#just to have to drop out after a year because im POOR

[andragoras-in-vanity]

remember being a teen and watching shit like soul eater and kimono jihen and thinking god damn i wish I had a perpetually exhausted but badass mentor to help me get through things?

well now im 27 and im the perpetually exhausted mentor with bedhead and a slight alcohol problem to my 15 year old cousin and im gonna tear my hair out about not being able to just let her stay for a bit because i know it doesnt matter fuck all what i say to her dad, shes still gonna be treated like shit just because shes a moody teen with undiagnosed add and an autustic brother who constantly talks over everyone. i suddenly need a cigarette.

[duhlore]

❛ THE NEEDY AND THE TOUCH-STARVED! 670wck/3.7kchars

PAIRINGS; touch-starved!c. kamo x reader, needy!t. shigaraki x reader

CWS; amab!reader, squirting, afab!characters, biting/scratching, vryy whiney shig, fingering, p in v sex, pussy slapping, virigin choso, breeding kink/ preg mention, lowercase on purpose, crying + overstim mentioned in choso's part, masochist!shiggy :333, not proofread lmfaooaoa ..

notes: i honestly got carried away w/ cho's part so he might not even be touched starved because im so sleepy..,.., but this is a 1 year anni gift for my poochie ily queen

NEEDY!SHIGARAKI who can't seem to get enough of you, always trying to get your attention in some sort of way even if it wasn't verbally. always needing to feel your strong hands somewhere along his sensitive body, specifically his cunt.

NEEDY!SHIGARAKI who easily gets wet at the feeling of your fingers teasing his entrance circling his tight hole— your thumb caresses his clit while he tries to pay attention to the game he's playing, a firm grip on the controller in his shaky hands as he tries not to drop it.

NEEDY!SHIGARAKI who can't stop himself from letting out a loud mewl whenever you give his throbbing pussy a smack whenever he loses a match at mk, muttering something to him along the lines of ‘ pay attention, ’ or to ‘ stay focused, ’. although he wants to please you, it's so hard for the poor boy to concentrate when your thick fingers are pumping in an out of his slick heat at such a brutal pace that made him see stars.

NEEDY!SHIGARAKI who instantly lets out a sigh of relief when he finally wins a game, knowing that you'll reward him for trying so hard (he lost like more than 10 matches cuz he couldn't focus..), leaning back into your embrace and grinding back against you for some sort of friction he desperately needed to feel, whining and whimpering like a mad man. NEEDY!SHIGARAKI who cums after just a few thrust, not even 6, wailing and babbling that he wanted you to keep going, that he needed your kids deep inside him womb. And by his nth orgasm he's practically screaming at the top of his lungs for you, not caring who or what heard him, the sound of skin against skin or the headboard loudly banging against the wall.

TOUCH-STARVED!CHOSO who's never had sex a single time his whole life, which probably was more than 150 years, but the second he sees you? slick is dribbling down his legs like a goddamn rainstorm. and god, does it feel absolutely amazing when you're finally inside of him, the feeling of your long and girthy cock plunging in his guts make his toes curl and his eyes roll back instantly.

TOUCH-STARVED!CHOSO who cums loud and so hard that he ends up squirting for the first time in his life, fluids gushing out of him and covering yours and his own thighs with his juices while covering his face with his arm out of embarrassment although you're reassuring him with soft and open-mouthed kisses along his neck and jaw, praising him about how good he's being for you.

TOUCH-STARVED!CHOSO who's biting your shoulder and scratching at your back hard enough to draw blood from the areas, clinging to you as if his life truly depends on it, tears beginning to sting at his eyes from his surprisingly good he felt from your cock rearranging his insides. TOUCH-STARVED!CHOSO who'd probably pass out from overstim after your nth round, sobbing lightly as his frail and trembling body falls limp in your warm hold, pussy squeezing your cock like a fuckin flesh light as he comes again, his tight heat wrapping around you so perfectly you can't help but follow soon after. TOUCH-STARVED!CHOSO who trails his hand along his own body, feeling your sperm leak out of him as soon as you pull out of him. And then he feels the light bulge in his stomach from how full he was with your children, a whimper slipping from his lips as he leaned back into the pillows, a content smile on his lips.

TOUCH-STARVED!CHOSO who's always so desperate to have your hands or fingers on him (or in him) after that night, always begging and pleading to have your cock nested inside of his tight little cunt or always feeling you up so you would do it back to him. He was practically yearning for your touch.

-

THE NEEDY AND TOUCH-STARVED men get what they deserve and always will— especially from you.

© duhlore,, do not repost or copy at all pls >_>

[miya-rin]

imagine being the miya twins older sister who has had suna rintarou fully enamoured with your existence since he first met you at 15 years old.

he has tried to make many moves on you over the years to no avail; sneakily trying to place his arms around your shoulder before one of your brothers notice and throw the nearest object they can grab his way. not letting you carry anything while hes around, claiming how “youll never have to lift a finger again” if you give him a chance. hell, even dropping down to the floor to tie your shoelaces the second he realises the laces have come loose, taking his time to stand back up afterwards as he slowly rakes his eyes over your figure so he can fully take in every inch of you. every attempt of his to make you swoon for him is met with “sorry sweetheart, still not into minors” and a small ruffle of his hair which gives him a dopey smile. you would think he would start to back off eventually but to your dismay every rejection you have handed to him has just made his desire for you grow stronger - he takes your words as “try again when youre 18”

which is exactly what he does. on his 18th birthday his friends decide to throw him a massive party - being the twins chaperone you had to come along and when suna set his eyes on you, you knew there was no chance of you escaping his antics. you catch him glancing at you multiple times throughout the night before he gets pulled away by one of his guests, a disappointed look in his eyes every time he had to look away from you.

after a couple of hours you decide to step outside onto the balcony to catch some fresh air seeing as there was no sign of the party dying down anytime soon. you’re outside for maybe 5 minutes when you hear the door slide open, you already know who its going to be seeing as he has been trying to catch you alone all night, you turn around to finally face the boy and he looks as ecstatic as ever.

“happy birthday suna.” you swear you can see his soul leave his body the second those words leave your mouth, its not the first time youve said it to him tonight - youre not that cruel as to not wish the poor boy a happy birthday on his special day - but everything that comes out of your mouth looks like it sends him to heaven and back.

“thankyou yn, i appreciate you being here, but then again, i know you cant spend more that a week away from me because youre just so obsessed with me.”

“wow, am i that easy to read?” you chuckle along with him, noticing the way his gaze doesnt stray away from your face while you face forward, “so, how does it feel finally being legal?”

“incredible, it means you can finally give me a chance.” he doesnt miss the way you sigh at his words.

“suna we’v-“

“i know that we’ve been over this, but i don’t really think you mean it,” this gains an eye roll from you, “plus, my one wish when i blew out my candles was that you would give me a kiss.”

“really? well i guess your going to have to go without this year.”

“it was my birthday wish, youre not gonna deny me that are you?”

“yknow if you tell your wish to someone it doesnt come true right?”

“yn…please,” his voice is barely above a whisper, he sounds desperate, “i have been waiting for three years, all i ask for is one kiss, just one.”

“i think youre forgetting that im 22 and you are freshly 18.”

“im still 18 though.”

“hm… you make a good point,” you see the way he perks up slightly at your evaluation, a hopeful look becoming more prominent in his eyes, “one kiss. let it be my official gift for the birthday boy.” you might have well as told him he had just one the lottery, anyone who walked past the sliding door would think you had due to the way his smile was so wide.

“thankyou” is all he can muster up before he is snaking his hand up your body and with a hand tangled up in your hair he leans down until his lips touch yours, you can feel the shit eating grin spread across his face as he gently moves his lips in sync with yours, pulling away slightly to whisper “best birthday ever” before leaning back in <3

[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.

[livin4woso]

Scarred for life (mapi x ingrid x leon!Reader)

Summary - When mapis' younger sister decides to come drop off some clothes, she had stolen off her older sister she ends up interrupting something she shouldn't have, and it leaves her slightly scarred.

You hadn't thought anything of it it was a normal day off, no special occasion or any media, just a random Thursday. You had borrowed mapis jacket a couple of days ago for a photo shoot and decided to return it. However, you had your own key to the place, and you had shown up unexpectedly to her and ingirds apartment many of times, and there had been no issues until today.

You were mapis younger sister, and she raised you to be just like her, a footballer. You had grown up idolising her, and you had captured the football world by storm as the lèon sisters a formidable pairing, some even referring to you as the brick wall of Barcelona. It was only a couple of years ago when her and ingrid got together and you wished it had happened sooner because ingrid was the balance to mapi that she needed. You and ingird got along far too well for mapis liking, even ganging up on her the odd few occasions, leaving her to fake pout with her arms crossed.

The drive from yours to mapis apartment was relatively short, but there was still roadworks that added time to your journey. You had finally reached her apartment and because you're her sister you had a spare key not for emergencies or anything just because you and mapi were close siblings and liked spending time with each other outside of football which may be for the reason yous had amazing chemistry on the field with eachother.

The key finally turned in the lock, opening the door with a satisfying click. However, unlike usual, there was no immediate sign they were home, so you thought you would just leave the jacket in her living room with a note to know that it was you. However, you wished you never showed up after what you saw.

As you stepped into the living room, it was if your life flashed before your eyes. "EURGHH OH MY GOD.. IM GONNA BE SICK, " you shouted. The sight before you was ingrid between your sisters legs on the couch, something you didn't want to see. "ON THE COUCH ASWELL UREGH IM NEVER SITTING ON THIS COUCH AGAIN NOT UNTIL YOU GET ANOTHER ONE," you continued to shout with your hands over your eyes as large amounts of scuffling happened.

It was about 5 minutes later, and it was like the scene was repeating in your head. "Im so sorry y/n ermm we weren't expecting you." mapi started this time in clothes. "Yeah no its okay im just never going to be able to come back here ever again... sooo goodbye and have a nice time just next time do it in the bedroom!!" You stated walking out the door.

Once you had left ingrid had started laughing to herself "well atleast your sister knows you're not as tough as you look and the fact you're a massive bottom" she said and mapi retaliated by smacking her arm "its not funny" "oh it really is amor".

That night, it might have seemed dramatic, but it was replaying in your head, causing a lack of sleep, which wasn't helpful for training the next morning. You trundled into the changing room, barely even noticing where you were going. "Whats wrong with you chica" said pina slinging an arm around your shoulder "i don't want to talk about it but if you want to know id ask my sister about it" you said groaning as you tried to shake off your tiredness.

You had came earlier than usual to try to avoid your sister and her girlfriend, which had worked as you were the first one on the field which had never happened before. Meanwhile pina couldn't help herself so she went and aksed mapi "sooo whats wrong with y/n the poor girl looks traumatised" "its nothing she's just being dramatic from yesterday" mapi said trying to blow the conversation over but pina had caught ingrid snickering to herself so she knew it was interesting.

"Pleaseee ingrid you have to tell me i wont say anything" she practically begged the taller girl "okay okay so basically y/n walked in on us in the living room" she said not even embarrassed "oh god no wonder the girl is traumatised" pina said through laughing.

"Well, she did shout at us that she was now scarred for life and is never coming back over until we get a new couch," ingrid said, laughing at the flashback of you shouting in pure disgust.

[angel-sweets666]

Kirishima as a daddy headcannons

Aged up eijiro kirishima x afab reader

warning: mention of pregnancy, female bodied person but not a lot of gender mentions, mentions of breeding kinks (1 time) SIDS mention (I’m sorry to all people who have lost their babies to SIDS, your all strong and I’m proud of you x)

• kirishima was literally jumping up and down in excitement when you told him you were pregnant

“IM GONNA BE A DAD!”

while pregnant he does not let you just walk around, he barely lets you lift a finger. He doesn’t want his precious partner gettubg hurt! Especially while carrying his baby

After this kid his breeding kink goes through the roof and you have about 3 more children after your first baby

He holds your hand when you find out the gender, patiently watching.

“ITS A GIRL! I’m gonna be a good girl dad I promise… I love you so much” he says as he kisses your cheek then belly

the most supportive man during birth, he may not know what he’s talking about but he certainly tries.

he holds your hand and kisses your forehead “cmon baby you can do I I know you can, your so strong mama…”

he calls you manly after giving birth

as you take the baby home he constantly looks behind in the back to check if the babies breathing

“whatttt I’m just worried!”

this includes checking at night, has an alarm for every 2 hours to give her a bottle and make sure she’s alive.

terrified of SIDS, that’s why he checks all the time.

Became a stronger hero just so he knows he’s coming home to his spouse and child every day.

cried when the baby learned to crawl, like man sobbed in the corner because his baby was growing up.

takes her to work and shows her off “this is my little girl!”

Helps her learn to walk by holding her little hands up and waddling behind her with a big toothy grin

panicked when your babies teeth came in sharp, kirishima passed his shark teeth to all 4 of your kids.

such a girl dad, will literally have tea parties with your daughter in a pink tutu

uncle bakugo, Denki and sero all come around for tea parties too.

you and Mina just watch from afar as 4 big men known for being strong hero’s play with plastic teacups with a 3 year old little girl 5 times smaller then them.

cried at her first day of kindergarten, his poor baby can’t go to school! What if she trips!? What if she gets bullied!

you had to calm him in the car because he was borderline sobbing

Aunty and uncle stuff

uncle Denki bursts in with his own hero merch to give the baby, which you did Infact put on the baby. Denki ends up helping your daughter become the most annoying little shit when she became a young kid “go hide daddies hair gel, trust me little dude”

Uncle bakugo secretly loves that baby to bits, pats kirishimas shoulder in like a “good job bro I’m proud of you.” Kinda way (whrn the baby grows up he teaches your daughter how to fight)

aunty Mina literally cries by the foot of your bed because the baby was just so cute in her eyes, she teaches your daughter how to deal with men. She came in CLUTCH when your daughters first breakup happens

uncle sero was late, he was busy dealing with villains. He literally stumbled in panting and panicked “IM HERE. IM HERE! WHERES THE BABY?!” He was afraid he’d drop it so he wrapped her in tape which you later had to cut off your baby. The kinda uncle to give your daughter weed for her 16th birthday.

[https-florals]

daydreamin' and i'm thinking of you - j.m.

summary: jj returns from a day of surfing and devotes his night to you and a lil bit of weed.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: smoking weed, a lil suggestive, but mostly super fluffy and full of sweetness

author's note: back from the dead pookies!!! i just wanna say how incredibly grateful that none of yall have come for my wishy-washy ass! this year has been vcery hectic and rough, and i am so thankful y'all have let me be MIA. here's this little blurb smooch ily (i was too scared to flesh out the smut at the end IM SORRY ITS BEEN A WHILE)

JJ smells like a perfect, heady blend of sunscreen and salt when he and the boys get back from surfing. You’re waiting on the porch like a little 1950’s wife, and he runs up and hugs you as soon as he gets out of the Twinkie, acting like its been months since he’s seen you instead of a few hours.

“J!” You’re giggling as he swings you around, smacking loud kisses all over your face and neck. 

“Missed ya, pretty girl,” he murmurs into your neck.

John B slaps JJ’s back, surprising him so he lets go of you. “You literally just saw each other.” 

JJ’s jaw drops, hand over his heart like he’s been deeply wounded. “You’re just mad your woman isn’t out here to greet you,” he counters, squeezing your side and giving John B a sympathetic look.

“Wrong!’ Sarah says as she pushes open the screen door, giving her boyfriend an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek. 

John B grins back at JJ, and follows Sarah back inside. 

“You still up for that boat date later?” you ask, fingers intertwining with his.

You swear his eyes sparkle. “Um, duh!” 

A few hours later, the sun is sinking into the horizon, sky turning the prettiest pink and orange. You are toting a basket full of picnic supplies: a tupperware full of elote salad, another with some grilled chicken, a speaker, and of course, a little cellophane baggie and some rolling papers. JJ’s job is to carry the fishing poles and bait (raw hot-dogs because why would he spend money on crickets when there’s hot dogs in the fridge?), and the six-pack of mini Dr. Peppers you’ll split (JJ will inevitably drink two of your three). 

“Where are you going?” You hear someone call from inside the house, but both of you act like you can’t hear it. 

HMS Pogue is sitting pretty at the end of the dock, and you practically skip onto it. The rev of the engine is like the call of an old friend, thrumming through you, bare feet on the deck.

You sit cross legged at the bow while JJ drives, your hair flowing behind you. The spray of freshwater is perfectly refreshing. 

It’s dusk when the boat reaches a little secluded spot on the marsh, and JJ announces it. “Gorgeous,” he says, the sky purple above him. “And no one around for miles.” He plops next to you, sticking his nose in your neck and sighing. You’re sitting pretty in a bikini top and jean shorts, and he plays with the tie at your back.

You laugh and push him off, getting up to get your basket of food. He helps you unload it, mouthing a silent yes as he pulls out the sodas. Then comes the tupperware, and he sticks two spoons into the corn. “Cheers.” He holds his out.

You tap your spoon against his, and gasp in fake shock when he knocks the food of it.

“Gotta be ready, babe,” he deadpans, snatching up your bite after he eats his. “Danger is waiting at every turn.”

You shake your head and laugh, scooting the tupperware closer to yourself. “You’re so weird.”

“You love it,” He grins, and you can’t argue with that. 

After you eat, JJ pulls out the package of hotdogs and starts to prep the rods.

“There’s no way you can catch fish with those,” you question, wrinkling your nose at them. You frown, turning on the puppy-dog eyes. “Do we have to fish? I wanna smoke.”

He copies your expression and sticks his bottom lip out. “Poor bunny,” he mocks, but shoves your fishing pole in your hand all the same. “Catch a fish, I’ll roll you a joint, ‘kay?”

You sigh. “ ‘Kay,” 

He grins and plants a kiss on your forehead. “You got it, babe.” He gives you a chunk of hotdog and you slip it onto the hook. JJ comes up behind you to guide your cast and you let him, his breath warm on the back of your neck. There’s the whir of the line, and the satisfying plop of the bobber in the water. 

“Now, we wait.” He takes the rod from you and drops it into the holder, and works on casting his own line. 

You’re bored before he even puts his down. “I have to catch a fish before we smoke?”

“Yeah, crybaby.” The two of you sit on the bow, feet dangling over the water. His ankle knocks against yours.

You let out another dramatic sigh, but you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “This is the worst part. I hate waiting.”

JJ laughs. “Yeah, honey. I am well aware.” He pokes your side, and you yelp dramatically. Reaching over you, he pulls the speaker out of your basket, and turns it on. You watch as he connects to it and goes through his spotify, thumb skimming over the screen as he looks through his playlists. JJ clicks on one of your collaborative playlists, titled “songs for slow dancing.”

He stands up, reaching out to pull you up as the hauntingly pretty piano intro for Aretha Franklin’s Daydreaming begins to play. “Wanna kill some time?”

You smile, and let him pull you into him. You think you could slow dance with him until you dropped dead, until you collapsed into each other and turned into intertwined fossils. Maybe that kind of thing is a little too poetic for the two of you, but you don’t really care. He starts to sing along, and you press your ear to his chest to hear his voice thrum through his chest.

daydreaming and i’m thinking of you, daydreaming and i’m thinking of you…

One of his hands splays on the small of your back, fingertips sneaked under the waist of your shorts, callused and all too soft. The other one is holding yours as you sway back and forth to the beat.He twirls you out fast, and back into his grip, your back to his chest as he squeezes you.

No one would ever know it, but JJ absolutely loves to dance. A little after you started dating, you dragged him to some swing dancing classes at the community center, and expected plenty of pushback, but you were met with absolutely none. The two of you fell in love stepping on each others toes and falling all over each other. It’s always a fun party trick to pull out at the fancier parties. He’s always wanting to dance with you, whether it’s learning how to shag in the living room late at night, or spinning you around on the boat.

He stops you mid-step, asking, “Can we try the dirty-dancing jump?”

The dirty-dancing jump has only been successfully executed by the two of you once. All other times have ended in someone being injured (usually JJ). Your jaw drops open, and you lightly shove him. “Absolutely not! You wanna fall off the boat?”

He gives you the biggest eyeroll, but immediately switches to puppy dog eyes when you cross your arms. “Just like, a lift? Pleaseeeee,” he drags out, taking your hands and acting like he’s going limp. 

“Fine! But if you drop me in this water, I’m actually going to have serious beef with you, Maybank.”

He laughs, maybe an itty-bit manaically, and grabs your waist. “Okay, I’m gonna count you off, and you’ll jump, ‘kay? So, one, two, three-”

You hear your fishing rod rattle in its holder and jump away from him. “My line!” Scrambling after it, you grab the pole right as it looks like it’s going to leap out of its holster.

“Get it babe!” JJ practically shouts, darting behind you and placing his arms around yours to give you a little support. 

The whir of the line rushing out makes you jump, and you hurry to start reeling it back in, furiously turning the handle. JJ’s mouth is by your ear as you lean into him and he talks you up as you fight the fish. “Come on, baby, you got it. Keep going, keep going, you almost got it!”

He’s pulling half the weight, you know that, but you don’t mind the help when you can watch the cords in his forearms tense and pull.

Finally, the line leaps out of the water, and soon a big scaly body is flopping on the deck of the boat. “Atta girl!” JJ shouts as you snatch it up by the lure, holding it up proudly. It’s pretty heavy, probably a little over 14 pounds. 

“Look at that, baby! Got yourself a bluefish.” JJ is smiling so proudly as he fishes out his phone, and makes you pose for a picture like one of those Tinder frat guys. The flash is harsh and you know you look crazy, but he grins at the picture all the same.

“Can you throw him back in? He’s too pretty to eat,” you ask as he messes with something on his phone. You’re still holding the fish as you try to lean over and see what he’s doing.

“Here, yeah.” He drops his phone on the boat deck and takes the fish from you to fling back in. When you look at his phone, you see your face staring back up at you from his lockscreen. It was some picture of the two of you from a party, but now it’s you and your fish. He immediately changed his wallpaper after he took the picture. In your opinion, it’s definitely not a knockout photo, but you almost tear up at the sweetness of it.  

“You looked cute,” JJ shrugs, seeing you looking at it. 

You just smile, shaking your head, and lean against him. “Can we get high now?”

“Damn, you waste no time, huh?”

Soon, your fishing rods forgotten, you’re watching JJ roll you a joint to share. His fingers dance along the rolling paper, tucking and smoothing all gentle. He’s mesmerizing. When his tongue darts out to wet the paper, you swear you start salivating.

He catches you staring, hitting you with that heartbreaker grin again. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Shut up and light up,” you sigh, reaching for the blunt in his hands. 

“Can’t light up if you don’t hand me my lighter,” JJ frowns, expression sarcastic. He puts his hand out, waiting.

You reach into your basket and pull it out, smiling when you see it. A few months ago, you had decided to buy JJ a custom lighter. You got him one off Etsy, a cheap Bic lighter with your face printed on the plastic. Of course, the image didn’t translate correctly, so the picture is heavily distorted, your smile big and wide and eyes even bigger. 

It’s probably his favorite possession. 

He lights the joint, letting it smoke for a second before raising it to his lips.

“Hey,” you whine, reaching for his hand. 

“So needy,” he chides, taking a hit, gripping you by your neck, and blowing the smoke into your open mouth. Your breath hitches as you try your best to inhale, try to not think about his lips just ghosting over yours, his calloused fingers hard on the sides of your neck.

“Good girl,” he exhales as you successfully breathe in without hacking up your lungs.

The frogs are peeping and the wind is slow and soft, pushing the smoke around the two of you and enveloping you in it. You’re talking mindlessly as the joint passes between you, staring at the way moonlight shines through JJ’s hair, turning it platinum. His irises catch the light just right- bright, icy blue. 

You’re sitting cross-legged, knees knocking with his. All you can think about his how much you love your boyfriend, even with the edges of your mind soft and your senses fuzzy. JJ takes your hand, pressing the pads of your fingertips against his. 

“It’s like I can feel your fingerprints,” he comments, fingertips lightly rubbing yours. He pulls your hand as he leans back, so you’re both on your back, looking at the stars.

“It’s so pretty,” you whisper in awe. With absolutely zero light pollution, the sky is a myriad of deep black and blue hues and so, so many stars. You’d decompose while trying to count them all. You snuggle up against J as he takes a final hit. From your perspective, the rising smoke almost looks like it’s weaving through the stars, netting around them and sparkling right above your head. JJ tosses the remnant of the joint into your grocery bag of trash. 

“C’mere,” he sighs, propping himself up and running a hand down your torso. When he kisses you, he tastes like smoke and sweat, and a wave of heat rushes through you just from the taste. You’re pulling him on top of you by the loops of his cargo shorts, pressing yourself against the firm plane of his abdomen.

“God, you’re needy,” he laughs, pinning your hips down with a heavy hand. 

“You made me this way,” you squirm, and it’s true. He’s too generous with his touches and too sugary with his words, and you chase him like he’s a hit of the purest cocaine. 

He shifts on top of you, a knee between your thighs just like you like it. He presses his knee up just to see you gasp and grind down on him. JJ’s laugh is a little mean as snaps the waistband of your shorts. “Okay, honey, what do you want?”

There’s no shame in your voice as you blurt out, “Fuck me.” You’re whining out a plea before he can even answer, with no care that you’re out in the open… no care that the cops patrol at night.

JJ fakes shock, but the hardness of him against you gives him away. “You wanna get fucked, huh. Out in the open?”

“Don’t act like this wasn’t your whole plan, smartass,” you counter as he pins your hands down right above your head. 

He just laughs in response. “Dirty, dirty, dirty,” he tuts rebukingly, but he’s pulling apart the tie of your swimsuit top all the same.

as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part Six

Pairings: Bucky x Reader AU .... eventually lol

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Idiots, angst, Buckys dumb for like no reason at all. Poor steve :(

A/N: Okay im uploading part 7 directly after this cuz yall were patient when i said i was uploading part 6 last night and never did lmao, also the next two are just kinda build ups bucky and reader gonna have some words.........

Masterpost

----

Bucky sighs, running a hand through his hair as he looks at Steve and Sam, who are both waiting, wide-eyed. “Do you remember that party at John Walker’s house? It was a couple of years after you dropped out, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes narrow, thinking back. “Yeah, I only heard about it because Wanda said it got messy. And Steve… you were the one who became the keg stand champion, right?”

Steve smirks at the memory. “Yeah, that was one for the books. But what’s that got to do with anything?”

Bucky looks down, his voice soft, almost reverent. “That night… something happened between us. We’d been drinking, and one thing led to another. We, uh, we…. slept together.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence. Steve’s eyes go wide, and Sam’s jaw drops. Finally, Steve manages, “Holy crap, Buck. You two just… jumped from being best friends to that?”

Bucky nods, a small, wistful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’d been in love with her for as long as I could remember. And that night… it felt like everything. I thought maybe… maybe it meant the same to her.” His face darkens, his voice dropping. “But when I woke up the next morning, she was gone. Just… vanished. Didn’t say a word. And after that, she wouldn’t even meet my eyes for weeks.”

Sam shakes his head, completely floored. “So you’re telling us that you two had this whole moment… and then she just left?”

“Yeah,” Bucky mutters, still looking down. “I thought maybe she was spooked, it was a lot, so I gave her some space but…” He trails off sighing, “Maybe she regretted it, or felt ashamed. Hell, I even started to think she was disgusted with herself for… being with me.”

Steve rubs his forehead, staring at Bucky with a mix of disbelief and pity. “So you’ve just… never talked about it? Not once?”

“No,” Bucky says with a bitter laugh. “She wouldn’t, and I wasn’t gonna force her to. I figured if she wanted to pretend it never happened, then that’s what we’d do, yknow id do anything for her”

Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “Buck, everyone’s known she’s been in love with you since forever. She probably thought you saw it as a drunken mistake.”

Bucky stares at him, bewildered. “What do you mean?”

“Your reputation in college, at least when I was there” Sam says bluntly. “She probably thought she was just another notch on your belt. Especially if she’d heard any of those rumours.”

Bucky looks between them, realisation dawning as he mutters, “She knew those were just rumours, were best friends, she knows me better than that, right? She had to have known they were just rumours.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “How was she supposed to know, Buck? Everyone around campus talked about you like you were this heartbreaker, this guy who couldn’t be tied down. Best friend Bucky and relationship you are two different Bucky’s to her… can you blame her for thinking that night didn’t mean anything to you?”

Bucky stares at the floor, his expression twisted with guilt and frustration. “I just… I thought she’d know I’d never do that to her. That she was different, of course she is different it's her, she has to know that!” He clenches his fists. “I thought she was the one regretting it.”

Sam lets out a sigh, leaning forward. “So let me get this straight. You both spent years walking on eggshells, thinking the other didn’t care, and you’re both probably miserable because of it.”

Bucky shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “It just felt safer to leave it alone. I thought it was better to have her in my life as my best friend than risk losing her altogether. I’d rather have had some of her than none at all.”

Steve shakes his head, a small, sad smile on his face. “You two have been dancing around each other all this time. It’s like you’ve been playing some drawn-out, painful game of cat and mouse.”

Bucky laughs, but it’s hollow. “Guess we’re both idiots.”

Sam gives him a pointed look. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Bucky looks up, something vulnerable flashing in his eyes. “I don’t know. I thought I’d missed my chance. But… if she still feels the same, if there’s even a part of her that still cares…”

Steve claps him on the shoulder. “Then it’s worth fighting for, Buck. Don’t let another night slip by without her knowing how you feel, you’ve wasted enough time already”

Bucky’s face hardens with resolve, determination mingling with the lingering fear in his eyes. “You’re right. I have to tell her. I just hope… I hope it’s not too late. You’re a good friend, Steve. Thanks for this.”

Steve musters a small, bittersweet smile. “Of course, Buck. Anything for you.”

Inside, though, a quiet ache flares—a familiar, constant ache he’s learned to bury deep down. Unrequited love is painful enough, but what gnaws at Steve isn’t just his own longing. It’s the years he’s spent watching the two people he cares about most teeter on the edge of something real, only to pull back time and again. He’s seen Bucky’s yearning masked as indifference, her stolen glances that went unnoticed, and all the missed moments that could have been… if only one of them had been brave enough.

To Steve, there’s a nobility in his silence—a duty to let them find happiness, even if it’s not with him. It would be easy to resent Bucky for hurting you, for treating your feelings like a burden. But Steve can’t bring himself to feel anything other than empathy. Bucky’s been as lost as you have, caught in a battle he’s too proud or too scared to admit.

He knows, deep down, that his own feelings don’t matter here. What matters is that they have a chance, a real chance, at the happiness he’s always wanted for you, even if its not with him. And if he has to carry his love quietly, if he has to keep his own heartache in check for them, then that’s what he’ll do.

“Go tell her, Buck,” Steve says quietly, the weight of unspoken words heavy in his voice. “And don’t waste a single moment. You both deserve to know the truth.”

Bucky meets his gaze, nodding with a unsure but trusting smile. He has no idea of the sacrifice Steve is making in this moment, Steve watches him, swallowing the longing and sadness that’s always there but will never be voiced. In his own way, he’s choosing love too—a selfless love that finds peace in seeing her happiness, even if it’s not

with him.

Sam glanced at Bucky, his brow furrowing. “Hold on a second, what about Kate?”

Bucky’s face falls at Sam’s question, the name he’s been trying not to think about suddenly hitting him like a weight in his chest. Kate. Sweet, caring, loyal Kate, who had seen the best in him when he couldn’t see it himself, who had been there quietly beside him, hoping he’d come around.

He hesitates, avoiding his friends’ eyes as he tries to gather his thoughts. “I… I don’t know. Kate deserves the truth too. I thought maybe she was what I needed to finally… to finally move on.” He sighs, the regret heavy in his voice. “But that was just me lying to myself. And she doesn’t deserve that.”

Sam nods, a hint of sympathy in his expression. “Kate’s a good person, Buck. She doesn’t deserve to be anyone’s second choice.”

Bucky looks down, guilt clawing at him. “I know. And I hate that I’ve made her one. She should be with someone who’s all in… and that’s not me. It’s not fair to her.”

Steve studies Bucky’s face, understanding but also concerned. “So, you’re going to talk to her?”

Bucky nods slowly. “Yeah. She deserves to know. I need to be honest with her before I can… before I can even think about anything else.”

Steve claps a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Good. She deserves that much.”

That afternoon, Bucky texts Kate, asking if they can meet up. His heart pounds as he waits for her reply, the thought of ending things with her weighing heavily on his mind. She responds quickly, suggesting they meet at the same little coffee shop from the day before, and he heads there with a mix of dread and resignation.

When he arrives, Kate is already seated at their usual table, a soft smile brightening her face when she sees him. It makes the ache in his chest deepen—he knows that after today, that smile will probably disappear, and he’ll be the one responsible for it.

“Hey,” she says, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “You sounded serious in your text. Everything okay?”

Bucky nods, though the heaviness in his gaze betrays him. “Yeah, I… I just needed to talk to you about something. Something I haven’t been fair about.”

Kate’s smile fades slightly, a hint of concern clouding her expression. “What is it?”

He opens his mouth to explain, but the words get stuck, the weight of everything catching up to him. “Kate… I don’t know how to say this. You deserve so much more than I’ve been giving you. I haven’t been fair to you. I haven’t… I haven’t been fully here.”

Kate’s face softens as she reaches out, gently placing her hand over his. “Bucky, I know this hasn’t been easy for you. I know you’re… complicated. But I’m here because I want to be. Because I care about you, whether you’re all in or not.”

He shakes his head, guilt gnawing at him. “You deserve better than ‘complicated,’ Kate. I thought I could be the guy you deserve, but I just… I can’t be.”

She watches him for a long moment, and then her voice drops, quiet but sure. “Bucky, I knew what I was getting into when I fell for you. I know you’re still figuring things out, and I can be patient. I can wait if that’s what you need.”

Her words stop him in his tracks. There’s an unflinching loyalty in her eyes, a warmth and steadiness that he’s never fully appreciated until now. She doesn’t look away, doesn’t flinch, and the weight of her gaze makes his chest tighten.

“Kate, I…” he starts, but she squeezes his hand, stopping him.

“Look, Bucky, I know there are things you haven’t told me, things you don’t think I understand. But I’ve seen the way you look at me, and I think… I think we could really have something if you let us.” Her voice trembles slightly, but she holds his gaze, her own eyes filled with a quiet determination.

For a moment, he’s silent, trying to process what she’s offering him. Kate’s hope, her patience, her willingness to wait for him—it’s more than he deserves, more than he ever thought he’d find with anyone. And he realizes, with a pang, that he can’t bring himself to end things with her today. Not with the sincerity in her voice, the openness in her gaze.

After a long moment, he forces himself to nod. “Thank you, Kate. For… for everything…”

She smiles, a relieved smile that makes him feel even worse, but he doesn’t have the heart to say anything more. The truth—the messy, painful truth—will have to wait. For now, he’ll accept her patience, even if he doesn’t deserve it.

---

You sit back on Natasha’s bed, letting out a long sigh, the wine making you feel just the tiniest bit lightheaded as you stare up at the ceiling.

“I can’t go home,” you mutter. “Bucky’s over at Steve and Sam’s tonight but, when he comes home, I… I just can’t face him right now. Not after everything.”

Natasha gives you a soft smile. “Of course, you can stay here. You’re always welcome.”

Wanda chimes in, wrapping an arm around you. “We’ll have a proper girls’ night. Forget about all that for now.”

You smile, feeling a wave of relief. As you settle back, Natasha glances over at you with a knowing look. “So… what about Dean?”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “Oh, God. I completely forgot about Dean.”

Natasha grins. “I can text him, say you got cold feet or something?”

You shake your head. “No, just… leave it. Honestly, with everything that’s happened… I don’t know. I keep thinking… what if Bucky doesn’t feel that way anymore? What if all of that—what I thought we shared—meant nothing to him?”

Natasha sighs, squeezing your hand. “Look, whatever you decide to do, I’m here. I’ve always got your back, babe.”

She pauses, giving you a smirk. “But you know… we’d choose you in the divorce, right?”

You let out a laugh, grabbing a pillow and swatting her with it. “There will be no choosing! And no divorcing! Bucky and I… we’ve been friends since we were five. I don’t know what I’d do if he… if he really was out of my life for good.”

Natasha’s gaze softens. “Then don’t let him be. You’re braver than you think. Just… be honest with him. You might be surprised by what he has to say.”

You fall quiet, her words lingering, filling you with equal parts hope and dread as you lay back, trying to gather the courage for whatever comes next.

The sun is bright, and the streets are bustling as you and Natasha stroll through the city, bags in hand and laughter spilling between you as you move from shop to shop. It feels like old times, light and easy, and after last night’s heart-to-heart, you’re almost… hopeful.

You’re telling Natasha about the cute little coffee shop you spotted around the corner when, out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a familiar head of tousled hair. You stop mid-sentence, freezing as you take in the scene just a few yards away: Bucky, hand in hand with Kate, both of them laughing, utterly absorbed in each other.

Your stomach sinks. You watch, feeling your heart twist as Bucky leans down, pressing a soft kiss to her temple, his smile wide and unguarded in a way you’d never been able to see up close until now. He looks… happy. Truly, genuinely happy.

Natasha’s gaze follows yours, her face tightening with sympathy as she watches you take in the scene. “You okay?” she asks softly, though you can tell from her tone that she already knows the answer.

You tear your eyes away, blinking quickly to clear the sting in your eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s… let’s just keep going.”

Natasha squeezes your arm, and the two of you turn, heading back down the sidewalk. But as you walk, a hollow feeling settles in your chest, everything from the night before swirling in your mind—the confessions, the memories, the what-ifs. And now… this.

By the time you reach the next shop, you’ve already made up your mind. Bucky Barnes doesn’t think you’re worth it, and that’s that. Whatever you felt, whatever might have been between you in the past, it’s all in your head.

You glance over at Natasha, forcing a smile. “You know what? Let’s just forget about Friday. I’m not gonna… I don’t want to dwell on it anymore. He’s happy. I’m happy for him. I think… I think it’s time to just move on.”

Natasha studies you, a trace of concern in her eyes, but she nods, letting it go for now. “Okay. We’ll let it go. But… if you ever want to talk, you know I’m here.”

You nod, grateful. And just like that, you tuck the memories away, pushing everything—Friday night, college, all of it—back into a box in your mind.

After a long day of shopping, you and Natasha are finally heading back. She raises an eyebrow at the bags in your hands. “You know, you’re welcome to crash at mine again tonight if you don’t feel like facing him.”

You shake your head, trying to laugh it off. “Nah, I’ve got some work I need to finish up on my computer. Plus, I already paid rent for the month, and you know better than anyone how ridiculous rent is in New York. Can’t avoid him forever, right?”

Natasha gives you a look but doesn’t push it. “Well, you know where I am if you change your mind.”

You thank her and give her a quick hug before parting ways, gathering every ounce of courage as you head home. But when you open the door to your apartment, your heart sinks: Bucky’s there, sitting on the couch—with Kate. She’s nestled beside him, looking as comfortable as if she lives there.

As soon as you step in, Bucky’s eyes shoot to yours, and the intensity in them nearly stops you in your tracks. You can read him too well, even now. In those blue eyes, you see a mix of emotions flickering back and forth—regret, sadness, something that almost looks like relief—but you have no idea which is for you and which might be for Kate.

Kate is the first to break the silence, greeting you with a friendly smile. “Hey! How are you? Did you have a good weekend?”

You put on your best casual smile, keeping your gaze mostly on her and avoiding Bucky’s searching eyes. “Yeah, it was nice. Just got a little shopping done with Nat.” You hold up your bags, laughing softly. “Guess I went a little overboard.”

Kate laughs, glancing at the bags. “Looks like you did some damage! Special occasion or just a treat-yourself kind of day?”

You hesitate, then, glancing between the two of them. “Well, I’ve got a date on Saturday,” you say lightly, shrugging. “Needed something nice.”

“Oh!” Kate’s face lights up. “Natasha mentioned that on Friday. I’m so happy for you!” She’s smiling warmly, but you can still feel Bucky’s gaze piercing right into you, as if he’s trying to read something hidden just beneath the surface. He doesn’t say a word.

You force yourself to look away from him, meeting Kate’s eyes. “Thanks,” you say, giving her a polite nod. “Anyway, I should go put all this away.”

“Sure thing!” Kate laughs again. “Hey, if i dont see you before then, good luck on your date—he’s a lucky guy.”

You manage a smile, your heart twisting in ways you don’t want to acknowledge. “Thanks, Kate. You two have a good night.”

As you turn to head to your room, Bucky finally speaks up, his voice a little rough. “You don’t have to go, you know. You can hang out with us.”

You pause, turning just enough to look at him, this is the longest you’ve gone without speaking to him and the words that come out cut your throat, you shake your head. “No, I’m okay James….thanks, though.”

And with that, you disappear into your room, shutting the door softly behind you. Only then do you release the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, leaning back against the door and closing your eyes as you try to settle your racing heart.

----

The week passed in a fog of work and silence, each day dragging as you went through the motions with an ache in your chest that you couldn’t shake. It felt surreal to be in the same office as Bucky, the silence between you heavy and stifling. The two of you used to share everything—your worries, victories, and endless conversations. Now, there was a chasm between you, one neither of you seemed willing to bridge. Each day stretched endlessly, and this was the longest you’d gone without speaking to him in as long as you could remember.

At first, you tried to keep things normal, focusing on your work, staying in your lane. But the tension between you was like a third person in the room, and it made everything feel unsteady. You couldn’t help stealing glances at him, watching the way he laughed with the others, though even that sounded hollow. You missed the easy camaraderie, the inside jokes, and the playful banter. Now, every moment felt loaded, thick with unsaid words and unspoken longing.

By Wednesday night, you were drained—emotionally and physically exhausted. You’d promised yourself you’d join the group for Wing Wednesday, but as the day wore on, a familiar dread settled in your stomach. The thought of sitting across from Bucky, acting like everything was fine, felt impossible. So, you stayed home, scrolling mindlessly through your phone, wishing you could shake the emptiness that clung to you.

The next evening, desperate to clear your mind, you found yourself at the grocery store. You wandered the aisles, filling your cart with essentials, hoping the routine task would offer a brief escape. You were reaching for a can on the top shelf when a familiar voice broke through your thoughts.

“Hey! You’re alive!”

You turned to see Steve approaching, a wide grin lighting up his face. He pulled his cart up next to yours, his eyes warm with that steady kindness that always made you feel a bit lighter.

“Yeah, just barely,” you replied with a faint smile. “It’s been… a rough week.”

“We missed you at Wing Wednesday,” he said, his tone light but laced with concern.

You sighed, biting your lip. “Yeah, I just… wasn’t feeling up to it.”

Without asking, he reached over and took a couple of your bags from the cart, lifting them effortlessly. “Let me help you with these.”

You walked beside him, the weight of your bags lightened by his presence. The chill of the evening air hit your face as you stepped outside, a reminder that life was still moving around you, even as you felt stuck.

“Thanks, Steve,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

He glanced over, his expression growing serious. “Hey… don’t push the rest of us away. Don’t push me away because of Bucky and his nonsense.”

A sad laugh escaped you, more bitter than you meant it to be. “I’m not trying to, Steve. It’s just… hard. It’s been hard for so long, and… I don’t think I can keep doing this.”

Unshed tears blurred your vision, and you looked down, trying to keep them at bay.

Steve’s expression softened, his voice gentle. “I know exactly what you mean.”

You furrowed your brow, glancing up at him with a mix of confusion and curiosity. “What do you mean?”

For a moment, he seemed to weigh his words, as if deciding how much to reveal. Finally, he sighed, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze. “I’ve been in love with someone too… someone who I know doesn’t feel the same way.”

You felt your heart race, wondering who he could mean. You’d always thought of Steve as your steady friend, the one who was always there. A name popped into your head—Natasha, maybe? She was magnetic, effortlessly commanding any room she walked into.

“Who?” you asked softly, not wanting to pry but unable to help yourself.

He hesitated, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place, before glancing away as you approached your apartment door. Ignoring your question, he murmured, “There’s a difference, though.”

“What difference?”

He paused, then looked back at you, a weight of unspoken words in his gaze. “Yours… isn’t unrequited like you think it is.”

You blinked, his words sinking in slowly. “What are you saying?”

Steve held your gaze, his voice firm but kind. “I mean, you don’t see how he feels about you. You’re letting your own doubts twist what’s really there. You think he doesn’t want you, but I can tell you he does.” He reached up, gently wiping away a stray tear from your cheek, his hand lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

You swallowed, your heart racing. “Steve, I—”

He raised a hand, gently stopping you. “Just think about it, okay? Don’t shut me out. I know you’re hurting, but… my life without you in it would feel empty.”

He offered a soft, bittersweet smile, and gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before turning to go, leaving you standing at your door, heart pounding and mind racing.

[random-writer-23]

~~~Soft girldad Logan, domesticity and fluff because I need him, what is this the 3rd Logan fic in 3 days?! I think I have a problem guys, not edited I just kind of word vomitted this one out so I could write the idea before I forgot it~~~

Girldad Logan would be the softest mf I fear, like solely based on the fact that he folded so quickly after kicking Rogue out of his car, like he drove what 10 feet before stopping and taking her with him, and like giving her food and making sure she’s warm and like she’s not even his kid. Shit she got into his car and almost immediately started insulting his trailer and he just let it happen. He literally just said yoink you’re my daughter now, So like imagine the care he’ll have for his own kids!!

He comes home after a long day at work, kicking his shoes off at the door, dropping his keys onto the side table by the door. Grumbling about some shit his boss said at work, rubbing the weariness from his face, when he hears the tiny pitter patter of feet running in the next room, laughter and warmth emanating from the living room and he’s drawn to it. Dropping his tiredness and worries at the door as he walks into the living room and sees his girls playing in the living room. His daughters jump up running over to him.

“DADDY” they squeal as he kneels down to their height opening his arms for the two of them to jump in to, he grunts as they dogpile on top of him wrapping their small arms around his neck burying their faces in his shoulder.

“There’s my pretty girls” He smiles holding them tight against him, his hands resting on the back of their head and he holds them tight, standing up and taking them with him holding them in his arms as his eyes finally land on his beautiful wife. “And there, is my pretty woman” He grins as she makes her approach, she’s positively glowing radiating a warmth he’s grown to need. She wraps her arms around him leaning into his chest and he stands there surrounded by his girls, his family and all the tension and stress from work seeps other of him in waves. His younger daughter squirms in his arms and he knows his time for a group hug is over. His wife steps away, a smile on her face as he bends down putting the girls back on the floor, they scurry off going back to playing with whatever toys they had before he’d entered the room. He straightens up finally able to give his gorgeous wife a proper hello. “And how are you doing lovely” He huffs his voice heavy with stress.

“I’m good” She giggles letting him wrap his arms around her burying his face in the crook of her neck. “How was work” She asks and he groans.

“Shit” he mumbles breathing her in.

“Oh my poor baby” she laughs running her hands through his hair and he grumbles.

“Yeah, your poor baby…. so sad and stressed… needs a little relief” He murmurs his lips finding the junction of her neck placing delicate kisses on the exposed skin weaseling his hands under her shirt resting them on the small of her back as she laughs.

“Logan” she murmurs warningly.

“What, what…” He says defensively lifting his head from her neck. “Is it a crime to want to love my wife?” He huffs, cupping her face with gentle hands.

“No, not a crime but” She doesn’t get to finish as she’s interrupted by their oldest daughter tugging on his arm.

“Daddy come play with me… please” she begs giving him her best puppy eyes.

“Alright alright Im coming” He smiles, reluctantly letting go of his wife, as he follows his 5 year old to the floor of the living room. “What are we playing?” He asks gently and the younger one squeals.

“Princesses!” The older one giggles clapping, as her sister she hobbles over to her dad, still a little wobbly on her feet, he reaches out towards her holding her hand so she doesn’t fall. He watches his wife out of the corner of his eye watching as she sinks down onto the couch a look of relief on her face as she finally gets off her feet. He makes a mental note to take care of her later. He doesn’t even notice his oldest sneaking up behind him with a fluffy princess crown, placing it on his head elegantly. He smiles touching it gently with his hands, and she runs off again to go get a dress for him to help her into. She brings back a pretty dress holding it out to him. He takes it helping her slip it over her head, putting it on her.

“Oh wow!” He gasps, “Look at you!” He smiles as she twirls around in her dress. “So beautiful!” He coos as she giggles prancing around the room. He watches as his wife stands up off the couch, his gaze perks up. “Where are you going?” He asks as the girls dance around together.

“I gotta go make dinner” She says softly and he deflates slightly,

“Oh alright, call me if you need me” she nods and leaves the room maneuvering to the kitchen, turning his attention back to his girls in front of him. His youngest holds a dress towards him whining softly.

“She wants this one” her sister translates, and he nods understandingly

“Oh alright” he takes the dress and slips it over her head and she squeals giggling happily. “Look at you two.. the prettiest princesses in all the land” And they laugh dancing around the room.

“Daddy we want music” the oldest insists grabbing his phone from his pocket holding out for him to unlock it, putting on the playlist of their favorite songs. “And now dance!” She squeals tugging on his hand getting him to stand up and dance with him. They dance for a while slowly wearing him down, he finds it hard to believe that such a simple thing as dancing in a circle would tire him so much, although he is like two hundred years old. But he brushes his weariness off, he’d dance till his feet bleed and he collapses on the floor if thats what it took to make his girls happy. He’d do anything for his girls, for his wife… for his family. He’d fight any villain, kill anyone, go through thousands of armies, and endure all the pain and trauma that led up to this point as many times as it would take to get him to this moment right here. Dancing with his girls, his wife in the kitchen, the smell of freshly cooked food wafting through the air. He turns his attention back to the girls who had each grabbed one of his legs wrapping their arms and legs around him giggling to each other.

“I hate to interrupt your fun, but it’s time for dinner” His wife spoke up leaning against the doorframe that led to the kitchen. 
“alright we’re coming” he said gruffly, grunting as he made his way to the kitchen at a snails pace dragging the girls on his feet. In the direction of the kitchen, he makes it through the kitchen door, and smiles as his wife preps plates for everyone. “Alright girls go sit down” He says, and they hug tighter to his leg

“No we wanna keep playing” They whine.

“Come on girls it’s time to eat” He says a little more sternly, and they stand up reluctantly heading to their seats at the table. His wife places the plates on the table in front of each family member. “Thanks Darlin’” He murmured pulling her down towards him so he could kiss her. She giggled settling into her seat next to him, and he dug into his plate, the spaghetti she made settling nicely in his stomach, warming him from the inside out. Once he was done he sat in his chair letting his head fall back as his wife excused the girls from the table so they could go clean up their mess in the living room. He groans watching as his wife stood up, clearing the table and piling the dishes in the sink, he stood up quickly walking over to where she stood, wrapping his arms around her. “And what do you think you’re doing?” He asked his breath fanning across her ear.

“Cleaning up?” She says questioningly and he shakes his head pulling her away from the sink.

“Nu-uh” he huffs, “You cooked, I clean” he says softly, and she smile gratefully.

“Okay well while you do that I’m gonna go give the girls a bath and get them ready for bed” She smiles kissing his cheek and patting his shoulder as she leaves the room, the squealing of the girls in the other room can be heard throughout the house, and if he could bottle the sound and keep it, he’d listen to it everynight for the rest of his life. He quickly finished the dishes heading upstairs to the bathroom, where he opened the door and smiled at the sight of his of the girls splashing and playing around in the bath, his wife rinsing them off, lifting them out the tub, and wrapping them up tight in their towels, drying them off, he laughs drawing their attention to him, and they girls grin waddling over to him in their towels. He picks them up grunting as he lifts them, carrying them to their room while his wife follows behind. He putts them down on the floor of their room, his wife hurrying to the youngest to help her out of her towel, picking out her pjs and helping her into them. He watches as his oldest picks out her own pjs and gets dressed climbing onto her bed and jumping on it.

“Oh, love don’t do that” His wife chastises softly and she laughs thinking it’s a joke, continuing to jump around.

“C’mon sweetheart you heard your mom” He smiles and she slowly stops her jumping, flopping onto the bed, he smiles ruffling her hair, making his way to his wife, who’s tucking the younger one into bed, leaning over to give her a kiss on the forehead. He follows close behind bending down to give her a kiss on the head tucking the blanket tight around her. His wife moves across the room to their other daughter, and she skitters under the covers, giggling.

“Alright calm down love, it’s time for bed” His wife murmurs as he joins her by their daughter’s bed, “I love you sweetie” she murmurs kissing her head.

“I love you too mommy” She replies and Logan repeats his process tucking the covers tight around her body.

“Love you babygirl” He smiles kissing her. “g’night”

“G’night daddy, love you too” she giggles, and Logan follows his wife out their bedroom, turning the lights off and closing the door behind him. He makes his way downstairs flopping down onto the couch and turning the tv on, groaning as his body sinks down into the couch, finally letting the weariness of the day settle into his bones. He focuses on the tv, making room beside him on the couch as his wife makes her way into the room, tiredly plopping down onto the couch, he wraps his arm around his wife pulling her into his side kissing the top of her head, inhaling her scent. He smiles relaxing next to her.

“I love you baby” He murmurs and she tilts her head to look up at him, smiling.

“I love you too” She chuckles, and he smiled as she snuggled into his side, they lay there in silence, and he soon hears her breathing even out as she falls asleep in his arm, he chuckles softly kissing her head again. Sure the life he has is tiring, between his job and taking care of his family, he was left exhausted every night but he wouldn’t change it for all the sleep in the world.

[yameoto]

knocked up omega cate whos so frustrated w you because you just woke up from a hangover and a night full of girls needing help with their heats, eager to tell you about her pregnancy, just to see you not take her seriously, thinking that she's pulling your leg. frustrated little thing tries hard to get your foggy brain to listen, growing more and more irritated by the second as you consistently dismiss her words as a joke and catching sight of the faint hickeys on your neck, and suddenly, she's whining and begging and— "please, listen to me!"

and oh the poor thing, you sit up blearily the moment she'd started to sniffle and you're pulling her into your lap and hugging her and finally, you're listening to her. she's having your pup and oh— next thing she knows, she's mewling for her neck to be marked, all glassy eyes and whimpers as you continued to rub against her ruined underwear, hands tugging at your hair to try and get you to mark her so desperately.

sobbing the moment you've slipped inside her, finally clenching over something with glittery tears streaming down her cheeks, tugging at your hair because goddamn, just mark her already! but you won't, and she doesn't understand why. you claim it's to get her prepared, and its all bullshit, she knows. she's more than prepared and she's not dumb. she doesn't understand why you just won't mark her. she's been a good girl, and for god's sake, she's carrying your pup! isn't that reason enough for her to be marked?

passes out the moment your teeth make contact with her skin, all limp limbs draped over your body, all too hypersensitive with the pregnancy and christ, a mark has never looked this good on anybody.

xoxo im giving you my liver yam. i keep coming back to your inbox.

the way this made me instantly wet. fuck. of course you don't take her seriously, at first. why would you? you've been the resident panty-dropper of the dorms since freshman year and not once have you even marked anyone. let alone gotten anyone pregnant. because obviously you're more trustworthy than all the shitty alpha men out there. your strength in powers is almost irrelevant compared to the self-control you have to not mark up or breed any of the omegas that knock on your dormroom door; rubbing their thighs together, whimpering and wet. cate hates thinking about them. has something in her stomach boiling and skin prickling, even before she bought the pregnancy test kit.

it doesn't help that cate comes in right after you've finished with another omega, passing them as they limp out of your dorms, blushing and sated. when she comes in, you look it, too. brain all fuzzy from the high you've just gotten—only just got your sweatpants pulled up when cate floats in. anxious, fiddling thing. fidgeting in the middle of your dorm room, fingers twisting the hem of her shirt, psyching herself up like she's been for the past four days before it just spills from her lips; "i'm pregnant. s'yours." rushing out so fast you almost miss it. holding her breath for your reply, head pounding. the words set you on fire, for a moment. line of electricity crackling through your ears and straight to your cock. then, clarity hits. "no, you're not." you snort, suppressing the flush of disappointment (and arousal) that unspools. this is silly. it's probably one of andre's dumbass dares or jordan's version of a joke.

and cate. oh, poor little cate, whose been losing sleep and gnawing at nails and readying for this all to blow up in her face; to drop out of school and become a single fucking mother; rendered utterly stunned in the face of your disbelief. she just stands there, silent, before her shock melts away to annoyance.

"i am!" she stamps her foot. looks a little like a toddler. you bore her with this utterly deadpan look like, c'mon now, that has equal parts disbelief and desperation welling up in her throat. her breathing's coming in fast, now. and she says it again, one more time—in a way that has your eyes sharpening and body sitting upright in bed. pulling her into your arms, and her brain almost turns to static right then and there. all alpha alpha strong alpha gonna take care of me gonna take care of our babies—

when you don't mark her as soon as her plea is murmured into your neck, she lets out the most plaintive whine you've ever heard. cate's heart thrumming fast as she nuzzles into your chest, trembling. is she such a bad omega? she doesn't understand why you don't want to mark her. it's in your biology. she's carrying your pup, for god's sake. it should be the one priority in your head to stake your claim. mark her up and show the world she's yours, forever. why aren't you? fuck. and maybe its irrational but it hurts. because at first you dismissed her claims like they were nothing and now, even as you believe her; run your fingers over her tummy so tenderly it makes her whimper—you're still not marking her. still not mating her. even when she sinks back onto your cock and your teeth are dragging along her neck you're still not biting, and it makes her want to burst into tears. why don't you want to? what about her is so deplorable you're fighting your deepest, most primal, innermost instincts? there's a burning in her cheeks and her chest and her thighs as she bucks herself on your lap, pounding slick cunt to your cock, like she could force you if she could wriggle you in deep enough, make you feel good enough. she could force you, but she wants you to want it. doesn't know what she'd do if you didn't. you're not seriously going to fuck around with the other girls in your dorms while she's pregnant with your pup, are you? the thought has her spiralling, breathing harsh and ragged as she slams so deep against your hips; her eyes rolling back, gasping, "please please please–" "i'll be so good—" "do anything–" and she's crying out and creaming all over your cock. wet, squelching sounds only getting louder. she refuses to pull off until you mark her, delirious and overstimulated and leaving a gooey white ring around your base. she's panting, mumbling, blinking back tears as she presses flush into you "god, i'll be good—be such a good mommy—please—" and that's when you can't take it anymore and your teeth latch down. such a good mommy, you echo, growling into her neck. the way she nods, fast and eager to please—whining happily as she fucks herself back on your cock. she will she will she will she will.

[princessbrunette]

Foaming at the mouth for jealous controlling “Where do you think you’re going dressed like that” Rafe but something about “Wear whatever you want I can fight (and im strapped)” Rafe… 🥵

ok esp for girly reader who lives and breathes mini skirts and tiny tops (def not self serving… not at all…)

because you really expect rafe to be the first type. and to a degree, he is— if you’re going out alone that is. usually, you bow your head to it, because really — you tell yourself — he’s just concerned about your safety. there are some real creeps out there, and going out alone in a mini skirt is a sure recipe for disaster, right?

he’s bringing you to a party on the beach. you didn’t usually go partying with rafe, and he liked it that way — because that’s where he did the most business, cashing out on rich coke heads. you knew he wouldn’t be selling at a beach party, purely because anyone stupid enough to try and snort anything would end up ingesting a fuck-tonne of sand, and it’s just not the kinda complaint he’s in the mood to hear. you actually just get to hang out with him and his friends, and this excites you.

you test the waters, stepping out of your room when he waits in the living room leant against the shelf scrolling on his phone. you know it’s likely he’ll turn you right back around and send you changing due to the little pink co-ord clinging to your every curve. it’s cupping your tits and hugging your waist and leaving all but nothing to the imagination, but it’s been a while since you’ve worn something fun like that — so you try your luck anyway.

“m’ready!” you grin, sticking your arms out by your side all cute. he looks up from his phone, eyes all wide and vacant for a second, lips pouted in thought and briefly drops his eyes up and down your body.

“yeah, looks good kid.” he drawls, flipping his phone deftly between his fingers and stuffing it into his pocket. his eyes linger around your tits again before meeting your eye, walking towards you with a happy and simple smile, one that says ‘can we go now?’

your brows raise and you look down at yourself in surprise. “i’m surprised. you’re letting me wear this out?” you gaze up at him, lips twitching up. you think he’s making an active decision to be less controlling for a moment. he shrugs lazily, eyes flickering around the room as if to say ‘so?’ and with that he lifts the end of his button-up, revealing a glock tucked into his waistband.

oh.

“yeah i don’t think anyone’s gonna have the nerve to step out of line, a’ight? ‘look after my girl.” he steps closer to you, hand coming up to scratch affectionately behind your ears like you’re a dog. you don’t mind.

you stare up at him, all doe eyed and shocked. he thinks it’s adorable honestly, all scared over a little pistol. hell, you’d probably never even seen one in real life before, let alone this close.

“rafe…” you start unsurely, breathily, but he cuts you off, hand caressing your cheek, tilting his head down and raising his eyebrows.

“hey. you wear what you want with me, yeah? m’protected. strapped. it’s okay.” he enunciates, and well— you’re not really in the place to argue. you nod, still wide eyed and he gives your cheek an affectionate tap, squinting his eyes with a satisfied smile.

as imagined, rafes temper rears it’s ugly head one beer down, catching a poor boy a year or two his junior, eyes fixated on the way your ass was moving when you walked along the sand, unbeknownst to wandering eyes. of course, the boy ended up backed up against the pier with the cool end of the gun pressed into his jaw, terrified whimpers ripped from his throat.

“wanna look at my girl, huh? think i’m gonna let that shit run?” rafe is gripping the smaller boy by the collar, teeth grit, animalistic. your breath hitches, you think he may actually shoot this kid.

“rafe…” you call out urgently, not wanting to get too close.

“no! i—” the boy tries to argue, and you really feel for him, because rafe only presses the gun harder against his chin.

“no? better keep your eyes to yourself or i’m gonna be the last thing you fuckin’ see is that understood? is that understood asshole?” he grits out, eyes wet and watery from adrenaline.

“rafe! stop!” you call out, brows furrowed and tears brimming. he sighs, finally hearing you and steps back, not taking his eyes off the mortified boy infront of him. he stares until the kid grows the balls to run off, tripping and kicking up sand as he disappears to the other side of the pier where the rest of the party goers were. it’s only then he looks back at you.

“shit.” he sighs out, shaking his head, shaking himself off completely as he stares out at the moons reflection on the ocean.

you hug yourself, watching him mellow out a little. he tucks the glock back into his waistband, yanking his shirt out again to cover it.

“you’re not bringing that thing out again.” you accuse, pointing to his gun shape tucked into his pants. he blows you off, lifting a hand and walking the other way before turning back suddenly.

“i have to protect you, you understand? if i can’t bring this out with me you— you can’t bring that.” he lifts an arm, gesturing to your lower body. you stare at him in confusion before looking down. your… ass? was he talking about your ass?

“how am i supposed to leave my ass at home, rafe?” you argue, and as soon as the words leave your mouth— you can’t help but let out a giggle. you’re mad at him, yes — but the demand was funny, you couldn’t deny.

you think he’s gonna get mad, maybe wipe the smile off your face, but his sigh turns into a giggle too, looking away from you. the irritation from his face melts into something more boyish and young, his tongue sticking out between his teeth as he lets out a low chuckle. this only makes you chortle more, and he shakes his head, trying to hide his amusement as he waddles toward you on the uneven sand, holding out his arm and reaching you, bringing you beneath it into his side.

“alright, come on trouble.” he smirks, leading you back to the party. “y’still in a partying mood?”

[mingsolo]

Say My Name

incubus!hongjoong x f!reader / genre: demon au, supernatural au, smut, romance  / warnings: alcohol intake, cursing, clingy woosan, manifestation of paranormal activities, f! masturbation, sex toys, an almost hook up, scaredy cat mingi, pet names (love), the word kill used in threatening context, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), oral f!receiving, , squirting, creampie / wc: 7k, r: 21+

done for my beloved @flurrys-creativity 666 milestone from two years ago! yep. another repost im too proud to let go. and idc this is a supernatural/halloween themed party, we celebrate summerween in this household from now on!

Another boring Halloween night indoors.

You wanted to do something fun, but most of your friends told you they were “too old to costume parties” and left you without plans for the night, so just like last year, you were bound to spend Halloween night laying on the couch watching another mainstream horror film that will be as bad as the previous one.

Doing just that, sipping straight from the wine bottle, because there was no one to impress after all, you emptied what was left of the liquid, hoping it made you drunk enough to lose the critical thinking from your brain and enjoy this plot-less movie. 

The doorbell rang, interrupting your mental count of how many cliche moments had been in the film already. You look at the hour surprised to check it was barely past nine. Dragging your feet to your door, you checked the peephole to find your friends San and Wooyoung standing next to each other, San kissing Wooyo’s cheek,  as clingy as ever.

“Hey hey, don’t be mushy in my house!” you shouted, opening the door, to which San abruptly let go of Wooyoung’s ass. “Let’s not eat in front of the poor?.”

“Someone is really sensitive tonight.” San said, letting himself in, followed by Wooyoung who smiley showed you the two bottles of wine and packs of beer they had brought with them. 

“Well I’m the most single person on earth, so I have the right to complain.” you sighed, dropping yourself on the couch same as you previously were. 

“Very dramatic.” San arched his eyebrows, sitting on the carpeted floor next to you, opening the bag he was carrying. 

“What are you doing here anyways, weren’t you going to a haunted house with those friends of your dance group?.” 

“We did,” Wooyoung responded, opening the wine bottles in the kitchen, searching for something through your cabinets as if it were his own home. “But Mingi fainted half way through and the paramedics needed someone to accompany him while he was still zoned out, his apartment is on the other side of the city so there was no point in going back.” 

“… And since we knew you were going to be here alone drowning in your own misery, we decided to come play with you with the little thing we bought at the gift shop.” San added, taking out a wooden board and placing it on your coffee table. “Tadda!.”

“A Ouija board?, really?.” You rolled your eyes at the thing. You have played with them in the past, a few times in fact, and nothing interesting ever has come out of it. 

“It’ll be more fun than sitting on your ass all night watching… that.” Wooyoung sat beside San, taking the remote and turning the TV off. 

You scoffed, accepting the glass of wine Wooyoung handed to you. Sitting cross-legged next to San, with Wooyoung in the center of the other side, you sipped half glass, and placed your hands on the planchet as they did. 

“Alexa, dim the lights to minimum.” Wooyoung shouted.

With the ambiance now up to Wooyoung’s Ouija board session standards, He closed his eyes and you and San did the same. The whole thing was silly, but it was better than what you were doing for sure. 

“I’m now speaking to whoever demon or spirit that roams close to us tonight!” Wooyoung shouted so abruptly after a minute of silence that both you and San got startled, popping both your eyes open. “We meant no harm! we only want to communicate with you.” 

San and you were containing the laughter, which Wooyoung noticed giving you both a sharp glare. You catched San looking at his boyfriend so earnestly that you felt your heart ache a little, they really were in love with each other. It made you happy and melancholic at the same time. How much you wished you too had someone. 

 “Please! Manifest to us, give us a sign that you can hear our calling.” Wooyoung continued, the tone of his voice becoming louder with each sentence. 

“Wooyo shut it, the neighbors will complain about…” 

Your words were interrupted by the piece you and your friends were holding slowly moving to the “H” marker. 

“gET oUT!” Wooyoung giggled excitedly. San let go of your hand to put a fist in over his lips, failing to repress a high pitched Oooooh. 

“H? So there is someone here with us,” Wooyoung closed his eyes without dropping a smile. “So tell us your name then, I’m Wooyoung, that’s San, and the sulky one is Y/n,” 

“Shut up!” you replied annoyed, letting go of both their hands, but they quickly grabbed them again, putting them back. Just as you were to keep complaining, you got interrupted again by the marker making your hands move to the “O” letter, then “N” next “G”, until it spelled a complete name- Hongjoong.

“Who the fuck is Hongjoong?.” 

“The demon, woman!” Wooyoung squeaked.

“Ok that’s enough you almost had me,” you let go of them and stand up, taking the glass of wine with you. 

“You are no fun.” San pouted, taking a sip himself. 

“Y/n comeback, you need to say goodbye to the demon or else it will stay here with you!.” Wooyoung whined again. 

“Well I’m kind of lonely, so welcome home, HOngJoOng!” you mocked, raising your glass to the air, finishing it in one shot. Both your friends interchanged worried but amused glares. They then took the marker again, saying their goodbyes to the supposed demon, and set the board aside.

The rest of the night went without any more talk about the Ouija board. You ordered pizza and watched random horror YouTube videos while finishing the booze your friends had brought. 

San and Wooyoung left your apartment around two in the morning. Despite having tried to tease you with the demon thing, you enjoyed having them over tonight and were grateful they decided to show up so you could have some fun on Halloween night. 

“You really spooked her with the demon thing,” San chuckled, while he and his boyfriend waited for their uber downstairs at your apartment building. 

“What do you mean?” Wooyoung asked, yawning widely.

“By moving the board to spell that name, where did you hear that anyway?” 

“That wasn’t you?.” Wooyoung suddenly got very awake. His posture getting painfully straight. 

“No.” 

Both looked straight into nothing, a sudden breeze running through their backs, cold and intrusive. 

“She didn’t say goodbye to it.” Wooyoung mumbled, as the uber arrived in front of them.

That night you went to sleep right after your friends left. Drowsy thanks to the alcohol, you started snorting as soon as your head hit the pillow. That’s how you didn’t notice the lights on the whole apartment flickering all night until you woke up later that morning. 

.

.

.

Over the next couple of weeks, something started to change in your apartment. 

Small stuff at first, like things you swear to have left in certain places, appearing on others. Then, things that disappeared completely. You started thinking the stress of working extra hours was messing with you, so you decided to complete your shifts normally and go to sleep at early hours trying to get more rest, but this didn’t end whatever weird thing was happening. 

On top of that, every time you went out with your friends, you were reminded how single you were and it was starting to be really annoying. Of course you were happy for them, but you would be lying if you didn’t wonder what was about you that was impossible for you to get with someone. Hell, even a one night stand was starting to sound good at this point. 

Sadly, your work was just entering its demanding season, with you having to stay late again and unable to go out as often, so even that wasn’t on the table right now.

Besides, the stuff going on in your apartment continued to worsen. The more you paid attention, the more weird things happened, and it was coming to the point where you couldn’t keep ignoring it. Every day, the presence of someone living with you was more tangible. It was as subtle as feeling a stare over you, while cooking, working or even taking a shower. Creepy shadows behind the curtains or sudden shivers on your spine, as if someone was standing behind you. 

It all started on Halloween night, you knew it had to do something with that stupid Ouija board but you weren’t going to admit it. Doing that was accepting it was real, and then who knew what this thing could do. 

A couple of months living like this, you started to feel more at ease, ignoring all signals, convinced that whoever was living with you, wouldn’t hurt you, or it would have done it already, besides that, the little time you spend in your apartment was sleeping, so what would the spirits or whatever was inside your home do?.

One particular evening, you got this urge to do a deep cleaning of your home, so you spent a big part of the night looking through stuff stacked in your closet. At the top of one shelf, you found a shoe box, with old cards and random objects, one of them being a rubber item with the shape of a teardrop, your forgotten vibrator. Your eyes pop open when you instantly remember having bought the thing last year, pressured by your friend Yeri, who told you “every girl needed one” as if it was a lip tint or favorite perfume. 

You took the vibrator to the bathroom, and cleaned it neatly with some body wash. After drying it completely, you took the charger and connected it, pressing your lips together when the white light showed on, telling you it worked. 

You didn’t remember why you stopped using it, or when was the last time you did, but right now you were happy to have found it. 

After finishing with the usual night routine, you were ready for bed. Throwing an old shirt over your head you were about to put on your worn out pajamas, when your eyes landed on the toy laying on your nightstand. 

“Well fuck it.” you said to yourself, throwing the pajamas away and taking in your hands. You lay onto the bed, pressing the + button to which the thing began to vibrate with slow repetitions. You pressed the same button again and it started vibrating continuously, now faster. Quickly you removed your underwear, closing your eyes, pressing the vibrator on the spot between your legs. It was cold and the vibrations made you gasp a little, sending a twirl of sensations right after it touched your skin. 

Slowly you began pressing it harder, building up the sensation, making your legs relax, opening more and more to give access to your entrance, until it was placed right on the spot where it could begin sinking inside you. 

Lost in the pleasure, you began moving the thing automatically in circles, up and down until it was half way inside you, making your legs shake and the knot in your stomach build up quickly. Either the toy was surprisingly efficient, or it had been so long since you experienced an orgasm that in mere minutes you were too worked up and ready to let go. 

Moaning softly, the same time you were riding your release, you clearly felt the sensation of something making pressure on the bed at your feet, as if someone was sitting on it. You got startled at how clearly it felt, all while your orgasm continued to hit you until the sensation started to wash away. You opened your eyes, noticing the lights in the room quickly flickering, stopping immediately as your vision cleared. 

Ignoring the lights issue for your well being, you placed the vibrator on top of your nightstand, too worn out over your first orgasm in weeks. Having no energy left you barely threw a blanket over you, completely relaxed. 

The next morning you woke up refreshed, a sensation that didn’t last long as soon as you looked at the clock. 

“Oh fuck!.” 

It was way past nine, and you were already late for work. You rubbed your eyes to get rid of the motion to close them again, noticing your blanket wasn’t over you. You were half naked and uncovered, and it made you shiver. The wind from outside makes your curtains move, letting you know your window was open when you were sure you left it closed, same as you knew you were wearing underwear before falling asleep. 

Whatever the case, you didn’t have the time to contemplate that right now. You clumsily got up and ran to the bathroom, got into the shower, throwing whatever clothes you saw first and leaving for work before your boss decided to send you back and take out a considerable amount from your weekly paycheck.

After that the day continued to be awful. Your boss had waited for you to scold you for coming in late, the clients you saw that afternoon were a pain in the ass and you had to skip lunch in order to finish something someone else didn’t do on time. 

Besides, there was something on the back of your mind. You remembered the sensation of someone sitting at the foot of your bed, the lights acting weird, the missing underwear, the window… It was starting to feel kind of dangerous. But even by having all those things on your head, plus the work stuff, the only thing that could possibly help you relax was to go home to your toy, as desperate  as it sounded.

That evening, you felt something was particularly off the moment you stepped foot into the apartment. The presence in your home felt heavy and oppressive. It felt as if whatever it was, was right there waiting for you, you just couldn’t see it. It wanted attention, and you weren’t going to give in.

Acknowledging it was accepting it was real. And you weren’t ready for that. 

A few weeks into the paranormal stuff going on in your apartment, you could almost say it was becoming the new normal. The thing in your house wanted your attention, but so far it hasn’t done anything to directly hurt you. It was as if it was presenting you an endurance test, and you were decided to  win. 

A particular thing you noticed was that on the nights you decided to play with yourself, it seemed to trigger this thing even more.

The windows slammed louder and repeatedly, the tv turned on and off nonstop, your bedroom stuff fell off their places. All while you could clearly feel someone hovering over you, breathing beside you. At one point you even felt fingers caressing your skin as you did, and you swore you must check yourself into a mental facility but the sensation of being watched gave you a push, something new you didn’t know you enjoyed so much. 

It was crazy, but it felt so good. 

This is how it went for another month, until one night a few days before new years eve. 

.

.

.

It was a Friday when you and your friends met up at a new club close downtown. 

San and Wooyoung picked you up, and together you entered the club waiting to meet with another couple of friends from their dance group. Yeri and her girlfriend were already inside, waiting for you.

The night was going on great, you spent the time since arriving dancing with San and Yeri, drinking and having a good time, so good that you even forgot about the crazy stuff happening at your house. One moment as you asked for a martini at the counter, Wooyoung reached out to you with a devilish smirk on his lips, and you knew it was trouble. 

“I can tell you are scheming something.” you said glaring at him, waiting for your drink. 

“I have someone who wants to meet you.” He said with a teasing tone. 

“Who?.” 

“My friend Mingi, he’s been wanting to talk to you but you just haven’t stopped dancing with Yeri since he got here.” 

“Mingi?, isn’t that the dude that fainted at the haunted house?.” 

Wooyoung arched his eyebrows, his smirk so big that you felt like slapping him out of his face.

“Wooyo, he sounds like a wi…” You swallowed your words as a shadow approached you both, showing a guy half chest and head taller than Wooyoung, coming out from behind him. 

To say he was handsome was an understatement, cause was gorgeous. Sharp eyes and nose, beautiful plump lips. His hair was styled up, dark with shades of blue on the sides, shining from the lights on the ceiling. 

“Hello,” He spoke with the deepest voice that you’ve heard, so clear despite the loud noise of the music and people around you. 

“Y/n, this is Mingi,” Wooyoung said with an irritating tone, “You were saying he sounds like a whi-” 

“Nice to meet you,” you waved at him, pushing Wooyoung back softly. He let out his particular loud witchy laugh but took the hint and walked out back to the rest of your friends.

Mingi nodded, smiling as he looked at you straight into the eyes. 

This Mingi you were talking to didn’t seem like the type to faint in haunted houses. 

As you two chatted, he was confident, cool and very interesting. You spoke and danced with him for a good amount of time, admiring how much of a natural he was. You were so at ease that you completely ignored your friends, knowing they were happy to see you getting along with someone. 

“We will be opening a show later this month,” Mingi spoke softly, practically whispering in your ear, as you danced with him so close you could feel the friction of his muscles over your chest, his hand resting firmly on your waist. “Would you like to come up backstage and cheer us on?, And maybe go out with me after?.” 

You smiled like a dumb high school girl nodding your head yes, but you didn’t care. Mingi smiled too, hiding his flustered cheeks looking up at the ceiling.

 God not only he was hot but so freaking cute.

When the song was about to end you asked Mingi to take a break to get more drinks. Mingi ordered a beer and a cocktail for you. Drinks in hand, you bit your lip, watching him lick his, savoring the rest of the beer on them. You knew what you were about to ask was maybe too rushed, but fuck he looked incredible hot and you were already tipsy from the alcohol. Inviting him over to your apartment was too tempting to let it go. And by the way he was eyeing you from head to toe all night, you knew he also wanted it. 

Just as you were about to say the words, Mingi shuts you up by pressing his lips into yours, softly at first, the kiss slowly becoming more hungry. 

Your hands went to his chest, roaming through his muscles until you reached the back of his head. Mingi let go a soft spoken growl, that with his deep tone sounded even more hot. You stood up from the stool, placing yourself between his legs and continued kissing him, his lips were so soft that you wanted that kiss to last forever until there was no more left of them. 

You bit his bottom lip and you could feel his bulge hardening by having him so close. It was now or never.

“Want to get out of here?.” 

Mingi smiled against your mouth, taking your lips just as you did before and grabbing you by the waist so he could stand up, leading you by the hand between the people dancing and shouting on the dance floor. 

Before leaving you sent a text to Yeri, to inform your friends you were leaving with Mingi, to which she responded with a smirk, eggplant and teardrop emojis, making  you laugh out loud. 

Mingi asked for your address and called an Uber, you two kissing softly outside the club the entire time until the car arrived. 

The ride home was too long in your opinion, not wanting to waste more time. Your mind wonders the things Mingi would do to you, having seen how good he moved on the dance floor, you could only imagine how he would move in your bed.

Just as you arrived at the front door, Mingi hugged you from behind, his large hands roaming through your hips and ass, pressing gently but firmly. You giggled and wished he wasn’t so playful right now because it was taking too long for you to get the right key. 

When you finally entered your apartment, he slightly pushed you against the wall, making you feel his length on your stomach, while his tongue explored all of your mouth. 

“You look too good.” He breathed on your neck and you could feel the warmth in your lower abdomen, the space between your legs aching for some touch. Mingi seemed to read your mind by the way one of his hands went to touch your sensitive spot, fingers toying with the fabric of your underwear, teasing your entrance.“Want me to keep talking?.”

You were already so wet for him and you smiled proudly seeing how his eyes dropped lazily, anticipation shining on them. He kissed you one more time, sliding his fingers beneath your cloth, when suddenly you felt it…

The presence, it was there. 

The vibe in the apartment shuffled instantly. Mingi didn’t seem to notice but you did, and you gasped out loud when something grabbed Mingi’s hand between your legs away, making him break the kiss, and look at you in confusion.

“Are you ok? You want to stop?.” 

You wanted to say no, that you didn’t throw his hand away, but you didn’t have the time to.

The sudden stomp of your front door slamming open by itself made Mingi jump pack, and you pressed yourself against the wall. Then your kitchen cabinets opened and closed repeatedly, the contents inside of them popping out falling into the floors making a mess. 

“What the fuck?!” Mingi screamed, pressing himself against the wall too. The look on his face was of someone so terrified that he will probably have a hard time adjusting to normal life again. 

“Mingi…” you tried to calm him down but it was no use.

He fainted halfway at the Haunted House. You remembered. You suddenly got scared what would happen if he died right here in your apartment. 

Your windows then open at unison, making your curtains fly high into the ceiling, the cold air from outside making your magazines and lightweight items fly around as if a little tornado had born inside your home.

“Nah fuck this…” Mingi said to you barely audible, hands over his chest. You tried to get close to him but he walked back, scared of you. “Fuck this!!.” He repeated, his glare changed into that one of a scared puppy. Then he sprinted through the already opened door, which slammed shut behind him.

The flying objects, slamming doors and cabinets and all the shit happening around you stopped as soon as Mingi walked away. You stood still for a few seconds, gathering your thoughts and trying to collect yourself, but you realized you have gone past beyond that.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!?.”

You shouted at the air, the anger built up from months ready to explode from your body. 

“I know you are listening! what the fuck was that?!”

You waited for a response, a cracking door, a flickering light, but nothing. 

“So now you don’t want to do anything huh?!,” you walked in circles in your living room, trying to provoke whatever this thing was. You knew it was there, invisible as always, watching you, mocking you. “So now what?, you screw my fuck over? And then you go silent?!”

Still nothing. 

“I’ve had enough, Fuck you!” you whined, the anger now becoming frustration. “And who’s going to clean this mess up, motherfucker?” you were crying shamelessly,  kicking the first thing your foot could reach, hurting your foot a little in the motion. A brown wooden box slid off, landing in front of your coffee table. “This is ?...”

Walking over to it, you crouched and opened the Ouija board your friends had left in your apartment since that Halloween night. You walked towards it as if it was going to explode at any second, bending over to reach it, carefully placing both hands on the marker. As soon as your fingers touched the piece, it violently began moving - first to the letter “H”, then the “O”,  next an “N”… until you said what it spelled. “Hongjoong.” 

Just as you finished saying his name you felt a violent gust of cold air behind you, and a soft spoken voice dragging his words,  whispering right over your ear. 

“Fucking finally.” 

You have thought countless times what would you do if you had whatever that was hunting you in the flesh, so to speak. You had imagined yourself screaming, running away _ the poor Mingi, you didn’t blame him for doing so. But right now, what you had in front of you wasn’t anything you would have expected.

The figure of a man crouching beside you, his face was what you saw first.  You froze, admiring his features, and god he was magnificent. 

Pointy nose, seemingly carved to perfection. Large almond eyes, shaped like that of a red fox, that were now eyeing your own face, almost earnestly. Pouty lips, pink in shade and soft looking. Ashy blonde hair falling into most of his forehead. His face alone was stunning and he seemed to notice your staring. 

“I could look at you all night too, but I have better plans, my dear Y/n.”

He helped you stand up,  grabbing your chin between his long fingers as he did. His outfit was weird, and it seemed heavy but it accentuated his slim but toned figure. 

“You were the thing making all these weird things all this time?.” You asked, your tone way calmer and softer than the shouting and cursing you were doing moments before. 

He chuckled dryly, leaving your face and walking away, watching the mess in your living room visibly amused. “Do I look like a thing?,” he said, picking up the Ouija board from the floor, chuckling and throwing it over the couch. 

“No- I mean…” 

“I had to mess up your stuff, and even that way it took so long to say my name for the third time,” He walked over to you again, and you instinctively walked back. “I’ve thrown this thing many times at you and you always ignored it.”  He eyed the Ouija board again. “Hope you have learned not to bring anyone over ever again, sorry your friend shit his pants.” Hongjoong chuckled with malice, but you were unable to move or say something back. “You do it next time and I won’t be so gentle.” 

“Gentle? You destroyed my apartment.” You replied bitterly, to which Hongjoong glared at you. You took a step back and he smiled again. 

“Gentle meaning I won’t kill whoever you bring out next time.” He teased, and you felt a shiver down your spine. “Relax, I would have hurt you if I wanted  to already.”

That was true.

“What do you want then?.”

Hongjoong smirked, finally the conversation was heading his way. 

“You know what I want,” he came closer to you, his hand grabbing the hem of your dress, playing with it. “You know I like to watch you…” Immediately your mind went back to the nights when you pleased yourself, now having clear that it was him every time, leaning beside you, guiding you with his presence. 

The thought made you feel incredibly aroused, you shook your head in denial. It was insane. Whoever he was, he didn’t belong to this world, yet he was right here in front of you. He looked and felt so real, and it was overwhelming. 

Hongjoong got even closer, cupping your head with his fingers, black chrome shades painted on them. His touch was burning, it felt dark and forbidden, as if you needed to get out of his presence as soon as possible, or you would be sucked into something you wouldn’t be able to go back from. 

“What’s wrong, love?,” He leaned to brush his lips into yours holding you by your waist with his free hand. “Don’t you want to play with me? We have waited for so long.”

Your eye level was almost the same as him, which let you look at him in the eyes as he brushed and softly licked your bottom lip with his tongue. Your lower abdomen was on fire, and by the way he made pressure with his fingers on your skin, you knew he could feel how worked up you were. 

This felt wrong, off limits. But his aura was overpowering, and you needed this, he was right about that, you have waited maybe too fucking long.

“What happens after?,” you mumbled, closing your eyes as Hongjoong pressed gentle pecks on your neck, now both his hands sliding under your dress, making pressure between your thighs. 

“After what?,” He continued kissing your neck and making his way between your legs, with force he lifted your leg up, so he could easily caress your entrance. You were damped already, Hongjoong scoffed at the feeling of your ruined underwear. 

“After we-.”

“Why so prude?” He faced you again, brushing your pussy with his long fingers, so much bigger than your little damped spot. “After we fuck all night until you never think of someone else but me, ever again?.” He then slid his finger under the cloth and pushed his finger inside you, making you moan softly. Hongjoong didn’t wait for a response, instead pushed another two fingers inside, lifting you up first until you were sitting on your now empty desk. He curled his fingers, causing you to clench around them, which made him groan. His voice was so gentle and soft, and yet you could sense he might have sounded like it, but he wasn’t going to be. 

Your whimpers and moans had him biting his lip, chasing your release knowing you wouldn’t resist much longer like this. Your arms were hung over his shoulders, eyes shut, your legs numb, lost in the sensation of his fingers playing with the softness of your clit. 

“Oh, please…” you whined, pushing yourself deeper into his fingers, making Hongjoong groan in desperation. 

“Fucking tease.” He growled, looking down exactly where his hand was connected with your entrance. “If this is how you feel around my fingers, I can’t wait to be inside you.” 

His words made electricity run through your whole body. Is this some kind of magic, hex or something unnatural? How he has you like this by his fingers only. Whatever the case it was too much when he crocked his fingers hitting your sweet spot, making you jolt and moan with your face buried on his neck. 

Hongjoong could feel your release dampening his fingers, and somehow knowing what you liked, he caressed the outside of your entrance so gently that the tingling sensation made your legs give up and you collapsed over him. 

He carried you wrapping your legs around him, you tightly hugging him, too worn out to move. 

“And that’s one.” 

The short trip to your bed was enough for you to recover your breath, shaking as you hear what he said. 

Hongjoong placed you at the center of the bed, letting you rest a little more, as he took out his flashy jacket, and began unbuttoning his black silk blouse. He stopped at the third button, showing you just a glimpse of his chest, soft and firm skin teasing you. He then unzipped his belt, giving you a show, how fucking delightful. You just came, but the knot on your lower stomach was building up again. 

“I’ve seen that expression so many times,” His tone lowered this time, almost in a whisper. “Can’t believe I had to go through the pain of watching you do that to yourself, when I could have been fucking you every night just like I would do now.” 

You were ashamed of how much his words affected you, your entrance dripping wet by the way he looked at you, how his words enveloped you. “Please…” you find yourself about to beg him to touch you, you desperately want him to be deep inside you, like you never wanted anyone before. 

“Shhh.” Hongjoong lowered himself on the bed, placing himself between your legs, opening them slowly as he kissed your knees and legs with soft brushes of his lips. “For now I only want to hear your moans and whimpers, I want to hear the sound of my name while you scream it.” 

You pressed your lips together, letting out a soft Hum that made Hongjoong chuckle. 

“You better say it countless times, you have to make up for me, for all these months you refused to say it.” He then grabbed your underwear and ripped it off, throwing it to the side. He took a good look at you from behind your legs, sliding your dress up until you were exposed from your abdomen down. 

You saw his eyes, glowing with a crimson tone in the darkness of the room and his black eye shadow. They shone brightly the more he stared at you until they disappeared as Hongjoong buried his face between your legs. 

Hongjoong had wished for this moment for so long. Watching you had been both a torment and a blessing all these months. 

It’s been so long since he had been summoned in the flesh, and the first time someone made him feel the need to really feel someone else’s skin, a vulnerable and delicate skin.  You as a mortal were invaluable to him, because you wouldn’t just disappear and be a stranger to him as all of the demons, ghouls and entities he was accustomed to surrendered himself with, all of which had no substance or meaning, but again what did on his seemingly endless and pointless life anyway?. At least here he could watch over you, protect you.

He had realized how much of a domestic life he wanted. His past human self is still attached to this world, now finding comfort in you, his precious master. 

But of course he wasn’t going to tell you that just yet, first he had to make you feel good, knowing perfectly how much you needed it. 

You softly gasped when his lips brushed your entrance, he took his sweet time flickering over your pussy lips, savoring them. He licked your dripping slit with one long strip, making you clench and arch your back at the sensation. 

Still sensitive from your previous high, you couldn’t hold back, unwinding slowly letting go of any inhibitions. Hongjoong smirked with his head buried in between your legs, proud of how you were losing control. 

He was licking at a faster pace, up and down and then wiggling his tongue making you whimper loudly. Impulsively your hands went to his hair, making a mess out of it. You pushed your hips against his mouth, urging him to keep going, and he groaned against your pussy sending vibrations to your whole body. Hongjoong could feel his hardened length throbbing at how good you were taking his tongue. He needs to be inside you or he will come just by looking at you getting high on his mouth only. 

“Hongjoong, please…” You threw your head back, your hips moving letting him burying his tongue deeper inside you, where he had no problem reaching your sensitive spot. 

“Come for me again,” He whispered, going back to suck in your pussy right after. 

Your whines and moans had gotten him so hard, his dick leaking already, desperate to be out of the restraint of his pants.  Without letting your pussy alone, he skilfully removed his belt, dragging his pants down a little so his length could break free. 

“Love, I want to taste it.” 

He licked you from top to bottom before sucking in your little nest of nerves once more, to which you couldn’t resist longer. The explosion in your lower abdomen crushed you over. It was a hundred times more intense than the previous one, and you felt an unfamiliar sensation you never experienced before. Shocked, you saw your juices leak from you with a little splash, Hongjoong expertly making filthy noises as he sucked in the sweet release until there was none of it.

“Oh God… I-” you excused yourself, kind of embarrassed of what just happened. 

Hongjoong licked his lips, and your pussy throbbed from the sight of him smiling devilish as he brushed his thumb over his lower lip.

“Bet your damned toy couldn’t do that huh?.” 

He stood up finally removing his blouse, letting you admire his slim but toned figure. Then he pushed the rest of his pants down, his length in full display so hard and erect that it wobbled, and you could feel your pussy dripping once more. You couldn’t believe you weren’t drained out already. 

“Take the dress off.” 

You obeyed, sitting on the bed and unzipping the back of your dress, throwing it over your shoulders until it was completely off. Hongjoong let out a moan at the sight of your breast bouncing as you took the dress off, a sight he wouldn’t be tired of anytime soon. He then took his length on his hand, stroking it gently the same time he eyed your breast attentively. You adjusted yourself on the bed purposely making them bounce, to which Hongjoong let out a giggle full of devilish intent. 

“Such a tease.” 

You took a deep breath, watching him hovering over you until his face was in front of yours. He kissed you gently and slowly, both of you unable to keep your eyes open. He pressed himself beneath you until you were laying down in the bed again, making you feel his hardened length over your stomach. Your hands trailed the firmness of his chest, the warmth of his skin feeling so good against your palms. You then caressed his back, kissing him deeply as you never kissed anyone else before. 

As you were lost in the pleasure of the kiss, Hongjoong took the chance to spread your legs apart with his knee, shifting from his position so he could align himself with your entrance. 

He breaks the kiss apart, taking in a deep breath. You both opened your eyes as he slowly pushed himself inside you, so slowly it was almost as if he was punishing you. When he was finally inside you, he stood still looking at your face, your eyes dropping lazily unable to keep them open. 

Him stretching you out was the most exquisite sensation you have experienced probably ever, it felt so intimate and personal, as if your body had been waiting for him to fill you up like this. 

When he was sure you had adjusted to him, he began moving, slowly at first, trying not to hurt you, but soon his pace intensified and he was going in and out with force. 

Your vision was blurry, head spinning as Hongjoong slammed inside you repeatedly, leaving hickies in your neck, kissing your breasts and caressing the back of your thighs as he fucked you desperately.

Looking for something to hold onto you grabbed the bed sheets with your fist tightly, Hongjoong burying himself deeper and deeper inside you with rhythmic movements. You were becoming louder by the second and it was making him crazy. He harshly took your hand from your mouth when you tried to repress your moaning. 

“Don’t, I need to hear you.”

His choice of words really resonated with you. He wasn’t just fucking you just because he could, he was fucking you so good cause he wanted to, he needed to. Even if his presence was dominating, you could feel he wanted to do this, maybe since the first night he was summoned. 

He leaned again to kiss you on the mouth, stroking his tongue against your lips as his dick slammed into you with the same motion. You took him in your lips, licking and sucking on his mouth as well, everything building up the sweet sensation right there where your bodies were connected. 

Hongjoong continued fucking you so hard that you had trouble keeping up with the kiss. The sound of your bodies slamming against each other was obscene and so beautiful to hear, it invaded the entire house, allowing no other sound to come in. Each of his strokes sends electric waves through both your bodies. Your breast pressed against his chest, which now Hongjoong caressed with his palm, in circle motions over your hardened nip. 

“Fuck, Hongjoong,” you moaned, arching your hips for him to bury himself deeper. “Faster” you begged, looking at him with hungry eyes. Hongjoong smirked at your requests, happy to oblige. 

He pushed himself in, adjusting the angle by grabbing one of your legs and throwing it over his shoulder. You whined, cursing under your breath with your head thrown back. The movements plus Hongjoong breathy moans driving you insane. 

“Yeah, right there.” you threw your other leg over his shoulder, making Hongjoong groan loudly. “Deeper Hongjoong, fuck me deeper.” Hongjoong knew he would be done if you continued to be so vocal about what he was doing to you, but he couldn’t stop. Every word and sound coming out you was delicious, making him realize he could be fucking you so good like this every night for the rest of your life together. 

You whined when he pulled out almost entirely, but when he slammed himself all in one motion again, you couldn’t resist any longer. 

“I’m so close…”

“I know.” He responded, pulling out again, and pressing all his length softly, stroking your clit with his hand at the same time he pushed in and out. “I want you to make a mess again, would you?.”

You let out a few breathy Yes, rolling your hips close to him, like wanting his dick to reach even deeper, until you could feel it almost touched your heart. Your hand reached his back, when he bent over too close to your face, firmly holding your legs still hanging to the sides of his shoulders. He looked down again at how he slipped inside and out of you and he let out a guttural sound, biting his lip almost hurting himself. 

You took his head and made him look at you, letting him know you were about to come. He moaned when he felt your walls tightening around him, and a warmth drizzling sensation covered him up. You closed your eyes and let go of him, moaning loudly riding your release. 

Hongjoong continued to thrust inside you,  massaging your clit in circles wanting you to come again, the over stimulation so much that you cried out  his name, grabbing the sheets again looking for something to hold onto. Hongjoong couldn’t hold any longer and spilled all inside you, still pushing inside wanting you to come once more. When he pulled out, looking at his dripping cum spill out of you, at the same time he watched you squirt again, it was a view he would never get tired of, and will probably have on repeat in his mind on the times he can’t have you like this. 

 When you finally took a deep breath, waves of pleasure still tingled inside you.  You opened your eyes, finding Hongjoong looking at you, one hand stroking your jaw gently.  

The windows opened again, this time without any loud bang, letting in a cold breeze than in any other circumstance would have been too cold for you, but right now it felt so good how the air cooled your burning bodies. The light from the night sky illuminates the afterglow of what just happened. 

“Right. I almost forgot you are a… demon?.” you smiled. Hongjoong chuckled, still admiring your face, caressing your waist with his fingers. 

“It’s funny. I can make a mess out of things, but I don’t have the power to clean the mess out.” You arch your eyebrows. It was very convenient and didn’t make any sense, but the thought of cleaning was the least thing you cared about right now anyways.

After a moment of silence, as you rest against each other you finally ask. “What happens after?.”

Hongjoong was taken aback from your sudden question. Now that it had already happened, he had to give you a real answer. He got tense for a second, but his face softened immediately after. 

“I’m yours to take.” He whispered over your lips, brushing his bottom lip against yours. 

“Mine?.” 

“Yours.” You caressed his face, his body comfortably on top of you, skin still burned against yours, but you felt no discomfort. You then kissed him, softly but deeply. 

Hongjoong felt a spiraling sensation over his chest, a feeling he thought he had lost so long ago. With his energy building up inside him, it started causing the lights to go out, so intense that it reached not only your apartment but the whole building. The fainted sound of cars and the city at night echoed through the room.

Still kissing, your naked bodies glowing against the night light coming from the opened windows was the only thing that could be seen against the total darkness.

@mingsolo do not repost/translate to other sites

[poppy-metal]

hnngnngnggggnnn Patrick being a spoiled little rich boy <3

need to be his sugar baby :( getting to lounge around his mansion and use his black card at any shops you want as long as your mouth or pussy or ass are available to him whenever he wants :((

his little free use girlfriend who he parades around at important events in skimpy dresses that make people stare at you in shock, all so he has easier access to lift up your skirt or tug down the top and reveal your tits if the whim arises :((((

#needthat

need to be rich!patrick zweigs bratty sugar baby. need to be his little mistress because he never separated from his family and grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth and became pro at tennis and became like all the other boring fucking older men at his fathers country club he swore he'd never be. need him to hate his life and how easy everything was to obtain and how his marriage is loveless and she doesn't even put out and his kids are rich little brats he can't connect with because they're little ipad kids, absolute demons, they wont go outside with him they dont wanna learn to play tennis or any sport or run around and make stick and dirt soup like he did when he was a kid and life is so fucking boring everything is in grays - until he meets you.

at a bar one night. its not the first time hes cheated on his wife - but it might be the first time he's fallen in love. he sees you and wants to fuck you immediately. already decides he'll have your panties around one ankle while he shoves a tongue up your cunt in the bathroom stall - he buys you a drink and you let him. you're sweet and flirty and you draw him in like a bee to a pretty flower - he's subconsciously leaning in, eyes can't stop dropping to your lips.

things take a turn though when you get up to leave and he blinks because he didn't mean to get swept up in the conversation - chases after you to try again - to take you back to a hotel or even in the back of his car - but you tell him no.

he just looks at you. confused. hard. "no." he repeats. rolls it around in his head. foreign. hasn't heard it much before. it sounds sweet coming from your lips.

"you're not fucking me." you tell him simply.

that shouldn't turn him on but it does. he's not stupid. you were attracted to him. he'd seen the way you looked at him - bitten your lip. he knows he's not projecting, because even now you're smiling as you say it.

he rubs a thumb over his bottom lip as he checks you over. strappy heels, but cheap. tight little bodysuit, but not designer. flashy purse but he knows the diamonds on it are fake.

ah.

"you in college?"

you smooth a hand down your hair. "sophomore year."

he nods, leans against the brick building of the bar. fishes in his coat pocket for his packet of cigarettes. "what're you studying?" he flips the box open, slides a cig out - brings it to his lips.

you eye him curiously as he roots for his lighter next - trying and failing to ignore the heat in your belly at how good this man looks leaning against something with a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"we already did the small talk, dude. you're not getting any."

he ignores that. lights his cigarette and inhales. he likes that you're obviously irritated but you dont move away. he blows smoke through his nose. says again, "what're you studying."

you huff. roll your eyes. he watches you calmly, taking drags his cig. in the cool night air you can't tell the exact shade of his eyes, but you think they're green. everything about him screams money and dominance.

you cross your arms. "law." short but simple.

he nods like that makes sense, flicks ash.

"that's good." he says it in a way that sounds like he means it but also could be condescending and you dont know why that makes you swallow deeply. "expensive, though."

you narrow your eyes.

"you think im poor?"

usually someone would fumble after being called out like that but patrick just smiles in a way that says he knows you are -

"i know you're not rich."

you bristle. that hurts. you don't know why. who wants to look rich, anyway. fucking snobs. but still, its embarrassing to be told the distinction in class is obvious to someone else who's far far above you. you can already tell the watch hes wearing costs more than the apartment you can barely afford.

"thanks for the unasked for observation, dickhead." you yank your purse strap higher on your shoulder, make to turn away. "I'd say its been pleasant but well, it hasn't. so."

you make it a couple steps before he calls out -

"I'll pay it."

you're alot of things. you're haughty and stubborn and yeah, not rich. you're also down on your luck and struggling and drowning in so many things in the moment - barely being able to afford your own fucking beer at this point when what you wanted to accomplish in life would take thousands, thousands of dollars. so hearing the word 'pay'. well, yeah. it makes you turn around to face the guy.

"you'll what?"

he knows you heard. it was cute how you perked right up.

"I'll pay it." he gestures towards you. "all of it - your semester. your tuition. textbooks. whatever else you need."

you gawk at him.

the thing is. he's attractive. alarmingly so. disarmingly really. he's tall and broad and he dresses well. he has that perfectly styled hair and deep rich man scent that makes your mouth water. a beautiful face with a rouge kind of touch. you'd have fucked a man like him under any normal circumstance, but given the way your life is going at the moment - you haven't the time to waste on pretty men with big dicks.

probably. he probably has a big dick.

"you're fucking kidding me."

"nah." he licks his bottom lip. takes another drag. flicks more ash to the pavement. he looks at you like he's already imagining you naked in front of him. "I'm good for it."

"well duh." you look him up and down. "you look like you just stepped out of a magazine for mens wealth or whatever. why the fuck are you offering? you expect me to suck your dick for it or something?"

you say the last part sarcastically, rolling your eyes - but patrick just looks at you seriously. sucks the humor right from your bones when he says - "yeah, i do."

two things happen in your body.

firstly, you stiffen. the urge to slap him for being so derogatory making your fingers twitch at your sides. your face burns.

secondly and most apparently, your cunt throbs. your nipples tighten. you inhale sharply in a way patrick notices. smirks at.

you blink at him several times.

"i can't believe you just seriously said that to me." you say it kind of breathlessly. you really can't believe it though.

"should i be more clear?" he takes one step towards you. "i want to fuck you - you want to fuck me, but you won't do it for free. I'm offering to pay you for it."

"i - im not a whore."

the grin patrick gives you makes a tremble shoot through your whole body. you feel it in your toes.

"you sure about that?"

you really should slap him.

you dont.

you fumble, "you're married." you'd spotted the ring at the bar earlier. it hadn't been the reason you turned him down initially, but still.

"you dont care about that."

fuck.

"you cant just...... buy whatever you want. im a person."

he nods. he's done with his cigarette so be crushes it beneath his boot. "give me your hand." he just takes it anyway. you watch dumbly as he gets a pen from his pocket - how many things did he have in his fucking pocket? - bites the cap off, and brings the tip to your palm. "this is the number for my personal phone."

of course he had multiple phones. he doesn't let go of your hand when he's done writing. rubs his thumb into the pulse point at your wrist.

"when you change your mind -" when not if. "- i want you to call me."

you go to pull your hand away, but patrick squeezes it.

"one more thing."

he's close enough the spicy mint scent of him fills your nose. he dips his head so he's closer to your ear, you feel the stubble on his chin graze your cheek -

"when you let me fuck you - you will be a cheap whore. you'll let me do what I want to you. and i know its not because of the money. but i understand what its like to need something to let yourself have something else." he turns his head. kisses your cheek. "don't take too long to call, though. I'm not a patient man."

[homiesexuallaj]

"Finally"

Pairing: Eric Draven x reader

Genre/Warnings: a slow burn (im so sorry), friend to lovers, fluff, you're Sarah's babysitter, you finding out Eric lore, stray cat! Eric, robbery, a man tried to rob you, knife to the throat, cuts, blood, nurse! Eric, slight angst, murder, subtle flirting, confessing, slightly proofread

A/N: Requested by @lovergrrllllll !! And my request for Eric are still open so if you have an idea then feel free to drop it into my askbox!!

———

You’d been friends with Eric for a few years now. You both had tiptoed into the friendship, unsure of each other due to you being new to the city and not knowing anyone and Eric having trust issues. You two had initially met because you were Sarah’s new babysitter.

Due to Eric being previously dead, Sarah’s mom had lost her babysitter and needed a new one. With a few unwilling or unsuccessful people, you eventually found your way into their lives and took care of Sarah whenever her mom was working, which was whatever time her boss thought she needed to work.

Sarah always dragged you around town, bringing you to arcades or skateparks, music stores or libraries. It was the way you learned your way around the city and met new people, like Eric Draven.

Eric Draven was standoffish at first, so much so you couldn’t really figure out if he liked you. He liked to watch you and Sarah from afar, not really preferring to interact with Sarah’s new friend. But once he figured out that you meant no harm and actually cared for the girl, Eric started warming up.

It was almost like befriending a street cat. Don’t make any sudden movements and let the cat approach you on its own time, even if that means having a slightly awkward six foot sitting distance between you two. But oh well, as long as you two were getting along.

Most of time, you three hung out at at Sarah’s apartment, playing a bit of house with each other. Eric was with you and Sarah more often than not, which you never minded. You usually cooked for the three of you (and made enough for leftovers for a few days), but one day when Eric had beat you to Sarah’s house you found out Eric was quite a good cook and that’s when you two agreed to take turns.

A lot of your guys’ chores/babysitting duties started out that way, when either you or Eric found your certain niche, one of y’all either took over that task or took turns.

It was a domestic friendship between you and Eric, often acting as makeshift parents for Sarah.

Before long, you opened up your apartment as another hang out spot, especially when Sarah’s mom had some company over.

It was easy for Sarah to make herself at home and you often found her lounging on your couch and watching tv. Eric often squeezed himself into the corner and against the arm of your couch, he never looked comfortable. It definitely didn’t help when Sarah took up at least one and a half cushions on her own, which left you smushed between the child and poor, tense Eric.

Soon enough, you apartment became a second home for Sarah. She often came over after school and slept over when her mom was working a late shift. And you were happy to have the child in your apartment, it made it more lively and less quiet. Often, when you cleaned your apartment, you found things of Sarah’s scattered around. You could only shake your head.

It got to the point where you even cleared out a drawer on in your dresser for Sarah so she had a change of clothes or some pajamas. You even had a few personal blankets and pillows for Sarah on your couch and bed. Sarah often slept in your bed with you during sleepovers, which you never minded and was just happy with the company.

Slowly, Eric got comfortable in your apartment. Finally, he chose leave his shoes by the front door and hang up his jacket either over the arm of a couch or on the back of one of your dining room chairs. You were glad that the man finally made himself comfortable at your apartment, even enough to sit on your couch like a normal person and turn whatever he wanted to watch on your tv.

Eric often came over with or after Sarah showed up, taking care of a few Sarah duties if you were busy doing something else. Sometimes he even cooked you three dinner or brought by some takeout. But Eric never stayed too late and you thought he didn’t want to overstay his welcome. Which you appreciated but, in your opinion, you didn't think Eric was capable of overstaying. But you wanted Eric to be comfortable, letting him do as he pleased.

Throughout the years, Eric and you became closer. You two hung out more, either with Sarah or one-on-one. You learned about each others’s past (mostly), your hobbies, where you worked, and each other’s quirks. You also learned that Eric lived with this precinct’s police sergeant, and even met him a few times in passing. And as you two got closer, you noticed that a crow was often perched outside your windows or on the gutter of the building you worked at. You had no idea what that was about but enjoyed the company as you walked home and even bought the bird a bird feeder so it was fed.

Eventually, you learned the truth about Eric’s past. As everything had come to light, it had made dots click to together in your brain and made you realize how much Eric and Sarah beat around the bush when talking about the man’s past.

There was a night where you had to close for work and it was plenty past sunset. The orange street lights had lit the sidewalks up enough for you to find your way home, but not enough for the shadows to disappear. You weren’t too nervous about the circumstance, having done this a few times now.

But you found yourself backed against a corner when a man had leapt from one of the darker shadows. He tried to reach around to grab your wallet and keys, but you struggled and fought even as you were pushed the ground. You had only stilled when the strange man was above you, holding a sharp pocket knife to your jugular.

“This could’ve been easy,” The man hissed. “Just a few bucks and you would’ve gotten away with no harm done.”

He’d pressed the knife against your throat more and you felt the sting of your skin being pierced. You grabbed at his wrist, urging the man to stop his motions. You whimpered, not believing this is how you were going to go out.

Suddenly, the man was hoisted from you, but not without the tip of the pocket knife nicking just beside your jugular. You scrambled away, holding your hand up to your leaking wounds, thankfully it was just a trickle.

A second man had appeared, and if it weren’t for the streetlight he was standing under, you would’ve thought that the first man was being held up by a shadow by the back of his shirt.

The second man wore all black, but most of his figure was covered by a long, black trenchcoat. Most of his face was covered by black, wavy hair but a ghostly white face peaked its way through the strands. He held the first man up off the ground by the back of his shirt, practically choking the man out.

The first man, your assailant, managed to choke out an “oh shit” as he tried to kick and claw at the second man. On a whim, your assailant tried to stab at your savior, the second man, but he was merely slapped away.

The knife clanked to the ground, bouncing away in your direction.

“It’s not nice to go after women in the dark,” Your savior growled.

Your assailant could only sputter in response.

Your savior scoffed and dropped the struggling man to the ground. The first man tried to crawl away from the second, but the second man kicked him in the side. Your assailant cried out and curled into a messy ball, clutching his ribs.

“Oh no you don’t,” Your savior growled. “I can’t have you roaming the streets.”

You savior then fished another pocket knife that was clipped to your assailants pants. He flipped it open almost mockingly and held it up against the other man’s neck for a few seconds before speaking again.

“But I can repay the favor,” Your savior said almost too calmly.

He then pressed the blade long-ways into your assailants skin, ignoring the pleas and cries for mercy. As the blade broke skin, your assailant struggled and tried to push away the figure in black. Before he could put up too much of a fight, he drew the blade to the side in a quick motion.

You turned your head before the motion was finished and was left hearing struggling gurgles of breath. You heard something drop and a shuffling accompanying the sounds of gurgles. Then some footsteps coming in your direction. You looked up and backed away as your savior stepped towards you. You were scared of him now. He just killed a man in front of you, for you. How could you not be scared now? You were afraid that you might be next, or something worse.

“Hey, you’re okay,” The man in black tried to comfort you in a familiar voice. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Above all the shock and fear you were feeling, a flash of familiarity towards your savior lit up in your brain. You observed the stranger.

He had black wavy hair, dripping wet from the downpour of rain that had stopped only moments before you left from work. His cheekbones were prominent and you recognized the kindness swirling in his dark orbs. When you looked down, you could almost swear you recognized the large hands offering you safety up and away from the concrete sidewalk.

And then it clicked.

You did know this man. It was unmistakably your dear friend that helped you babysit Sarah. Eric Draven.

“Eric?” You questioned, still not taking your savior’s outstretched hand.

He seemed surprised that you recognized him in his vigilante makeup and clothes. With widened eyes, he nodded and was unable to speak.

You’d heard about Detroit’s vigilante, mostly through the morning news and your daily newspaper. With all the blurry photos, you could've never guessed it was your friend. It made sense now, why he never stayed late at your apartment with you and Sarah and why you really only saw him after noon.

After the shock subsided, you took Eric’s hand and let him hoist you up from the ground. His tall stature kept you shielded from his dirty work. You didn’t say anything for a few minutes, only staring up at him as you tried to assess your friend and decipher the emotions swirling in his eyes.

"You alright?" The shock seem to have had evaporated from his body in just a few moments, replaced with concern and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

"Umm.. Just a bit shaken up," You tell Eric.

Eric hummed, tilting his head a bit as he let go of one of your hands. You kept your head tilted up to look at Eric but watched his hand as it went for your throat. He gently removed your own hand from your throat, which was covered in blood you found out after taking a peak. You felt Eric use his fingers to prod around the small cuts, and you could feel as he wiped away the leaking blood.

"This one here," Eric muttered, poking at your jugular. "Is bleeding quite a bit, which is expected cause this is a sensitive area."

You whimpered and gripped Eric's wrist when he accidentally swiped his thumb across the deeper of the cuts. You looked up at his face again and caught a glance before the man looked back down at your neck.

"Sorry," Eric apologized softly, pulling his hand away. His fingers were covered in fresh blood, making them sticky. "Let's get you home so we can get you patched up."

Eric kept a hand on you the entire walk back to your apartment. You led the way and your friend kept a lookout, glancing around corners and keeping his eye on particularly dark shadows.

It wasn't long before you unlocked your apartment door and led the way in. You left Eric behind in your living room as he milled about, rummaging around a bit. You headed straight to your bathroom and fished the first aid kit from under your skin. You opened the plastic box and rummaged through the box to find your needed supplies. But it was hard to finger through the individual items with one hand, as your other was clasped against your neck to prevent yourself from making a mess.

"I can do that," A hand grabbed the box and slid it away from you.

Eric stood beside you, lacking his long trenchcoat. You could see the holes and and tears that were littered throughout the long-sleeved shirt, of which he had the sleeves pushed up just before his elbows. The shirt hugged his form, showing off his lean but muscular form. Eric didn’t wear too many skin tight clothes, so it was a sight seeing how broad his shoulders were and how narrow his waist was. You couldn’t help but stare as Eric got out his needed supplies, but you broke it when the man looked up at you.

He tore open a small package of singular use alcohol wet cloths and moved your hand away from your throat to wipe away at smeared blood and germs.

“So you’re The Crow,” you started, watching Eric’s face for a reaction.”

The wiping of blood stopped momentarily before resuming as normal.

Eric nodded, “Yes, but I figured you would’ve found out sooner.”

“Why?” You asked.

“Well I am the same Eric Draven from those years ago, and the same from Hangman’s Joke,” Eric explained. “Dead fiancé and all.”

“I’m sorry,” You apologized, not meaning to bring up a bad past.

“Don’t be,” Eric finished wiping. “I’ve grown and healed from it. Everyone moves on eventually.”

You nodded and watched as the man opened one of the packets for a large bandaid. He tore away the white paper that protected the adhesive edges of the bandaid and moved in to stick it to your neck. Eric was close as he smoothed down the edges. His fingers grazed against your neck as he looked down at you, observing your features.

You could feel your neck and face flush under his gaze. Your eyes flickered between Eric's frantically. He only gazed down at you calmly. He didn't seem to be looking for anything in particular, but you were panicky and trying to figure out what exactly Eric was looking for from you. But it was nothing. Eric was simply observing.

After a few moments of frantic heartbeats, Eric pulled away and straightened up to his full height. He turned and latched your little first aid box closed. He almost acted like he didn't send you into a panic over his unprompted staring.

You were both quiet as you cleaned up the bathroom and ventured out into your living room. You both hovered awkwardly, not sure what the next move either of you were going to make.

"Thank you," You said quietly, looking up at Eric.

Moreso here than in the bathroom, you realized just how tall your friend was. He was a good head or so taller than you. It made you nervous for some reason, and you couldn't explain the butterflies that fluttered around in your stomach. Nor the clamminess of your palms.

"You're welcome," Eric responded, just an octave louder than your own voice. "Stay safe at night, alright? Carry some pepper spray or something from now on."

"Alright. I can do that," You turned to grab and hand Eric his coat only to find it was already gone. "Eric-?"

When you turned, Eric was already gone. It was like he wasn't even there. There was no evidence of him really ever being there. You looked around, confused. How can someone just disappear into thin air like that?

A few days past before you saw Sarah again and you told her everything that happened. Like, everything.

Sarah firstly apologized for keeping a pretty big secret from you. She was just worried how you would react, and neither her nor Eric wanted to scare you away. You were just so nice and caring and Eric likes you a lot so they didn't want to scare you away. But then she listened very intently and begged from every detail on hearing that Eric stayed after to help clean you up a bit.

Of course, you answered every and any question the girl had. You could tell she was eating it all up.

At the moment, you were re-stocking some bookshelves at the quiet library you worked at. Sarah followed you around, quietly blabbing your ear off.

"I'm surprised Eric didn't like stay the night afterwards or something," Sarah wondered to herself outloud.

"Why do you say that?" You asked, glancing to the side at the child before resuming your task.

"Cause he really likes you, duh," Sarah said matter-of-factly, like her statement was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You keep saying that," You pointed out. "What do you mean he likes me?"

"Like it's not obvious!" Sarah responded. "C'mon! He walks you home and insists that he bandages you up and like stares at you for a really long time. Eric definitely likes you."

"Oh," Is the only way you can seem to respond.

"Oh," Sarah copied, mocking you.

It's like a whole new door opened before you and suddenly a lot of things made sense.

Moreso recently, Eric had really been spending one-on-one time with you. He'd been visiting your apartment more often, even when Sarah wasn't there. You two occasionally went on walks around your neighborhood and often stopped to get a treat before heading back home. If it was a bit chilly or a windy, Eric was offering you whatever jacket he was wearing that day. If you tried to deny, he would insist and would tell you not to worry about him. To Eric, it wasn't really that cold outside anyway. When Sarah was with you both at your apartment, Eric had almost always decided to sit beside you either at your small dining table or on the couch, and often rested an arm behind you on the couch. And over time, Eric had slowly tested the waters on prolonged physical contact, like a hand on your lower back while squeezing past you or when leading you away from something. There were also the instances of absentmindedly fixing your hair, a hand on your knee, or using the often rainy days as an excuse to squeeze you both under his coat before finding suitable shelter when Eric forgot an umbrella (which was often).

It was all that and more bouts of small things that really added up after Sarah's words.

You couldn't help the heat swelling into your cheeks and the sudden tightness of your chest. Your hands shook a little from a sudden surge of adrenaline as you pushed books back into their spots on the shelves. Sarah's continuous blabbing was drowned out by thoughts and realizations about Eric, about Eric and you.

That night, Sarah and Eric made themselves comfortable in your apartment.

Sarah's mom was working particularly late that night, so Sarah was able to spend the night. She sat on the couch and was watching some cartoon that she found on tv.

It was cold tonight, so you were in the kitchen cooking up a sort of chili. You were content and warm, slightly drowning out the background noise of your apartment. You almost didn't hear the thudding of boots that were walking in your direction. The only thing to completely pull you out of your head was the small touch to the middle of your back. You jumped slightly as the person spoke.

"Smells good," A low voice spoke.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Eric leaning over your shoulder, watching the bubbling liquid of chili. He was so close that a few stray pieces of hair tickled the side of your face.

"Well, it's almost done if you're hungry," You inform him, tapping the spoon you're stirring with against the rim of the pot before setting it aside.

You turn to face the man, who only backs up about half a step and drops his hand from your back. You can tell Eric's slouching just a bit, but he still easily towers over you. You watch as the man observes you and as he brings a hand to tuck a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. Heat rushes to your face at the action.

After a few moments of staring, you heard a thick bubble of chili pop behind you, which brought you out of your staring trance.

"Alright, mister," You swatted at Eric playfully. "Out of my kitchen while I finish up."

You urged the tall man back towards your living room and turned when Eric made his way to the couch and joined Sarah. You could hear Eric and Sarah conversing quietly behind you as you finished dinner.

Not before long, you officially finished dinner and everyone dished up. The three of you sat at your small dining room table in view of the tv. Between watching whatever was on, you three talked about what's happened since you last saw each other or stuff you've heard about around town.

After eating, you three migrated to the couch and eventually settled down, fully and happy. Sarah sat in her usual spot against one of the couch's arms and stretched out her legs onto your lap. Her head leaned propped up against a pillow that the kid had placed as a barrier between her head and the arm of the couch. Eric sat on the opposite side of the couch, lacking shoes and his usual jacket. He sat forward but slouched into the couch with one arm bent at the elbow to rest on the arm of the couch and the other thrown across the back cushions. You sat between the two, sitting at a respectable distance from Eric, or as much as Sarah was willing to give you. You sat down into the couch with your head thrown back to rest on the back cushions and Eric's arm, as it was in the way of the cushions but it seemed like neither of you minded your head on his arm.

From your peripherals, you could see Eric looking in your direction. His head was kinked forward a bit, possibly looking past you.

You turned your head, curious at what caught his attention.

Sarah was passed out in her corner. Her arms crossed against her chest and head nestled in between her pillow and the back cushions of the couch. She looked peaceful. Her face lacked the frequent ornery expression that she wore.

You huffed a smile and got back into your original position, getting comfy again.

"I like you, y'know?" Eric stated quietly, voice just above a whisper.

"I know," You think nothing about his statement, forgetting what Sarah told you just hours earlier.

"No, Y/N," Eric saying your name really caught your attention. You turned your head towards him as he continued. "I really like you."

"Oh," You stared at Eric, heat already rushing towards your face and heart speeding up due to nervousness and anticipation. "Really?"

"Yeah," Your friend looked sheepish as he confessed.

"That's...," You paused, choosing your words out carefully amongst your racing thoughts. "I like you too, Eric."

"Really?" He seemed surprised. "Enough to be my girlfriend?"

"Of course, Eric," You tell him. "We hang out like all the time. So, I'd love to be your girlfriend."

Eric's slightly nervous expression shifted into something that was akin to uncontained happiness. He smiled so wide his cheeks almost caused his eyes to squint closed. Using the arm under your head, Eric pulled you close, like super close and into his chest.

You hugged him back the best you could in this position, squeezing him with almost the same amount of strength he squeezed you with.

"This is like.. so cool," Eric whispered loud enough for you to hear.

You shook your head at him, "You're a dork."

You two settled into each other, adjusting so you two could hold each other comfortably. A bit of movement caught your attention and you looked over to see Sarah look at you two with squinted eyes before settling back down.

"Finally," She sighed, pulling a blanket that you had on the back of the couch over herself.

You and Eric laughed quietly at her reaction, trying to stay quiet so the child was able to go back to sleep.

———

Request:

[audioroleplayconfessions]

i dont want to reveal my identity (youll see why in a sec lol) so im saying this here rather than my main account cause im relatively well known in redacted tumblr (annnd im a pussy and this is sort of weighing on me a bit).

i dont know how to say it but there are these chats?? like mainly on discord and instagram and i think some other places too (idk i dont have twitter or x or whatever but i think theres one there too) where people have lists of these accounts they dont like and resolve to 'punish them'. im sure im explaining this terribly but i cant really say much without the people in these chats instantly knowing who i am and adding me to their insane hate pile puritan police bullshit.

i got added to one of the discord chats in august by a mutual from a redacted server i was in (not the main one like some fan one from tumblr) and genuinely? it is fucking insane. think genuine csi shit. like sorting people into who supports 'problematic ships' and 'supports problematic characters' or who are 'rape apologists' or even just 'icky' and genuinely allocating certain people to harass and threaten them. and i mean seriously organising. as in scheduling when to spam anons or making hate posts or trying to work out their real identities to 'drill the lesson in' (actual quote).

whats worse is that many bigger accounts in the fandom are in these chats. like people ive been friendly with for months (if not years) who i thought were cool, but then act completely different there. i wont name drop or anything, mainly to respect the rules of this blog and preserve my own identity (cause god knows they dont deserve that after some of the shit theyve said and done), but if youre in redacted tumblr, you defintely know at least some of them. 100% you do.

ive gone out of my way to warn some of these accounts ive seen on there frequently (so if you got an anon warning you about these chats hello!! its me!!) but i cannot understate how fucking crazy they are. not only do these supposed 'progressive accepting people' resort to misogyny, transphobia, homophobia and racism (esp this one, jesus the slurs) towards any account they dont like, they also genuinely view themselves as these insane moral authorities set on 'cleansing the fandom of the filth' (another actual quote from one of the discord chats. i genuinely had to take a lap after reading it bc it was so cringe and insane it physically hurt)

i swear im telling the truth with this btw, i know it sounds so stupid and unbelievable but i just needed to get it out of my system because ive been lurking in this chat and i feel kinda responsible for all the hate these poor people are getting, since im not standing up against them. so to anyone whos received heavy hate for 'problematic opinions' im really fucking sorry man. i shoulda tried to put a stop to it but there were so many big accounts there i was afraid of getting ostracised from the community or targeted myself.

anyway, point is. be careful. watch ur faves. and god, everyone in this moral brigade stop being so fucking demented. youre making this unfun for everyone.

(thank you for giving a space for me to speak about this btw bc i genuinely dont know how i wouldve told people widescale otherwise. i really appreciate the space you provide for us all <33 )

.

[natspookie]

match made in uni

☆ teacher college au ; strict adviser!nat (science teacher) x coadviser cute!reader (english teacher)

— im sure school isnt the same for everyone butttt for me in each class we have a teacher assigned as our advisor!!! they also teach classes

— longass oneshot because i’ve been working on this for two months……

soon, it was the beginning of a new school year at nyu. natasha, a science teacher known for her strictness, is finally getting her own advisory class.

natasha walks over to to her desk at the large, wine colored faculty and the new paper at the bulletin board catches her eye.

the list of co-advisors and advisors for this school year. natasha walks towards it and racks her eyes for her name and sees another beside it.

advisor - co advisor

Romanoff, Natasha - Y/l/n, Y/n

Barnes, Bucky - Rogers, Steve

Maximoff, Wanda - Barton, Clint

…

natasha furrows her eyebrows at the unfamiliar name next to hers.

“wanda, who is y/n y/l/n?” natasha turns around to the other redhead. if anyone were to know who and what, it would be wanda.

wanda was always the first to get on campus, natasha second.

“oh! she’s the new english teacher. very sweet young woman, maria accepted that job in harvard, remember?” she says with a sweet smile.

“you know this how?” natasha takes her seat in front of her desk, beside wanda’s “i bumped into her as she was given a tour, you’ll love her as your co- advisor!” natasha gave a hum.

she didn’t meet you till 2 weeks before the school year started. a faculty meeting was held at the auditorium. natasha walked in, expecting to be second, but was now third. she saw wanda and a y/h/c talking.

“nat!” wanda waved her over as the y/h/c turned her head to see natasha approaching “natasha, this is y/n! y/n, natasha”

“y/n” you smiled, extending your hand for a handshake “romanoff” she shook your hand once and dropped it “oh- of course, y/l/n then” you laughed as she nodded, taking the seat beside wanda.

natasha wouldn’t lie, you were attractive. she just didn’t know you enough. the meeting soon started, briefing what would happen when the students came. the list of advisors and co-advisors came up, making each person familiar with who they were working with.

after that, natasha soon realized your desk was beside hers at the faculty. you didn’t have much but some flowers at the side and sticky notes up.

natasha didn’t see much of you till the week of school starting itself. “wanda, do you happen do have y/l/n’s phone number?” “why don’t you ask her yourself, flirty” wanda giggled

“not in that way, genius. we need to prep our classroom” “sureeee… here ya go” wanda gave a post it as natasha grumbled, taking it.

Natasha Romanoff

Y/l/n, if you’re free please meet me

at our assigned room tomorrow. Thanks.

— N.R

Y/n Y/l/n

Sure! Around what time? :)

Natasha Romanoff

11AM Sharp.

Y/n Y/l/n

Got it! See you there!

“nat why are you being so dry to this poor woman” wanda looked over natasha’s desk as she hid her phone to her chest. “snoopy” “dry texter” “Well she’s my co-advisor! I’ve never had one and I like to handle things on my own”

“A, you’ve never even been an advisor, you need help. B, she’s kind, don’t break her. C, she’s pretty, maybe date her” wanda winked again “oh fuck you” natasha rolled her eyes “romanoff! we’re in school” “oh come on, I hear you swearing at little maximoff all day”

11am the next day came and each advisor and co had to decorate their own classroom. natasha and you decided to just make it as simple as possible. you two were decorating with quiet music playing from a vinyl player.

“sorry if ever i’m being rude or dry, i don’t trust people easily” natasha said, breaking the comfortable silence as she hung up decorations over the board.

“i don’t blame you, you did just meet me last week” you let out a chuckle as natasha climbed down the short ladder “natasha” she extended her hand “y/n” you shook it “I think this is good enough” natasha looks around the decorated classroom, satisfied.

“mhm… hey, wanna grab lunch? i know a great place around here” you suggested “why not”

you and natasha walked over to a café after lunch for come coffee “order?” she asked you as you took a seat “iced caramel macchiato please” she nodded and ordered for you both

natasha told you about her many stories as a teacher. “yeah this one time some kid threw a fit and ripped all the pages from their book” natasha said with a low laugh “oh lord” you shook your head with a smile

“what about you? is this your first teaching job?” natasha tilted her head “sort of? i was a student teacher for 2 years before i graduated this year”

“oh, so you’re like fresh out of college?” “yup, i kind of retook a year in grade school though so i was like a year or two older than my batch mates. they graduated 22 and 23 and me, 24” i shrugged sipping on my coffee. “that’s nice”

“what about you?” “my age? i’m 36.” your eyes widened at that “look, i know i’m old but at least don’t make it obvious” natasha laughed lowly “no! no i just- you don’t look it at all, i honestly thought you were in your 20s” you chuckled “well thank you, i’m flattered” natasha smiled

the morning of your first day, natasha handed you an iced caramel macchiato and you blushed as she remembered your order. “nervous?” she smiled, taking her seat beside you.

natasha wore a black betau top with cream wide leg trousers. you wore a lace flare top with flare pants.

“sort of, i have 3 classes today. they’ll probably hate me” you groan and take a long sip of the coffee “unlikely, you’re very likable. you may even take wanda’s place as nicest teacher. but if they ever disrespect you or any of that, i will personally have a chat with them”

“i really appreciate you, natasha” she nodded and stood up, extending her hand “time to have our first advisory class” she winked and you chuckled, shaking your head.

“good morning class, i’m ms romanoff, your advisor this school year. and beside me is your co-advisor, ms y/l/n. i’ve been teaching at nyu for 5 years and this is my first advisory class. i will also be your science teacher.” natasha said with a straight face as she turned to look at you before looking back at the students

“hi! good morning, i’m ms y/l/n, your co- advisor and english teacher this school year! it’s my first year teaching and i look forward to getting to know everyone” you smiled

natasha briefed everyone on general instructions and the schedule. english as first period today and science as last.

“that’s it, be good everyone, thank you” natasha stopped her presentation and all the students went off to chattering. you opened your laptop, opening your slides when natasha whispered behind you. “good luck, you’ll do great” she winked and you thanked her before you heard the door shut.

if’s been a month of teaching with natasha. you were cleaning up your things as your finished your class when natasha walked in, her class being the one after yours.

she made small talk to you while setting up her own things. she made you laugh when a student suddenly asked. “ms y/l/n! you’re a lesbian, correct?” your eyes widened at the topic

“excuse me, i don’t think it’s appropriate to ask a teacher that.” natasha shut them up as you both left the classroom, sharing a laugh

you had slipped out the fact you had a girlfriend in college to natasha on one of your café hangouts so she probably got the hint.

"what got them to ask that question" natasha chuckled "well the boys keep asking me out and i keep declining them. but don't they get they are students?!" “oh trust me, it gets better. i’ve had my fair share of questions and-” natasha halted her words when she got the hint some students were whispering as the both of you passed by the halls.

“what are they whispering about?” “i’m actually not sure as well” you said “well i’ll see you after class” you waved to natasha, making your way to the classroom.

“ms y/l/n, i don’t mean to invade your privacy or anything but- are you and ms romanof dating? everyone has been talking about it and- i- i just didn’t want to assume” a student came up to you and you choked on your spit

“i- um- no! and i’m sure ms romanoff wouldn’t fancy the idea of students talking about her love life.” you shook it off with a smile, thoughts racing through your head. no way natasha would go for you.

“students are saying we’re dating?!?”

"hey, you've been staring intently at that paper for awhile, you alright?" natasha tapped your shoulder, standing beside you.

"this interpretation is so..." "so.." "read it for yourself" you lifted the paper up to natasha "pick a line from any shakespeare poem and interpret it... the answer was..”

'my chosen poem is 'o never say that i was false of heart' and my line is 'as from soul, which in thy breast doth lie', i think it means shakespeare approves of lesbians’"

"you can laugh" you said as natasha let out a loud laugh, covering her mouth. you looked up and you saw natasha smile widely before looking into your eyes.

time went by too slowly when natasha cleared her throat and handed you back the paper. “it’s funny” she stated, sitting back in her seat. the silence was now awkward.

of course she wouldn’t go for you. “yeah” you whispered and stood up. natasha watched you as her words died in her throat.

the next few weeks were you avoiding natasha as much as you could, and her doing nothing to fix it.

you had a particularly rough week with taking an extra class since wanda was down with the cold. you happened to have a love for history as well.

the papers to grade were twice as much now. you rubbed your forehead in frustration as you were the only one on school campus.

“y/n?” you turned around to see natasha by the door “yeah” you murmured before turning back to the papers. “it’s 1 am what are you doing?!” she walked over to your desk and saw the amount of papers scattered.

“go home” she stated “not done” you whispered, leaning on the palm of your hand “you can continue tomorrow, dekta” natasha let the nickname slip but was thankful you were too out of it to notice

natasha started filing the papers for you as you rested your head against the desk. “i can take homeroom alone so you don’t have to get in till 10am, ‘kay?” she helped you stand up as you murmured a yes.

“you won’t fall asleep driving?” she asked and you shook your head. “safe travels” she watched as you drove off.

the next morning students frowned at the loss of their favorite teacher in homeroom. “alright, we finished a few minutes early so… any questions?” natasha asked and received many raised hands

“yes, diana?” “where’s ms y/n?” natasha softened at the mention, not going unnoticed by the students “she- she’s taking a rest but will be here for your 3rd period”

“is her girlfriend taking care of her?” a student piqued. natasha stiffened “whatever ms y/l/n and her partner do is not relevant.” natasha looked at her watch and grabbed her stuff “have a good first period everyone.”

natasha couldn’t help but feel a weight on her chest by the thought of you having a partner that isn’t her.

unbeknownst to her, the students were ready in their cupid skills.

“i’m telling you, diana! she frowned and got all cold again by the mention of ms y/n having a girlfriend!” the student argued. “what if we sent fake flowers to her desk and ms romanoff got more jealous!” “that’s so childish!” “well- i am a teen?” the students bickered but quickly got quiet when their next subject teacher came.

the next day natasha’s mood got worse upon seeing roses on your table, with a note. you came a few minutes after hers.

“morning ms romanoff” natasha tried to hold her tounge at the downgrade from natasha to ms romanoff.

“morning y/n, you know you can call me natasha, right?” you nodded but smiled at the flowers on your desk

“girlfriend?” she asked and you laughed “no” you opened up the card to see a horrible pickup line that made you laugh.

“people ask me what blush i use, i just show them a photo of you and i’m all roses” you read out loud to natasha.

“corny” she snickered “yeah? you can do better than that, romanoff?” natasha spun her chair to face you “as a matter of fact, yes.” “try me” you smirked “oh you’ll see.”

since then, every morning you would get to your desk with a pickup line from natasha which were undeniably good.

it’s been four months of teaching when you left quite frantically that piqued natasha’s interest,

“what’s the rush?” she chuckled “gotta date” you shoved your stuff into your bag “bye wanda, steve, bruce, tasha!” you left before a reply

“hope she gets laid” wanda muttered, earning a slap from natasha “what! i’m being supportive!” natasha grumbled in response

the next day, natasha was surprised to see you and wanda earlier than usual. “morning nat!” wanda greeted and you forced a smile to her as well “what’s wrong?” “she stood me up… i got a lot of work done last night though” you leaned back in your seat

“i’m sorry y/n/n” natasha set her stuff down and handed you the daily pickup line. she smiled when you laughed. “how do you never fail to come up with a bad one?!? this is like number sixty!” “one of my many talents” natasha winked.

“imma get coffee, be right back” you left and wanda immediately said “ask her out.” “what?” natasha looked at wanda “come onnnnnn! it’s been 4 months” “should i really?” natasha asked quietly and wanda shrieked a yes. a small smile was forming on natasha’s face at the idea.

the next day natasha came even earlier than wanda and set roses on your desk.

natasha fiddled with her pen when you walked in “morning wands, morning tasha” you sat on your desk and smiled at the roses. wanda quietly snuck out the door. “are these from you?” you smirked, jokingly at natasha. “yes, and this is for you, natasha said seriously and handed you a post it. in specific, a sticky note that asks you out. this one finally has her name signed on the bottom.

“i- of course” you smiled at natasha “great! i- um- i’ll pick you up tonight at your place” “alright” you smiled widely “i have a thing- i’ll be back” she nodded as you left.

bonus-

you kept all post its from natasha and she was in awe when she saw them in the box.

the students all went crazy when they saw you both kissing online.

wanda was a bridesmaid at the wedding.