his undoubtful awkwardness still doesn't put you above his position.

You mentally sigh. Cleaning is your least favorite part of the job. 

Still, you’re not gonna talk back to your boss’ son. You’d like to keep your job for a while longer. At least until you find something better.

“Alright,” you nod, turning on your heels once more and preparing to disappear into the depths of the cinema.

His voice stops you again, though, frustration flowing through your veins. “Don’t forget to mop the floors! Oh, and the bathroom could use a clean as well.”

“Alright,” you nod again, your back facing him.

“Also, you need to get the gum off the chairs, I know it’s kind of disgusting, but there’s a-”

“I know how to do my job, thank you,” you turn, smiling ironically over your shoulder.

You don’t know what it is about the man that makes you so, so incredibly irritated. Maybe it’s the fact that every bit of information coming out of his mouth sounds like he’s mansplaining everything to you. Maybe it’s the fact that you feel humiliated to be told what to do by a man that’s your age. Or maybe, it’s just the sheer fact that you hate cleaning– the one thing he just told you to do.

Still, you go and get the vacuum. You go and mop the floors, you go and take the gum off the chairs and scrape it into a bucket you keep in the pantry in the back. You go and clean the bathroom, even though it’s 10 minutes until the end of your shift (you only work 4 hours on Wednesdays) and you spent almost your whole day cleaning the whole screening room by yourself (the screening room that’s giant and Mr Kim helps you with on most days). You go and wipe the mirror in the bathroom, as well as the windows in the hall. 

You say that your work in the cinema is not physically demanding, but by the time you’re out, your back hurts and your knees are all bruised up from getting on the ground so often.

What really sets you off, though, is the sight of the owner’s son sitting in the booth, both legs up on the table and chewing on something, his phone in his hands as he watches, what you presume from the language resonating from the speaker, a silly anime. At least someone had fun during their shift, you think as you leave without saying goodbye to him, slamming the door behind you with a loud bang on your way out.

Quite frankly, you didn’t know what set you off so bad this time. Maybe you just had a bad day. Maybe it could've been fixed with your next shared shift with the guy– you never know.

Little did you know that it was only going to get worse from now on, though.

TONIGHT'S PREMIERE – PALM SPRINGS (2020)

If you knew your boss’s son would play the role of your supervisor from time to time, you probably wouldn't have taken the job when it was offered to you. 

Why?

The reason is quite simple– while you go to work to make money, Kim Sunwoo goes to work to make your whole life a living hell. Ranging from always giving you the more difficult task of the day to making unfunny jokes about your performance (he once asked if you ran a marathon after you mopped the whole hall, his grinning figure staring at you from inside of the ticket booth), you’re starting to think that Kim Sunwoo is mentally stuck with the brain of an 11-year old boy. 

More so with his recent endeavors. You don’t really know what he’s trying to achieve with all of this, but you’re starting to despise going to work even when you know he’s not on the schedule– somehow, you’re afraid his silly pranks and jokes will follow you and surprise you even when he’s not present. Is this his way of asserting dominance? You really don’t know.

It all starts one day before a movie premiere when Sunwoo walks up to you and introduces you to a new concession item to sell in the snack booth. While you don’t really know why one would even think of new combinations to sell at a cinema, since everyone’s just gonna get popcorn or nachos, you don’t really question the idea much further– Sunwoo’s father owns this place, so he must know the best marketing strategies for his business. The reality only downs on you when you’re forced to promote the “Ultimate movie mix” to every customer– which wouldn’t even be that strange, if the mix didn’t include the weird combination of pickles and candy. 

Running on two all nighters and half an energy drink, you didn’t realize the snack stand doesn’t even hold pickles. You were notified the day after by your boss, though, and that wasn’t your best experience.

The terror follows when Sunwoo’s father decides to run a Star Wars marathon one weekend. The flood of customers wouldn’t be as hard to manage when you run the snack stand, but it does get more difficult when your coworker running around with a lightsaber knocks over all the buckets of freshly-made popcorn you just put on the counter for the customers to take. 

He doesn’t even say sorry. Or help clean the spilled popcorn up from the floor. Or help you make a new batch. 

He just laughs.

Sunwoo just loves to laugh at you. Like that one time he made you wear a giant popcorn costume and stand in front of the cinema for the entirety of your 4 hour shift on Wednesday to promote the new movie airing on Friday. Hardly anyone took the fliers you were desperately trying to force into their hands and when you came back, you saw Sunwoo pointing his camera at you from the big glass window. 

The next shift, his dad asked you how Sunwoo did when promoting the movie. You didn’t have the heart to tell him he forced you to do the dirty business instead.

Another time, Sunwoo informs you via text in the middle of your shift that you should clean the bathrooms. The fact itself already makes you furious, but you follow the order nonetheless– because, well, what else can you do? You’re used to cleaning the toilets, since it’s a part of your job. It’s just the fact that a guy your age told you to that’s making you rethink all your career decisions.

The trip to the bathrooms quickly turns traumatizing when you step inside of the tiled room and have the door behind you close with a loud bang, followed by the light switching off. Screeching, you jump and try to escape the room with fear making your heart run faster than Usain Bolt, however, you find the door seemingly locked– the sound of Sunwoo’s snarky laugh coming from the other side making you recognise what just happened and how he’s pulling another one of his childish pranks on you again.

When the door finally opens, you throw the toilet brush into his chest and scream out a “I’m going to fucking quit if I see your face one more time!”. You’re over all formalities.

That doesn’t mean you’re not scared every time you enter a room in the cinema when you work with Sunwoo, though. Your reaction was strengthened very abruptly, you see.

Sitting in the ticket booth, door ajar to monitor your surroundings, you plop your head on your hand and glare at Sunwoo, chewing on your gum. If anyone saw you right now, they’d think you were trying to kill him with your stare, but the opposite would actually be the truth tonight– you were quite enjoying the sight of him wiping the sweat off his forehead and scowling at the neverending flow of customers.

The beauty of having ticket booth duty on premiere night is that everyone bought the tickets beforehand already, meaning that it wasn’t usually busy. Scanning the tickets and running the snack booth were the more difficult parts of the shift, and since Mr Kim decided to show up to work today, Sunwoo was graced with the snack booth duty– something that warmed you up from the inside and made you want to kiss your boss’s feet in gratefulness. 

There’s just something about seeing Kim Sunwoo in misery that makes your stomach turn and do cartwheels. You’re in love with his pathetic, tired face.

His eyes meet yours when he takes a moment to breathe– the look behind them is pleading, almost embarrassingly hopeless as he internally wishes he was in your place. You think this serves him right for the weeks of torture, and when he becomes you to come over with a motion of his hand, you just shrug at him and bat your eyelashes in faked innocence. 

It’s not your fault he’s on duty tonight. What does he want with you?

His lips mouth “Come here,” which makes you battle a satisfied smile. Poor Kim Sunwoo is helpless in his task. The rush just won’t stop and he’s asked of more than he can handle. You kind of feel sadistic when you truly think about your sentiments, but you think you’re only valid for feeding on his misery.

“Help!” he mouths again, and now you truly can’t battle the laughter anymore. His hair is tousled and sticking to his forehead. His uniform is dirty. The tie around his neck is loose. The sight makes you utterly satisfied.

As he mouths “Please,” accompanied by clasped hands and a pleading look that would work on most women, you finally decide to stand up from the uncomfortable chair in the ticket booth and shake your head in disbelief. You can’t even count how many times Sunwoo left you alone in the rush before a premiere, but you can’t really risk his father finding out you didn’t come to rescue his beloved son, since however you might hate this job, you still can’t lose it in your current living conditions.

Sighing and closing the door to the ticket booth after you, your legs take you to the snack stand. Eyes of enthusiastic customers looking almost high on coca cola and the smell of salted popcorn are on you when you finally reach Sunwoo’s side. 

“So I’m supposed to help you with your work whenever you ask, but when I’m left cleaning the whole theater completely alone, you can sit around and play on your phone?” you jab, annoyed with the turn of events. You find a spare apron and tie it around your waist, not really wanting to dirty your uniform as you pour caramel into some buckets of popcorn, hearing your companion chuckle next to you.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Okay, so I’ll be back in the ticket booth after serving this customer-”

“My dad’s watching.”

“This is blackmailing,” you snap back, smiling ironically at your coworker.

Sunwoo grins at you when he hands two cokes to the teenage girls behind the counter, shrugging to himself. “Not my problem.”

You learned long ago that fighting with Kim Sunwoo is a battle you can never win. Logically, you know you’re always right, but the boy always thinks he should have the last word in everything, which makes ending an argument with him pretty much impossible. That’s why you stopped trying to prove your truth. In your heart, you know how it is, and no amount of snarky remarks from the feisty boy will change your opinion.

You two work alongside each other in silence for some time. You’d even say it’s efficient– you make the popcorn and he makes the nachos, both of you taking turns behind the coca cola machine, and after a few minutes in his proximity when he’s not being the butt of the Earth, your brain starts to question why you two can’t operate like this on a daily basis.

Oh, how foolish of you.

You’re quickly brought back to reality when you walk over with the grande size bucket of popcorn towards the counter, meeting halfway with Kim Sunwoo’s chest.

It takes everything in you not to scream, but the restraint is deleted as soon as you feel something cold dripping down the front of your uniform, your white button-up suddenly sticking towards your chest in a big, dark-brown pool around your waist area. One sharp look into his eyes is everything it takes you two to come to a mutual understanding of what your next action is gonna be– Sunwoo quickly puts the now empty cup of coca cola onto the counter and puts a hand towards his head in self-disappointment.

“Kim Sunwoo, are you fucking incompetent?!” you scream out, the sensation of your cold shirt sticking to your already sweaty skin making you want to crawl out of yourself and scratch your coworker’s eyes out with the claws of the demon he wakes up in you.

“Look, you don’t have to-”

“I just washed this yesterday, there’s a line of people waiting for their snacks up to the fucking front door, you just ruined the popcorn I made so now I have to redo it, and you just decide to spill this onto me?!” you continue with your rampage, not really caring about the eyes of everyone on you, just letting out all your built-up frustration that creeps inside of you every time you see his face.

“As if I did this on purpose…” he grunts as he turns around in his place and reaches for napkins, not really putting much thought into his actions as he presses the material into the damp place sticking to your skin. 

The image startles you– Kim Sunwoo almost in physical contact with you, a paper napkin soaking up some of the coca cola flooding the surface of your skin– and as you watch his slender palms run over your front, your eyes falling to the fluffy hair at the crown of his head, you feel heat rushing to your insides, making you jump away from him.

“Sorry-” he mumbles out as you forcefully pry the napkin out of his hand, gritting your teeth.

“I’m starting to think you’re making me do everything just because you’re useless,” you spit at him.

Rolling his eyes, Sunwoo pokes his cheek with the tip of his tongue. “It was an accident.”

“Don’t care,” you grunt, walking away from the booth, “I’m going to change in the back, you better not burn the place down with the popcorn machine before I’m back,” you comment, sending him a sharp glare over your shoulder.

All that accompanies you to the staff room is Sunwoo’s loud sigh and a sugary-sweet tone he offers to one of the customers as he throws the ruined popcorn into the trash. “I’ll be right with you, miss!” 

If anyone asked you if you hated your job now, you think you’d say yes.

Who are you kidding?

You’d definitely say yes.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – THE HATING GAME (2021)

You were quite pleased on your way to work today. It’s Wednesday, which usually means it’s not as busy. The weather is cloudy– good enough to not make you gloomy, but not quite sunny enough to make you wish you were outside instead of being stuck in the cinema the whole afternoon– and you packed a home-made sandwich with you to eat on your lunch break. Which is whenever, since you’re on ticket booth duty today– another great news. 

The best thing about today, though? Kim Sunwoo isn’t working today. 

That alone is good enough to make your whole entire day better. The sun shines brighter, your breathing is lighter, the air is clearer and the birds chirp louder when you know you don’t have to interact with the hellspawn that day. It’s like his absence alone is enough to heal all your wounds and delete all your worries– who cares about the fact that you’re barely getting through your Biology class when you know you won’t have to stare at Sunwoo’s face as you contemplate dropping out of university during your shift? 

Maybe you should thank him, in a way.

And with all of this knowledge, a smile plastered on your face as you’re prepared to sit through your 5-hour shift in silence with an occasional swipe through your social media and a well deserved chicken-mayo sandwich towards the end of your shift, it’s quite natural for your smile to freeze and your spirit fall the moment you see the mop of dark brown hair walk through the doors of the cinema. 

“What the fuck is he doing here?” you mourn as he walks by, only realizing you said the sentence out loud when the boy looks at you with a scowled face, a scoff escaping his throat.

“Didn’t know we were speaking to each other in third person now,” he says as he stops in his tracks and plops his head into the door to your booth, infesting your calm abode with his presence.

Deep breaths. In and out, Y/N. In and out… 

“Hello to you too, Y/N,” he smiles, irony dripping off his tongue, “having a good day so far?”

“It was better without you here, thank you,” you snap back, rolling your eyes at him when his eyes flash with something akin to a victory– it seems you both take joy in making the other one absolutely miserable with your presence.

“Sweet,” he nods on his way out, grinning to himself. “Well, I won’t be long, so don’t let your mood drop too much.”

With that, he’s out of the ticket booth. All that’s left behind him is the smell of his cologne– the tingle of lemon and bergamot filling your nostrils in a way that makes the fine hair at the back of your neck stand up all alert– and silence. It makes you wonder about his whereabouts– you can never know… what if he’s setting up a trap for you somewhere? You wouldn’t be half surprised. You make a mental note to yourself to be twice as cautious when going to the bathroom next time. Just to make sure.

Before you’re able to think of any possible situations that Sunwoo could get himself caught in (while completely ignoring the fact that his father is somewhere in his office in the back– for all you know, he might just need to talk to your boss, like a son does sometimes), the woodworm of your thoughts appears in your view again, two rolled-up tubes under his shoulder as he walks over to the front door.

“Wait! What are those?” you ask, eyes zeroing on the very clear posters in his grip. The shiny white back of the big posters you have to sometimes put up in the front of the cinema are unmistakable to anything else.

“Posters,” Sunwoo replies, calling over his shoulder, already halfway out of the building. 

“I know what those are–”

“Then why are you asking?” he huffs, shaking his head in disbelief as he takes a few steps towards the ticket booth, eyes meeting yours. His figure fills the door frame as he towers over you, still sitting on the chair. His eyes have a different kind of twinkle in them– you think, no, you know it’s mischief– making the blood in your veins boil at deadly temperatures.

“Because– well,” you huff, already frustrated, “we’re not allowed to take these,” you say, pointing to the two posters under his shoulder like a kid in the candy store. You try to ignore just how embarrassing you must look right in this moment.

“Oh,” he pouts, taking the posters from below his shoulder, unraveling one of them and resting the other one against the doorframe, “so you’re telling me… I can’t take those two amazingly big, shiny, cool posters of the latest Spiderman movie home for me and my friend Juyeon?” 

You’re only half-aware of the fact that he’s teasing you right now, sighing at his innocent face. “No, Sunwoo. You can’t.”

“Hm,” he hums, looking at the poster from top to the bottom, seemingly sad about the news, “that’s terrible. Says who?”

“Your… your father, Sunwoo. He told me when I asked him the other day if I could take–”

“You wanted to take posters home from the cinema?” he gasps, looking at you with big eyes. He looks stupid. So, terribly stupid. Dumb. No thought behind his eyes. You want to smash his head against a concrete wall. 

…He’s teasing you. It finally dawns on you.

Now, you want to smash your head against a concrete wall.

Still, you admit defeat with a solemn tone in your voice. “Well, I really wanted the Enola Holmes poster to put up in my bedroom…” you mumble.

“And my dad said no?” he asks, eyebrows quirking up towards his hairline.

“Yes, Sunwoo. Your father said it’s prohibited to take posters home from the cinema, that’s exactly why I’m stopping you right now,” you say, tone filled with annoyance. You know he’s enjoying your face full of misery. But still, if there’s one thing you’re good at, it’s following the rules and orders– if Mr Kim says you can’t take the posters home, you’ll go in the back and tear them into pieces before throwing them into the bin like you’re told to. 

If things were going your way, you’d advise Sunwoo to do the same. 

A day with Kim Sunwoo in it never goes your way, though. You should’ve been prepared.

“So I can’t take those posters home because my dad said no?” he clarifies, looking like a dummy. Like one of those kids that ask the most obvious questions during exams. Like one of those kids you want to sucker punch in the face.

“Sunwoo–”

“Well, Y/N-ie,” he purrs, the nickname making your hands curl up in fists, “that’s too bad… because I am the owner’s son, so… the rules don’t really apply to me, you see.”

And with that, he sends another sickeningly sweet smile your way before he turns on his heel and marches towards the front door again– not responding to any of your annoyed, infuriated calls of his name. He doesn’t stop at your warnings. He doesn’t care.

And just like that, he disappears just as fast as he appeared. The interaction didn’t last more than 10 minutes, but you consider your whole day ruined.

Fucking Sunwoo and his fucking privileges. And his fucking annoying face. 

It’s not even that important. It’s just two posters that would get thrown out to the dumpster in the back at the end of your shift anyway. You don’t even care about those posters in particular– you just with equal rules applied to all workers in the workplace.

It’s not like Spiderman Homecoming is one of your favorite movies… not at all.

You could’ve had that poster. You deserved that poster. You sold tickets for it and served the snack booth when it premiered– not Kim Sunwoo and whatever his friend’s name was.

You kick the wall with your sneaker. It leaves a dirty mark.

You should’ve known the day felt too good to be true.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING (1993)

There’s a new thing Mr Kim is trying to lure more customers into the cinema. He calls it ‘Rewind Thursdays’, where he picks a movie from the past and airs it in the theater again to bring out nostalgia in the whole town. You think it’s a good idea– you remember when the Harry Potter movies had a rerun back when you were little, ecstatic that you finally got to see them in the cinema because you missed out on the experience when they were coming out for the first time. You went even though you saw them all before, and you had a blast. So in your books, this was the best thing that could happen to the little, old movie theater on the corner of the town’s square.

You were overbeared with joy when Mr Kim went up to you during one of your slow Wednesday shifts in the ticket booth with a paper and a pen, requesting you to write down your favorite movies. He informed you that he’d prefer it if they were older, to, quote, really get the nostalgia going, and you were happy to have some say in the list of movies to play for multiple reasons. One, because it meant he valued your opinion, and two, you don’t usually work on Thursdays, so if your favorite movie is on that day, you can go and relax in the cinema while watching it.

This all happened a few weeks ago. You gave the list back to your boss at the end of your shift, smiling brightly just thinking about it, and he told you he’ll get through it and see what he can incorporate. 

The plan gets to you on one uneventful Wednesday. You are stuck in the ticket booth again. Today is one of the Wednesdays where Sunwoo is in charge, because Mr Kim is out of town. You hate those days most of them all, but recently, he’s been giving you your freedom and letting you work in the ticket booth instead of cleaning the already clean cinema, saying he has stuff to do in the back. You suspect he just sits around in his father’s office with his legs on the table, chewing on his obnoxious strawberry mints. The image makes you furious only the tiniest bit, because the fact that he’s out of your sight and isn’t ordering you around is enough to calm your nerves. It could always be worse, you remind yourself. It could always be worse.

“I have the schedule of ‘Rerun Thursdays’ all done,” Sunwoo says as he walks up to the ticket booth close to the end of your shift. His eyes look a little tired when he holds up a thick card to you, the design of the poster making your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Did he do that?

“It’s ‘Rewind Thursdays’, actually,” you note, pointing towards the very obvious mistake on the top of the poster.

“Oh fuck– you know what, not anymore,” he scowls, taking the poster back from you and pointing glares at the title he mistyped, “I spent 3 hours on this, I’m not remaking it.”

“It looks like a kindergartener did it,” you note, eyes scanning the bubbly font and the orange-yellow combination used throughout the whole design when he offers the paper back to you. It looks like a Winnie the Pooh convention is taking place instead of an event full of nostalgic movies, and you would tell him that, but he beats you to it with a tired remark.

“Well, if my father wanted this to look professional, he should’ve hired someone to do it,” he mutters, obviously hurt by your harsh words, “I used Canva. I don’t know how Photoshop works and my dad can barely operate the computer, so this is what we’re going with, okay?” he says as he explains, big eyes suddenly bearing into yours. “Unless you wanna redo it yourself…?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then this is the final poster,” he says, “I’m gonna hang those outside when we close,” he notes, watching you scan the movie titles. The event will take place in 4 weeks from the middle of November to the middle of December (right in time for Christmas movies to air, since you’re certain Mr Kim has another Christmas-themed business tactic up his sleeve). 

“Did any of your movies make it?” Sunwoo asks, surprisingly friendly. You can’t remember a single casual conversation with the male– all you two do it either give each other the silent treatment or scream at each other (more like you scream at him, but he always deserves it…), so you’re kind of surprised at the change. Not pleasantly surprised. Just surprised.

Eyes falling to the second movie on the list, you feel yourself nodding as you smile. It’s like a dream come true– you can finally see your favorite movie in the cinema for the first time. You don’t know who to thank for this miracle, but something in your insides feels very grateful. 

“Yeah,” you say, trying to seem unaffected. You’d rather kill yourself than to show any signs of emotion in front of Kim Sunwoo. All he deserves to see is your stone cold face.

“Which one?” he asks, seemingly interested.

“National treasure,” you hum, pointing to the movie on the list, having Sunwoo nod to himself. You expect him to say something to you– perhaps engage in a conversation like a normal person would– but suddenly, he gasps and takes out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket, offering it to you and playing the role of the manager again.

“Oh, by the way,” he starts, watching as you unfold the paper, “I know we don’t usually work on Thursdays, but since my dad decided to do all of this, we kinda have to, since he wouldn’t be able to handle the premieres on his own, so… Here's your schedule for the next 4 weeks,” he says, clasping his hands together in front of him.

It takes everything in you to not correct the male and tell him that those are technically not premieres, but when your eyes land on the little Excel table Sunwoo printed out for you, the feeling is overpowered with one of deep disappointment.

“I work the second week?” you ask, as if the question might magically change the schedule.

“I mean, I think you can read…” Sunwoo hums, shrugging to himself.

A heartbeat passes by of you staring at the schedule, a pit opening in your stomach at the realization. You only work 2 Thursdays out of 4, noticing the fact that you rotate with Sunwoo (with him somehow taking the first week, much to your surprise), but for some reason, one of those days had to be the day when National treasure is on. 

And sure, you might think this is good– you can just watch the movie while you work! 

Wrong.

Working means either staying in the ticket booth the whole time in case a customer comes, working the snack booth the whole time in case a customer comes, or cleaning the bathrooms. Working means also standing in front of the screening room sometimes, making sure no one is going in without a ticket in the middle of the movie. 

There is no time for you to watch National treasure if you’re working. 

Sighing, you decide to do something you always prohibited yourself from doing– you ask Kim Sunwoo for a favor. “Listen… my favorite movie is airing the week I work, so I was… wondering if we could exchange shifts? So I could go and watch it?” you ask, looking at your coworker with what you presume are pleading eyes. You hope it works on the boy– he looks like the type to fold under a tender gaze.

“So you want to get out of work only to still come?” Sunwoo clarifies, snickering.

“Pretty much, yeah,” you nod, tapping your fingers on the table.

“Well, the schedule is set,” Sunwoo shrugs, “I can’t do anything about it.���

Eyes sending darts to the very middle of Kim Sunwoo’s forehead, you take a few calming breaths before you speak up again. You don’t want to blow up on him when you’re asking him for a favor– you don’t think this approach would help you much in the situation.

“Why?”

“Because,” he shrugs. 

“Because?” you repeat. “That’s the reason?” you say, a weak laugh dragging out of your throat.

“Pretty much, yeah,” he mirrors your previous response, the blood in your veins already growing hot from the confrontation.

“Sunwoo, you– come on,” you say, “just this once, please? I’ll take the first week. We can just switch, what’s the difference?” 

Sunwoo tongues the inside of his cheek, eyes pointing towards the paper. “Schedule is schedule, Y/N. You have to follow it,” he says, an innocent look glazing his big fuckass boba eyes. Oh how you despise that look. It’s the look that tells you he finds this all so, so amusing, but won’t laugh in your face in hopes of teasing you some more. 

“Oh, amazing,” you say, throwing the schedule to the table, “I knew I could always count on you ruining my day, Kim Sunwoo. And I bet you did the schedule as well! You knew it was my favorite movie, so you made me work that week. Very nice of you, you dumbass. Thank you very much,” you grunt, annoyance flowing through your brain and making you truly merciless– you have no proof of Sunwoo even knowing which movie of yours made it in, or proof of him making the schedule– you don’t care, though. All you want at this moment is to claw his eyes out and pop them in between your fingers to ease the anger on your insides.

You can’t do that, though, so a screaming match will have to do the job.

“Stop being so dramatic,” he scoffs, eyebrows furrowing. “I didn’t even know which one your favorite movie was, so how could I do this on purpose? Plus, I didn’t even make the schedule, my dad did–”

“As if I would believe that,” you roll your eyes, huffing. “You’re all owner’s son privileges this, owner’s son privileges that, but when I ask you for one thing, one! Single! Fucking! Thing! You can’t do it,” you bite, words dripping in spite.

“Look, I really can’t-”

“You can’t do this one thing for me?” you cut him off, the question sounding like an ultimatum.

“No,” he shakes his head, seemingly unaffected by the conversation.

“Because…?” you demand a valid reason.

“Because I just can’t,” he shrugs, casual and cool. 

The world stills for a moment. You calculate your next move. Blood rushes in your ears, you see red. Your eyes fall on the clock– it’s 4 minutes after your shift. That’s it.

You take your coat draped over the chair, stand up from the chair and dash towards the front door. You can’t stand being around this man any longer– all he does is bring misery into your otherwise, already boring life. 

Speedwalking out of the place, you yell out a harsh “Go fuck yourself!” over your shoulder, leaving Sunwoo to close the cinema by himself. You don’t even change out of your uniform before you go– your head is too clouded with anger to remember to do so. Cursing out your coworker isn’t the best thing you could do in this situation, more so when he’s the owner’s son, but suddenly, you don’t really care about losing your job at the cinema anymore.

Maybe you should quit yourself, actually.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS (2003)

In your books, there aren’t many things worse than working three days in a row. You can only think of so many even when you try hard enough: like going to school in your pajamas, getting sick on the day of an important event, ripping your pants on the metro, standing outside of the cinema in a popcorn costume for 4 hours… 

Yeah. Not too many.

So naturally, on the third day of your work week, putting one sweetened coffee into your stomach after another, barely keeping your head up from the lack of sleep you’re getting in between classes, work, and writing your essays until 3 in the morning, you beg god for a calm shift. It’s Wednesday, the first week of Mr Kim’s ‘Rewind Thursdays’ event, and it just so happened that you were set to work the first half of the week while Sunwoo got the other half. 

The only thing keeping you going is the fact that you and Sunwoo will now basically not see each other’s face for the next four weeks– with the exception of Fridays and Saturdays, the premiere days. You’re getting a lot of shifts this month, but hey… Christmas is coming. At least you’ll have plenty of money to buy gifts for everyone this year. (Or not. You’re very underpaid.)

Entertaining yourself by watching the world outside of your window and mentally betting on the race of raindrops falling down the glass surface– because your phone battery almost ran out during class this morning and you forgot to bring your charger with you– you hope you don’t fall asleep right in this moment. Your boss is somewhere inside and if he oh just happens to check up on you (which he never normally does, but you can never be too sure), you’re certain you’d lose your job after taking a nap in the ticket booth. Some things just can’t be accepted. 

Cat fights with his son? Perfectly acceptable. Sleeping on the clock? Not so much…

Eyes drooping when the third raindrop race doesn’t go the way you bet on in your head, you figure you can just rest for a second or two… Eyelids shielding your irises from the orange hues of the lights inside, your brain already turning off and preparing a happy dream for you, you think that taking a nap is not such a bad idea right now…

Wrong.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” the noise of a thunder– actually, no, that was just someone’s voice– wakes you up and makes you jump in your chair, your knee hitting the bottom of the table making you hiss in sharp pain.

“Fuck, man–”

“Didn’t know taking a nap was in the job description,” Sunwoo grins at you through the glass window of the booth. His eyes twinkle in amusement as you drag your hand through your hair, trying to smoothe it down after tousling it in your weird sleeping position.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” you mutter, not even meeting his eye. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah… just had… my eyes closed…” you hum, scratching the back of your neck. Clearing your throat, you look back up at him with an disinterested look on your face. “Anyways, what do you want? You’re off today.”

Scanning his figure, fully taking in his appearance– the fabric of his dark gray hoodie a little stained with raindrops (you bet he ran from his car into the building without an umbrella. He seems like the type to be embarrassed about umbrellas.), the fabric of the garment enveloping his head and shading his face a little from the ugly yellow lights. His face is a little flushed– you presume it’s from the running– and his hair is falling into his face. You can barely see his eyes behind the curtain of chocolate locks– he really needs a trim.

“Damn, didn’t know you hated me so much that you can’t stand seeing me on my off days,” he jokes, leaning on the counter as if to stick his face as close as he can into yours. Thank god for the glass shielding you two– you think you’d give him a fist to the nose if you ever felt his breathing on your skin.

“I do,” you agree, impatiently drumming your fingers on the top of the table, “so tell me what you want so you can disappear again,” you say.

“I just went to check up on whether you were sleeping or not so I can tell my dad to fire you–”

“Kim Sunwoo–”

He puts his arms up defensively, eyebrows raising at your threatening tone. “Okay, not really. I don’t actually care that much. Besides, you promised to quit yourself anyway, so,” he explains, shrugging to himself, “believe it or not, I’m here to buy tickets for a movie.”

You shoot him a stare, the look in your eyes dead, stone cold as you ponder on his words. It’s cold outside, it’s raining, and Kim Sunwoo just happens to decide to buy tickets for a movie today. In a cinema that he works at. In a cinema that he works at tomorrow.

“You work tomorrow…?” you mirror your inner monologue, kind of confused at the turn of events.

“You know my schedule? I’m flattered–”

The irritation is slowly creeping into your bones again. Actually, it has been since he arrived, but the more he talks, the more agitating the whole encounter feels. Maybe you should tape his mouth shut the next time you see him– you bet the day would be so much better if you don’t have to listen to him talk. 

“Why don’t you just buy the tickets tomorrow when you work? Didn’t have to walk here in the rain,” you explain, sighing to prove just how annoyed you are with his presence.

“Because I kinda need them today,” he says, clarifying to you with the tone you use when you explain mundane things to a child.

You don’t know what he did in his past life to get the ability to annoy you each and every time you meet him, but you’d like some of it to get back at him in your next life. Why you’re even thinking of past lives and the possibility of meeting Kim Sunwoo in your next one, you’re not really certain, but if it helps you to not smash the glass separating you two, you guess you can get behind the thought process.

“Okay,” you nod, painfully calm for the amount of screaming you’ve been doing internally, “what movie?” you ask, turning your body to the computer on your right and breaking eye contact with him. If he’s a customer, you’re going to treat him like one– no small talk and no arguments. You won’t ruin your day even more over a man that doesn’t know what chapstick is. (You don’t stare at his lips, just for the record. It’s just painfully obvious when he talks. Sometimes you want to reach over and pluck away the dead skin with your fingers– you won’t, though. That would be weird.)

Sunwoo straightens his back as he fishes for his wallet in the front pocket of his jeans. “National Treasure,” he smiles, making you break into cold sweat, “two tickets, please.”

Like a scene in a horror movie, your head turns without moving the rest of your body, eyes twitching when you see him standing at the other side of the booth, calm and collected. Suddenly, the scene makes sense– he bought the tickets to see your favorite movie on the day of your shift. Of course. He just has to rub it in your face. 

Not only are you working that day. You will also most likely serve popcorn to him as he goes inside with whoever he is buying the second ticket for. And you will try not to trip him on his way inside the screening room.

It was a smart move for him to not go inside the ticket booth with you, even though he has all the right to. You bet he knows you’d claw his eyes out if you had the chance.

“You have to be kidding me.”

“What? I can’t buy tickets for a movie?” he asks, innocence dripping off his tongue.

Breathing deeply– while trying to contain the demon that’s begging to crawl out of your insides and tear him into 25 different pieces– you smile ironically at the male, gulping before you speak. “That would be 12 dollars, please,” you say, your customer service voice turning kind of eerie.

Not even letting the male choose his seats– he lost the privilege when he decided to come and buy the tickets for your favorite movie– you print out two tickets with the worst possible view (the ones in the first row, far right. If Sunwoo loses his neck because he has to look up at the screen for the entirety of the movie, well, who are you to hate that) and offer them to your coworker.

Like a mind game, the male slips them into his pocket without even looking at them, not breaking eye contact with you sitting behind the booth. 

“Have a nice day,” he says as he takes two steps back before fully turning and escaping through the front door, figure dashing towards the old Prius parked in front of the building.

Bawling your hands into fists, you try the breathing exercises you found the other week. Calm your body and your mind, the title said. You knew you’d need those when you saved the post into one of your boards on Pinterest.

Still, you can’t help yourself. You simply cannot. You let it out– it’s not healthy to keep negativity inside. 

He can’t hear you, but you still mutter a spiteful “I hope you choke,” under your breath as you settle back into the uncomfortable surface of the chair.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – YOU’VE GOT MAIL (1998)

Remember the time you said you didn’t really mind having more shifts in November, because it meant a bigger paycheck? Yeah… that was true. For a few days.

Until you got a phone call one day from none other than Kim Sunwoo– whose number you didn’t even want to save into your contacts, but after his insisting that it’s for work purposes, did so under the name ‘dumpster raccoon’– telling you that you have to get to work immediately, that his dad said so, and that it’s an emergency. 

Do you believe him? No. Absolutely not. 

His tone of voice was too calm to be in an emergency. If his dad wanted you to come to work today, he could’ve called you himself instead of making his son do it. And also, you really don’t know what’s so important to take care of on a Wednesday, since it’s the slow day of the week, but still– you angrily took off the facemask from your face before the timer even went off, shut your laptop with a half-watched episode of The office in your Netflix window, changed out of your comfy clothes and marched towards the cinema. 

Because you never know. He might be saying the truth, after all. And if that was the case, you didn’t want to be caught disobeying your boss.

You get to the old movie theater on the corner of the town center at 4 in the afternoon. The sky is already getting dark and you feel the coldness of November seeping into your bones, and so you waste no time in getting inside and chasing the heat of the vintage-looking interior. Your boots make a thudding sound as you walk across the hall, seeing Sunwoo sitting in the ticket booth in his usual habitat: with his phone in his hands and his feet up on the table, chewing on his favorite strawberry mints. Now this sight screams emergency if you’ve ever seen one.

“What was so important for you to call me to work and then chill in the ticket booth all afternoon?” you ask, spite slipping off your tongue with every word you speak. 

Sunwoo looks up at you from under his eyelashes, hair still slightly shielding his eyes. He doesn’t even have his uniform on– there’s a gray hoodie enveloping his torso (you swear he lives in this garment. You wonder if he even washes it sometimes) and black jeans hanging off his hips– and the more you stare at him, the more you feel like punching him in the face.

“Oh,” he hums, stretching out his limbs from the hours of sitting on the chair unmoving, “dad said to tell you to clean the screening room. Since it’s Thursday tomorrow, and all.”

The look on his face is innocent. He looks like he just told you the most casual piece of information– and truth be told, he kind of did. The whole thing is just not making any sense right now. 

“I should clean the screening room today? You’re on the clock, though, why don’t you do it?” you ask, frustration clearly written all over your face. You were looking forward to having a self-care day today, so you can only imagine how tired of his endeavors you are right in this moment. 

“Yeah, but I am on ticket booth duty, so I can’t,” he shrugs, frowning a little to prove his nonexistent point.

“It’s Wednesday. It’s not busy. You know you can do both.”

“Look, it’s not me, it’s my dad–”

“Is it? Is it, Sunwoo?” you huff, arms flying into the air. “Or are you just using me to do the work you don’t feel like doing? Because it really does seem like that right now,” you bite, running your hand through your hair in exasperation. 

“Do you want me to call him?” Sunwoo asks, tone of voice suddenly threatening. 

A heartbeat passes. You continue to have a staring contest with him. The fury inside of you rages like a storm. Still, you nod to the feeling of authority coming from your actual boss, and so you wordlessly turn on your heel and march towards the screening room, ready to clean the place in the least amount of time so you can go home and back to your selfcare endeavors. (You’re adding printing out Sunwoo’s face and throwing darts at it to the list of activities. You think you really need that right now.)

The screening room is dark when you come inside, and as you reach towards the lightswitch, you almost fear something jumping at you. See, the traumatic response from being locked up in the toilet from your coworker is still very present in your bones. When you stop working here, you’re going to ask for financial compensation for all the damage this boy did on your mental health.

You walk down the aisle of seats and try to inspect the damage. No movies air on Wednesday and there was only one kids movie going on Tuesday, so you can either expect it to be almost clean, or full of snacks that fell off the hands of grabby children during the cartoon. The more you inspect the place, though, the more it seems like… somebody already cleaned it before?

The floor is clean. The laminated surface under the seats has no smudge of dirt on it, like someone already mopped the place. And when you think back, the bins were empty as well.

The screening room was definitely cleaned before.

Which means that Sunwoo brought you here for absolutely nothing.

Suddenly, the lights go out. The whole room falls into darkness, and the anger inside of your veins very quickly mixes with panic as you try to climb up the stairs on the side of the screening room and escape. Your throat gets dry as you yell for your coworker, not really caring if your next outburst is going to get you fired or not.

“Kim Fucking Sunwoo, why the fuck did you call me to clean an already cleaned screening room?!” you yell, not really knowing if he hears you or not. Doesn’t matter– it feels cathartic to do so anyway.

Your feet stumble on the awkwardly-long stairs, your figure almost falling to the ground. Managing to hold yourself up and steady your body before your head hits the sharp corner of one of the stairs and makes you die, you continue on with your small tangent. “You really think this is funny? You’re having fun pranking me all the time? I hate your guts, Kim Sunwoo, and I hope you burn in hell!”

A bright light suddenly illuminates the screening room, coming from somewhere behind you. When you look over your shoulder, the screen is white for a few moments before the opening credits of a Jerry Buckheimer film flash on the big surface, halting you in your movements. The sound is a little too loud in the speakers, but it gets adjusted the moment you almost lose your hearing. The moment you see Nicolas Cage appear, it’s clear as day.

There’s a movie playing. And the movie playing is National treasure. 

You think you’re hallucinating. This is surely a fata morgana.

Standing in the middle of the screening room, your mouth hangs agape and your eyes go wide as you watch the first few scenes of the movie. Ben Gates already learns about the hidden treasure passed down through American history when you feel a slight nudge to your shoulder, making you turn your head to see a tall figure staring you down with a bucket of popcorn in their hands.

You are confused. So utterly confused. The movie was on last week. You’d know– you worked the snack booth that day. The screening room is empty and it’s Wednesday– what’s going on? 

“Can you sit? Or are you just going to watch the movie standing in the aisle,” Sunwoo grunts, balancing the big bucket of popcorn and two drinks in his large hands, the sight comical and almost making you want to watch him suffer some more.

Caught off guard, though, you let him back you into the aisle of seats, your figure slouching into one of the red cushions like a rag doll. Sunwoo takes place next to you, placing the big bucket of popcorn into your lap, before he settles into a seat as well and focuses his eyes and attention on the movie.

“What… what is this?” you ask, frozen in the seat. 

“Hm?” Sunwoo frowns, looking at you. “National treasure,” he hums, “I thought you’d know, since you threw a scene about it that one time.”

“I- I know that, I just…” you trail off, still surprised at the turn of events, “what’s going on right now…?”

“We’re watching National treasure,” he notes, talking to you as if you were slow.

“What…?”

A sigh escapes Sunwoo’s lips at your utter confusion, his hand coming up to the bucket of popcorn in your lap and throwing a handful of the snack into his mouth before speaking. “Look, Y/N. You said you wanted to watch your favorite movie in the cinema, so that’s what you’re doing. Enjoy my owner’s son privileges for once,” he shrugs, watching as your face morphs into an unreadable expression.

That explanation satisfies you for a bit. The shock in your insides, though? Still present.

There’s something about the whole gesture that makes your stomach feel uneasy. Sunwoo did something nice for you– out of the kindness of his own heart– and you really don’t know why he would even think of something like this. You two aren’t on the best terms either, after all. Maybe he finally went crazy.

Or maybe you did and this was all the result of your imagination. Either or. 

Yeah, you must be the one that’s gone batshit insane. Surely. You’re certain of the fact when you reach for the popcorn and accidentally touch his hand, the two of you deciding to get some at the same time, and your stomach does a flip and your brain makes a sign for you to quickly retract your hand– but the feeling of his slightly cold hand against your fingertips is now engraved into your memory and won’t leave and let you focus on the movie no matter how hard you try.

“You wouldn’t have to do this if you just let me switch schedules with you that time,” you note, “just saying.”

“I couldn’t,” he shrugs.

“Huh? But you bought two tickets..?”

“Yeah, but those were for my friends. I had to drive my mum down to grandmas that day, so I couldn’t go or take your shift that day,” he hums, not once breaking eye contact with the screen.

“If you would’ve just said so, I wouldn’t have made a scene about it–”

“Yeah… but I enjoy watching you make a scene,” he grins, shifting his attention towards you for a second with that lazy smirk playing with his lips. His hair is falling into his eyes and you have the urge to get it out of his face with a motion of your hand while also scolding him like a mother to finally get a haircut, just so you could see the twinkle in his mischievous orbs.

“You need to get serious help, then,” you grunt, pointing your gaze back towards the screen, unable to look at his face for any longer. He’s being annoying again. You’re annoyed.

“Probably,” he admits.

You two sit in silence for a while, the only sound accompanying you being the movie playing out on the big screen in front of you. You think this is the calmest you two have ever been around each other, and you’re starting to think that if Sunwoo just didn’t talk, you two could even get along.

Something touches the side of your thigh in the darkness of the room. Eyes darting to the source, you notice Sunwoo’s thigh pressing against yours, the cause of his obnoxious man-spreading, and something about the closeness of his body and the smell of his citrusy cologne makes you feel like your chest is heaving in on itself. You can’t stand him around you. You two can’t share this close of a space.

“Are you not leaving?” you ask.

“No,” he hums, “should I be?”

“Well, you’re on the clock…”

The man snickers, shaking his head in disbelief. “Y/N, you and I both know that the possibility of someone coming to buy a ticket on a Wednesday afternoon is close to zero. Me being there makes no difference in today’s sales.”

His hand knocks into yours again as you reach for more popcorn. You gulp, nodding. “Right…”

“And I wanted to see the movie to see if it’s really that good to make a scene about it,” he teases, another playful look sent your way from the corner of his eye.

You grunt, rolling your eyes. Oh how you hate his guts…

And even though you love the movie, you pray for it to end quickly. The more time you spend with Sunwoo forced into your zone of comfort, the more uncomfortable you feel– even the slightest movement of his body affects you and makes your brain turn on overdrive. It’s strange and it’s weird, and you don’t understand how hatred for a person could manifest in such reactions. 

It’s better that you didn’t notice you two sitting in the love seat. God knows you wouldn’t handle that well. You’d rather die than to hold on to that knowledge.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – CLUELESS (1995)

They say that you only start realizing just how stupid people can be when you work in customer service. As one of the only three employees of the small, vintage cinema on the corner of the town’s square, you can only agree with the sentiment– you have a lot of stories to tell about the wonders of the human brain.

Like that one time you got screamed at because the movie tickets were ‘too expensive’ – because naturally, you should be able to change the price of them when asked. Or that one time you got screamed at because the movie tickets were sold out– because naturally, you should add more seats to the screening room just for the two middle-aged women to sit on during the premiere of the newest Orlando Bloom movie. Or when somebody yelled at you for the toilets being full after the movie– naturally, you are supposed to throw people out in the middle of them peeing. Or build new stalls. Either or.

They say that you only start realizing just how stupid people can be when you work in customer service, but truly, you also realize just how rude they can also be for no reason at all.

Much like today. It’s Friday, which means it’s premiere night. The tickets to all movies this week are sold out already, so no one is on ticket booth duty, and much to your relief, Mr Kim took the snack stand himself. Your responsibility for the day is scanning the tickets and then making sure no one is getting inside during the movie without a ticket. 

It’s not a hard job. Not at all– you would even say nothing about working in the cinema is hard, when you don’t have an annoying coworker trying to make your whole life a living hell– but you see, customers love to make your job harder just by being unreasonably rude about things that are clearly out of your control. 

“Sir, I really can’t let you in, I’m sorry,” you say, tone of voice polite despite screaming on the inside. In front of you is standing a tall man, maybe a few years older than you, the expression on his face full of anger and vexation. They say a customer is always right. You agree only when the customer looks like they could wait for you after work and beat you up in the bushes. Sadly, that still doesn’t mean you can let the man inside without a valid ticket.

“What do you mean? Little one, I’m telling you I bought the ticket here, so if you don’t let me in–”

“All tickets purchased for the screening should be able to scan through this, sir, and if it doesn’t work, I am not allowed to let you inside of the cinema,” you try to explain, getting kind of desperate. The line behind him was forming and the movie was supposed to play in a few minutes, so if you wanted to scan all the tickets in time, you had to be quick.

He wouldn’t budge, though. His eyebrows are furrowed and the guy behind him seems to be getting angry as well, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up alert, like a cat when it senses danger. You try your hardest to keep your tone firm, hands clasped politely behind your back. “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir, or maybe check in with the owner about the issue? I don’t have the competence to–”

“Listen, I won’t be talking to anyone, because you will let me in, okay?”

“Sir, I can’t-”

Your sentence is cut off by the man again, his fury making you take a step backwards in fear. “And if you don’t, you will see the consequences.”

Gulping, you try to think of a way to get out of this situation. Mr Kim is too far away for you to call, and he is also busy– the line is long and Sunwoo isn’t working today. It’s just the two of you today, so your options are getting slimmer. You can’t let that man in without a working ticket– it seems like the one he’s showing you is either a fake one, or bought in another cinema– but it seems like if you don’t, he’ll have you dead before the next morning. 

“So?”

Opening your mouth to answer (although your brain is still empty and you don’t even know what more to say), a low voice coming from behind you startles you in the middle of your crisis. “Is there a problem here?” 

Turning your head to the source of the voice, you’ve never been more relieved to see Kim Sunwoo in your close proximity. You watch as he puts a rolled-up poster to the ground behind you before he takes another step closer towards your figure, his expression stone cold and glaring at the man in front of you. 

“Your coworker here won’t let me in to watch the movie,” he complains, hand waving around in a threatening way. 

Just having Sunwoo around makes you more confident. Clearing your throat, your eyes dart to your coworker, seeing his face morph into irritation. “It won’t scan his ticket, so…”

“If it won’t scan your ticket, it means it’s invalid and we’re not allowed to let you in,” Sunwoo says, tone of voice way less polite than the one you were using before.

“That’s ridiculous-”

“You are ridiculous,” Sunwoo grunts, annoyance clearly written all over his face. “You were asked to leave, so maybe you should.” 

Truth be told, you’ve been in a couple of arguments with Sunwoo before. In none of them has he ever looked and sounded like this, though. You and Sunwoo argue with spite– sparks flying waiting to start a fire, curses and harsh words thrown around carelessly in moments of heated hatred. His tone is stern, but never threatening. Never mean. Not in the way he’s being right now.

It makes you stare at him wordlessly. He seems to be taking the lead in the situation, reacting territorially to the man in front of him. You can’t say you don’t feel safer with him around– you would be lying.

“Maybe you could just let me in and get this over with–” 

“And maybe you could fuck off,” Sunwoo says back, something in his tone making your stomach feel all light. He looks serious, standing his ground, and the man finally seems to get the memo that he’s not watching the premiere tonight, because he backs off and grits his teeth at the male.

“Your boss will hear about this,” he threatens, making Sunwoo chuckle.

“I’m sure he will.”

Sympathetic looks are thrown your way from the women in the line behind that can finally come up to you so you scan their tickets. You smile at each one and try to seem unaffected by the exchange, but the memory of it still lingers in your brain and doesn’t make you rest easy as you greet the rest of the customers. 

You didn’t even realize Sunwoo was still standing next to you, watching you work. He seems to recognise your shaken-up composure, tone of voice sympathetic and quiet as he asks: “You okay?”

“What?” you ask, surprised by the question, “oh. Yeah, I’m fine. He was just… being a bitch, the usual.”

“Yeah,” he snickers, “why didn’t you just scream at him like you do to me? I bet that would scare him away,” he notes, making you roll your eyes at the comment.

“Because he looked like he could beat me up, Sunwoo.”

“And I don’t?” he gasps, suddenly offended.

You scan the boy up and down, pretending to think it over for a few before you shake your head. “No,” you shrug, “I could beat you up.”

“Excuse you?” he gasps, crossing his arms at his chest in a defensive stance, the shock on his face mixing in with amusement. 

“Don’t believe me? Wanna try?” you test, the conversation suddenly flowing freely, without you even noticing. You don’t pay it much thought, but you guess getting along with Sunwoo is easier when he’s on your side. Most of the time, he’s not, though– and maybe that’s the problem.

“Okay,” he nods, “meet me in the back when you’re off. No weapons allowed, we’ll do it the street style. This is a battle of fists,” he points a finger at you, the sentence making you sigh dreamily and point your eyes towards the ceiling.

“You can’t even imagine how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

Sunwoo smiles at that– that dumb, boyish smile you usually so despise– and shakes his head at your antics. The conversation dies down a bit after the exchange– with you scanning the tickets and trying your hardest to make it through the line before the movie starts, when your coworker, dressed in none other than his signature gray hoodie and black jeans, nudges you with his elbow. “Want me to stay for a bit, or are you good now?”

“I can take care of myself, Sunwoo,” you sigh, “you can go about your day.”

“Well, it didn’t seem like it a few minutes ago–”

“I can take care of myself when I’m not confronted with a tall muscled man that is threatening me, Sunwoo,” you repeat, looking at the rest of the line, “so with him gone now, you can go about your day. What are you even doing here, by the way? I thought you were off today.”

“I am,” he nods, rocking a little in his place, shifting weight from his heels towards his toes, “I was just… here to drop off something for you,” he says, clearing his throat and pointing towards the poster he was holding when he first approached you, the shiny tube now resting against the nearest wall. 

You shoot the boy a curious look, eyebrows furrowed in question. You don’t get to ask for clarification about the character of the poster, because he abruptly cuts off your train of thought, speaking fast as if to avoid making any more conversation with you. “I’ll see you in the back after you’re done for that fist fight, then. Bye!”

And before you get a chance to say anything back, Sunwoo swiftly turns on his heel and awkwardly marches towards the front door. You don’t have much time to inspect the thing he dropped off for you, but after you’re done with scanning the tickets and have time to breathe when the movie starts, you allow yourself to peek inside– 

only to see a National treasure poster staring back at you, surface glossy and glimmering, as if you just opened a chest full of gold. 

As you take the poster to the staff room with you (while also wearing a huge, embarrassing grin on your face for someone staring at the face of Nicolas Cage), making sure it’s safe and sound until you can bring it home with you, you wonder why you haven’t been civil with Kim Sunwoo before.

It’s good to have a taste of his owner’s son privileges sometimes.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – ME BEFORE YOU (2016)

The day is Friday, the 1st of December. Mr Kim’s ‘Rewind Thursdays' event is over and while Fridays are always the premiere days, meaning you usually have to work the evenings either in the snack booth or in the ticket booth, your boss told you you can have the night off under one condition– you come in the morning (since you told him your classes are done for the semester, he’s been keen on making you work at random times of the day) and help Sunwoo with Christmas decorations in the cinema.

And, well, who are you to say no to a free evening? Maybe you can finally have that self-care time you’ve been needing before your exam season starts.

“Can you get the ladder from the back?” Sunwoo asks, tone of voice not at all interested. You don’t know what the reasoning behind his mood is, but you figure it’s either the fact that he had to get up before 12, or the fact that he doesn’t really seem like the type to like decorating.

“Why don’t you get it?” you huff, wiping your forehead off the sweat that’s cumulated on it over the time you spent bringing out all the boxes full of decorations out of the staff room. “I brought everything in, maybe you can do some work for once.”

One would think your dynamics with Kim Sunwoo would shift after he’s been nice to you on multiple occasions. And sure, you don’t really fight with him as often and he hasn’t pulled a prank on you in a while, but some days, his whole presence is still just as annoying to you as it’s been for the past couple of months. There’s not really much you can do about it– especially not when he’s bossing you around and not doing any actual work himself.

“I built the christmas tree,” he grunts, opening one of the boxes full of ornaments, squinting at the contains with disgust on his face. “And I put up all the other useless stuff before you got here too,” he says, pointing a glare at you. 

Looking around the theater, you notice various types of decorations all over the place. There’s some mistletoe hanging off the ceiling (which has you wondering how he even got it there in the first place) and garlands framing all the doorways– the greenery making the whole place decorated in a very vintage tone. It’s fitting to the theme of the cinema, though, and you can tell that Sunwoo really can’t be arsed to do any better, so you don’t mention it out loud in favor of avoiding another one of your petty cat fights.

Admitting your defeat, you storm back into the staff room and carry out the tall ladder, struggling to fit through the doorways and to cross the corners, praying to all higher forces that you don’t accidentally scratch off pieces of the wall on your way to Sunwoo.

You put down the metal construction with a loud thud, making the boy look up at you from beneath his bangs, the silent curse evident in his eyes. You don’t know what’s up with him, but again, you won’t ask. You try to tell yourself that you don’t really care either, but with every glance towards his direction, the question keeps bugging you and dancing around your brain. 

You force yourself not to care.

Watching as he tries to untangle the Christmas lights, struggle evident in the frustration written all over his face, you sigh and walk over to him, taking the bundle of wire out of his hands and threading your skilled fingers through the lengthy cable. You’re an expert in untangling– you don’t own bluetooth headphones, so you do this pretty much every day before listening to some music. Your headphones love to tangle in your pocket no matter how neatly you try to keep them in your pants– it’s a mystery. Almost like the Bermuda triangle. 

“I can do it myself,” Sunwoo huffs, eyebrows furrowing when he watches you work your magic.

“You seemed like it too,” you ironically note, letting the spiteful side of you win, enjoying yourself when you’re rewarded by the snarky roll of Sunwoo’s eyes– everything is back to normal. You two aren’t friends, you don’t like to be in each other’s presence, and no number of shiny stolen posters and private sessions in the screening room will ever change that.

“Hold this,” you say, thrusting the end of the cord into his hand, walking a few meters away from him as you detangle the lights, watching as he impatiently stomps the floor with his heel, reminding you of Snowball from The secret life of pets movie.

When you’re done and the Christmas lights are now a straight line of wire, you slowly walk over to the tall tree in the middle of the room, wrapping the lights around the fake forest-green needles. You’re glad that the lights are long enough to cover the whole thing and you don’t have to untangle another ones, and when you’re done, you watch your coworker plug them in, examining the small, colorful light bulbs. 

“Okay, now the ornaments,” you say, more to yourself than to anybody in the room, as you waltz over to the boxes and take out the decorations varying in shapes and sizes. You don’t really know what color scheme Mr Kim wants you to go for– and you doubt Sunwoo is aware either, so you just take out the ornaments you find the most pretty and hang them all over the tree, making sure each branch is covered.

Sunwoo stands around for a while, unmoving as he watches you, before he sighs to himself and finally decides to help. You leave him be, thinking that it’s for the best if you two don’t speak today when he’s in such a bad mood, but you break that promise almost immediately when you stare back at the tree after retrieving some more ornaments from the box to your right and notice the almost painful clash of colors.

You should’ve known you can’t trust a man with decorating. The beautiful contrast of the baby pink and brown ornaments you put on the tree is now ruined by the green ones you intentionally left on the bottom of the box. The colors don’t go together at all and you want to claw your eyes out every second you have to stare at it.

“Sunwoo, those colors don’t go together at all,” you say, point and blank– no sugarcoating, no offensive words, just straight facts.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that tree looks terrifying, and it’s all because you ruined it,” you say.

Okay, maybe you are overreacting just the slightest. But isn’t there fun in making your coworker completely out of his mind? Is this your roles being reversed for the first time? Are you finally winning this little game? 

Nevertheless, you are enjoying the outburst that follows from Sunwoo. Mainly because he looks like a child throwing a tantrum as he huffs and takes off the green ornaments he put on to the tree and throws the handful back into the cardboard box, not really caring if they break or not. You’ll be replaying this scene in your head forever before you go to sleep, for the absolute frustration and annoyance on his face is one of your biggest trophies. Right now, though, you’re battling the urge to laugh.

“Fine, do it yourself, then,” Sunwoo says as he walks away from the tree, choosing to sit on the floor cross-legged, taking out his phone and scrolling through social media.

Again, you don’t know what’s gotten into him today, but you force yourself not to care. You have a job to finish here so you can go home and enjoy your day, and that’s why exactly you just shrug and finish putting on the pretty ornaments, admiring your work every once in a while when you take a break and stare on the tall tree, kind of breathless from the beauty.

You’re not really big on Christmas, but you must admit that this is fun. 

The sound of Sunwoo swiping through Instagram reels is the only thing accompanying your actions, and as you look over your shoulder and see his almost sad face, you bite your lip just to not ask him what’s the matter. You’re not supposed to care. And you don’t.

“Can’t you put some festive music on?” you ask instead, your lips just begging to have a conversation with the male, despite your best judgment.

“No,” Sunwoo barks back, not even taking his eyes off the phone as the sound of the reel changes into another one, a swipe of his thumb across the screen showing him another video. 

Nodding to yourself, you carefully try to pick out your next words. Not really sure how to address the male, you choose to approach him with a hint of humor you’re not sure he’ll appreciate. “What’s up with you? You’re bitchier than usual,” you say, scanning the male with cautious eyes.

Sunwoo stops for a while– a millisecond of him halting his scrolling, an action you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t trying to see any shift in his composure– before he speaks up again. “Nothing,” he shrugs.

“Okay,” you say, a tone of voice full of doubt. 

When you conclude that you’re not getting more answers out of him, you nod to yourself and dart back towards the Christmas tree, making sure you make more eye contact with the glossy ornaments than with your coworker sitting behind you on the ground. Not much time passes by before he speaks up again, though, tone of voice quiet and hesitant.

“I’m just not in the mood today,” he sighs, “I have a final next week and it’s stressing me out, I haven’t slept well in quite a few days, my dad’s making me work more than usual and on top of that, I absolutely hate winter.”

“You hate winter?” you choose to focus on the least serious topic of the little rant, not really knowing when your boundaries lay in discussing the more serious ones.

“Yeah,” Sunwoo chuckles, “it’s like a shittier fall. It’s cold and dark all the time. It would be different if it snowed, though. I love it when it snows.”

Snickering at his sudden confession, you shake your head. “You’re like a little kid.”

“I remember you calling me a child once,” Sunwoo hums in agreement.

“That was different,” you say, hoping to cheer the male up at least a bit with your usual quarrel.

“I figured by the way you threw the toilet brush to my chest,” Sunwoo laughs, the memory of torturing you fond in his brain. The poster he gave you almost made you forget about the fact that he managed to make your life a living hell for quite some time– maybe you should consider this a wake-up call.

The conversation quiets down for a bit, even the sound of Sunwoo’s Instagram reels discontinued as you two marvel in the now much more comfortable silence. Testing the waters, you clear your throat before speaking up again. “Don’t worry about that exam, by the way. I’m sure you’ll do well.”

“How would you know?”

“You’re clever. You need to be clever to come up with all various ways to make my life more miserable,” you say, smiling when you hear him let out a breath of air through his nose, signaling a silent laugh.

“Any advice on the sleepless nights?” he asks, tone of voice light and humorous.

“Less things in your head,” you hum, putting the last ornament onto one of the branches, satisfied with your work. “Or melatonin.”

“Noted,” he nods, sharing a smile with you.

Walking over to the boxes stored a few feet away from the male, you open up the slim one thrown on the side, holding up the star. Your eyes meet his, a carefree twinkle in your orbs when you try to cheer up the boy’s inner child by doing a child's favorite activity. “Do you want to put the star on?”

He fails you, though. “No.”

“Why not?”

“You decorated it all yourself, so you can do the star,” he shrugs, not really into your idea.

“Oh come on–”

“I don’t feel like standing up,” Sunwoo grunts, the joy on your insides finally dying down when you get a taste of his usual composure– the one that really can’t be arsed with anything. 

Sighing to yourself, you waltz over to the tall ladder, and despite your biggest worries, you continue climbing up the metal construction even when it wobbles and makes you fear you’re gonna fall. The whole thing is kind of unsteady and makes your heart thump in your throat, but you choose to get it over with and finally climb to the very top, outstretching your arm and putting the star on top of the tree, the decoration process now done and freeing you off your today’s work responsibilities.

Something akin to satisfaction beams in your insides as you climb down the ladder, and now, you’ll write this off to you being a little too excited with the vision of a face mask and popcorn at home– but your leg slips on one of the steps and despite the ladder being now magically steady, your body comes crashing down to the floor.

A yelp fights out of your throat, hands go flying in a desperate need to steady yourself or hold on to something that would make you not fall hard against the marble floor, when a miracle straight down from heaven comes to rescue in a form of flesh holding you up and shielding you from the fall, a grunt landing in your ears when your body settles into soft fabric of dark gray.

Head snapping to the source of the arms around your waist, surprised at the person’s strength used to balance you two on your feet as you fell (well, your knees buckled, but still, they haven’t yet hit the ground), you notice a pair of chocolate orbs staring down at you through a curtain of dark hair, wide eyes scanning your face and breathing out a puff of air.

“Look where you’re stepping next time, for fuck’s sake,” Sunwoo huffs, watching as your brain tries to process the near-death experience.

Registering his arms firmly placed around your waist (now realizing the soft fabric was the hoodie he’s been living in for the past few months), the citrusy scent of his cologne makes your head spin, eyes scanning his face in quick motions, as if not aware of who was your savior. You wonder how he even got to you on time (not really noticing him walking over to the ladder as soon as he saw it wobbling under you, holding it down to keep you from toppling over), and when your eyes curiously gaze at his chapped, yet plush lips, the warmth in your stomach makes you finally snap out of it. 

Untangling yourself out of his limbs, much like you did with the Christmas lights a few minutes ago, you clear your throat and try to get your breathing back to normal. Your knees are a little weak, but you write that off to the shock of falling. 

“This wouldn’t have happened if you just agreed to put the star on,” you complain, straightening your clothes as you walk over to the empty boxes nearby, stacking them into one another and avoiding all possible eye contact with the male.

It’s working– at least that’s what you keep telling yourself– up until you hear him chuckle and see a pair of hands taking the tower of boxes out of your hold, a charming grin sent your way as he walks away from you to the staff room. “If you say so.”

Okay, so it’s not working.

You’re fucked.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – THE PROPOSAL (2009)

“So… I was thinking,” Sunwoo starts one day, a bundle of rolled-up posters stacked up in his arms like a pyramid, puffs of cold air making clouds appear in front of his face as he speaks, “would you want to go see a movie with me?” he asks, tone of voice casual, as if he was asking you about the weather.

The poster you’re currently putting up into one of the glass holders outside of the cinema almost slips out of your frozen fingers out of shock, your heart skipping a beat. “Huh?” you hum, taking out a container full of pins out of your coat pocket and securing the poster to its designated place. “You want to bring money to your father’s competitor?” you joke.

“What? No,” he quickly replies, furrowing his brows as he shakes his head. “I meant, like, here,” he says, nodding towards the building to prove his point, taking a step aside when you close the glass door of the poster holder and move towards the next one, 3 more movie banners left to put up outside of the cinema. 

The wires in your brain work on full force, trying to clear out any confusion caused by his sudden invitation. Sure, you two have gotten closer ever since you talked with him at the Christmas tree a week ago, but still, you didn’t know it was enough to hang out outside of work hours. 

Instead of focusing the conversation on this unpredictable development, you turn towards clearing out the logistics instead. “How would we even do that? We either work at the same time or you work when I don’t and the other way around,” you say, taking the next poster from him and putting it up.

All of the movies airing the next two weeks are Christmas movies. Some of them are old, some of them are premieres, but still– you can’t really imagine watching a festive movie with your coworker. Up until last week, you thought of him as the next reincarnation of Grinch.

“I could get my sister to switch with me on a day you don’t work,” he hums, sheepish about his preposition. There’s something bashful in his tone, something shy in his gaze as he watches you put up the movie poster, but you try your hardest to ignore it for the sake of your sanity. You’re already having a hard time dealing with the fact that he appeared in your dreams twice since he caught you in his arms last week. You don’t need to add the switch in dynamic to the mix.

“Isn’t she underage?” you ask, snickering.

“Yeah, and?” he shrugs. “It’s a family business, Y/N. Everyone has to be included, underage or not.”

A laugh erupts out of your throat at the comment, shaking your head at the boy in disbelief. 

“What would you even wanna see? Those are all Christmas movies,” you say, moving along and focusing your attention to the glossy material in your fingers.

“I don’t see how that’s a problem,” he says. 

“Oh, it is,” you mutter, “I don’t like Christmas movies.”

Sunwoo grunts. “Well, I don’t really care. I saw your favorite movie with you, so you can return the favor and see my favorite movie with me,” he speaks up, making you roll your eyes at his words.

“There’s no way any of those movies is your favorite,” you note, doubtful tone haunting the boy.

“You wouldn’t know,” he laughs, making your heart do cartwheels at the sound, his teasing making you feel warmth despite the cold breeze trying to make your bones freeze into blocks of ice. 

“I won’t go unless I believe you,” you say, grinning as you close the glass box and take the last poster out of Sunwoo’s hands, watching as the boy puts his frozen fingers into the comfort of his warm jacket, shielding them from the cold. 

“Not fair.”

“Very fair, actually.”

“Oh come on,” he sighs, shaking his head in disagreement, “I thought we could watch a Christmas movie as a celebration to the end of semester,” he says, tone of voice almost pleading.

Securing the last banner into its designated place, you turn towards Sunwoo with an examining look on your face. He seems to be completely serious, eyes big pools of honey as he watches your face morph as you think. Something in your stomach makes it feel like it’s flying, making you clear your throat as you avert your gaze towards the line of Christmas movie posters on the brick wall. “Fine,” you gulp, “so what do you wanna watch?”

“The Polar Express,” he says, pointing towards the A3 scale you put up last, showing one of the movies that were older, but Mr Kim decided to air anyway– as if he was aware.

Fuck, you think. That’s my favorite. 

“Absolutely not,” you cough, “I hate that movie.”

“Huh? How?” he sighs, face full of disappointment. 

“Just because. It’s too long.”

“It’s not even two hours?”

Eyes quickly darting towards the poster, pupils shaking as you look towards the airing dates at the very bottom, you chew on your bottom lip, trying to find a way out. “You’re working on the 18th.”

“Okay, then we can go on the 19th,” Sunwoo says, determined to make you watch the movie with him. Why? You don’t even want to know at this point.

“I go home for Christmas break on the 19th,” you say, shrugging. “See? It wasn’t meant to be.”

“Y/N, come on–”

“Listen, can’t we just go back to hating each other instead of you annoying me about this stupid movie?” you sigh. In the whirlpool of events, you forgot just how insistent Sunwoo could be– who knows, maybe this was the real reason why you were so irritated with him in the first place.

Slowly walking back towards your workplace, hearing Sunwoo’s sneakers hit the ground behind you as he trails after you like a lost puppy, a sense of momentarily victory flows through your veins when you recognise that you found your way out. There was no way Mr Kim would let his underage daughter work instead of Sunwoo, and you truly were leaving home the evening of 19th. You already had a train ticket– you’re not gonna change your plans because of a man you despised just a few days ago.

“I never really hated you, by the way. Besides, you’re only saying that because you hate the movie,” Sunwoo grunts, chiming in front of you– making you think he’s being petty and doesn’t want to talk to you anymore, surprising you when he opens the door for you and offers you a solemn gaze, waiting for you to walk through the entryway and go back to work. (For you, it’s sitting in the ticket booth in silence. For Sunwoo, it’s pretending to work in the back, since his dad is absent today again)

Reciprocating his gaze, noticing the disappointment behind your coworker’s eyes, you feel something in your stomach drop, the weight of it so heavy you quickly avert your look. 

“Maybe,” you shrug.

And maybe, the true reason is something completely else. 

The words resonate through your brain– ‘I never really hated you, by the way’. Funny. Then what were all those months of torture all about?

You decide you no longer want answers.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – WHEN HARRY MET SALLY (1989)

You can’t believe you’re doing something nice for Kim Sunwoo.

Shoes hitting the gravel, your scarf pulled up so it covers your nose from the ice cold air, a hat hugging your head in warmth and shielding you from the aggressive weather, you start to contemplate your choices and your next moves. A sigh escapes your throat when your eyes land on the marquee above the entrance of the movie theater, teeth chewing on the inside of your cheek as you shift your weight from one foot to another.

Pulling out your phone to check the time, a shiny 7:24PM stares back at you, pushing you to walk up to the door of your workplace on your day off, 24 minutes after the beginning of The polar express. 

You feel silly. You feel oh so stupid when you push the door open and your body is immediately engulfed in warmth, the yellow dim lights of the cinema making your eyes slowly adjust to the brightness contrasting the darkness of the outside world. You feel like you must have gone crazy, especially when your insides start to get all light and bubbly, hints of nerves tingling at the tips of your fingertips and the deepest corners of your stomach. There’s no turning back now, you tell yourself– and when your feet automatically take you to the ticket booth, gaze landing on the boy with his bangs in his eyes and an expression worthy of a kicked puppy on his face, you suddenly feel like your trip to the cinema was all worth it.

Clearing your throat, you notify your coworker of your presence, his big, doe eyes staring at you in surprise. Sunwoo’s mouth goes agape, shock overtaking his features when he takes in your appearance. (You bet he thinks you look laughable– your eyes teary from the cold and your figure stoic, numb limbs hanging by your side.)

“What are you doing here?” he asks, the question not as aggressive as it sounded out of your lips every time he paid a visit to the cinema on his days off for all these months.

“Uh… I forgot some things in the back and I wanted to take them home tomorrow, so I came back for them,” you hum, the practiced excuse slipping out of your lips with ease, “can you come help me?” 

Sunwoo looks even more surprised at your question– although there is now a hint of confusion in the mix. What could you possibly have in the back to need his help with? For as far as he knows, you only ever kept your work uniform in your locker. “What? Can’t you get it yourself…?” he asks, noticing as you shake your head in disapproval.

“It’s… it’s on the top of the lockers and I can’t reach it, so-”

“Grab a chair…?” 

You didn’t really expect to have Sunwoo question your half-assed excuse. Truly, you thought this was going to go smoothly– but knowing Kim Sunwoo, you should’ve known it was never going to go the way you planned. You’re determined to win, though. 

And so it’s the time to bring out the big guns– men never say no when you praise them and make yourself look incompetent.

“Please? I don’t feel like bringing a chair and you’re tall enough. It will only take a second…” you pout, watching as the male in front of you sighs and stands up from his seat, nodding at your humble request.

Sunwoo follows you as you walk down the corridor, your heart thumping with the start of your little plan. Your steps are calculated and your movements carefully programmed, the nervousness in your stomach making you even more giddy with every meter of distance you two cross. 

Before you two get a chance to make it to the back, you make a swift turn and open the doors to one of the rooms on the left of the hall, dragging Sunwoo by his hand and tugging him inside. His body stumbles against yours, but the door closes behind him faster than he can react to the impact. Steadying the boy back to his feet, you watch him with anticipation, awaiting his reaction.

The truth is, you haven’t thought the plan out this far. The depiction of it in your brain always ended with you sneaking him into the projecting room and his curious eyes peering into yours. Something about the image of the events always made you feel too overwhelmed– you never dared to imagine the situation further. (That would mean admitting some hidden desires to yourself, so you never even tried. That all makes this situation twice as nerve-wrecking, though.)

“What… are we doing here?” he asks, eyes darting around the darkness of the projection room, the only light illuminating his pretty features being the movie playing behind the glass of the small booth.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to watch The polar express with me?” you ask, voice a few octaves higher than usual. 

“I… did…” he mumbles, confusion making him stumble over his own words.

“Well, you are working and I leave tomorrow, so I figured I had to find a way…” you shrug, watching as Sunwoo looks at you a little frozen, big eyes staring you down, gears turning in his head. You can’t really read him– you don’t really know if he’s going to laugh at you or send you home for ruining his shift. You don’t know if he appreciates the gesture, or if he thinks you’re being embarrassing. You don’t know if he registers the slight tremble of your hands and the lightness of your breathing, you don’t know if he realizes how much his reaction could make your day or completely ruin it (just like always), and so, you panic– and when you panic, you ramble. “I know we are technically not supposed to be here– well, me, at least– but I think that being with the owner’s son could make my boss let me off even if he somehow finds out, which I doubt he will, but–”

Sunwoo’s face starts slowly morphing, the slightest of shifts slowly adding up to a change of expression, having the male break out into the biggest, happiest grin you’ve ever seen him sport. His eyes light up and glaze your features in the softest of touches, his head shaking in disbelief. “Oh, you’re adorable.”

“What?” you ask, your heart doing seven somersaults and five cartwheels, eyes a big pool of surprise.

“You did this for me?” he beams, his grin so big and pretty it takes your breath away. Butterfly wings tickle in your stomach at the sight, having you mentally curse yourself– hold it together, Y/N. 

“I- I mean, I didn’t really do anything, we just sneaked in–”

“This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me,” Sunwoo hums, the teasing tone making its comeback in his voice, “actually, this might be the first sweet thing you’ve ever done for me–”

“Well, okay,” you roll your eyes, an embarrassed laugh dragging out of your throat as you turn on your heel and walk closer to the little table in the opposite end of the room, needing to avert your gaze from the boy for at least a second. The air is suddenly too heavy and it’s hard for you to breathe, heat rushing to your cheeks. 

Eyes focusing on the screen in front of you, your brain tries hard to focus on your favorite Christmas movie. Failing, your head running thoughts full of conflicting emotions and erratic exclamation marks screaming the name of the boy behind you, you ask yourself how and when exactly you’ve gotten yourself into this mess.

Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten this job in the first place.

Ears painfully alert, listening to each sound heard in the small projecting room– the shuffling of Sunwoo’s feet as he nears your figure, the muffled noise of the movie playing in the screening room in front of you, the resonance of your own heartbeat in your ears as Sunwoo’s hands suddenly sneak around your middle, your jacket squeaking from the contact of his limbs as he hugs you.

“What–”

“Don’t fight me, Y/N. Just this once,” he hums, voice deep, but still a bit hesitant. It’s like he’s walking on unsteady land, cautious of his movements in fear of making you run away. He’s in a new territory, in your personal space– the scent of his cologne fills your nostrils again as his head settles itself on your shoulder, the two of you silently watching the movie for a few seconds, not really knowing how to proceed.

There’s something intimate in the way he holds you, in the way the movie is a mere background noise to the marathon of your thoughts, the blue light illuminating your faces as you both try your hardest to keep your cool. 

A flashing thought of just how much you from a few months ago would hate the position it’s  in right now passes by your brain, making you instantly feel foolish. Oh how much you’d love it if you stood here unaffected right now– there’s no way to battle the warmth flooding your insides right at this moment, though.

“This is nice,” he mumbles, voice barely louder than a whisper. “Thank you,” he says, your insides squeezing at the sincerity. It’s not often you get to see this side of Sunwoo– the sweet, patient one, the side of him that makes you feel safe in his arms and appreciated with the soft tone in his words. And while you realize you don’t hate the playful side of him just as much as you thought you did, you must admit the novelty of the situation makes you feel a bit more joyful than you’d like to admit.

The weight of his head disappears from your shoulder, making you feel momentarily disappointed by the action. You expect him to pull away and take a seat on the chair, to finally focus on the movie playing in front of your eyes, the thought alone making your spirit fall. The fire in your inside lights up like a match thrown into a pool of gasoline just as fast again, though, when you feel soft lips come in contact with your cheek.

They stay only for a second before they disappear, an airy laugh landing in your ear a second later. “Please don’t run away now,” he says, tone of voice uncertain, telling you that now the ball is in your court– your next actions could either make him the happiest man on Earth, or completely break him. 

The choice is yours.

Your head turns his way, eyes instantly locking with his brown orbs searching for any signs of discomfort in your face. Slowly, as if still processing the events of before, your eyes trail over his features– the awfully handsome way his face was sculpted, the softness of his eyes and the sharpness of his jaw, the slope of his nose and the plushness of his lips. They’re not as chapped today, making you wonder if he started wearing vaseline, and before you get a chance to stop yourself, you start wondering of the way his lips would feel on yours, imagination running wild. 

He heaves out a shaky breath, your eyes darting back into his– as if to ask for approval, see if he’s okay with it. There’s a dazy look in them, gaze pressed to your lips, then to your eyes, then your lips again– a look you take as an invitation as you act against all your best judgment and lean towards him, pressing your mouth against his.

As if testing the waters, you make the kiss short. It was long enough to engrave it into your brain, though– to remember the way his perfectly shaped lips pressed against yours, the way the world stopped just for a moment, the way he tasted of the strawberry mints he always eats at work whenever he has nothing to do. 

Sunwoo seems to find liking in the action– lips glazing yours again, pressing another peck to them before he deepens the kiss, the tingling in your fingertips intensifying and the excitement bubbling in your frame making you turn in your position, front facing him and pressing up against his chest. His hands quickly adjust, slipping under your opened jacket and settling on your clothed waist, the slightest contact making your knees weak and settle your bottom against the table behind you, hands grabbing the fabric of his sweatshirt. 

He pulls back to catch some air, a boyish grin breaking out on his face, forehead knocking against yours in a sweet, giddy manner. “I’ve wanted to do this for months,” he huffs.

The sentiment makes a thousand question marks appear in your head– why did he make your life a living hell, then? Why did he pull pranks on you and make you hate every second spent with him? Why did he make you so furious each time and argued with you about the smallest things? How could Sunwoo possibly have wanted this for months, when you just only started noticing his attractiveness a few weeks ago?

“Why–”

“I’ll tell you later,” he says, cutting you off as he presses his lips against yours again, your mouth automatically welcoming his presence. Brain erased of all previous questions, his kisses working like a spell, you focus all your senses on the man in front of you.

Having your hands feeling up his abdomen, Sunwoo hesitantly asks for entrance with his tongue, running it along your lower lip until you welcome him in. You like this type of power battle much more than the one you had going on until now, and with each new movement, you feel yourself falling apart under him. 

His fingers tug down on the sides of your jacket, pulling it down. You don’t need it anymore– with how heated you’ve gotten, you are actually kind of happy that it is gone. One of his cold hands sneaks under the hem of your jumper, fingertips trailing up and down your side, the other one tugs down the hat from your head, discarding it somewhere on the table behind you before it finds its place on the side of your jaw, angling your head in a way that allows him to deepen the kiss even more, the contact of your lips growing firmer as seconds go by. 

Your scarf is swiftly untangled off your neck, Sunwoo’s skilled lips blindly trailing down the side of your mouth towards your jaw, feathery kisses ticking you before he gets more bold and sucks on the side of your throat, a shaky breath shyly escaping your lips.

“Sunwoo…” you say, tone of voice not really present, no real intention behind the call of his name.

The boy hums against your neck, having you gasp again when he lightly bites the softness of your skin, your hands shooting up to tangle in his hair when he licks the spot to soothe it after. Threading your fingers through his locks to ground yourself, you can’t believe you ever hoped for him to get a trim.

His hands firmly hold the underside of your thighs before he hoists you up on the table, continuing his confident attack on your neck when you’re sitting comfortably on the hard surface. It’s not like you didn’t feel excited, the tiniest bit thrilled at the mental image of his possessive marks all over your throat, but you were glad it was freezing outside and you could wear a turtleneck to hide the bruises from your family tomorrow. He nuzzles his nose into the hot skin of your neck, the action making you grin in ecstasy and endearment.

Getting lost in the way he was handling you, his touches firm, yet delicate, acted out in a way that makes you feel safe and comfortable with his passionate ministrations, you almost don’t notice the door swinging open, the figure of your boss like striking like the lightning in the doorway of the screening room.

“Sunwoo!”

The boy jumps, his body quickly ungluing itself off yours, as he listens to his father scolding him. “I don’t care what you two have going on over here, but you’re on clock! There’s a line waiting for the tickets for tomorrow’s movie and someone has to sell them right now.”

The boy clears his throat, voice a little hoarse. “Coming,” he says, trying to keep his composure. His hair’s a little tousled, cheeks rosy and lips puffed– the image that will haunt you in your sweetest nightmares now– and before you get a chance to say anything or let your brain process the events of the last few minutes, your panic works faster, making you act.

Quickly scattering for your things, you run out of the projecting room without saying goodbye to either Sunwoo or your boss, never once looking back.

You think of what you’ve done on your way home, bones freezing now that they weren’t in his presence. You try hard to regret your actions, but you don’t find it in you to do so– it’s kind of hard with the feeling of his lips still playing with yours.

Even though you’d hate to admit it just a few weeks ago, you must do it now. 

Kim Sunwoo does make a really good kisser.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – PRIDE AND PREJUDICE (2005)

There are many thoughts swimming around your brain as you walk through the coldness of the town the next day, your duffel bag hanging off your shoulder. There’s a conflict between the actions of your body and your thoughts – feet on their journey to the train station, but head stuck in the small projection room of your workplace, your coworker’s kisses occupying your every sober thought.

It’s not surprising, but you haven't heard from Sunwoo since you left the cinema last night. Not a single text or a call– but you figure that this is just your dynamic. Sunwoo’s never been much of a texter when it came to you. He’s never had the reason to text or call you, unless it was work-related, and you think it will stay that way, even though you did make out with him just last night.

Maybe he regretted it. Maybe he just didn’t feel like pondering on the events any longer– maybe it was just a one-time thing for him and he didn’t put much significance to it. You wouldn’t know– it’s not like you’re suddenly an expert on the way he feels and operates. 

You, though? How do you feel about the turn of events? Despite not wanting to admit it to yourself, the answer came to you the second you tried to fall asleep last night, every soaring thought in your brain showing you the reflection of his dazed look, desires of wanting him to look at you that way all the time oh so skilfully infesting themselves into every crevice of your neocortex. You want Sunwoo to like you. You want Sunwoo to want you. You want Sunwoo to be so enchanted with your existence that he thinks about you before he goes to sleep at night– just like you have done for the past few weeks. 

The answer comes to you again when you feel something wet fall on the top of your cheek, making you turn your eyes towards the sky. Your breathing comes out in puffs of air as you watch the magic happen right in front of you– and as you watch the snowflakes scatter all around the place, you are in another inner argument. While the rational side of your brain is screaming at you to keep walking to the station so you don’t miss your train home, the delirious side is cooperating with your feet for once, your figure crossing to the other side of the street and walking over to the place you could get to even with your eyes closed at this point; all because you suddenly remember the conversation you had with Sunwoo when you were putting on ornaments to the Christmas tree.

It’s the first snow of the season. 

Kim Sunwoo loves it when it snows.

Speed-walking towards the vintage movie theater at the corner of the town’s square, you feel something akin to childish excitement bubbling in your insides, a hint of nervousness inviting itself into your insides when you push the door open and aim straight towards the ticket booth, where you know Sunwoo will be sitting, wasting another shift away.

He’s there– eyes pressed towards the window, gaze following the snowflakes kissing the cold ground. You expected more excitement in his character, more childlike joy in his figure– and after taking in his composure: shoulders slouching and fingers picking at the skin of his cuticles, you suddenly feel silly for coming.

Well, here goes nothing, you think.

“Sunwoo,” you call, making the boy snap his head towards you in surprise, big eyes meeting yours the moment he recognises your voice.

You don’t receive a verbal response for a while. The boy just stares at you, a bit hesitant and clueless. His face reminds you of a small puppy trying to take in the new situation in front of it. His lips are formed into a small pout, gears in his brain turning and trying to process the reality of having you standing there, face beaten from the cold.

Clearing your throat, you try to take charge of the situation. “It’s snowing outside,” you say, eyes peering out of the window, all thoughts suddenly escaping your brain, words blanking off your tongue, “and, well… you said you like the snow, so…”

The boy’s mouth hangs agape, a twinkle in his eyes slowly appearing once again when he stares at you, your nervousness doing wonders to your conversation skills. “I- I don’t even know what I wanted to say with that, it’s just- I don’t know… I saw it was snowing and I automatically came here, so-” you stutter, the sentence cutting off as Sunwoo jumps to his feet and grins, wordlessly taking your hand into his and dragging you outside.

The duffel bag falls off your shoulder somewhere in the middle of the hall, discarded to the floor, before Sunwoo sharply halts in his steps and runs back towards the ticket booth, still dragging you with him by the hand. The boy grabs something off the table, the item not visible in your rear point of view, and before you have a chance to register what’s happening, you’re outside of the building again, coldness instantly slapping you in the face.

It’s dark out, but the heaviness of the snow provides enough light in the silent evening for you to see where you’re going under the yellow lampposts on the street. Instantly noticing the lack of Sunwoo’s warm hand in yours when he suddenly lets go, you turn your head to look at the male.

Terror fills your veins when you notice him gathering snow from the ground and pressing it into a tight ball, a screech escaping your throat when you watch him swing it at you, a playful, boyish grin playing with his features. The male chases you around and most of the snowballs don't even hit your running figure (he does have an awful aim), but you still duck anyway and try your hardest to win your snowball fight.

Numb fingers creating snowballs and halting them at his tall frame, but missing most of the time due to his fast reflexes, you laugh and let go of all the worries and questions clouding your judgment. Sunwoo looks enthusiastic, so much more lively than when you found him in the ticket booth just a few minutes ago– but that’s still not enough for you to let him win.

Gathering the icy texture into your hands, you run towards him, taking advantage of his inattention as he’s bent over and taking more snow into his hold, and halt the whiteness into his face just as he straightens his back and wants to prepare for his attack.

More laughter bubbles out of your chest when you watch him drop his snowball to the ground, admitting defeat. The snow is all over his face– slowly running down his cheeks like teardrops, redness tinting his nose and the sides of his face. 

The male shudders from the cold, and you instantly start feeling bad. Only now you realize that he ran out without a coat, a gasp escaping your throat. “Oh god,” you mourn, hands flying towards his frozen face to wipe off the snow from his cheeks, fingers carefully tracing over his cold skin. His eyes open as he watches you, something in his gaze so tender you feel yourself melting even in the middle of the snowstorm.

The male shuffles his hands into the front pocket of his gray hoodie, taking out the item you now recognise to be the hat you accidentally forgot in the projecting room yesterday (and already mentally paid goodbye to), his frozen fingers tugging the fabric onto your head. 

“Why are you putting this on me? You’re the one that’s freezing over here!” you scold him, shaking your head at the male. 

He rewards you with an amused grin, watching your next moves. Acting on auto-pilot, not really putting much thought into your actions, you unzip your jacket and step impossibly near to the male. Holding the jacket open, you hug him around his middle, making sure you are sharing the warmth with him and keeping him as close as possible, shielding him from the cold with both the fabric of your puffer jacket and the heat radiating off your body.

Faces just inches away from each other, you peer at his face. He wears a warm expression, eyes peeking out from behind his dark bangs. Clouds of breath escape his mouth when he speaks, voice quiet, as if to not ruin the atmosphere. “I thought you would regret it,” he says, making you break out into a foolish smile.

“I thought so too,” you nod.

“And you don’t?”

Shrugging, you reply. “Not really.”

“Why?” he asks, suddenly doubtful. “You said you hated me. Which was odd to hear, honestly, since I did all this to get your attention anyway and I thought it was just how our dynamic works, but… I could see how it could be annoying to you…”

Chuckling, you roll your eyes at the sudden revelation. It’s sickeningly sweet how endearing he looks when he doubts himself, explaining himself to you in a nervous blabber. “I don’t hate you. At least not anymore.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” you shake your head, a tender gaze shared between the two of you, “I actually quite like you, I think…” you mumble, a little bashful to admit it out loud.

“You do?” he asks, the twinkle in his eye glimmering twice as much as ever before, tone of voice playful, yet laced with honest joy and surprise at your confession.

“I do,” you nod, voice barely louder than a whisper as you watch him lean closer towards your face, cold nose bumping into yours before he angles his head, breath mixing in with yours in the few seconds before he dares to kiss you again, capturing your lips with his.

The kiss is sweet. The kiss tastes of strawberry mints and the first snow, of unsaid confessions and longing looks sent your way every time you weren’t looking. The kiss makes your stomach fill with a thousand little butterflies, it melts away the ice around you, the two of you like a spark of a fire in the middle of a snowy land. 

His actions have your composure faltering, hands untangling from behind him and moving up to cradle his face. He melts under your touch, leaning into you as your fingers trail over his cheekbones. Holding on to him, thumbs padding his soft skin, you’re reminded of the cold only when he breaks off you and shudders again, teeth clattering from the freezing temperature.

“Let’s get you inside,” you say, planting a short peck to his lips, “before you turn into an icicle,” you giggle, watching as he scrunches up his face.

“I won’t,” he shakes his head, “love warms me up,” he grins, making you roll your eyes at his bold statement.

“You’re so cheesy.”

“But you quite like me anyways, no?”

Sighing, moving away from him and tugging him back inside the cinema, you shake your head at the boy. “I’ll think about it on my train home,” you bite back, opening the door to the theater and aiming towards the duffel bag you dropped on your way out.

Sunwoo watches you with a warm gaze, an adorable smile playing with his lips. His figure seems to be visibly taking in the heat again, his face adorning a flush, pink color. 

“So I take it as you’re not quitting anymore, then?” he teases as you walk back to the door, both of you ignoring the customers waiting for their tickets in the line in front of the forgotten booth.

“We’ll see,” you shrug.

“I’ll text you the schedule for January?”

“You better text me about something else too, Kim Sunwoo,” you bark back, opening the door towards the cold landscape, “or you’re gonna have a very uncomfortable return back to work in January!”

The boy laughs, the noise like a Christmas carol to your ears. “Noted.”

Slipping outside, you watch as he waves at you goodbye, your feet dragging through the snow towards the train station having more pep to their step now. You don’t even know if you can make it to the train on time, but you surprisingly have no regrets– you can always catch the next one, right?

Mentally wanting to slap yourself for the lovesick grin playing with your lips, you sigh. 

The male that once made your life a living hell is now the one you look forward to seeing the most once you come back after Christmas break. It’s kind of strange, really. 

One would think that working with movies on the daily would prepare you better for the biggest plot twist of your life.

[rcklessheavn]

𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫 ── ★ ˙🏎️ ̟ !!

f1 driver!matt x influencer!reader au

summary: after influencer!reader is invited to give interviews at the grand prix event, she meets matt and everything changes for both of them.

intro pt. 1, pt. 2 pt. 3 pt.4

warning: none

disclaimer: english is NOT my first language

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 ༉‧₊˚.

Yy/n.y/l posted

liked by nicolassturniolo, tarayummy, samgolbach, & 110.8k others

2,345 comments

y/n.y/l i am already in love with you, monaco <3

nicolassturniolo i'm so excited to finally meet you!!

y/n.y/l same king sameee💗💗

tarayummy yessss queen!!! i´m so excited for you!!!

y/n.y/l thx bff!! ily <3

vinniehacker see u soon sis!!

y/n.y/l i still can't believe youre coming... they let anyone in these days🤩

vinniehacker ok rudeeeeee😔😔

y/nfan.user OMG IM SO PROUD OF YOUUUU!!

y/n.y/l couldnt have done it without you guys!!!💐

y/n.sturniolos22 WAIT WHAT IF SHE MEETS MATT!!!!

y/nlovesferrari OH GIRL I JUST KNOW THE VLOG WILL EATTT‼️‼️

sturniolos_fan OMG FINALLY!! SHE MADE IT!!! CANT WAIT FOR THE CONTENT!!!!!

Back to the beginning...

It all started one morning when you were filming a ‘day in the life’ vlog, an audience favorite. Everyone loved seeing how monotone—or exciting—your day could be, depending on your schedule that day. Your specialty was vlogging, mainly showcasing how far from perfect your life actually was, while still expressing how grateful and blessed you felt. And everyone loved you for it.

That filming day, you were being productive: cleaning your apartment, running errands, and answering emails by midday. As you scrolled through your inbox, a red, very familiar logo caught your eye. It had just landed in your inbox. The bright F1 logo made you freeze in your tracks. 

Your whole life, you’d been a fan of Formula 1—blame Cars the movie, and your dad and older brother for waking up early to watch races when it was still strawberry shortcake and breakfast time. You grew up alongside race cars and Formula 1, and more specifically, Ferrari. They were your team since you could remember. So when you quickly scrolled down, eager to verify if the email was real, you saw both the Formula 1 and Ferrari logos. You thought you might faint.

You composed yourself and started reading:

YOU’RE INVITED TO THE MONACO GRAND PRIX

Dear Y/N L/N,

We are huge fans of your content and find it extremely engaging. We’ve heard of your love and admiration for both Formula 1 and our Ferrari family. We are inspired by your adventurous spirit and would like to support you through a partnership and experience that could benefit both you and us.

Our Ferrari family would like to present you with a proposal to experience our Grand Prix in Monaco! We will cover all your travel expenses, including air tickets and hotel stays. We would also love for you to interview our drivers and create content for our social media.

We look forward to hearing back from you.

Sincerely,  

The Ferrari and Formula 1 Family.

You couldn’t believe what you were reading. This was your dream, something you’d always imagined, and now it was actually happening. You grabbed your camera, focused it on yourself, and began recording.

“Guys! I just got the most exciting and unbelievable email ever! Without revealing too much, I just want to say how thankful and blessed I am to have you all with me! I’m about to fulfill a lifetime dream, and I couldn’t have done it without you! This vlog is going to be so exciting, so stay tuned!” With a bright smile, you stopped the camera, and the realization of what was happening hit you.

You quickly grabbed your phone and called your agent, Hailey, just to confirm it was real and that everything was going to happen. The phone rang twice before Hailey picked up.

“DID YOU SEE THE F1 EMAIL?!” you blurted out.

Hailey chuckled. “YOU FINALLY SAW IT! I’ve been reading it for over 15 minutes waiting for your call!” she said, and you laughed.

“Well, I just saw it! Please tell me I can do it and that I’m free to go!” you begged.

She sighed dramatically. “I’d rather jump out of my third-floor window right now than tell you no. Did you really think you wouldn’t go? Your dad would kill me, your brother would kill me, your mom would kill me, and YOU most of all would kill me. And listen, even if we had something scheduled for those dates, I’d call in every favor just to move it. Oh, girl, we are going to Monaco!”

Hailey’s excitement made you grin. “UGH, Hails, you're the best!” you said.

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m employed,” she teased.

You both laughed, and then she became all business again. “Okay, I’ll email them back. You focus on looking for hotels, and we’ll regroup tomorrow to have a nice meeting and schedule everything. Sound good?”

“Absolutely perfect! I’ll call you tomorrow!” You both said your goodbyes and hung up. Everything felt like a dream, and you couldn’t wait for this adventure to begin.

The next few weeks were a blur of planning, scheduling, and packing for your dream trip. You vlogged every moment without revealing exactly where you were going, leaving your audience hanging. Your excitement was almost overwhelming, but you couldn’t deny the nerves creeping in. The idea of being surrounded by people you admired, the ones you’d seen on screens for years, was crazy to you.

The one thing you were most excited about? The interviews. You had no idea who would actually be willing to sit down with an influencer, but you didn’t care. What made your heart race was the thought of interviewing a certain driver—Matt Sturniolo. 

He was an American, a triplet, and a rising star in Formula 1. Was he your celebrity crush? Not really. But, you weren’t blind. He had an amazing presence, both on and off the track. Funny enough, his brother Nick was a mutual friend on Instagram, and you’d talked a few times about hanging out at the Grand Prix, neither of you knowing who’d be there. Nick was an influencer with his own lip balm brand, Space Camp, which you loved—it was genuinely good stuff. 

Chris, the other brother, was a loud, lovable figure in the social media world, owning his own clothing brand, Fresh Love, which was wildly successful. As for Matt, he was the quieter one in the triplet group, but still had a natural charisma that came through, especially in his brothers' videos. His passion for racing started at a young age, eventually leading him to Ferrari—the team he’d always dreamed of driving for. 

You were definitely looking forward to interviewing him. You hoped you’d get to see beyond his public persona and uncover a little more of who he was—at least on the surface.

Present Day...

You’d landed in Monaco 12 hours ago, and so far, jet lag hadn’t been an issue. You’d managed to sleep through the entire flight. Arriving in the morning gave you the chance to explore the city and even see the track with a few others who had arrived early. 

That night, you had nothing planned, so you decided to treat yourself to room service and relax. Tomorrow marked the official start of the event and all the activities you had lined up. You couldn't contain your excitement, so you made a small post on Instagram, revealing where you were. You scrolled through a few stories, liked some posts, and finally went to bed.

Tomorrow was going to be unreal.

a story by rcklessheavn

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ series link

⋆˙⟡ tag list

⤷ authors note: AHHHH!!!! i cant believe i'm finally starting this!! i had so much fun doing this, i hope you guys enjoy this first one :))

@courta13 @matthewsroses @mattswifeyy @sturniolomatthewb @nessabarretswhore @nickmillersn1gf @mattslefttoenail @thecrawlys @tuttifruttixx @obsessedwiththesturniolos @period-queen1 @pair-of-pantaloons @b4by-hon3y @idkwhatthisis2009 @malsmind @matts-247

[azzibuckets]

Okay but can we get a blurb about Azzi being in Montana before her and she wakes up to P getting home and sliding into bed trying not to wake her

sappy and sleepy [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: anon i tried to incorporate as many of your requests as i could! thank you for this prompt it was super fun to write

word count: 1.2k

masterlist

As soon as her hand twisted the doorknob and the door creaked open, Azzi’s heart ached. She swore she could smell the lingering scent of Paige’s perfume, even though the rational part of her mind knew that Paige hadn’t stepped foot in the room for almost an entire year.

Although Paige hadn’t grown up in this room, her mom had it reserved for her when she came back during the summer, giving her daughter the liberty to decorate the space however she liked. And now Azzi appreciated it more than ever, because looking at the posters plastered with UConn greats and husky logos felt as familiar to her as home. Now only one thing was missing.

Azzi flopped on the bed, tired from the plane ride over. She cursed when she realized she’d forgotten her charger at home. Hopefully Paige had a spare one, she thought as she started rummaging through the drawers of her beside cabinet. As soon as she opened the first drawer, though, a polaroid fell out.

Azzi’s heart doubled in size when she flipped the polaroid over to find a photo of herself from the Minnesota state fair from two summers ago. In it, she was holding a cone of ice cream, chocolate sauce dripping all over her fingers. Tucked under her elbow was the stuffed animal that Paige insisted on winning for her every year (and Azzi never got tired of it). She had been smiling hard, her eyes crinkled as she stared past the camera. Shaking her head, Azzi snapped a photo of the polaroid.

💗: You’re such a sap

💗: Attachment: 1 Image

bighead: ?? where did you find this.

💗: In your drawers

bighead: when did i give you permission to go through my things🤔🤔🤔

bighead: and im taking this as a sign you got home safe?

💗: You’re not distracting me from the fact that you creepily have photos of me all over your room

bighead: youre being so dramatic

bighead: and you can’t blame me

bighead: i always miss you so much

bighead: now you know what it’s like to be in montana all bored without ur gf

💗: Don’t say that. You have your family

bighead: you’re my family

💗: Tell me that when you put a ring on it

bighead: oh i will

Azzi bit her cheek, trying not to beam from Paige’s text. “Azzi! You ready for lunch, hon?” Amy’s voice called from downstairs. Azzi stuffed the polaroid back in the drawer and clambered down to the kitchen.

“Hey, Amy. Thank you again for letting me stay,” Azzi said, going in for another hug.

Amy airily waved her hand, leading Azzi to the dining table. “No worries at all. We‘ve got a lot of exciting stuff planned for this week. Mini golf tomorrow with the kids, then this new restaurant is opening up on Tuesday and I thought it would be a nice date night for you and Paige so I already made a reservation for the two of you!”

Amy continued talking excitedly about their stay at Montana, and Azzi appreciated it, she really did, but she was also exhausted from the plane ride and all she wanted to do was be in Paige’s arms after way too much time apart. The ESPYs photos that Paige had posted an hour ago didn’t help either. Her girlfriend had looked so damn good, her hair up in that style Azzi loved, and Azzi had spent more time than she was willing to admit staring at the photo, wanting to run her hands through that hair.

Later that night, Azzi put on Love and Basketball on her laptop as she got ready for bed. Paige couldn’t facetime because she was at a party, but Azzi still wanted a little piece of her girlfriend with her before she fell asleep, just a little something to make her dreams a little sweeter.

💗: Attachment: 1 Image

💗: Heard you liked this movie??

bighead: you miss me SO much

💗: I do

bighead: then i got some good news ;)

💗: What

💗: Paige?

💗: Helloooo

💗: I’m not gonna repost your espys post.

bighead: oh hey i’m back😁

💗: You’re a fucking idiot

bighead: wait can you repost the second slide i look the best in that one

💗: Tell me the goddamn good news

bighead: Attachment: 1 Image

bighead: flight leaves in 1 hour!!

💗: Wait I thought you had a morning flight?

bighead: well the shoot tmr got canceled and i missed you too much so…..

💗: You’re wasting all your money booking these last minutes flights.

bighead: you dont gotta worry about me baby

💗: 🙄 Text me when you’re home and I’ll let you in

bighead: no don’t stay up baby i won’t home until like 3 am

💗: I wanna see you

bighead: $10 you’re gonna be crashed out

💗: I guess you’re gonna be spending all your money today then

••••••••••

“She’s asleep, isn’t she?”

Amy wrapped her daughter in a hug. “Don’t you dare wake her up.”

Paige shook her head. She was slightly disappointed she wouldn’t be able to talk to Azzi tonight, but she was glad the younger girl was getting her rest. She slipped into the room as quietly as she could, her heartbeat speeding up as soon as she saw the lump on the bed.

Kneeling down, Paige brushed her fingertips over the crease in Azzi’s forehead, trying to smooth over the worry lines. Azzi looked ethereal in her sleep, the moonlight from the window casting a glow over her face and illuminating the sharpness of her jaw and the pinkness of her lips. Paige pressed a light kiss on her cheek, trying to be as gentle as possible, but before she knew it, Azzi was stirring.

Her eyes slowly fluttered open. “Paige?” she groaned, hands going to rub her eyes.

Paige smiled guiltily. “Hi, baby,” she breathed out. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, it’s okay.” Azzi reached for Paige, still half asleep, and Paige sat at the edge of the bed and let her girlfriend nuzzle her face into her stomach.

Paige ran her fingers through Azzi’s hair, marveling at how she managed to smell so good all the time. “Is now a good time to say that you owe me $10?” she whispered.

“Shut up,” Azzi whined, her fingers jabbing at Paige’s ribs but failing to do much damage with her sluggishly lethargic movements.

Paige chuckled before brushing one last kiss against Azzi’s temple. “I’m gonna get ready for bed,” she said softly. “I’ll be right back.”

“No.” Azzi’s voice was surprisingly demanding considering how sleepy she was. “You woke me up, now you’re staying.”

Paige rolled her eyes. She hated the idea of getting into her sheets while in her dirty airport clothes, but once Azzi’s hands clutched tighter around her waist, she knew she was a goner. Sighing, she slipped under the covers with her girlfriend. Azzi happily burrowed herself in Paige’s chest, weaving her leg between the blonde’s. Her hand slipped up Paige’s shirt and rested there, palm on her abdomen, and Paige shivered at the bare contact.

“I really did try to stay up,” Azzi whispered, already falling asleep again.

“It’s okay. Go back to sleep, hm?” Paige tightened her hold around Azzi. The last two weeks had been ridiculously fun, getting to see Nika again, going to partnership events, and presenting at the ESPYs, but this was by far her favorite part - when she and Azzi were so tangled up, every part of their bodies interwoven, their limbs and hair and even the beating of their hearts connecting, it felt like they were breathing as one.

[fairestwriting]

Hey, could you please do headcanons about Idia, Vil, Rook and Cater with a Korean reader who introduces them to the Korean Wave/Hallyu, particularly K-pop music, K-dramas & Korean movies, Korean fashion, Korean beauty trends such as Korean cosmetics & skincare routines, Korean food, Manhwa (Korean equivalent of the Japanese manga), webtoons, webtoonimation (webtoon animation) and Korean animation, Korean language, etc.?

i considered not doing this at first because even though i am into some of these things i dont know That much . so i thought like man i couldnt do this justice 😭 but it sounded like so fun to write and i wanted to do something different so i couldnt resist…. i hope i managed to pull it off (and also that i didnt come off like imoversimplifying anything?? what im going for here is just focusing on the things i think each character would get into the most)

𐙚 Cater Diamond

Cater would be curious about anything related to your life, even if you didn’t literally come from a different world — But that factor, plus your mention of how certain things are considered trendy in social media, definitely make him even more curious than he already was. The more he hears about it, the more he wants to know.

Considering Twisted Wonderland works in a somewhat parallel way to our world, certain concepts might not be fully unfamiliar to him, mirroring trends he’s seen in his own social media. When it comes to things like cosmetics and beauty routines, he already has a decent grasp on it, but he is very eager to learn about new products — if you have anything with you that he could try, he’ll definitely ask if you want to make a video of you two talking about it together.

The media does intrigue him very much too, he’s always looking for new things to watch and listen to, and Cater’s tastes are pretty eclectic, so you can have a lot of really fun watch parties. He’ll mostly enjoy it all pretty casually, but you *will* have his attention for hours if you tell him about fan culture and controversies. On a similar note, he’ll definitely be watching the more out there dramas more than once.

Out of everything though, the food will for sure be his favorite thing. With the amount of spicy dishes there are, how could it not? He can’t bear to watch too many food videos because of how badly he wants to try them. If you can somehow make some for him, he’s going to be raving about it for days on end. His Magicam stories get flooded with pictures of it. You’ll probably never know peace until you teach him how to make it himself.

𐙚 Vil Schoenheit

It’s obvious, sure, but it has to be said: The first thing to catch his attention is going to be the beauty products. He already makes his own custom ones, but he wants to know what you’ve been using anyway. He’ll already be very pleased if he learns you have a routine of your own, and even more if you’re as interested in the topic as he is. He doesn’t get to really have conversations about those things often.

If you have no way of getting your usual products when you run out, he’s definitely going to try and replicate the formula for you, no matter how difficult it might be. Vil isn’t a person who expresses excitement in a very obvious way, but you can definitely feel it radiating from him when you show him all those cosmetics he’s never seen before.

Media is something he’s a bit pickier about, being a person who is in the entertainment industry himself — He’s open minded though, and if he has the time he’ll gladly watch and listen to all the things you like with you. He’ll be commenting on it very coolly and critically at first, even if he’s enjoying himself, but if you keep showing him things, you’re bound to run into something he’ll get really into…

…Which might just end up being whatever you consider your biggest guilty pleasure interest. He secretly indulges in hatewatching more often than you’d imagine. Will definitely have a time with the drama shows that are full of insane twists and dubious romantic relationships. Talks at length about how much the love interest sucks and how the protagonist deserves better, then vehemently denies that his interest is anything more than trainwreck watching effect. Right before he asks you to put on the next episode.

He does get curious about the food too, and he can be persuaded to try something if you’ve made it for him, but… you can kind of see the fear in his eyes if it’s anything visibly spicy. He’ll definitely enjoy dishes like bibimbap though.

𐙚 Rook Hunt

Being someone who is both remarkably nosy curious, and very devoted to finding beauty in everything, it’s not unlikely that Rook will be the one to initiate the conversation about your cultural background. He would have done that to anyone he’s interested in really, but the details of your behavior he’s picked up aren’t really things he’s seen before, which makes it all the more compelling to him.

He’ll be completely enthralled regardless of what topic you start your explanation with. Food, language, media, trends… It doesn’t matter, everything is equally as fascinating and just incredibly beautiful to him. He’s just happy to learn, but especially the things that matter to you the most— Meaning your favorite dishes, shows, songs…

Gets especially excited to try out the food, and extra especially if it’s the kind of thing you used to eat often back home. A person’s favorite foods can give you quite the glimpse into their background, after all! …He’s not the best at dealing with anything significantly spicy however. Will still insist for you to not tone it down with the seasoning, he’s very adamant about wanting to get the “authentic experience”. Determined to power through and build as much spice tolerance as he needs to.

He’ll definitely have a fun time with movies and shows too, as well as watching live performances of your favorite artists. As usual, he has quite a lot to say about the beauty of everything, but as much as he genuinely enjoys those things, his focus will always be on the things that are the closest and more meaningful to you— Which means, he’ll want to learn korean since the first time you said a word in it to him. Even if it’s something like the name of a dish or a place in Korea. Actually starts studying it pretty hard, planning to one day leave as many loving notes for you as he can write.

𐙚 Idia Shroud

Idia isn’t very interested in what's considered trendy anywhere, at any given moment. He does actually know quite a lot about what’s currently popular, but really just because he spends so much time online. His curiosity is a lot more based on wanting to know more about you, and the things you like and are part of your culture. He’d feel the same even if none of it was known by people who weren’t a part of it.

Surprises you by actually managing to name most makeup products correctly. Even though he insists he doesn’t watch these kinds of videos, not that there’s anything wrong with them — but when it comes to skincare, it’s a whole other story. Mentions he’s always wondered what ”the stuff in the dropper bottles” actually do, may question you on the importance of moisturizing after washing your face. He’ll let you do makeup on him if you want though. But only if you’re not going outside that day.

Definitely the type who would eat up k-pop immediately. You don’t need to tell him the names of your favorite idols more than once for him to remember, a lot of the music really caters to his tastes. He’ll have to mostly rely on you for updates, since your phone is the only one where the related apps actually work, but he may or may not be trying to get them to run on his.

Because of how much he gets into the music, he actually ends up being pretty curious about the language too. He wants to be able to sing along to his new fave’s songs accurately, after all— And you did also mention webtoons and manhwa, which also undoubtedly ended up with him binge reading a bunch and not wanting to wait for translations. If you can teach him anything, or even just point him to good sources, you may just get to witness just how fast of a learner he truly is.

(Besides, he does like the idea of being able to speak to you in a language that other people around you wouldn’t understand, kinda like a secret code — it makes him feel closer to you, he really wants to be able to do that one day.)

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[panthrology]

WE MISS YOU ! ★ SATOSUGU

suguru thinks it cant hurt to show his dear boyfriend what he's been missin'.

★cw: satosugu x reader, filming, sending stuffz (all consensual, so don't fret), lil bit of anal stuff - it's not so serious, squirting, dirty talk, this is set in season 1 except suguru n satoru made up n didn't die because im gonna be on an angst vibe l8r, reader, toru and sugu are dating yupp. if you can't already tell, this is not proofread ☠️🙏🏽

being in a poly relationship with satosugu is basically the epitome of spontaneity. you have to essentially teach yourself to expect the unexpected.

the unexpected being suguru coming home before satoru from a mission late into the night and suddenly getting the urge to play with your pretty pussy.

he's got your legs spread wide and panties pulled to the side, dark lashes fluttering down at your swollen cunt.

his expression is nothing drastic, but simply seeing his lips part as each glob of slick dribbles out of your hole has you wriggling in excitement. he's mesmerised.

“so wet..” he's so quiet you almost missed him—that, and the rough pad of his thumb finding its way on your clit, pressing down on it just to hear you mewl.

steadily, he sinks his middle finger inside, adding his ring finger shortly after.

the intrusion of his thick fingers has you keening, widening your knees for him as you lean your head back against the cool pillow.

he catches the sound immediately, hooded eyes flitting to your face and holding eye contact for seconds. you've never been able to look suguru in his eyes for very long, his natural bedroom eyes never fail to stir the pot of sin in your stomach.

suguru keeps the talking on a minimum tonight, too focused on the way your walls suck him in like you don't wanna let him go. he licks his lips and eases them deeper, adopting a moderately slow yet dizzying rhythm as he buries himself down to the last knuckle in your sopping cunt. his brows furrow with intrigue when you whine, watching the way you heave your chest to catch the air that's constantly being pushed out your lungs.

you look down between your spread thighs to see his two fingers stuffed inside, glistening in your sticky cream.

the filthy sight makes suguru exhale shakily, leaning his head forward to take a closer look. you cringe while he practically inspects your pussy, biting your lip to quieten a moan that flows from your throat when he begins picking up the pace. he's scissors your walls open for him and the sloppy squelches coupled with your whines makes suguru feel light.

the sorcerer pulls away to ground himself for a moment, sliding his fingers out of you and pops the wet digits in his mouth, leaving you feeling empty.

he grunts at your taste, taking long sucks and sighing when he lets them go.

seconds go by before he touches you again, and the feeling of not being filled by something itches your entire being. however; before you can even protest, suguru lets something slip that as your eyes widening.

“i wanna show satoru.”

it was both a statement and a question, looking at your face for any signs of distaste or discomfort. when he gets nothing but silent shock from you, he asks again. “can i, sweetheart?”

truth be told, the three of you have made mini movies before, only when shitfaced drunk.

but if you truly disliked them, you would've deleted them from your secured album long ago.

it has you thinking, fidgeting your pedicured toes in excitement. props to suguru, he might've just unlocked a new kink.

“yeah, yeah. let's show ‘toru,” you agree with shortened breath, nodding your head. a cat-like grin stretches on his lips and he reaches for his phone on the bedside table, your heart hammers in excitement as the phone unlocks with an audible click. the idea of showing your other lover the nastiness that you were up to while he's on a late night mission thrilled you.

once suguru has the camera app open and set to video, his amber eyes flicker to yours a final time to make sure you're completely okay with it. his green light is your subtle nod with your bottom lip between your teeth and he presses the red button.

suguru speaks up, wasting absolutely no time with his voice low, “look what you're missin’ out on ‘toru.” he lowers his free hand down to part your pussy lips with his index and middle finger—the milky white webs sticking on your puffed folds. he curses. “we miss you baby.”

he angles the phone a tad bit closer when he slips his fingers back inside, your hot walls spasming around him and he groans. “she's so tight ‘n wet. look at how much she loves it when I stuff her.” he sighs, resuming his rhythm of deep finger fucking your creamy cunt open. “you like havin’ our fingers stretchin’ you out, don't you?” his thumb is back on your clit, gliding along the skin in steady circles.

you feel good, lips parted as whines escape from your throat. his nasty words and being put on display has your lips twitching upwards. “uh huh—i love it suguru..”

he smiles endearingly as you babble, quickening the pace of his fingers before they tilt upwards, the tips of his fingers rub up on that cushiony spot. his dick throbs when you moan, the sound to slutty and raw. his amber orbs observe the way your hips raise off the bed and thighs quake, continuing his abuse on your g-spot. his admiration for how responsive you are took the spotlight tonight, his jaw remaining slacked like he forgot how to close it. “tell satoru how you're feeling, sweetheart.”

your words slur clumsily, white hot pleasure clouding all reason in your brain. “oooh, feels s'fucking good, ‘toru..right there—” you wail, reaching around your legs to grip the back of your thighs to keep yourself from falling apart too quickly.

it seems that your boyfriend before you had other plans though, because he speeds up his circles on your clit, coaxing more slick to drip from your cunt with every push and pull of his broad digits.

yet when a thought flashes through his mind, he pulls his fingers out with a swift motion, your now empty hole gaping slightly as you whine in frustration. with heavy breath, suguru slides his thumb along the trail of your milky slick that pools down to your ass and presses the pad of his thumb against the puckered hole.

a choked sob echoes from you when you feel the tip of his thumb breaching past your rim for a couple of seconds, zooming the camera in on the way both of your messy holes tense and squeeze at his actions. “oh my god…?!” you squeak, sounding almost devoid of oxygen due how bad you were caught off guard.

you're so far gone, the sheer shock of him messing with your asshole has your skin firing. satoru likes to toy with it when he takes you from behind but never went past the ring of muscle.through your glassy eyes, you can see sugur watching your face with a devilish grin with his phone in hand. that nasty fuck.

he retracts his thumb as quickly as he put it in, ring and middle finger pushing into your pussy again and ramming them in and out of your hole. the overwhelming stimulation brings your lost orgasm back to the pit of your belly, squealing with a lazy hand over your mouth and hot tears streaming down your face. it's intense, legs bouncing, gasping for air, curling your fingers into the sheets—

you're squirting before you can warn suguru, the fierce gush of your fluids drench his black sweats and slightly on his phone that he holds, jerking his own head back in surprise. you feel like your head’s been shoved underwater, the sounds of your pussy squelching muffled as your teary eyes roll all the way back in mind numbing pleasure.

“shiiit, look at that,” suguru coos as he watches you spritz all over him with amazed eyes. he uses a thumb to wipe his back camera, watching the video clear up a bit as you continue to cum, cum cum. “so nasty, can't help but squirt all over me.”

he finds himself addicted to the sight—drool seeping past your lips, legs hiked up in the air hair all messed up—he just fucking moans. he wants to see more. suguru juts his wrist back and forth, and practically pounds your pussy with his fingers and palm. “c'mon, c'mon..gimme another. show ‘toru how messy that sweet cunt is.”

the overstimulation burns through the pleasure, gripping his wrist with deathening grip as you squirm on the now wet bedsheets.

“fuckk, fuuuuck! i feel it, ‘toru!” you rasp, legs spread so wide, such a sinful image on his phone and suguru chuckles

“hear that? she misses you baby. c’mon pretty, show us how you cum,” he encourages, taking delight in the way you still momentarily as your cunt squelches louder, louder.

the second wave of your orgasm hits you like three trucks—crying and sobbing while suguru records you squirting on his fingers and the bed for the second time tonight, hypnotised praises falling from his lips.

when he pulls his fingers out he brings his phone forward, making sure to showcase your wet thighs and the thick cream that drips down to your ass and spreads your thighs. “jesus..y’did so well honey.” the sorcerer murmurs, taking his gentle palm and rubbing it on the expanse of your soft tummy, watching you shake and come down from your ridiculously intense orgasm.

you're barely even conscious as you hear his phone chime and watch suguru tap away on his phone through blurry eyes. he sets his phone aside and through your post nut haze, you can just about hear the buzz of your phone.

hopefully, satoru will like his little we miss you present.

BONUS.

Satoru wipes the sweat from his brow as he prepares to slip his blindfold back on, fiddling with the black elastic fabric around his head. The chilling bite of the night air prickles against his neck as he watches the remains of a curse disintegrate into nothingness. With a gentle sigh, he tucks his hands back into his pocket, feeling around for his mobile. His tall frame leans against the nearby brick wall and pulls out his phone, scrolling through his messenger chats to find Ijichi’s number for a ride back home. but through one free eye, he clicks on a notification.

3 new messages from suguboo 😮‍💨, sweetness 🩷, you.

God, he really needed to think of a name for that group chat.

suguboo 😮‍💨: ① video 01:47 AM suguboo 😮‍💨: miss you hon ☺️ next time you'll know not to piss yaga off and make him send you on a long ass mission when you could've done it in broad daylight. 01:47 AM suguboo 😮‍💨: love you, get home safe. 01:48 AM

And as Satoru clicked onto the video he felt his cock swell so fast, his mouth parted while he watched suguru finger and play with you. he felt so perverted, yet so lucky for having two lovers who'd send him something so lewd. he exhaled heavily as he tilted his head up to the sky, bringing a large hand to massage the bulge beneath his dark blue slacks.

you reacted “🤤” to suguboo 😮‍💨 opened.

typing..

you: you guys are TRYING to kill me. 02:25 AM

★ authors note: poly satosugu has been in my mind for a while and i fear that this just the beginning. i wanted to be done w this earlier but wtv ENJOY!

© NEPTNSZN 2024 ★ please do NOT copy, repost or modify my pieces, apply credit when necessary.

[leafostuff]

Private Appreciation [FT. TripleS Nien]

Tags: smut, established relationship, slow stripping, body worshipping, cunnilingus (at least an attempt lol)

Author's Note: quite short but it was fun writing, really into Nien lately so i had to write something about her, it does count as my September upload

I have been feeling a bit down lately so it took me longer than expected to finally finish the smut (started writing in 20/8/24), i hope yall enjoy it even though the end may feel a bit rushed.

=================================

“Baby…im horny”

“Nien, what the fuck?”

Honest question: was this the appropriate time for such a saying?

you and your girlfriend Nien are cuddling on your couch, watching some random romcom movie on a saturday afternoon, you would've gone outside and had a normal date but today your laziness was next level so you decided to stay at home, it's not like it was gonna get any less hot.

And here’s Nien, telling you the most random thing you heard this week (and for the time you know her, she said a lot of random things) during a movie where it's not like there is a sex or kissing since its was only the first 25 minutes of the movie, so there wasn't anything to trigger her.

“What do you mean ‘what the fuck’?” She whines while her eyes look as tired as ever. “I am feeling hot, wet and it's sure as hell not making it easier for me with all of the sexual tension going between them” she complains while pointing at the screen.

“They are just… flirting” you say, a bit confused

“And?! I can tell 30 minutes from now they are banging” she annoyingly added while her hand goes to grab some popcorn, cutely munching on it.

“Nien are…is it that-”

“NO ITS NOT THAT TIME OF YOUR MONTH” she responded, now angry at you. “I am just horny, and wet, and i need you RIGHT NOW,” she explains.

“In the middle of the movie though?? I already paid fo-” You wanted to ask when suddenly Nien leans forward to capture your lips and quickly releasing, leaving you surprised.

“Please jagi…?”

Its unfair how weak you are to her, the pleading puppy eyes that look at you with glimmer in her pupils, her innocent and sweet smile that will one day will be the cause of your death, and her nickname for you that sends tingles to your brain to switch into ‘yes’ mode almost automatically for her.

You sigh in defeat, its not like you couldve changed her mind anyways.

“Ok babe…lets do it” you say

“Yayyyy, thank you baby” she responds, pulling you into a tight embrace. “You are the best, you know that?”

“Brat” is the only word you can think to yourself when you see how happy she is as you cant help yourself but lean in and mesh your lips with hers engaging in a slow, lazy yet very sensual makeout session.

It's quite clear how much both of you enjoy this, making hums and quiet whimpers in between each kiss while your hands roams around each other’s back. Slowly you could feel Nien slowly fall into the couch with you joining her as now you are on top of herz still focusing on the kiss.

Release yourself from the kiss and look at her. Wearing a pink tube top that shows her smooth belly and tiny navel in their full glory paired with denim jeans that make her look more curvy than she is, her eyes look directly into yours with a mix of excitement and arousal, so you ask.

“Bed?”

“No, on the couch” she answers, “don't wanna move” she lazily said with a wide smile, with that logic you won't look for any arguments with her.

“Okay babe… what do you want me to do?” You ask, in the end, it's her wish to do this so who are you to not let her have it her way?

“My tummy…kiss it” she cutely pleads, you know how important foreplay is for Nien as in her eyes, foreplay is the key for having the best time. So nod with a smile before lowering your face to be parallel to her belly, take one last look at her before planting your first kiss barely above her navel, sending tingles directly to her brain.

“Ngh..yes…” she hums in excitement while closing her eyes, seeing her reception to your first kiss was good you continue peppering kisses all around her navel. Sometimes giving a teasing lick that makes her elicit a quiet moan.

“My pants…Ah-baby…” she breathes 

“What about them babe? I can't read your mind” You teasingly ask, knowing exactly what she wants you to do with them but hearing her say it is part of the fun for you.

“Nghh…take them off” she instructs as you oblige, your fingers working diligently as each button of her jeans that you pop, you place a soft kiss directly to her belly button, after the last button is undone you lower her denim clothing down her thighs, revealing her white panties with a visable stain in the middle.

“You weren't joking when you said you were wet”

“shut up” she moaned, giving you a light smack on the head. “take the panties… off too baby".

“Should I continue kissing?” A simple question in which Nien just nodded, your hands now went to her panties, sliding them off slowly, letting the friction drive her insane as your girlfriend takes her hands and plants them on the back of your head.

Eventually, you leave her completely naked waist down, letting you see her soft thighs and her glistening sex without any obstruction as you could feel yourself get harder by the view. “What now babe?” You ask, waiting for your next orders.

“One hand on my thigh… and-” she stops for a second to release a small moan. “Kiss higher” It's hard for her not to sound needy, especially when you pleasure her midriff with only your lips and tongue.

But, her wish is your command.

So let your palm rest on her right thigh, knead and massage it to your heart's content, all to amplify her pleasure from you tenfold. Meanwhile, your lips travel up from her midriff, eventually stopping near the in-between of her two mounds.

A glance at your girlfriend and you know exactly what she needs as your free hand holds the hem of her top, slowly taking it off revealing no bra and instead a pair of boobs neither too small or too big, just the perfect size for you to let your face dive into the gap between her tits, savoring their sweet taste.

“YES…more….” Nien whines a breathy moan while you alternate between each mound, kissing and licking all around her nipples while her hands get inside the back of your shirt, gliding across your back in an attempt for her to be as close to you as possible.

This goes on for a while, you kiss your girlfriend’s entire body while she instructs you, telling you exactly how she wants to feel good from you, each correct action you follow causes Nien to moan loudly but eventually she pushes you away from her tits.

“What happened?” you ask, confused by the sudden push as she looks at you with a horny smirk.

“I want you to eat me out oppa”

Pause, Nien letting you eat her pussy out is something quite rare for her to suggest since she always felt it was a bit uncomfortable for her. Disagreeing with her request would be foolish of you so look down at her glistening pussy, waiting for you to devour it like your next dinner and let your face close between her thighs.

One last look at her grinning smile and you start

“Yess…” she hisses, your first lick sends tingles to her brain, causing her to wrap her legs around your head, meanwhile her hands grab your hair, trying to not lose herself in the haze, after that you let yourself run wild on her inner thighs and wet pussy with long licks and kisses.

She is still not close however, it is just the beginning for the both of you. So increase your pace slightly to raise the volume of Nien’s breathy moans let her thighs squash your face signaling how horny she is 

“I'm close baby…” it's not hard to tell, how her moans are getting higher pitch, how her thighs are clamped around you and how her grip on your hair is harder, it may hurt but you don't mind, both of you are close to your high.

Eventually you let yourself enjoy the main course since Nien finally let herself go, her wetness flowing out of her as your mouth salivates her sweet taste, meanwhile her left hand gropes her left breast to amplify her own pleasure audible by her sensual moans

Eventually her climax comes to an end, her last wave of cum comes out of her pussy into your mouth. Raise your head and see Nien, a panting mess after the high she has been feeling all this time as now she also rises up from her lying position now seated near you, hands wrapped around you and leans in to kiss your right cheeks.

“Thank you, i feel much better now”

“Anything for you babe” you respond, returning the favor with a kiss of your own. You were helping your girlfriend find her clothes when suddenly you heard sounds of moans coming from the TV. 

You forgot the movie was playing the entire time, the main couple were now making out, half naked and ready to begin their own endeavours for their orgasm.

“I CALLED IT!!”

=================================

Hope you have a good day leafies

[chrolloluvr]

Hey, I saw some other headcanons similar to this and absolutely loved the concept! Adam x reader, love at first sight? Like he just makes it his mission to go out with reader afterwards?

Adam falling love at first sight

Note: TY FOR REQUESTING!!! This is also before the big fight on ep 8!

Female!Reader

Warnings: Cussing, creepy behavior, adam is smitten for you 🌺🌺

When he first sees you, he immediately was struck by an unfamiliar feeling. Who the hell is this chick?

He has never felt this way about Lilith, or even Eve, so what was different about you? He had to find out. And usually when he sees a pretty face on a woman, he thinks of vile, guttural thoughts. But with you, all he thought about was the way you looked so graceful, and how you carried yourself, and your beautiful eyes, and your glistening skin, and your-

Lute had violently interrupted him from his daydreaming, by basically yelling at him for the whole promenade to hear.

He had Lute immididietley do some detective digging on you. He at first was going to go up to you to ask for your digits, but he felt... nervous?

After lute reported back about her findings, she had told him all about you. He didn't know it, but he was truly in love. He just could not stop thinking about you, and how to get you.

He told Lute about these feelings, and when she explained, 'Sir, it seems you are in love', he flat out refuses it. He tries to convince himself you are just some hot broad, that he just happened to run into.

If he were in a meeting with Sera, he would have you running laps in his mind. Planning the next extermination? Goddamnit, get out of my head you stupid bitch!

He comes to the conclusion that to stop thinking about you, he needs to talk to you. So he sad Lute figure out your number and address, and thats when he tries to get with you.

This man will literally rehearse his first meeting with you in the mirror, as if he is a teenage boy going on his first date. But he isn't, and this is definitely not his first date, or at least, this is his first real time trying to impress a woman. Because usually, he does not need to act fly to get any girl he wants.

After you find out he is THE Adam, you flat out say no, because you dont want that kind of attention. So you start to ignore him. But that just motivates him to keep contacting you.

XXX-XXX-XXXX 5:31

Hey babes, wyd? you down for dinner tonight? Just you and me.

XXX-XXX-XXXX 5:33

Or maybe we can watch a movie and chill?

XXX-XXX-XXXX 5:47

C'mon babe, how can you refuse me? Ill meet you there in 30 ;)

XXX-XXX-XXXX 5:50

Hey, respond?

XXX-XXX-XXXX 7:10

Hey sugar, lets do something tmrw isntead since your clearly busy 😘

He will send you huge bouquets of flowers, along with a handmade book he made, filled with "anonymous love letters" which you can clearly tell are from him due to his messy handwriting.

He will then eventually "accidentally" bump into you. Every time he does, you are basically forced to talk to him and listen to his tangents, on how going out with him is the best choice you will ever make.

And honestly, he just does not stop bothering you. Even if you were to straight up tell him to leave you the fuck alone, he wont.

"Hey y/n whats up? Whacha doing tonight...? Maybe it can include me. im free yknow, if you ever wanna hang. Im great at choosing places or if you want you can choose-"

He is truly in love with you. He wants you to eventually be his future wife in his mind, making you the third. And in his mind, you already are.

If you just keep telling him off for months, hell, maybe even years, he will never get over you and your beauty.

If you eventually say yes to a date, he will be so excited, but will play it off because hes just chill like that. But he is down so bad for you, and honestly wants you all to himself.

[babycakebo]

habits die hard / gojo fic

*ೃ༄

inf : fulfilling one of my very first reqs! gojo angst, like heart-wrenching (I hope?), some very subtle implied smut but not written, gojo loves his ex. geto is his ex. enjoy! — taglist : @smutty-littleslut, @sarcasticintrovertedsoul, @monacipher, @thesunxwentblack, @hel1nn love you all sm 🤍

With every guy you’ve dated, you’ve never gone back to them after a breakup. 

Exes are exes after all, aren’t they?

So why can’t Satoru stay away from his? 

What is it about Suguru Geto that makes your boyfriend go back to him, even though every time it ends in tears?

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──———── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Your head has spun so many times about these same questions. It’s irrevocably confusing to you.

This is what you are thinking about as you sit on the bed of your shared bedroom in the apartment that Satoru bought for you. He loves you so much that he bought you an apartment (doesn’t he?). 

You have his phone in your hands, knuckles pale from how hard youre gripping it, messaging app open to his DMs with Suguru. Satoru has always trusted you with the password to his phone, his username for his socials.

It’s like he’s been practically begging you to look through his texts with Geto. Begging you to see that no matter what, he can’t stop going back. 

But you have faith. And you believe in second chances. 

And third chances, and fourth ones.

But blind faith doesn’t keep your hands from shaking as you read —

sugu : im on a mission in Tokyo. ill come see u in 2 days, toru. 

toru : alr, sounds fine. canceled date w gf that day.

And then, the texts from yesterday. The day you’d supposed to have that dinner date you two had talked about for a week straight. Hadn’t he been so excited for it?

sugu : r u here yet Satoru?

toru : gf gave me shit ab leaving. b there in five sugu. love u. 

Gave him shit? Well duh, you’re his girlfriend (aren’t you?)!

You have half a mind to confront him. Beg him to stop. 

This has been the third time you’ve caught Satoru meeting up with Suguru. And yet, when you confront him, Satoru always seems so remorseful, so sorry. 

This time, you won’t confront him. But you’ll act different, you tell yourself. 

Maybe if you act like Suguru, it will change Satoru’s mind.

And so now for three weeks you don black clothes over your normally pastel colored wardrobe. You wear your hair half up half down, you try your best to remain nonchalant like Geto even though it itches at you, staying silent about how exciting your day was. 

And shockingly enough to you, your behavior flies over Satoru’s head like an odd smell. It’s like he doesn’t even notice. 

When you give him dry responses over dinner, he responds back just as glumly. Doesn’t even care. 

But besides not noticing your Suguru-like behavior, hes just normal Satoru. 

He still cuddles you during movie night, still laughs that same loud cackle. He still strokes the back of your neck if you look stressed over your work. Still kisses you in the shower (when he cares enough to join you). 

You notice that hes stopped initiating intimacy, stopped cooking chocolate-chip-and-blueberry pancakes on sundays. Claims he has too much work to do. Forgot the recipe. 

And one day, he slips out. 

Doesn’t think you’d notice. Going shopping for a new watch, he says. 

But you’d  bought the watch he wears now. The one that has been sitting on his nightstand, collecting dust for a week.

You don’t even bother to check his phone; you already know what he’s up to. Don’t even need to ask. 

When he gets back, it’s two in the morning, the lights are off. 

He tries to close the door as quietly as he can. You are sitting on the couch, tear stained cheeks, solemn face and all. 

“Hey,” he plays it off. “Met an old friend on the way back home. We drank a bit. Something wrong?”

Old friend. 

The way he just says it so casually, reminds you of that phrase, Old habits die hard. Maybe that’s how it is with Suguru. 

“You promised you’d stop seeing Suguru. You promised you would cut him off for good.” Your voice quivers. Because you know what you have to do, know that faith you have has lead you nowhere. 

“It — it wasn’t Suguru. You know i love you,” Satoru tries, but no lie will work. 

Because you have made up your mind. 

“I can’t do it anymore, Satoru,” you say. “I can’t stand here anymore and pretend like you cheating on me doesn’t break my heart. Like it doesn’t tear me in two.”

“I don’t . . .” Satoru shakes his head. Gives up on lying. “He was my first love. You understand that, don’t you?” He gives you a hopeful look. Like you’ll love him still for that pathetic excuse.

Your fists clench. “No, I don’t. You were my first love.” Your voice gets louder, your tone stiff. “You promised, Satoru.”

He raises his hands like you’re arresting him. “Alright, alright, my love. This is the last time. For real. Plus, the watch he got me isn’t as nice as the one you got.” He smiles cheekily.

Does he think this is a joke?

That one wisecrack will have you falling back in his arms?

“I don’t think you understand,” you say slowly. “I want to break up with you, Satoru.” You can see the puzzle pieces come together, connect the dots behind his azure eyes. Shaking his head no. Can’t be true.

“I. . .” He falters. At a loss for words. “No, but you know that I love you. You know I do,” he repeats. Maybe he’s convincing himself.

“The only reason you love me is so you have somebody to come crawling back to when Suguru breaks your heart for the ten gazillionth time,” you snap. You didn’t mean to get angry.

But when he said You know I love you, anger forced itself upon you. Because you knew the truth of it all.

“You don’t love me anymore? You won’t fight for us?” Satoru says, voice sad. Like he wanted you to fight for love that doesn’t even exist.

“No, Satoru.” You tell him. “I don’t love you at all.”

And it only satisfies you all the more when you’re the one who gets to roll his luggage to his freshly washed white lexus, him standing with the saddest blue eyes you’ve ever seen and arms limp at his sides.

You know that he recognizes what he’s lost. And you don’t care.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──———── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

a/n : soo idk if this was good angst, but here you guys go! also, here’s gojo’s chocolate-chip-blueberry pancake recipe ! hope you all sick and twisted angst-enjoying individuals enjoyed it 🤍 (jp i love angst too)

[barbara-gordons-glasses]

I am an Omni-mark and amber enthusiast, so I have a few little headcanons for their BEAUTIFUL relationship. Pry these out of my cold dead hands and I will resurrect and beat you with a rock

OKAY

1.) Amber and O. Mark met when they were kids and O. Mark was already an outcast because he’s being raised solely by his father. Amber wasn’t weirded out by him like the other kids were so they became close friends.

2.) Once he got his powers, he told her immediately. No keeping secrets. He doesn’t think it’s necessary and he trusts Amber with his life.

3.) He asked her out as SOON as he realized he liked her, which was in late middle school to early high school.

4.) Their first date was a trip around earth, seeing everything Amber’s always wanted to visit. They end their date at a nice restaurant back in Chicago, even though I think O. Mark would want to give her something special. She thought it was enough.

5.) They’re very clingy. O. Mark is more open about it, while as Amber is more relaxed about it, unless they’ve been apart for a while (which is rarely)

6.) O. Mark braids Amber’s hair and uses red and white beads in her hair like his costume

7.) Amber gets excited when O. Mark has a “human” interest such as reading comic books or watching movies and gives all her attention to him if he talks about it so that he feels safe to keep talking

8.) Nolan’s a bitch but he knows his place

9.) the first time Amber met Nolan as O. Mark’s girlfriend, he hated her and she could sense that and gave him the same energy back, thus causing an argument

10.) Amber posts O. Mark all the time (in between posts about the world’s current events ofc) and O. Mark doesn’t even have a social media. If he did, he’d only follow Amber, only post Amber, and would spend all his time stalking Amber’s profiles

11.) O. Mark helps at the soup kitchen all the time, mostly to spend time with Amber but also because he can’t help but feel a little obligated to Earth and its people. Amber cares so much for them, after all

12.) College is rough for them. Not because of O. Mark’s hero work, but because the workload is so huge that they can barely talk. O. Mark would normally dismiss his work to spend time with her, but she threatens not to speak to him until he’s passing his classes, so he HAS to study

13.) O. Mark gets jealous easy, but hides it with anger and silence

14.) Amber doesn’t get jealous often—she’s confident in her relationship and she knows O. Mark will fight a bitch for her

15.) O. Mark, Amber, and William are best friends. O. Mark tolerates William and Amber loves him for his kindness and humor

16.) O. Mark and Amber go on double dates with William and his bf

17.) Amber dominates—I’M SORRY IM SORRY IT’S TRUE PLEASE PUT THE GUN DOWN

18.) O. Mark proposes during senior year of college and they get married quickly

19.) Nolan leaves earth around the time before they start college, so O. Mark doesn’t have any family on his side to attend the wedding. To make up for that, Amber invites her entire family, her entire friend group, and literally everyone she knows

19.) thanks to her impact, more than a hundred people show up, plenty for O. Mark’s side and her side

20.) the wedding photos are the only proof to everyone (but Amber) that he CAN smile

21.) Once they’re out of college, I like to think Amber became a social worker or something in the field of helping children or the disadvantaged

22.) I suspect Omni-Mark doesn’t want to work but doesn’t want Amber to be the sole provider, so he gets a job as a comic book writer (or artist). He doesn’t tell anyone but Amber but he enjoys it

23.) Amber and O. Mark talk about children often. Amber is for the idea and is willing to accept that her children may have powers and become heroes. O. Mark wants children but it deeply afraid that he’ll accidentally raise them like his dad raised him. He doesn’t want them to go through what he did. Amber assures they won’t.

24.) my personal fav is the moment someone mentions amber (whether it be a villain, hero, kid, adult, teen, whatever) he is FOCUSED. “Amber? Did you say Amber? Amber Bennett Grayson? My Amber? Why do you know her?”

25.) during the invincible war, he travels with the other invincibles to Main Mark’s timeline, which is set in the past. He doesn’t want to be there and he can’t wait to get home to Amber but then he sees her. Not his Amber, but Main Mark’s. She’s younger, still in college, but just as beautiful as ever. He takes her somewhere safe.

26.) his heart hurts when he realizes she’s afraid of him, and it just makes him want his amber back even more

Idk I love mark and amber so much and I NEED more fanfic writers on this relationship. PLEASE.

@seleneprince helped me out with a lot of these!!! 😋🩷🩷 great minds think alike

[curly-fry-3]

hey curly would love to see dean's daughter and uncle sammy interact!! wholesome goodness galore please!!

𖦹Bad Day𖦹

summary𖦹 Sam helps you cheer up from a bad day

pairing𖦹 Sam Winchester x Niece!Reader

word count𖦹 1,066

notes𖦹 ok I totally nerded out in the last half sorry if you don't care about batman lol hope you like it

not proofread

You were having a bad day, and your uncle Sammy knew it. He knew it would be rough for you before you even woke up, Dean wasn't gonna be home in time for your “weekly shred bedrotting time”-as you liked to call it. In fact, your dad wasn't gonna be home till the next day, his hunt taking longer than expected. So, it was no surprise to Sam when you came home from school all dejected. 

When you walked through the door of the bunker you immediately put your bag down and slipped your shoes off, not caring if they were in the middle of the walkway. “Sammy” you call out searching for a response. When you're met with silence you head to the kitchen to find something sweet, what a year today has been. 

You have your head in the fridge when you hear movement behind you and turn around to find your uncle making his way into the room. “Hey sammy” you say while shutting the fridge behind you.

“Hey kid, how was school” Sam responds

You roll your eyes and huff in annoyance, “you know, the worst”

He smiles at your answer, “you know, I could think of a couple ways to make your day better”

You lean against the counter with a questioning look “What are you gonna do, cause I could really go for some pie right now” 

He smiles knowingly “Well it's not pie, but i got some cake and ice cream”

Your face lights up, “you better not be joking”

“Why would I joke about this? That would just be cruel” He asks “I also got out the DVDs, you can pick what movie we watch”

You jump up from your position against the counter in excitement “Omg girls night”

He crosses his arms and gives you a look of confusion “Girls night?”

“Shut up and accept it” Your expression shifts to a playful smirk “if it's girls night can I braid your hair”

Sam pauses for a second “what?”

“Pleeeasseeee” you beg “ it's so much easier to braid someone else's hair and yours is so soft and long” You eagerly explain

He pretends to think it over “fine” 

You clap your hands together in excitement “yay! Ok so you get the desert ready and i'll get the tv on and the hairbrush out”

He smiles fondly at your excitement then agrees to your plan with a nod. While you left to set up in the Dean cave, Sam got to work at plating your sweet treats. He also prepared some regular food cause he knew you would want something savory after. He was glad you were so excited and that he was able to lift your mood, that's the whole reason he planned this. Sam didn't want you to have such a bad week, he could tell that Dean's absence was taking its toll on you–usually you two were attached at the hip.  

When he walked into the Dean cave, balancing multiple plates in his arms, You were waiting for him with the TV already on. He hands you your cake, setting aside your dinner, and sits on the couch next to you, looking up at the TV. “Lego Batman?” He asks with a smile

You look at him with a fake hurt expression “it is a cinematic masterpiece. Also I'm literally batman.”

He chuckles lightly “you literally aren't”

“Oh really, you can test me on this, im literally him” You say while picking up your spoon to dig into your cake

He puts his hands up in defence “ wow you want me to test you ok….ummm…name five robins”

You roll your eyes “that's easy; Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Stephenie, and Duke. Boom that's more than five, it's all of them” you finish with triumphantly taking a bite

He smiles smugly “your forgot one”

You look at him confused “no I didn't” you say with a stuffed mouth.

“Bruce's clone” He corrects

You swallow your food “That totally doesn't count”

Sam shakes his head in disagreement “oh, it totally does”

You roll your eyes and start the movie, accepting that you won't win this one. He lightly smiles at your defeat and turns to watch the movie. Before you both could lock in to the TV you turn back to sam and say “you're a nerd, and i'm still batman”

He turns to you and smiles “ok”

After that you both were silent throughout the film. When you were done with your dessert you had moved on to the dinner Sam had brought, claiming that the cake was too sweet,  just as he suspected you would. When you were done eating you had cuddled closer to Sam on the couch for the remainder of the movie, your knees to your chest and your head on his shoulder as his arm wrapped around the back of the couch.

After the movie You decided it was time to do sams hair. You forced him to sit on the ground in front of the couch as you got to work, sitting on the firm cousins behind him. “Thanks for this sammy” You say while separating his hair into sections.

He tries to look back at you to respond but you force his head forward so you can continue working on his hair. “For what?” He asks.

“I know you planned this night for me cause Dad isn't here, it's really sweet and I really liked it so, thanks” You answer

“Of course kid…You know, I really liked it two–even though lego batman isn't comic accurate” He teases

You sigh and continue to work on his hair, “ok that gets me a little frustrated too but the humor and homoerratic relationship between the joker and batman makeup for that”

You can feel him roll his eyes as he responds “whatever you say”

The night ends with you and Sam asleep on the couch, his hair braided, the TV left on, And dirty dishes left out. When Dean comes home the next morning and finds the state that you two are in he takes a couple (dozen) photos before waking you up and leading you back to your bed. Dean was sad he wasn't able to see you yesterday but if it meant that he would find you and Sam cuddled up like that, he would be ok doing it again.

sorry if there are any typos

@areswasneverhere