#just watched Blink Twice if you couldn't tell

[tchtokyo]

Gaz angst bc I feel like it (part 1???)

Kyle realized that he was the background character, the one that everyone forgot until he offered his services. It's even more crushing knowing that he was in a relationship with the others 3 members of the 141.

He realized that after a new sergeant became a permanent stay. He was everything Kyle was but better. He matched energy with Soap, handled Ghost with care and Price saw him as an equal. Those were Kyle's jobs, but when someone better comes along, he gave up. He started to hide, spend time by himself, wishing that one of them would come and ask him if everything was okay. But when Kyle wasn't offering himself to them, he was forgotten.

The true breaking point was when Alex called for their weekly talk and Kyle just broke down.

"I can't do this anymore." Between sobs, hiccups and lack of breathing, Kyle was able to say what happened, how he felt. Alex understood, tried to calm him down through the phone and suggested a solution.

"Come here, I will tell Farah, she will request you temporarily."

Alex was furious but also not surprised, because he knew Kyle was going to have a hard time fitting with 3 men that already each other on different levels. Kyle was a new addition, Kyle was a regular soldier that happened to be good what he did, Kyle didn't have anything besides his skills to standout and bond with this men, men that were excellent at what they did, men that knew intimate parts of each other from the very beginning, men that bond over past happenings. Kyle didn't had those, his only set back his fragile mind and his even fragile heart. Alex warned Kyle that he was entering a new world that did not connected with him, but Kyle accepted the challenge. And this was the result, a Kyle, someone who did his best to hide his fragile mind and heart, broken by love, because he still loved them, Kyle said he cannot not love them, he just needed to find himself.

"Farah requested you for her forces." Price said, handing him a paper for him to sign that he conceded to go "says the time is indefinite, she will send u back when she deems fit."

Maybe Kyle should had waited a minute, pretending to ponder or to ask time to think, but no, he grabbed the pen, said nothing and sign.

"Are u sure? U gonna be apart from us"

"I'm sure." Again Kyle should had seen less eager, but he couldn't.

"O-okay"

"Can i go? I have to pack" Kyle asked, again, hurriedly, really not caring anymore, now knowing that he was going to be with the two people that always put him back together.

Price blinked once and twice, stunned confused and hurt, but he stuttered out a yes and watched the sergeant leave "we will miss you." He said lastly, as Kyle was at the door.

The last words he received from his sergeant, the person he loved, hurt him in ways he couldn't think of.

"I don't think so Captain." And Kyle left. Closing the door in that soft way he always does.

Price stood up, ready to follow Kyle and ask what did he meant? What they done to evoke something like that? What can he do to fix it? But then his phone rang, and he was about to ignore it when he saw Farahs name light up.

"Yes?"

"Did Kyle sign the paper?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna send it later, I just-"

"You had your chance John, send the papers now please."

"What do you-"

"Let him come here, send the papers now, Captain."

[plausible-possible-perhaps]

Zoë, I was familiar with your game, but holy shit. Holy fuck. Do more.

[bi-writes]

simon’s reactions to mail order bride finding another cat and bringing it home

mail-order bride

there's a ruckus outside. clattering inside of the rubbish bins, rattling the metal of them. and maybe it could've just been a wild animal, something tearing apart the garbage bags and making a mess, but then there were a few cries, squeaks of terror that were too unnerving to ignore. a cry of distress that wouldn't allow for a good night's rest.

simon throws the back door open. there's a few soldiers milling about, leaning against the outside of the mess hall and barracks as they have a smoke or play some cards. some of them are playing games under the lights, kicking around footballs for a laugh. but he hears it, right around the corner, little eeps and have his neck craning as he turns into the alleyway behind his office.

there's a set of bins there that reek. but he can see the rustle of plastic moving, and when he picks up the top bag and clicks his flashlight on, he's met with fierce hisses of a little orange tabby kitten, with red around her eyes and oil sticking to her fur.

"fuckin' christ," simon mutters, sucking on his teeth. he doesn't know why he's out here. normally, the sounds of it wouldn't even force him to blink twice, but he couldn't help himself, he had to follow it. he looks over his shoulder for a moment, debating, but his mind is already made up.

he thinks of you. his pretty little wife, probably curled up on the couch at home with your candles lit and something warm in the oven. the cat is probably snoozing on one of her shelves, one of her arms hanging over the edge and her little face squished into the cushions he had installed on top of them recently. he thinks of your pretty face and your glowing smile, and he hears your voice in his head as he looks back down into the bin and makes eye contact with the mangy little thing again.

he reaches down and grabs it by the scruff of its neck, lifting it up. her little paws spread, showing her tiny claws, and he sighs, holding it out in front of him as he makes his way back to the barracks.

"what in the living fuck is that, LT?" a bubbly voice laughs. simon continues to hold the kitten out at arms length, his boots heavy as he heads towards the washrooms.

"wot the fuck does it look like, sergeant?" simon snaps. johnny picks up his pace so he can walk beside him, laughing as he smacks simon the back of his vest. simon pushes the door open, dropping the kitten into the sink.

it continues to cry and yip at him. he turns the water on, reaching over for a bottle of dish soap and squeezing it until it splatters against the kitten's back. johnny watches from the doorway as simon tries to scrub the little thing clean, cursing at it all the way as he tries to get all the gunk off of it.

"stop fuckin' squirmin'," simon huffs. "ow! oi! ya lil' shit!"

when simon turns the water off, the kitten is shaking in the sink. simon looks around for something to dry it with, and when he finds nothing, he turns to look at johnny.

"give me your shirt," simon demands. johnny stands up straight.

"what?"

"did i fuckin' stutter? give me y'r bloody shirt, sergeant."

"but! but tha's--"

"an order," simon barks. "give it ta me."

johnny rolls his eyes, gripping his shirt from the back collar and pulling it over his head before tossing it at his lieutenant. simon catches it, picking up the kitten and wrapping it in johnny's shirt before tucking it into the crook of his arm.

"'m goin' 'ome. tell price i'll be back in a few days."

"y'r goin' home? it's late, and we--"

"goodnight, johnny."

you jolt awake when you hear the front door. you rub your eyes, sitting up in bed, but you relax a little when you hear the sound of simon's boots in the living room dropping by the door. you get out of bed, putting your slippers on. when you flick the lamp on, simon is standing in the doorway of the bedroom, in full gear and his skull mask as he looms there, his head nearly hitting the top of the threshold.

"simon?" you croak softly. "i...i thought you weren't gonna be home for a few days."

he's holding something, a ball of bundled-up fabric, and you sniffle as you come closer.

"what is it?" you ask. "is something wrong?"

and then you hear it. the softest little chirp, a squeak coming from his arms. you lean over a little, reaching over and pulling back the fabric, and you let out a little gasp as you see two little yellow eyes blinking up at you, surrounded by tuffs of wet and wild orange fur.

"oh! simon!" you breathe, putting a hand to your chest. "wha...w-what--"

"was in the rubbish," simon mutters, clearing his throat. "i couldn't..."

you look up at him. you can only see his eyes, dark with eye-black smudged save for his blonde lashes, and you soften when you see the way he's looking down. he's frowning, but you know he isn't upset. simon cares, more than he'd like to admit, and you reach up with one delicate hand and touch the skull gently, stroking the cheek of it.

"i know," you say softly, smiling up at him. simon sighs, a little shakily, you notice, and you pass your thumb over where his lips would be before taking the bundle from his arms. you hear what simon doesn't say, understand what he's having difficult accepting, the things that aren't possible for him anymore, the things he has to do to keep himself sane now that there's a voice in his head that always sounds just like yours.

helpless, sweet little kitten, with claws like knives and a temper unlike that of simon's. the thoughts that went through his head, you know them, even if he doesn't tell you. when he saw this little thing, when he saw those big eyes.

i couldn't leave her behind.

no. he couldn't.

[jilixthinker]

slowly to me

=͟͟͞♡ virgin!felix × noona!fem reader

=͟͟͞♡ bestfriends/roommates to lovers

word count: 7.4K

content warning: explicit sexual content, sub!felix, soft dom!noona reader, felix is a virgin, corruption kink if you squint, mutual masturbation, clit play, fingering, cock play, dirty talk, unprotected sex (as usual), creampie, they are clueless idiots in love.

a/c: i wanted to write this for the longest time and now i am kinda nervous sharing it because it feels more personal (?) and intimate than usual. hope you will enjoy it ♡

=͟͟͞♡ please, consider reblogging if you like my works!

[00:17 AM] fefe 🧚‍♀️

noona 💙

are you awake?

please tell me you are

I can't find my keys 😪

i know it's late

don't hate me

You blink your eyes open a few times. The sound of your phone buzzing on your nightstand is insistent over the chattering noise coming from your laptop. You must have fallen asleep more than 30 minutes ago, considering that you are not familiar with the episode of the anime you are currently watching. Your fingers brush against the cover of your phone and you finally grab it with a sleepy grunt. When you unlock it, not without typing the wrong code twice, you notice that your chat with Felix is already open, a few notifications popping on the screen.

[00:18 AM] fefe 🧚‍♀️

noona 😪😪

[00:18 AM] you

where are you now

[00:18 AM] fefe 🧚‍♀️

outside 😪

noona, my savior

my only light in the darkness 💙

You force yourself to sit on the bed as you yawn. When you read the last text, you chuckle despite of how sleepy you feel. It's a little bit late to be coming back home, even for Felix, but you don't mind. Felix usually stays awake till dawn, always prone to chat and watch tv series together whenever you cannot sleep. You help each other in your own ways, yours being the responsible counterpart in your household.

You find your slippers with your feet and you finally stand up, heading outside of your room and to the corridor. It's pretty warm already this time of year, and you don't even bother putting on something over your light pajamas. It's just Felix anyway, he did see you at your worst so many times that you cannot even remember.

When you open the door, Felix is fighting with the zipper of his denim jacket. He is dressed casually, almost as if he didn't put any effort on what he was going to wear. A pink hoodie is picking out from his black slacks, and his hair is styled in a messy bun, a few locks escaping from the hair tie and covering his eyes.

"Noona, I owe you." he huffs, offering you a toothy smile as soon as you let him in.

"Don't mention it. I don't even have plans for tomorrow morning, I can just sleep in." you yawn in response, plopping on the couch and closing your eyes again.

Felix hums and throws his jacket on the nearest chair of your shared living room before letting himself fall next to you, face immediately finding its favorite place into the crook of your neck.

"How was your date?" you ask him, circling his shoulders with your arm and letting him scooch closer to you.

You feel his cold nose nuzzling against your collarbones and you chuckle, bringing your hand to the top of his head and starting to untie the loose bun. Felix puffs and you can hear his lips curving into a small pout.

"As always." he mumbles. "He was cute. Funny. He paid for my order."

You nod, and your fingers find their way up to his scalp, scratching it lightly and pulling a soft grunt out of his lips. "But..." you add, waiting for the inevitable epilogue.

"But..." he shifts from his position to lay down with his face on your lap. "- I felt nothing. He was very handsome, and smart. He was nice. I could tell he would make a great boyfriend. But I just looked at him and... I couldn't see myself kissing him, or touching him. It felt like looking at a nice painting, you know? I don’t know what is wrong with me."

"Nothing is wrong with you, Lix." you murmur in the dark. Your thumb moves from his soft locks and start circling the plump skin of his cheek. Felix huffs again and rubs his nose against your lower stomach. He does it often, and it makes him look like a small kitten looking for some comfort. Your heart always sinks at that.

"I am serious." you continue. "Feelings cannot be controlled. It's not your fault if you didn't feel attracted to him. Maybe he just wasn't the one."

Felix looks at you from his position, his big pleading eyes are a little tired.

"And who will be the one, noona? I am 23 and I didn't find a single person yet. I didn't even... you know." Felix lets out a sarcastic chuckle. "Can you tell how hard is it to reach this age without experimenting with anyone? I feel left out."

"Does it bother you so much? Being a virgin?" you ask him. Felix and you are used to talk a lot about everything without any sort of embarassment, but he only mentioned the topic of his inexperience a few times in your many years of friendship.

You didn't believe him at first. Felix was... Felix. The most precious human being on earth, smart and kind, generous and funny, witty and reliable. Your bestfriend, your proclaimed soulmate, and the prettiest person you've ever seen. Him being a virgin sounded like a joke to you. He confessed it when he was 18 at the time, and he was a little tipsy after a few bottles of beers you two had shared after moving into your new apartment. You could tell it was an uncomfortable topic for him, and you never asked him again. You just told him that he was young, and that the situation would change quickly in the following months.

But years passed, five to be exact. And Felix didn't have sex with anyone. He finished college, started working and met people, he started dating even, but as soon as the people he was seeing asked him for something more, he shut everything down and disappeared from their lives.

"It does bother me, yes." he answers quietly. "Because I am not afraid of intimacy itself. I just... don't feel the right attraction. I want to, but I can't. All these pretty boys I met, and the furthest I've gone is kissing. I don't know what to do, noona."

Felix shudders and you pull him closer to you. His voice is almost a whisper and his breathing is getting a little heavy. Your fingers go back to stroke through his hair gently, as you try to calm him down.

"Have you considered dating girls?" you ask him. "You told me you felt more comfortable with them."

Felix's arms circle your waist as he hugs you tight. He looks at you intently with a shy smile. He looks so tiny all curled up like this.

"I do love girls. More than boys actually. I thought about that a lot." He murmurs as he pulls you so close that your stomach is pressed completely against his cheek. "But I feel shy around them. I cannot help but thinking that I would mess everything up. With boys... it would be easier. I know how a male body works. But I have no clue on how to, uh —"

You chuckle at his words and you lean forward to pinch at his nose, amused by his reaction. "How to touch them?" you smile at him.

Felix laughs and lets out a breathless sigh. He pulls away slightly, though keeping his eyes locked on you. You can see a light blush appearing on the apples of his cheeks.

"Uhm, yes. That." His voice is still playful, but you can hear the nervousness in his breath as well. "You know I have never kissed a girl before. Just boys. Uh–, I know nothing, noona." he exhales.

You scrunch your nose and you let yourself relax against the sofa behind you. Felix's arms are still linked tightly around your waist. "There is nothing to be ashamed of, Lix," you breathe out. "Human nature will do its thing. When you'll find yourself in that situation, your body will know what to do."

"I'm not so sure." he murmurs, starting to rub his nose against your hipbone, sniffing at the fabric like he always does when he is feeling a little overwhelmed.

Your hand finds its way toward the back of his neck and you apply a slight pressure on the skin there. Felix lets out a shaky breath.

"You will see. With the right person, you won't feel uncomfortable at all. It's normal to don't know stuff, you know. We've all been there. And each body, each person, is different. You can figure things out along the way, by asking and learning." You try to reassure him. "It's not a performance. You should just focus on feeling good and let the other person feel good too. I promise it's not so complicated as you think."

Felix hums quietly and a mellow silence falls around you. The room is still dark, it should be around 1 a.m. now, but a beam of moonlight shines through the window, reflecting small glimpses of silver upon Felix's hair.

Felix feels small and soft on your lap. He is still hugging you, and you know him enough to sense that he is restraining himself somehow. You can feel the distress in the way his tiny hands are fisting the cotton of your pajamas around your waist.

"Lixie, sweetheart..." you murmur, voice little higher than a sigh. Felix holds tighter on you, as if he is scared of you running away. As if you could.

The fact is that you love Felix. You always did, in a way. You cannot tell exactly when you fell in love with him, but it happened sometime between your last year of highschool and your freshman year of college. You remember Felix grabbing your hand when you graduated in summer, sweat under your dress from being exposed to the hot sun, waiting for your speech. You remember him intertwining your fingers and smiling at you with devoted eyes when he helped you moving in your new dormitory. You remember him wetting your shoulder with warm tears because you were going to be separated from each other for the first time. And, oh. At a certain point you just knew.

You never talked about that, of course. You didn't think you needed to. Things between you were perfect already, and you were happy you've managed to slip neatly into your routine. Felix needs you in a way nobody else can comprehend. And you need him too, in a slight different way. And it's okay, you've always been good at managing your own feelings.

"Noona..." he answers timidly.

"What are you thinking about? I can hear the sound of your brain working no stop." you shrug, looking at him. The moonlight looks the ideal light to admire him, you find yourself admitting.

Felix looks over at you, his lips upturned with a reluctant smile. "It's just... I don't think I will ever find this person." he sighs softly.

"Why so? I cannot imagine anyone who wouldn't want to be with you. You are perfect." you say, eyes jumping down to Felix's delicate frame. His button nose covered in freckles scrunches a bit over the line of his plump lips. They look moist. They must be soft.

From his gaze, you can see that your words are the last thing Felix was expecting to hear from you. "Because–" he stutters while the pressure of his hands on you becomes almost too much, "–there is already... ugh, nevermind."

The silence that follows his semi-confession is heavy on you. You freeze at the admission, and you can tell from his eyes that he didn't mean to let that slip. That's it – you think – there is someone. Someone who Felix cares about, maybe that he even loves, and that is keeping him from living his life freely. Someone who apparently doesn’t reciprocate his feelings, given that Felix is trying to see other people and complaining about them with you.

Fuck, that hurts. You could have seen it coming, but it still hurts.

You open your mouth to formulate any sort of coherent words of encouragement that you can master, but Felix decides to move from his position at the same time you shift on the sofa to look at him. The impact of your bodies gives gravity a push, and you both go down with a loud humph, landing on the couch with your limbs all entangled. Felix groans as his back collides with the leather, and you open your eyes to check up on him, only to stop as soon as you realize how close you are to each other.

His lean and warm body is all pressed up against the cushions, and suddenly any trace of stoicism has fled the situation. You don't even remember what you were going to say, to be honest. All you are conscious of is Felix's body and the way his eyes are looking at you, making you flush with an unknown tenderness. You take a deep breath and the realization that you can feel his parted thighs caging your hips and his arms pawing at your shirt hits you hard. And maybe it's the late hour, maybe it's because you've spent the last hour talking your hearts out – and the last years repressing your feelings –, or maybe it's because Felix looks so vulnerable like this.

Whatever it is, instead of laughing everything off and move from this awkward position, you keep looking at him as some strands of hair fall onto his forehead and his breathing gets a little quicker. You find yourself thinking that maybe this is the most beautiful Felix has ever looked.

"Noona." he murmurs, and you can feel how the air shifts around you. His make-up is a little bit smudged around his eyes, you notice, and you lift your hand to rub at the corner of his eyelid with your finger. Felix trembles lightly as you touch him, and desire tugs at you, pushing you towards a path that you know is not wise.

"Noona–" he breathes out again, this time not much louder than a whisper. "I want to try something."

"Felix," you say unsteadily as Felix's hand grabs at your pajamas a little more firmly. "This isn't a good idea."

"Why so?" he asks, voice all tiny, shifting closer to you anyway. Everytime you try to look away from his lips it's like your eyes have been glued in place. "You said that with the right person it wouldn't feel uncomfortable. I– you.. I don't feel uncomfortable with you."

You sigh at his words. You are sure there is almost a thousand reasons why you shouldn't be doing this. First of all, Felix doesn’t love you. Not the way you do, at least. And he is hurting now, he is sad. He is not in the conditions of taking such a decision. But you can hardly manage a coherent thought right now, with him being this close to you.

He doesn't like you back, you cannot do this.

"Felix, I am honored that you trust me this much. I really am." you manage, but your voice sounds faint. "But this is not the right thing to do now. You don't want it to happen this way."

At that, Felix pauses and looks at you. He bites his lip, as if he was looking for the right words, and his eyes looks different, almost watery. "Don't you..." he stutters, "am I not good enough?"

You blink in confusion and a thick layer of guilt fills your stomach to the brim. You hate seeing Felix in distress, you cannot stand the way his timid smile leaves his face. You would give him the moon if that would make him happy.

"Oh no, Felix, sweetheart," you confess, bringing your hand to cup his cheek. The freckled skin feels soft and warm under your fingers. "this is not what I meant. I just– fuck," you swear in protest. "I just don't think I am the right choice. You deserve the right person for this."

Felix’s gaze fractures and he suddenly lets out the tiniest sigh, a pleading look framing his delicate traits. He turns his face to the left, leaning on your touch and he rubs his nose on the palm of your hand.

"Noona, you are not the right person. You are my person." He shyly admits, voice muffled on your skin. "But I can understand if you don't want this. If you don't want me the way I do. I am sorry for bringing this out, I should have kept that for myself."

You freeze, guilt becoming dread and pooling on your stomach. Oblivious to any of this, Felix gives you a small, sad smile and continues, "I tried to ignore it, believe me, I did. I kept myself from feeling this much because I knew it wasn't the same for you. But I can't help it, noona. I started seeing other people in the hope that it would eventually fade away. But it didn't. And now I am making a fool out of myself." Felix looks over at you and his smile is not the one you are used to see on his face. "Sorry for ruining everything," he sighs, "I just love you."

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

You feel a fist of air being pushed out of your lungs like a truck. Felix's eyes are big and sweet, and a single tear escapes from his lashes to roll down the apple of his cheek. You fucked up. You fucked up so bad. You misunderstood everything. Guilt nestles in your chest like a stone, scraping at your heart.

"Felix," you say, your voice sounding foreign and groggy, "Felix. You love me? You love me?"

Felix's eyes jump down to your lips just for a second, and then back at you. He sniffs as he brings his free hand to his face, rubbing the tear away. "I do." he admits. "I really do."

The truth in his tone has you let out an inaudible gasp. Then, in the span of a second, just the time of a blink, everything changes.

"Say it again." You whisper as your eyes lock into Felix's. And then Felix opens his mouth, just barely, and his muttered words stay still on the tip of his tongue.

"Say it." You repeat as your thumb shifts, stroking slowly along his jaw and down to his chin. "Wanna hear it again."

Felix blinks, and he looks like he can't come up with something to say at all. "Noona, what are you, uh–" he gasps when your fingers catch his bottom lip, pinching it a little to enjoy its softness.

"Lix, sweetheart..." you whisper, letting your face fall slowly down to his neck. The insides of your tighs press against the outside of Felix's as to trap him there. "You want me, uh? You love me?" you tease him, your hand coming up to steady him by the chin, keeping him still while your mouth finally founds the tender skin of his neck and you place a single peck under his earlobe. "I wanna hear you saying it."

A weak whimper makes itself known at the bottom of Felix's throat when you angle your head to the side and leave a humid trail of kisses all along the column of his neck. "Noona, I... why are you – ah – why are you doing t-this?" he mutters with a sigh.

You grin against his skin at the sound of his affected voice, and you nose at his chin blowing another tiny peck there. "Just say it." You repeat.

Felix's eyes are semiclosed now, but his pupils are wide and dark, and your grip on his jaw tightens a bit. Just another wet kiss on his Adam's apple is sufficient to convince him to give you what you're asking for. "I want you." He grumbles as his legs start to tremble under your weight. "I love you." He breathes.

And that's it. Felix doesn’t have the time to even realize what is going on before you are pressing down with purpose, your lips firm against his and your hands buried in his hair as he lets out a tiny sob. His mouth is cherry red and sweet, and your lips slid against it, applying just the right amount of pressure to have him melting against the couch. The kiss feels almost electric, and the low groan Felix exhales bubbles up into the back of your throat.

Felix is soft, and his body becomes malleable and pliant beneath your touch as soon as he clings onto you with fervent hands, a little desperate to keep hold of how good he is feeling. He moans beautifully every time your lips detach from his to catch some breath, and his fingers find your face too, curling against your cheeks and keeping you close to him.

As soon as your tongue licks languidly at his bottom lip, his mouth opens up to let the warm muscle slip into his mouth with a low grunt. You can feel that Felix is not experienced in the way he is unable to do anything but tremble with pleasure in the bracket of your arms as your lips glide against his, slick and wet. He lets out another whimper when your tongue licks at the roof of his mouth and your head feels dizzy and heavy with desire.

You cannot remember the last time you felt this good and this right, to be honest. Felix’s confession is still lingering in your brain as your hips press against his in a swift movement, coaxing a soft moan out of the boy under you. You smile in the kiss, feeling as if everything in the universe is finally in its designed place and, at the same time, all condensed in the way the two of you are wrapped up in each other so tightly that you can’t keep track of where one of you starts and ends.

Reluctanly, you force yourself to separate from Felix's tender mouth just a few millimiters. "Lix, baby," you whisper lovingly on his lips. "You have no idea how long I wanted to do this."

"Y-you wanted this?" he pants, parting his legs more and allowing you to slot your body inbetween of them. His breath is sticky and hot and you feel yourself getting restless on top of him.

"Sweetheart. You have no idea how much I love you. How much I want you." You confess.

"But... but you've never–" he stutters under your gaze. "Oh God, don't tell me we've been this stupid!"

You chuckle and nod slowly. "Apparently, yes, we have been." You smile, and your chest is so full of fondness and love that it's hard to breathe. "And we wasted a lot of time. But at least we're here now."

Felix nods timidly and you lean in again, this time just kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin under his chin. You move closer to Felix's ear and then back towards his jaw. He starts to breathe harder, hands clutching the shirt of your pajamas, and his thumb brushes against the hardened nub of your nipple, making you hiss quietly.

Felix moans when you start licking at his lips again.

"Good?" you ask, smiling against his skin.

Felix nods. "Yeah. Y-you can keep going."

You comply, because you could never deny anything to him. You softly suck his upper lip between your teeth and let it go with a loud pop. Then you move to his neck again, and you bite him carefully a few times until Felix starts to squirm beneath you. The thought that you are the first person, the first woman, doing this to him has heat rushing to your face and you wonders if Felix wants to do more, or if he wants to keep things over the clothes. You are okay waiting. You've waited for years.

"Can I… can I ask you something?" he stutters when your hands find his hips and you start caressing them in tiny circles.

"Of course, Lix. You can ask me anything." you reassure him, rising your head from the crook of his neck and looking at him fondly.

"You know what we were talking about before," he breathes shyly, eyes big and teary. "I wasn't able to do anything with all the people I dated because... they were not you," he admits. "and – uh, I don't know how to say this. It's embarassing."

Felix sighs as he tries to hide his face behind his hands, but you stop him by grabbing his wrists.

"Do you want to try? Now?" you ask calmly, ignoring the burning lava that is flooding into your veins at the thought of having Felix like that, just for you.

Felix nods again, all soft and timid. "I wanna try. With you." He mutters as his hips buck involuntarily against yours for the first time. And that's when you notice that Felix is hard under you, cock stirring to life when you grind down into him as a response to his movement. "B-but I don't know anything, noona. You have to show me."

You hover your face over Felix's for a moment, searching something into his eyes before diving in again for a kiss. Felix hums languidly against you and you pull his tongue into your mouth, sucking on it before letting it go slowly, teeth dragging. Felix groans deep in his chest and you can feel the vibrations go straight to your pussy. Then the realization that you are finally doing it hits you.

You. And Felix.

I need to stay focused, you think when you start feeling your head becoming too clouded with desire. Felix feels so tender and warm against you, and it's difficult to concentrate when your arousal begins to pool in your panties, just a few layers of fabric separating your core from Felix's poor neglected cock. The kisses get sloppier but Felix doesn’t seem to mind, and you quickly find a rhythm between the movements of your lips and the gentle rocking of your body against his.

"What do you want to do, sweetheart? You can tell me." You hum as your mouth latches again onto the spot between Felix's neck and shoulder, sucking and then soothing the skin with your tongue.

"Ah, fuck…" Felix curses when your hand finally trails down his chest and lightly grazes his cock from over his pants. He feels sensitive and overwhelmed in the best way possible, and he feels like he is losing his mind already. "W-want to touch you, noona, please. Please, I've been wanting to touch you forever."

A tiny moan escapes from your parted lips at Felix's confession and you are pretty sure that your panties are now ruined for good. You can feel the hot stickiness gluing them to your entrance.

"Okay, baby." You sigh, shifting your weight in order to lift your hips a little from Felix's body. "You can touch me. I'll show you how. Is that what you want?"

Felix pants and his fists close again on your shirt as if he's trying to steady himself. "Y-yes please. Show me." He answers, and he looks completely blissed out, hair as a messy crown around his beautiful face.

"Okay." You concede, gathering all of your weight on your right arm to pull down both your pajamas shorts and underwear with just one quick motion, air finally hitting pungently the heath of your pussy.

Felix gulps and you see his Adam's apple bobbing deliciously as he stares at the way a sticky string of slick is connecting your entrance to the cotton of your panties. You feel your core pulsing at the sight and you let the garnments fall on the ground, climbing back to Felix's body and straddling his lap.

Felix looks up to you, but his eyes keep flicking back between your face and the mound of your pussy, and you try to thrust gently against the hard fabric of his jeans, just over his hardened erection. When you rock your hips tentatively on his bulge, your clit gets caught on the cold metal of his belt, making you hiss. Your pussy throbs, releasing a gush of arousal over where Felix's cockhead should be.

"Lixie, baby." You breathe out. "Noona needs your hand for this."

Felix cheeks are as red as cherries and he hiccups at your request, nodding twice and pliantly offering you his right hand. He places it just near your thigh, not daring to get any closer to your heath without any given permission.

You smile softly at him and you wrap your thumb and index around his wrist, bringing his palm to the front of your pussy and letting it brush against the hood of your clit for just a second. "I guess you watched porn before, uh, baby?" you ask him grinding gently on his hand. "I think you know a bit about female anatomy already."

Felix sighs and a wanton moan rises from his throat when he feels your engorged clit bumping against his skin. "Y-yes, I have." He blushes.

You laugh breathily at his shyness and you let his hand slide past your front to eventually press on your labia, guiding his slim fingers to spread the wetness gushing from your hole.

"Usually I prefer to be stimulated here," you say, nudging the pad of his thumb against your sensitive bud. "In little circles." and you move your hand in tandem with him, circling your clit and trembling a little from his insecure touch. Another spurt of arousal drips from your pussy and coaxes Felix's fingers, making him moan.

"But now I want it inside." Your voice is sickengly sweet, and Felix looks like he is one step away from hyperventilating. His teeth dig on his bottom lip and he sighs in pleasure.

"Please," he whines. "Please, let me."

You roll your hips so that the tips of his fingers catch your entrance, and suddenly you sink down in just one motion. His middle and ring finger meet you halfway, and he watches your face in adoration as the two digits push into you. You let out a small whimper when his palm finds your mound again, and you finally sit on him fully.

"Ah – noona. G-god." He keens as he feels his fingers being wrapped up with your warmth.

You lift up from him, desperate for some friction, your hand still grabbing his wrist to guide him and help him. "Baby, fuck, finally." You grunt as your hips swing forward and back to create a sort of rhythm. "Wanted you like this for the longest time, you have no idea."

Felix mewls as he hears the squelching sound of his hand against your throbbing cunt. The schlick schlick is filthy and loud, and his head starts spinning. "Noona, you are so soft, so warm. Fuck, why are you so wet?" He cries, eyes big and round and locked at the way your pussy is engulfing a part of himself.

The drag of his fingers makes your head floaty and you grind further down onto his knuckles, the stretch making you want more and more.

"That's how it's supposed to be with a woman, sweetheart. We are programmed to take." You chuckle breathily as you slowly but steadily fuck yourself onto Felix's fingers. "But you are too, right? My sweet boy. You are just taking what I am giving to you, isn't it?"

Felix moans and his pads involuntarily curl upwards, brushing against your gummy spot as his head falls back, deep groans tumbling out of his parted lips. "Ah – too wet noona, too wet. I wanna, w-wanna..."

"What? What do you want, baby? Tell me, I wanna hear." You sound rightfully out of breath while you fuck mercilessly Felix's digits and you flood his hand with your juices. You shift forward to kiss him on the mouth and his palm finds your clit again, sending jolts of pleasure through your spine.

"Wanna... w-wanna be with you. Please, noona, I've waited. I need – oh, God – I need you fully. I l-love you so much, I always wanted it to be with you." He sighs against your mouth before you can slot your lips together and lace your tongue on his, sucking the wet muscle slowly until Felix is reduced as a squirming mess under you.

"Oh my sweet boy, my angel," you praise him as you try to slow down your movements. If you keep going with this pace you will cum too soon, and you want to finish together with Felix for your first time.

Felix follows your mouth and with his free hand he timidly brushes your left breast, staring at the way it bounces with every thrust of your hips on his hand. It looks mesmerized by the way your body moves and gets wet over him, preparing itself to welcome him inside even if he doesn't properly know what to do.

With a low grunt, you force yourself to stop your thrusts and you peck Felix on his tumid, soft lips. His hand falls uselessly on his hip while you balance your body on his waist to finally get rid of your last piece of clothing, throwing the filmsy shirt of your pajamas away.

Felix looks at your naked body as he if he was admiring a painting and, despite of your confidence, you find yourself blushing a little under his devoted gaze. You dreamt about this moment so much, pondering that it would never come, and now it feels almost surreal to have Felix all for you as you always wanted.

"I love you, Felix." You whisper lovingly, a tear stuck on the corner of your eye. "I love you so much."

And Felix beams. His eyes, watery with pleasure, lit up and bring a smile to his beautiful face, the face that you wished you could caress and claim as yours for so many years. "I am yours, noona. Please, make me yours." He murmurs softly.

You kiss him again, and it's hungrier this time, even more than the kisses you already shared. And then the kissing melts into licking, and then into biting, until Felix's hand finds your waist and then falls to cup your ass.

"I need you out of these clothes in 10 seconds." You mutter with a breathy sound, and Felix is fervent to obey, quickly getting rid of his pants and underwear and throwing his pink hoodie away, far from you.

When you crawl back into his lap, Felix is sitting on the couch. You find your place on his legs, straddling him until you are face to face and you can hear the sweet sound of his erratic breathing against your ear.

"I want to do it like this." You breathe out, gently nipping at his lips and then placing a small kiss at the corner of his mouth. "Wanna see you."

Felix sighs and his aching cock, now finally free from the constriction of his pants, throbs against your lower belly, spurting a gush of precum which dribbles into your navel. "I can't believe this is really happening." He hiccups, pleasure making his head feel dizzy.

You smile fondly. "Me neither." And you bring your hand down, resting your hot palm over his shaft and giving pressure until you are dragging the skin of his cock up and down. Felix melts with a breathy mewl.

Felix has a perfect cock, you think, and then you say it out loud. "You have a perfect cock, baby."

Felix gasps and he throws his head back, hitting the cushion of the couch. You can see that his face is flushed with arousal and embarassment, and that makes you feel lightheaded.

"So perfect," you continue, playing with your fingers and bringing your thumb to the engorged tip, smearing the thick droplets of precum all along his aching muscle until you graze his balls. "Perfect size, perfect girth, perfect color. You know how pretty your cock is, baby? Not too long, but chubby. I love it."

"Noona," Felix sighs painfully, thighs parting under your weight to give you more space. He looks fucked up, and you barely touched him.

"I want to play with it forever," you say, picking up your pace and jerking him fully. "And I will do it. I will touch this sweet cock all day long, making it cum so many times, making it feel so so so good."

"Please, please, please." Felix keens and throbs again on your hand, now hard as a rock and trying to stay as still as he can.

"It looks so tasty, too. Wanna slurp it in one bite." You whisper as you swirl your index on the slit of his cockhead and Felix lets out the sweetest groan you could imagine. It's so easy to pleasure him, and he responds to you so well.

"But not now," you reassure him. "Now I need you inside of me. Need you as deep as you can. Need you to be mine."

Felix forces his eyes open and his hands grip into the underside of your thighs, bringing you closer to him. You cross your arms behind his neck, slotting your lips together once again because you just can't get enough of Felix's breathy moans as you bring him to the edge with you.

"Noona, I don't, ah– I don't have a condom." He urges to tell you when you circle your hips against him and his tip catches the entrance of your pussy.

"We don't need a condom. I am on the pill, and I am clean." You pull away to mouth at Felix's neck, and you suck at the column until you are gliding your mouth over his Adam's apple. "And you are too, obviously. Don't worry about that, sweetheart. I need to feel you all hard and raw inside of me."

You kiss Felix again, breaths coming out in restless wisps, hips frantic. "Can you take it?" you ask against his lips, your right hand gripping Felix's wet cock. Felix nods, gulping loudly. With your arm reached behind you and your head dipped forward, you slap the tip against your cunt, eyes never leaving his face.

Felix swallows, and you can feel his heart racing as you nudge his cockhead against your heath, pussy clenching and unclenching for pleasure. You look at him in the eyes for one last time, and then you sink.

When Felix's tip breeches, you whimper at the stretch with you head lolled to the side. You push your hips down, taking Felix's chubby cock slowly until you’re seated on it. And, with his cock fully inside, Felix groans and tears finally spill from his eyes, wetting his cheeks and rolling down to his chin.

"Ah– oh, God, please! P-ple eh e-ease." He cries as he grips your hips so tight that he is gonna leave marks.

"Easy, baby. Easy." You pant, eyes rolling on your skull at the way the head of his cock presses perfectly on your spongy spot. Felix's tongue lolls out from his mouth, and you take the tip between your lips, suckling lightly on it before lifting your hips up and then slamming back again.

"It's too tight, too tight, too w-wet," Felix sobs, a dribble of saliva forming a tiny bubble at the top of his upper lip. You lower your head to look at the way you are taking Felix to the brim, his swollen balls resting on the curve of your ass, and you let out a lewd sound at the view.

But it's not enough, because this is Felix's first time, and you just know from the way he is trembling that he is not gonna last long, the poor angel he is. You played with him a bit too long considering his inexperience, and now you can feel him twitching inside of you, bringing you close as well with just a few pumps.

"I know, baby, I know. You feel so fucking good too. You fill me so well, look." And you take one of the hands that are gripping your hips, making it slide against your pussy to let him feel the point were you two are connected.

Felix grasps the base of his cock with his wrist and he tries to push it even deeper inside of your wet heath with a loud groan. "It's so, s-so good." He repeats mindlessly.

You gather all of your strength, gripping into Felix's shoulders in front of you and letting you knees carry your weight as you finally begin to ride his cock. You raise your ass up just to feel the tip catch at your rim only to force back down, fast and hard.

"Noona, ah– noona!" Felix grunts out, "F-fuck, I can't, I c-can't!"

At a particularly deep thrust, Felix cries out again, a slew of filthy words and many slurred versions of your name coming out of his red, juicy lips.

"Baby, Felix, baby." You moan, letting yourself fall against his chest and beginning to move your hips in circles. You feel his cock hitting deliciously at your cervix and your clit rubbing on Felix's hip bone.

"I lo-oh-ove you." Unable to help it, Felix begins to thrust up quickly, grinding his cock inside of you and smashing his warm cheek against your shoulder, as you involuntarily squeeze your walls around his shaft.

You are trying to make this last a little bit more, but a tight coil of pleasure starts to form in your lower belly, and Felix's heavy and raspy whines tell you that he is in your same conditions. "Feels so good, sweetheart. So thick and hot, you are making me cum, ah– so quick." You blabber, head feeling floaty. "Are you close too? Tell me you are close. Wanna come with you."

Felix hiccups and his thrusts become messy and erratic, cock leaking inside of you as you clench around him. "Close, close, s-so close." He picks you up by your thighs to throw you onto his cock as if you were weightless. "Can I, ah a-ahhh, w-where can I–?" he sobs out with every thrust.

"Inside, Lix, my love. Cum inside," you praise him. "So good to me. So good." And you whine as Felix fucks desperately into you, a thick layer of sweat on his freckled skin.

Two more pushes are what it takes to have your pussy clenching hard and tight around Felix, and as your clit rubs one last time against his pubic bone, your eyes roll backwards and you cum with a filthy long moan, flooding Felix's cock with your juices.

As the orgasm hits you, you smash your lips against Felix's and suffocate your whines on his mouth. As soon as Felix feels you pulsing around his drooly cock, you see him going cross-eyed. Then, he pushes almost violently into your heath and comes with one final, deep smash of his cock, filling you up.

Voice hoarse with pleasure and a little out of breath, Felix moans softly, face finding its comforting place in the crook of your neck. "I love you." he whispers.

You both stay silent for a couple of minutes, and you loll your head to the side to huff warm breaths that tickle Felix's temples.

"How do you feel?" You asks, bringing your fingers to slowly pet Felix's damp hair. You tongue feels heavy inside your mouth, and your legs muscles sting. But you are happy.

"I feel like I waited for this moment for my entire life." Felix's words are slow and shy, despite of what just happened between the two of you. You can feel him chuckling against your shoulder. "I still have to process what is going on."

"We have time." You murmur, kissing his forehead and hugging him lovingly, keeping him safe in your arms. "Now we have all the time in the world."

Felix smiles. The room is not dark anymore.

©️ jilixthinker, 2024. please do not copy, translate, or republish my works anywhere.

[buck-star]

I met them, and now I’m their princess

You met them, and now you’re more than just their good friend. You’re their princess, the bikers princess.

Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader x Biker!Steve Rogers

Wordcount: 1.631 Words

Warnings/Tags: tiny bit of angst, fluff, love confession, more fluff

Authors Note: HAPPY NEW YEAR! Hope you all had a nice start into the year and have a lot of happiness and whatever you wish this year! So here’s a little “Drabble” with our beloved Super soldiers for the start of the year. Divider made by me.

It’s a collaboration with @mercurial-chuckles. We thought it could be a cute idea to have a similar title and use the same prompt to start in the new year. Her work: I met them, and now I’m their queen.

Events: Stucky community prompt-list [Confession before the new year starts to get it off their chest], Marvel OC Hub [SB6010 | Row Three-One | Do you trust me? | @marvel-oc-hub], Stucky Bingo [N5 | Friends to lovers | @stuckybingo]

Masterlist | Stucky Masterlist

You're sitting on the sill of your window in your small apartment. Your eyes are searching the sky for the fireworks that light up the dark night. They follow every little sparkle until they disappear in the night sky, each one following a soft sigh that escapes your lips.

Your eyes are filled with longing — a longing for warmth and the love you feel whenever you're around two people. Two bikers to be exact. Unfortunately, those two people are happy with one another, while you're just their good friend.

If someone watches those big, muscular bikers looking at one another with that sweet, soft expression, affection written all over their face, they wouldn't believe those two are real. They look like the perfect gay couple out of a romance, maybe even the perfect movie.

You didn't mind any of it at all. They are sweet with you, friendly and polite like the perfect gentlemen. But at some point — where the sweetness warmed your heart more than it should, and their smile caused butterflies to go wild in your stomach — you feel slowly but deeply for these two bikers.

While others would admire them for their muscles, their perfect figure, or them just being bikers, for you, it's the soft smile that mostly matches the one they share with one another. Their ocean-blue eyes, which have that adorable sparkle in them when they are happy or excited — especially when they look at you. It's the way the sound of their rough, low voices sounds like honey when they talk to you and the softness and tenderness they always have around you. There is never a hint of fear or embarrassment, no matter what they do; as long as it's the three of you, there is only happiness and laughter being shared.

They even invited you to celebrate New Year’s Eve with them. While your heart was racing and you smiled brighter than ever, you told them you would be busy, trying to find an — any — excuse to not celebrate with them. As much as your heart was screaming at you to say yes, to spend the night with your favorite bikers, you just couldn't. Your mind told you not to, to not bother them while they share that evening with one another; you didn't want to disturb their special moment, and so you prefer when they have New Year's Eve just for themselves — that's at least what you try to tell yourself.

A sudden, loud noise makes you flinch, and your eyes focus on what's happening on the street outside your apartment. You blink. Once. Twice. Only when the two familiar bikes and the broad men on them are still there do you believe that this isn't a dream or any kind of hallucination. They are really there; Bucky and Steve are standing in front of your apartment, talking about something you don't understand while they park their bikes.

Bucky’s the first who takes off his helmet, shaking his head and causing his long, brown hair to fly in the cold wind of the night before they settle down perfectly. He’s always doing it, knowing how much you love when he does that, just as much as you love to run your fingers through his thick hair; it always makes your heart flutter.

Except you and Steve, there's no one who's allowed to touch Bucky's hair. He loves it too much and doesn't like it being a mess, but if you or Steve touch it, he doesn't care how he looks after. He would even laugh with his hair standing in all directions and him only looking hilarious; he would love that if it makes you happy.

Steve laughs softly, his blue eyes brighter when he watches his boyfriend and his little hair show. The blond-haired man runs his fingers through his short hair when he places his helmet on the bike and says something to Bucky once again. He then makes his way to your door; your eyes widen while you notice Steve walking in your direction and Bucky opening the bag he placed next to his bike on the ground.

You watch the scene through your window for a moment. Your eyes moving from Bucky to Steve and back to the brown-haired man. Before you see what Bucky pulls out of his bag, it knocks loudly at your door. You know it’s Steve, but you're too curious to see what Bucky has in his bag, so you remain where you are.

“I know you're there, princess,” Steve says, knocking once again. You huff softly but get up to open the door for Steve. The blond-haired man leans against the wall, a smirk plastered over his face, and he holds his hand out for you. “There you are. May we get your attention for a few minutes, princess? Trust me, you will love it.”

You nod, slightly confused about whatever they have planned. You thought they would celebrate it at their house together or maybe at the bar where they have their biker club meetings often. But it looks like they decided to celebrate in front of your apartment.

So you take your jacket from beside you and slide easily into your shoes before you take Steve's calloused hand. His soft smile is still on his face the whole time while his eyes roam over your body. “Thought you were busy. Busy watching the fireworks all alone from the window of your apartment?”

You blush softly, nodding your head. Bucky's low chuckle gets your attention when Steve nods toward him. It's like they had a bet on what you're planning to do when you said you would be busy. They know you too well, reading you like a book and knowing your overthinking well enough to know that you haven't planned anything but just didn't want to annoy them — which you never could.

Steve leads you further outside, stopping a few feet away from Bucky, who places some boxes on the ground, and you notice that those are fireworks. Bucky takes a few steps toward you, a wide grin on his face as he leans down to press his soft lips against your forehead. You immediately feel tingles in your stomach, and a shaky breath escapes your lips. Bucky chuckles low in his throat, almost purring when he notices it.

“Doll, I know— we know you said no to the invite, and you told us you're busy. But we—” Bucky says, interrupting himself for a moment. He looks at Steve, whose big hands are on your waist, pulling you tightly against his firm chest. Steve's strong arms wrap tightly around your waist. He lowers his head, his nose nudging against your neck. “We know you don't have plans, but… so we accept that you said no to the invite, but—”

“We couldn't start the new year knowing you would sit at home, all alone, longing for something you don't dare to ask for. And… we can’t start the new year without you around us, in our arms, princess,” Steve says, and your eyes widen slightly. Do they know? Did they find out about your feelings for them?

“We know about the feelings, babydoll. We know, and we... we waited for the perfect opportunity,” Bucky confesses. The confusion visible on your face. It feels like he can read your mind, but he can't, can he? Bucky walks back to the little boxes on the ground while Steve pulls you backwards. His lips trailing down your neck, he smirks against your skin when he notices the goosebumps he's causing.

After a moment, where Steve's closeness makes your heart race and your mind spin, you notice Bucky walking closer to the two of you again. He stays next to you, taking your smaller hand in his calloused one while he leans himself against Steve. The blond-haired lets one hand go and sneaks it around Bucky's waist, pulling him closer against the two of you. You're all looking at the sky, waiting for the fireworks to light up the dark night.

“We wanted to wait for this moment. Just before the fireworks will light up the night. We wanted to wait to make it special because you're the most precious and special thing to us. And we love you, princess,” Steve says, just when the fireworks start, your mouth drops open. Not just because of the amazing colors of the fireworks but also because of Steve's words.

“We are longing for you just like you do for us. We love you, not just like a friend. If you want, we would love to be with you. You, Stevie, and me,” Bucky mumbles and kisses your cheek softly. It's so familiar to you that you feel his soft lips against your skin, but it still makes you shiver slightly. You nod, a soft whimper escaping your lips when his lips keep lingering against your cheek and you can feel them turning upwards into that cute smile of his. You mumble a soft yes, agreeing to their idea to be their princess, to them being your bikers.

More fireworks light up the sky when you nod your head. Steve's strong arms pull you and Bucky tighter against him, and you can feel the warmth radiating off of them. Your eyes widen when you notice that there are hearts in different colors visible in the sky. They made personal fireworks just for that moment — they wanted it to be perfect, and they managed to make it perfect. Not just because of the fireworks but because you’re so close and being held so lovely by the two men you love more than anything. That was what you were looking for, the love you found in your favorite two bikers.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @pono-pura-vida @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @hisredheadedgoddess28 @casa-boiardi @blackhawkfanatic @mrsalexstan @thesarcasmqueen-22 @blackhawkfanatic @casa-boiardi @kandis-mom @armystay89 @blackhawkfanatic [You can add yourself here.]

[sethsclearwater]

okay hear me out - so i just learned on tiktok that apparently women get super easily attached to men (or women lol) who make them orgasm and i immediately thought of poly!paulxreaderxembry where paul is OBSESSED with making reader cum all the time and makes a random (unrelated) joke about her being super attached to him and embry is just rolling his eyes and telling him duh ofc she is - you're fucking with her hormones all the time by making her cum so often and paul is just DUMBFOUNDED at the fact that the main reason reader is so attached to him is because he literally just makes her cum multiple times a day.

embry is definitely one of the smarter ones of the group😭

...

"princess," paul started with a soft laugh, "you can come over here y'know," he teased when he saw your figure in the door frame of your shared apartment's living room.

your cheeks were immediately heating up to a bright red at his comment but you were nonetheless over the moon that he'd proactively offered to let you sit with him so you were quickly stepping over to sit down in his lap.

your other imprinter also let out a breathy laugh at the two of your's interaction. paul helped you sit situated so you were curled up in his lap but your legs could be outstretched enough for your feet to land in embry's lap, "so needy sometimes," paul teased, both boys laughing when you immediately buried your face in the crook of his neck in a weak attempt to hide your embarrassment over the whole ordeal.

"obviously she's needy," embry rolled his eyes despite the fact that you couldn't see it, a small smile on his face gave away he was just teasing you and paul, "have you seen how often you make her cum? you're fucking with her hormones doing that all the time," he added with a laugh.

you lifted your head from paul's shoulder at that, both you and paul wearing equally confused expressions as you looked at each other and then over to embry for some kind of additional explanation.

"every time you make her cum you release an insane amount of oxytocin and dopamine in her brain," embry explained, looking a little disturbed that neither you nor paul had any clue what the hell he was talking about. when embry saw that you two were still silently trying to process what he was explaining, he added, "those two make her feel attached to you which is why she wants to be around you all the time."

paul blinked twice, opening his mouth to respond to embry but nothing seemed to come out so he turned his attention over to you, "so what i'm hearing is embry needs to make you cum more often," he started, all three of you letting out loud laughs at paul's comment.

although paul definitely was a bit more obsessed with making you cum multiple times a day than his counterpart, embry was definitely not lacking in the releasing-your-feel-good-hormones department.

"i can't believe you didn't know that," embry said with a laugh, rolling his eyes as he gently rubbed your foot with one hand while reaching for the remote with his other so the three of you could get something on to watch before bed.

paul seemed content with his newfound realization, just settled for pressing his lips to the crown of your head, squeezing your hip playfully which had you giggling again as you got cuddled up with the two boys for a movie night.

[ggidolsmuts]

Cheeky Icy Thong - STAYC Sieun

"Hi oppa!" Sieun's boyfriend opens the door at the welcome voice.

"Hey Sieun, come in!" The ever lovable girlfriend bounces through the door and kisses him.

"Did you miss me?"

"Of course!"

"I missed you too," she says, hugging him tightly.

"Mmhmm, should we go somewhere for dinner?"

"No, how about we just stay in and order? I just want to relax with oppa," Sieun says pointedly. He blinks once, twice, three times.

"Oh, um, sure, yeah."

Sieun lies in bed as she hears the rustle of plastic bags, her boyfriend picking up the delivered food at the door. Her head is lightly buzzing from her orgasm, but an annoying part of her wanted more—it was less "satisfying" and more "satiating". He kept asking her if she was feeling good, if she liked it. But he was asking too much! She did like it and she did cum, but Sieun couldn't bring herself to tell him that she wasn't "feeling" it, wasn't getting into it. Everything else about him was great, if she could just get him to be more assertive...

"Oppa, how do you feel when we do it?"

"Hmm? I like it, it feels good! You don't?" He suddenly looks at her, concerned.

"No, I do, I just think that we could have a more fun time." She grabs his hand, bringing it to her bare thigh. "Don't worry so much about me, you should do what you want," Sieun adds. She fully expected him to run his hand up her thigh, maybe go around to grab her ass and pull her closer, but no.

"Mm really? Okay, I just want to make sure you feel good." His hand almost insultingly goes to grab her hand, turning what Sieun wanted to be an intimate, maybe even passionate, moment into a sweet one.

"Sure oppa." Sieun would have to do more—part of that is her fault, she figures. She usually liked to be treated as a princess, and her boyfriend ticked that box well, ever thoughtful and loving to her. However, there is a small yet almost overpowering part of her that wanted the opposite, a little rebellious streak, the petulant part of being a princess—she wanted to see what he could do. If only she could make him understand that...

Somehow.

"Hi oppa!" Sieun lets herself in this time, bouncing into his apartment again.

"Oh, hey Sieun!" He looks up briefly, but only briefly before he returns to his screen.

"Ah it's so hot today," she says pointedly—rather than her usual tops Sieun is wearing a spaghetti top, showing lots of skin and a deep neckline. If only the idiot cared to look closely.

"Really? Even with that top?" *Damn it that's not the point!* "Make sure you use plenty of sunscreen!" Argh! Now Sieun's properly annoyed, showing this much skin only to have the wrong response from him, on top of now having to worry about her skincare!

"Let's just watch a movie," Sieun sighs, plopping herself down on the couch. A second opportunity reveals itself as the two of them snuggle on the sofa. Surreptitiously Sieun slips one of the straps off her shoulder before pulling her boyfriend's hand around her, making sure he notices the lack of a strap.

"Hm?" Sieun spies him looking at her out of the corner of her eye, and the hand over her bare shoulder twitches. And he slips his hand off her shoulder to... pull her strap up again! Doofus! Sieun tries again a little later, brushing her hair and accidentally slipping her strap off again. He feels her bare shoulder again, and this time he is slower, his hand gently gripping her shoulder before languidly pulling it up.

"Sieun?"

"Yes?"

"Do you umm, want to stay the night?" Sieun is partially satisfied—it's his way of asking her for sex, but she wishes he was more assertive, to tell her she should stay, that he wants her to stay. But no, it's always what Sieun wants to do that comes first. "That is, if you have no schedules tomorrow?"

"No, I can stay the night."

"Okay, great." Sieun stays seated, waiting for him to make a move. Yet over the next 15 minutes all that happens is Sieun catching him looking at her out of the side of her eyes. She'd have to be the one to move things forward.

"I'm bored, should we just go to bed?" He could not move any faster.

"Yes, same, let's go." Sieun is pleasantly surprised as he takes her by the hand and leads her to the bedroom. The post-coitus clarity settles in for Sieun as he gets up to dispose of the condom—he was more eager, more forward, so that's progress. But he was still very mindful of what she wanted, of how she would want things done, when really what Sieun wanted was to be done, and done hard. She would have to work on it more.

"Oppa, you've seen my performances right?" she asks him, snuggling against his chest.

"Yeah." 

"What type of hairstyles do you like on me?"

"You look good in everything, so just whatever you have at the time."

"But you must have a favorite right? Orange hair, black hair, which do you prefer?"

"I guess black?"

"Okay, and hairstyle?"

"I dunno, you look good in everything," he reiterates.

"Would you want to see me in something different? Anything you would find sexy?"

"Maybe? I think you pull any look off, so it'll be fun to see something different." Sieun nods thoughtfully, already thinking about potential hairstyles. Her comeback was coming up, maybe she could really shock him out of his system.

"Okay, well, I have my comeback soon, so I won't be able to see you for a while."

"Really? I'll miss you! Make sure you're eating properly and don't get hurt okay?" He hugs her tightly. He's such a lovable sap! She just needs to make him a lovable sap some of the time, not all of the time.

"Hi oppa, did you miss me!"

"Si-Sieun?" You scarcely recognize the girlfriend you bid goodbye to weeks ago. "Why are you dressed like that?" In addition to her spaghetti top and an extremely short skirt, she is wearing her hair completely different—gone are the days of simple long hair with her bangs parted, Sieun has bangs, her hair is black, and her hair is done up in pigtails!

"We just finished the last touches on the MV and filming, so I thought I'd come visit you, give you a sneak peek of the concept!"

"Oh okay... It's cute? I think?"

"Wait really? That's not what we were going for though." Sieun seems slightly put off.

"Oh, what was it supposed to be?"

"It's supposed to be cheeky, a little naughty, you know?" Sieun bites her lower lip for emphasis, and you are stunned for a second. With her new look it feels like you are seeing a whole new side of Sieun. You squirm a little on the spot, trying to quell your desires quickly.

"Sure. Do you want something to drink?"

"Whatever you want, I just want to spend some time with you. We should watch a movie!"

"Aww, did my Sieun miss me?"

"What, did you not?" Sieun pouts, firmly pressing herself to you, and you have to back your hips away, lest she feels you growing.

"Of course! Okay let me go get something, you can go choose a movie."

Sieun settles in on the couch, her mind working quickly—his response was more muted than expected, but he was definitely hiding more from her. She saw his eyes widen when he took her in, felt him tense when she hugged him, and the way he backed his hips away from her when she pressed close—she just needed to do a little more! She flips through the movies and chooses one that she knows has a raunchier and more intense scene in the middle.

"Oh what's this one about?"

"I dunno, it sounded interesting, let's just watch it." They're sitting close together, but not nearly close enough for Sieun's liking. She pushes herself right next to him, almost sitting in his lap, and she draws his arm around her waist, making sure it "drops" slightly as she wiggles her butt to get comfortable, right on the hem of her skirt. One arm slips between his arm, and Sieun presses her modest chest against his arm, all to cuddle him more, to tempt him further.

As the movie goes on and gets to the passionate "good" parts, Sieun pushes herself more on him, making sure he's aware that she's right there, ready to do what's on the screen. He looks at her, breathing deeply.

"Sieun, do you want to stay the night?" The normal Sieun would say yes—after a while without seeing him, she wants it just as bad as he does. That's exactly why Sieun knows what to say to get him to crack.

"No, I can't, I have something tomorrow." She tries to get up, and he pulls her back, making her fall against him. He catches her, and Sieun smiles at his surprise when his hand finds itself under her skirt, touching bare skin already.

"Y-You didn't wear underwear?" he asks hoarsely, throat suddenly very dry. Reflexively he squeezes her cheek, feeling the juiciness of Sieun's ass. Just a little more...

"Even better, I did." Sieun cheekily replies, quickly getting up and pressing her skirt down, leaving him open-mouthed and dumbfounded while he tries to comprehend her words. "I'm heading out," she says airily, her hand briefly lifting her skirt as a tease.

"Fuck..." you mutter under your breath. You caught the briefest of glimpses as her hand flicked her skirt up—Sieun's wearing underwear indeed, except it's a small black thong, her pale cheeks tantalizing in the dim light. You had to feel her again! The sight of your sweet and lovable Sieun looking like the perfect representation of a fuckdoll is rewiring your brain in real time. You hug her from behind tightly, and as you cross your arms around her midriff you feel something... hard?

"W-What's this?" he asks her, breath hot and heavy in her ear. The way he grabs her has Sieun in a tizzy, and she has to take a deep breath to swallow a moan—she can feel his desire very tangibly against her back. "Sieun, what's this?" he repeats.

"A piercing, I decided to get one for the comeback, do you like it?" Sieun forces herself away from him, twirling around and slightly pulling her top up to reveal the little silver stud on her bellybutton. She watches his eyes trail from her face and down her body, settling on her flat midriff. The gaze then drops a little lower, and then it goes back to Sieun's face. Something is different.

"Ah!" He grabs her by the wrist this time, and he's not leading her to the bedroom, he's taking her there. Sieun lands on the bed, and he's on top of her immediately. His hands are on her shoulders, his weight pressing her down, but then... nothing?

"Fuck Sieun, I'm sorry." Your hands tremble as you force yourself to keep them only on her shoulders, resisting the urge to tear her outfit apart. Your words are labored, as if you've almost forgotten how to talk. "I need you." Your hips press down on her almost involuntarily, as if indicating what exactly you needed to do.

Sieun whines when you do so, and you could feel why too—she's fucking soaked. You breathe even more deeply into her neck. "Please stay the night."

Sieun almost forgets about the plan when she hears him speak. He took her to the bedroom, topped her like a hungry beast and then told her he needed her. He's so close to breaking, yet he restrains himself, begging her to say yes, to allow him to have her. Seeing and feeling wanted is sending a surge of power straight between her legs, and she twitches, almost throwing everything away to wrap her legs around him. She settles for wrapping her arms around his head, running a hand teasingly through his hair.

"No." His breath hitches, puffing against her skin. Sieun licks her lips, kisses his neck, and says the magic words.

"Make me stay."

In an instant he pulls her top down, palming and grabbing at her chest hungrily. Sieun feels his hand dance across her thigh briefly before reeling and throwing her head back—he's shoved two fingers unceremoniously into her, and yet she's wet enough to take him with no trouble.

"Fuck!" he growls into her ear, immediately withdrawing his digits to remove his shorts. Brazenly he lifts her skirt, and Sieun is momentarily embarrassed at her own state—her top is rolled down, her skirt is flipped up, scrunched around her waist, and her small black thong pulled to the side is doing nothing to "protect" her from him right now. He looks nothing like his usual loving herself—he eyes her up and down, his gaze dark and hungry, watching her every expression as he twists and curls inside her, feeling just how wet she is for him. He removes his fingers, licking them ravenously: Sieun tasted ready, smelled ready. Sieun definitely looked ready too—nothing like her usual prim and loveable self either, no; she looks cheap, wanton, easy. In the process of trying to break her boyfriend down, Sieun's breaking down in the very same way, letting her desires take over.

An unholy mix of grunt and moan escape both of them as he pushes himself in, and Sieun finds her hips being slammed and bruised almost immediately—they don't even register that he's doing her raw, with no condom, they just know that it feels fucking amazing!

"Oh my god fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" Sieun's limbs are wrapped around him tightly, so much so that he's bouncing them off the bed, wildly thrusting and threatening to fuck the clinging Sieun into pieces. A loud scream pierces his eardrums, and he watches her cum, expression slack, little bellybutton stud quivering in bliss. He flips her around and pulls her ass up, and with Sieun's cry muffled by the pillow he fucks her from behind, a hand squeezing her pale cheeks, contrasted beautifully against the thong that's still on—she hasn't even lost a piece of clothing yet!

Sieun's in absolute ecstasy, the pounding she's getting far beyond what she thought he was capable of. He's getting so deep into her that she can't think straight, the sound of his body smashing into hers making her head ring. He has a hand on her tummy, finger playing with her piercing as he grabs her and goes even harder. She has to bite the pillow, suppressing the base sounds being ripped from her throat.

"Mmmf... Gah!" He uses both hands to pull on her pigtails, a jolt of pain shooting straight through her that becomes pure pleasure on the next thrust.

"So fucking naughty," he snarls, "I want to hear you cum." Me, naughty? She thinks to herself. Maybe she should be naughty more often, especially if this is the result.

"Y-Your naughty girl is going to cum, keep fucking your cheeky naughty girl!" He pulls harder on her hair, and they seem to yank Sieun's eyes to the back of her head, making her clench erratically around him once more. This time he cums with her, instantly firing a thick load deep into her womb. Sieun can barely manage a whimper as her orgasm overwhelms her, her senses firing all at once as she feels every hot shot of cum go straight to her head. She feels him still half-hard, still trying to fuck her, to push his cum deeper into her, until finally he gives up, collapsing the two of them into a pile of limbs.

"S-Sieun, fuck, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..." you rasp in her ear a little later. "What did we do? We've never done it without a condom! What did I do, oh my god!"

"You did amazing," she says hoarsely, her voice gone from her screaming earlier. "That was exactly what I wanted."

"W-What? I came in you, that's what you wanted?"

"Well, I didn't plan on that, but I can handle it." Sieun blushes, but continues on, a finger dipping and scooping the load oozing out of her. "I wanted you to do what you want to do, and not to think about me."

"What? Why? I could've hurt you, wait did I hurt you—" she shushes you with a finger.

"No, it felt so good. Because," Sieun brings your hand between her legs, making you feel your handiwork—creamy and wet. "Because it makes me feel good when you feel good, it turns me on seeing you eye me like a piece of meat. I don't just want to always feel loved, I want to feel needed."

"I always need you," you murmur, and Sieun squirms lower, trying to have your fingers in her. You oblige, pushing your cum back back into her and showing her how needed she is.

"K-Keep saying it!" she gasps, her eyes glassy with desire.

"I need you all the time, and if you're going to tease me like that I don't know what I'll do to you." You line Sieun's walls with cum, smearing your thick white paint all over her with curling fingers.

"Do whatever you want, it feels so good when you do it—" Her eyes flutter shut and she throws her head back, a choked moan leaving her throat as she quickly cums again. She breaks into a smile when she comes down. "I guess I'll have to stay the night, I can barely feel my legs." You help her to the bathroom, and the two of you clean up before cuddling in bed, exhausted from the short but intense session.

Sieun wakes up the next morning, a sore but satisfying buzz running through her body. A moment later she realizes what the satisfying buzz is—his mouth on her pussy, humming away like a happy eater.

"Oppa?" He doesn't hear her, her thighs squeezed involuntarily around his head deafening him. But he realizes she's awake, and with two hands on her cheeks he lifts her hips, giving him a better angle to eat her out from. "Wait, mmm! Ah!" Sieun has no say in the matter, her back arching, a morning stretch of the best kind. To Sieun's delightful dismay she realizes something—him knowing how to pleasure her and being able to do it when she asks for it is well and fine, but him knowing how to pleasure her and able to do it when he wanted to is a thoroughly lethal combination. The type of combination that could keep Sieun bedridden, pleasure-stricken and stuck in the throes of ecstasy like she is right now, his fingers rubbing her g-spot and his tongue doing god-knows-what to her clit. "Fuck, I can't, mmm!"

Sieun goes rigid, trembling in your hands. Her thighs tighten their hold on your head, and you tighten your squeeze on her cheeks, squeezing and delighting in the juice her pink well produces. You let her land back on the bed and get back to eye level with her.

"I needed to taste you." Sieun blushes, cheeks glowing from her orgasm. "I need to do more with you, stay here." Sieun remains on the bed, obedient but also thrilled at what you have planned. She's surprised, if not a little disappointed, when you come back with only a cup of ice water in hand.

"Want some?"

"Sure." Sieun takes a gulp, letting out a refreshing sigh. "What did you want to do more with me?" She had to know.

"Turn around, I want to give you a massage."

"Eh? What?" You do not brook any questioning, removing her nightdress and flipping her on her back. Your hands are on her shoulders, firmly pushing her down on the bed. "I don't need—"

"But I do." Your tone is firm, letting Sieun know that you would not have it any other way—from the way you're pushing down on her, she wouldn't be able to do anything anyways... and it's fucking hot. So Sieun let's you do it, your hands working on her nicely.

"I never knew you could do massages." Sieun manages between sighs, feeling your hands work on her shoulder blades and down her back. She really didn't mind it at all after the stress preparing for a comeback.

"You never asked me to."

"I'll be asking for it from now on then."

"I'll be giving it to you before you ask." The double-entendre is not lost on Sieun, and she wiggles her hips. You removes your hands from her, and Sieun's almost anticipating you to take her right there, but you don't. "I love you," you whisper into the air.

Before Sieun could respond she yelps, feeling something very cold right in the middle of her back! "Oppa!"

"Let me do this." You hold the ice cube on the middle of her back, rotating it in circles on her pale skin—not enough to be painful, but just enough for goosebumps to rise as Sieun wiggles to try and get away from it. You bring it up to the back of her neck, and Sieun gasps, reacting to the icy chill with a jerk of her head. You continue rubbing the ice cube over her back, bringing it down to her lower back and letting it run across her toned cheeks, before teasing the inside of her thighs. By now the cube has mostly melted from her body heat, and you're just fondling her with your cold hand, covering her in a sheen of moisture.

"Turn around." Sieun flips over obediently, her mouth slightly open, reeling from the new sensations. She never thought you would be interested in something like this, but how could she have known? Like with massages, she had never asked!

"It's a little too cold."

"I'll warm you up." You take a fresh cube, placing it at her neck and making her twitch once more. You salve it with a warm breath and a kiss, and Sieun moans.

"Ohhh... That's nice, that's really nice." You make note of it and move lower, eyeing Sieun as you bring the ice cube down to her tits. She bites her lower lip in anticipation, but even that's not enough to prepare her for the cold touching her nipples, her whimper soft and delicate. You bring your lips to them, breathing warm air on her ends, turning their cold-induced stiffness into arousal-tipped points. Then you move down to her stud, and touch the ice cube to it.

"Hnngh!" Her flat tummy shivers cutely, and you place your mouth over her little button, kissing it warmly and using your tongue to nudge it around. It drives Sieun up the wall—she's so sensitive from the cold, and the unexpected playing around with her piercing amplifies everything, and she's not sure how much more teasing she can take!

"Why did you get the piercing?" you ask her, moving the ice cube to her thighs and between her legs, threatening. Sieun spreads her legs, more to get away from the cold than anything, but still very enticing.

"I thought you might find it hot, that maybe you'll think of me as something more than lovable."

"Is that why you changed the way you dress, your hairstyle, your thong?" The last word is like a whip to Sieun as you bring the last remaining piece of ice near her pussy, and it melts in your hands, joining the puddle of slick leaking from her wet heat.

"Ohh yes, yes yes yes!" Sieun babbles a response as you replace the cold with your warm breath, eating her out again. You plunge your fingers into her and Sieun reels from the penetration, using her hand to stifle a loud moan. The enhanced sensitivity from the cold is wrecking her self-control, your warm fingers curling deep in her causing her to heat up to her boiling point. "D-Don't stop— No wait, don't, stop!" Your tongue flicks on her clit incessantly, and Sieun finds your head, pushing it hard against her pussy as she cums.

"Ah no, cum— hnnnnngh!" Sieun groans as satisfying relief washes through her, her body instantly hot with pleasure. She squirts all over your face, limbs rigid and jerking as her muscles seize up. After she's done cumming her brains out Sieun lays there, her skin shining with the melted ice, her thighs a combination of slick and water as you finally remove yourself from her.

"Haah!" She whimpers as something huge enters her too-tight tunnel instead. "Oppa!"

"I need you right now! Isn't this what you wanted?" you growl in her ear, and Sieun can only whine and nod. She sees your face covered in her juices and covers her own face in embarrassment, but you pull them away. "You wanted me to need you, need my sexy fuckdoll that I can do whatever I want with?" If last night was wild and feral with few words, today morning is intense and directed, giving Sieun maximum pleasure by hitting spots only you knew. You put one of her legs on your shoulder, keeping the other pinned with your hips—you're quite literally splitting her open.

"Oh fuck, that's deep!"

"You like me loving you, but you wanted me to lust after you? Doing things to you that you never thought to ask? So greedy." You suck on her earlobe, which you knew she liked.

"Nngh yes, it feels so good!"

"I'm not going to do it all the time, I don't want to break my cheeky fuckdoll." You grab her ass for emphasis.

"I won't break," Sieun challenges you, even as she has to bite her lip to stifle a moan. "Just bend— Mmm!" She can't hold it in as you push even deeper, widening the split.

"Doing all this, changing your whole image, when all you had to do was ask!" The fact that it was mainly for STAYC's comeback is lost on the two of you in the moment. "Such a bad influence on me Sieun."

"You're right, I've been so bad!" Sieun set out to break you down, to corrupt you, yet at this point who is corrupting who? "I wanted you to need me, to lose control!" The split is undone as Sieun places her other leg on your shoulder, letting you push both knees to her chest as Sieun is the one that starts losing control, her eyes rolling in her head once more as you dip deep into her.

"Well you did it last night, making me need to fuck you raw, making me need to cum in you." Sieun clenches around you at the thought of being creampied, but you wanted to hear her say it. "Looks like I'm doing you raw again already, should I do what I need to do?"

"Yes, do whatever you need to do, fill your fuckdoll up!" Sieun cries, on the edge herself. A few more punishing thrusts into her later you groan and explode, pumping her full of cum for the second time. Sieun pulls you in for a forceful kiss, nails digging into your hair and dragging across your neck as you moan into the liplock—Sieun's cumming too, milking you for all that you have.

"Oh god, it's so hot inside me..." Sieun wraps her legs around your hips, making sure you stay in her after. You watch her eyes flutter shut, lost in ecstasy, her tongue licks her lips, like she's savoring your thick load directly, thoroughly enjoying the rawness of everything. Then she opens her eyes, and she's back to being Sieun—the kiss you two share is back to being lovable and tender, feeling her smile against your lips and holding her close.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I feel so good."

"I'm glad." You two stay like that for a little longer, before you finally slip out and roll off her. "We should go to the pharmacy, get you something," you mutter, quickly getting Sieun wipes to clean up.

"Don't worry, I'll handle it, but I have to go soon." She pecks you on the lips and jumps in the bathroom, coming out shortly after looking like the Sieun you're more familiar with. But as you watch her put her outfit together again you felt a twitch, and had to say something.

"You better not show up in that outfit again." It was a warning and a promise.

"Why not? What's going to happen?" You stay silent at her smirk, debating if you should just jump her again. "Guess I'll find out next time." She pulls her top up slightly to show off her belly piercing once more, before turning around with a deliberate flourish.

"Cheeky. I need you against the door, now."

A/N: I've been down bad for Sieun in their latest comeback, she looks so good it's crazy. I had the idea of wanting to write one where the OC is seduced/corrupted, and Sieun's transformation was perfect for it. But as always it "fails" and she's falling along with him heh. Had the idea during their comeback but it's over already lol, rip took too long. Anyways thanks for reading!

[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.

[moon-ttokki-x]

Your fic about safe is so amazing I'm inlove with it?? Could you do a similar one but with daddy issues like you're dating Han or Chris (idm which you pick) and you sometimes worry he'll leave you + Ur own issues, tw? Bipolar and depression? Whatever makes you comfortable to do at least

aha thank you so much ! i just titled this one 'depressed reader' but all of the main details are in the descriptions below >< also i couldn't decide between writing chan or han so i just kind of wrote both lol . . . hopefully this one brings you some comfort too, anon <3

hold me - bang chan x depressed!reader

pairing: bang chan x depressed!reader

summary: watching chan with one of his members makes everything you've felt lately rise to the surface.

genre: fluff, idol! au, comfort at the end, depression, hinting to bipolar disorder, heavy descriptions of relationship issues (i made it sort of vague so it applies to a lot of scenarios), descriptions of ed, deprecating and negative thoughts, breakdowns, attachment issues, chan is the sweetest most understanding person in the whole world, jisung is mentioned multiple times in this fic

a/n: sending love to all my readers ! you are all soso appreciated <3. divider from @ianrkives

You hesitantly open the door to the studio after knocking twice. When there's no reply, you quickly step inside and blink. The room is pretty much dark, the only source of light coming from a dim standing lamp in the corner.

Chan is seated at his desk, hunched over the soundboard, with a pair of headphones clasping either side of his head. You can barely see him in the dark, only his face, hands, and the column of his throat visible out of the baggy black clothes he always likes to wear.

He doesn't look up as you enter and then quietly shut the door, too focused on the wavy, lilting lines and sequences of the song production software in front of him. You sigh softly and walk up to him, coming from the side so you don't startle him. Placing your bag down on the small table before the sofa, you place a couple of hesitant fingers on the arm of his chair.

"Channie?" You say quietly.

He's still squinting at the screen, somehow so focused he doesn't even see you right next to him. Or maybe it's the light from the screen; when you stare at a device for so long in the dark, it gets difficult to see anything else.

But he suddenly seems to sense your movement, and he must have realised it was you, because he wraps an arm around your waist and gently pulls you closer.

"Hi, baby," he murmurs, not taking his eyes off the screen. His gaze is focused and almost intense as he scrutinizes every soundbar and beat of the music. You bite your lip.

You begin to worry a little then; have you disturbed him from his work? Maybe you shouldn't have come, or at least sent him a text telling him you were coming to the company studio. Maybe he would be more comfortable if you just left him alone.

Before your thoughts can descend on your head like a static black cloud, Chan finally slips off his headphones, leaning back in his chair with a heavy exhale. His arm is still around your waist and so he tugs you with him a little bit, eyes roaming over your face as he stretches.

"Sorry," he says, sighing contentedly as his back pops a little. "Got so caught up, didn't realise I'd be here so late."

"It's okay," you say quietly. "I figured."

Chan catches the hint of sadness creeping into your tone and he pulls you onto his lap, coiling strong arms around your torso. His unruly, ruffled curls tickle the naps of your neck and you squirm, letting out an involuntary giggle. Though the sound is happy, it immediately fills you with a creeping feeling of disgust, and you reproachfully close your mouth.

Chan doesn't seem to notice; he seems rather content to just keep you on his lap. He's absentmindedly singing something, and you stand up off of his lap suddenly, brushing yourself off. For some unknown reason, you begin to feel a bit embarrassed, like you used to feel around Chan when you didn't know him too well.

The man in question sits up a little straighter in his chair, smiling at you. "How was your day, baby?"

"Good," you say a little curtly. You're not sure where the tone is coming from, and you shove the feeling down before you can say something in a way you'd regret.

Chan hums thoughtfully and pokes you lightly in the stomach. "Just good, hmm? Usually I'd get a lot more than that... are you okay?"

"Yes," you say quietly, even though you feel anything but. You're grateful for the darkness then, because it means Chan can't see the tears beginning to prickly hotly at the corners of your eyes. You keep your voice strong and fight the urge to sniffle so as not to alert him. "Just had a long day. You?"

Saying those sentences almost makes you break.

Chan can never know what it's like; how it feels to be brushed off and ignored and attacked by someone who is supposed to love you. To feel like you don't really matter, or that your thoughts and ideas and dreams are just that; useless, empty words inside your head. And to be constantly reminded of how little your worth is, to the point where you're not sure what love is, or what it looks like.

Chan will never understand; he had a completely normal childhood, with a completely normal family and upbringing, and he's normal. Normal in the way that he has people to turn to, people who love and support him, and he's normal in the way that he doesn't scrutinize his own actions every single second of every single day.

And he will never know what it's like to be struggling with something to the point where it all just builds up inside your head like a messy pile of bricks. Where it all weighs down heavy on your mood and sends clouds of dust into the air, distorting and warping your emotions.

So far you've been able to control your mood swings around him; you'd succeeded in making Chan think that you're a person who likes to sleep a lot. In reality you just lie down and keep your eyes and mouth shut so you don't end up acting hypomanic or have outbursts at him. At least it's working; you would much rather keep it all inside than bare the most vulnerable parts of yourself to someone who might decide to turn away and leave you because of it.

You've learnt that keeping those thoughts and emotions inside is better, because then at least people stay. For some time, anyway. Lately you've been feeling like you're biding your time, waiting until the day where Chan finds out everything and decides to do what's best for himself.

When he decides to leave you.

"...And then Han decided he was going to try and do his makeup himself all of a sudden, and of course it was a whole mess. I had to clean sparkly highlighter out of his mouth. I mean, how does that even happen?"

You blink. Chan has been talking this whole time while you've been zoned out of your mind, pitifully burying yourself in your struggles. You climb out of the pit but for a moment and nod along, though he still can't see you because of the dark. You hope that he's just been talking about Han the whole time and not anything else, because if you missed something, Chan will definitely know something's wrong. You inwardly curse yourself for making a habit out of replying to every event and topic that comes out of Chan's mouth.

"Does he not know you guys have perfectly good stylists for that?" You murmur, carding a hand through his fluffy hair.

He sighs exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. "Apparently not."

You feel the slightest hint of mirth warming your heart as you notice the tips of Chan's rough, calloused fingers covered in the faintest hint of sparkles. But it quickly disappears, replaced by a cold, dead numbness that seems to encapsulate your whole being. Like icy water.

"Anyways," Chan stretches again, standing up. "How come you're here and not at home?"

Slightly taken aback at the blunt statement, you stutter a little. Chan's eyes go wide and he shakes his hands frantically in front of himself. "N-not like that! I'm glad you're here, it's just that it's really late and I thought you would be asleep by now..."

You blink at him, and then at the clock. He has a point; the white LEDs on the display read 1:43 am. Normally you'd be passed out in bed at this time.

"Couldn't sleep," you say. "I missed you."

And it's true. You did miss him. But suddenly you're looking straight through Chan to someone else and saying that last sentence to him instead. You clench your fists.

"Aww," Chan whines cutely, pulling you into a hug. "My baby. I missed you too. This new song track is killing me."

You pull back from the hug and kiss him on the cheek, partly because kissing Chan makes him go all red, and if you let him hug you any longer, you'll probably break down.

Chan does go red and you poke him lightly in the side, teasing gently. He chuckles and jerks away as you walk to the low table and pick up a bag. "I brought food."

"Oh, you're the best," Chan dives for the bag and eagerly digs through, clumsily kissing your cheek as he pulls the lid off one of the takeout containers. He sits down on the couch before pulling out a pair of chopsticks from the bag and heaping a mouthful of the food. He groans loudly. "This is so good."

"Tastes better after work, doesn't it?" You sit down next to him and lean back, looking at the ceiling. You cross your arms over your stomach to keep it quiet.

Chan nods eagerly and holds out his chopsticks. "Say ahh, Y/n."

You shake your head ruefully but Chan insists, moving closer. Relenting, you open your mouth and feel the warmth of the food against your tongue. It tastes so good, and for a second, you think about asking for more, but you realise that Chan needs it more. After all, he's been working all night.

Besides, if you ask for more of his food, he might think you're being greedy and look at you that certain way that someone else does.

In disgust.

You know in your heart that Chan would never do these sorts of things, but the doubt nags consistently at your consciousness, tugging your mood one way and then your emotions the next. The constant change between feelings is almost giving you whiplash and you exhale, closing your eyes and leaning back into the couch.

"Baby?"

"Mm," you say without opening your eyes.

"Is everything okay?" You hear him setting down his chopsticks, feel the tiny thud through the table as he sets the already-empty container down gently. Your heart drops to your stomach.

Keep it together. He doesn't know anything.

You sigh and sit up, your heartstrings twinging. "Just a lot to think about lately. Why?"

Chan nods, leaning back into the couch next to you. "It's just that you've been really quiet lately. I was wondering if something was going on..."

He ends his reply on a sort of question, like he's expecting you to open up to him about everything at once. You almost laugh out loud at the absurdity of it. How could he possibly expect you to do something like that? And so easily too...

You inwardly scoff. Nice try. You're not getting anything out of me, Chan. Better you don't know anyway. I know you'll change your mind about me.

But your heart takes control of your mouth, and maybe it's the constant sense of longing you seem to have around Chan, but you want to open up to him. Tell him everything, about your terrible past and terrible experiences, and all you are because of it. And a sudden, lingering sense of hope makes you believe that even after you tell him all of it, he'll stay.

Even if it's just for a moment.

"I, um.. I just had an argument with someone," you say vaguely. And it's not entirely the truth. But it's not exactly a lie either. The words shouted at you earlier flash through your mind, white and hot and painful. Like a fresh cut, a harsh, swift slice too deep and sudden to process. Where, for a moment, there's nothing, until the blood starts filling the white gap and then spilling over, like a gruesome parody of tears.

Chan turns to face you on the couch. "Argument? About what?"

You shift a little uncomfortably. Now you have to tell him. "About- just whatever."

"It's not whatever, Y/n," he says firmly. "Not if it's making you this upset."

And maybe it's the sudden realisation that Chan is so normal, with his normal family and mind and life that you feel a raging pang of jealousy fill you up from your toes to your head. You huff and turn away.

"It's nothing," you grit your teeth, fighting not to spit venom.

Stop it, Y/n. It's not his fault.

Chan blinks in surprise at your slightly harsh response but doesn't push you any further. You don't look at him, but you hear him sigh and get up to toss the empty takeout container in the trash. Your heart sinks and you wait for him to turn around and chide you for being so rude and stubborn. After all, he was just trying to help.

But he doesn't. He sits back down on the couch, and looks up at the ceiling, so that you two are lying next to each other in the exact same position. He doesn't talk, either.

You both sit in deafening silence.

You're grateful when the door opens with a haphazard bang and Han walks in, clad in an oversized grey hoodie and sweats. He's clutching a notebook in his hands, glasses slipping off the bridge of his nose. You know the story Chan told earlier was true because you can see smears of sparkly highlighter high on his cheekbones. He doesn't seem to be aware of the time, nor the dark state of the room, or the fact that you're so tense your shoulders feel like concrete.

You're grateful for the interruption until he walks over to Chan and promptly sits in his lap. Han murmurs a few lyrics to him, who seems unfazed by the sudden action, and questions about what he thinks could be changed with the song words. Chan replies quietly and his gaze flicks to you in the dimness of the room, but you just shrug, saying you don't mind.

But sitting there, watching Han sit so quietly and comfortably in Chan's lap makes your heart pang for some reason. He wasn't afraid, didn't ask if it was okay, just sat right down and made himself comfortable. Because you know for a fact Chan lets him do this.

And maybe it's the way Chan strokes an absentminded finger down Han's shoulder, or the way he speaks so softly, or the way it's so reminiscent of someone taking care of their child, but you find your eyes brimming with hot tears by the time Han gets up and leaves.

Chan turns to you, about to say something about the lyrics of the new track, but he stops short. A look of worry comes over his expression.

He scoots closer, placing a warm hand on your arm. "Baby? Are you okay?"

All you can do is shake your head, your eyes scrunching up as you fall into his arms. Chan holds you close, one hand cradling your head against his chest like you're the most precious thing in the whole world. Little do you know, to him, you are.

You sob. The reality of everything comes crashes down on you and all you can do is wail and hiccup into Chan's warm, solid chest. You expect him to push you away by the time the tears have soaked through his shirt, but he doesn't. He holds you close and rocks you gently, shushing you and cooing as he wipes hot, sticky streaks off your cheekbones.

You can't help but cry harder. Your eyes almost sting from how hard you've scrunched them up, and your hands ball in the back of Chan's hoodie like it's a lifeline. And it is. You feel that if you let go, you might fall and never return.

"I'm here," you hear Chan whispering through the mess. "I'm here."

Again and again he says it, and every time he does, your tears flow a little slower, and he keeps saying it until your breakdown has reduced itself to a fit of hiccups and messy sniffles. Still he doesn't push you away, or snap at you to get over it, or that your tears mean nothing. He just sits and holds you.

When you finally look up, Chan is smiling gently, reassuringly, though a little sadly. He sees the look in your eyes and knows you don't want to talk about it, so he sits and rocks you softly on his lap. You squeeze your eyes shut and heave in a rocky breath.

Please just keep holding me, you beg him silently. Just for a while.

And he does. And he doesn't let go, not even when you whimper into his shoulder and soak the juncture of his neck with your misery. He kisses the salty wetness away and strokes the pads of his fingers across your face, where the skin is red and sticky.

"I love you," he whispers.

"I'm sorry," you cry. "I can't get it all out of my head, and- it's too much, and I can't-"

"Shh, baby. I've got you, okay? Just breathe for me."

You heave in a few breaths and continue clinging to him. He feels so warm and safe. All you want is to be surrounded by him, to breathe him in, have him tell you that he loves you.

He must have read your mind, because he leans close to your ear and whispers firmly.

"I'm not leaving you, yeah? I'm gonna stay right here, hold you til you're better. You mean the world to me, hmm? Do you know that?"

You shake your head sadly.

"Now you do. I'm not going anywhere," he says with such conviction that you almost begin to believe it. He wraps his arms closer around you and kisses your forehead, whispering fiercely.

"I promise."

a/n: masterlist

[bahablastplz]

CW: Smut, degradation a little bit, p in v sex, unprotected sex WC: 1000

Thinking abt boyfriend! Seungmin with this lip piercing...

Sitting next to your boyfriend on the couch, you couldn't help but be affected by his appearance. Your boyfriend is usually very modest in his appearance, so when he came home from his photoshoot today you weren't expecting his outfit. His sleeves rolled up showed off his arms, muscular and bulkier thanks to his recent time spent at the gym, and the smoky eye makeup applied by the stylists added to his sexy, edgy appearance. The centerpiece of the outfit though was the lip ring, silver double-hooped and accentuating his beautiful pink lips.

"You're staring," he points out.

"Huh?" "You invited me over to watch a movie together after the shoot, but you're staring at me, bubs. I'd almost think you like me or something," he jokes. Your face heats up. "I do like you. I love you, even. So let me stare," you say, moving closer. His hand snakes around your waist and you stare into his eyes, your gaze flitting between his eyes and his piercing.

"I wanna ride you," you confess suddenly. Seungmin blinks at you once, twice, before breaking out into a grin.

"What's gotten into you? You're feral," he laughs.

"Nothing! Can I not appreciate how good-looking my boyfriend is?" you ask, moving over to straddle his lap. You wrap your arms around him, unable to help yourself when your gaze flits down to the lip ring again.

"Is it the lip ring? Seriously? Is that what has you so riled up?" he teases, grabbing your waist and pushing you closer to him so you're flush against his bulge.

"I'm not riled up," you say, but it's breathy and his grin tells you he knows you're lying.

"Oh yeah? So I shouldn't do this?" He rolls his hips up into yours, pushing you into him to make sure you feel his bulge against your clothed core.

You whimper, face hot as you look away so as to not be exposed at how affected you really are. His fingers grab your chin instantly, pulling your face hard to make sure you're looking right at him.

"Don't look away," he coos. "Thought you wanted to appreciate how good-looking I am? No?" You nod your head enthusiastically. "Then look," he demands.

His hands pull your shirt up and over your head, leaving you completely exposed to him. His fingers tug and pull at your nipples just the way you like, as he's spent years getting to know your body and your reactions for moments like this, where he can get you to fall apart for him in mere seconds. You can't help but instinctually grind your hips against him, trying to get any stimulation that you can.

You do as you're told and don't look away from him. You watch your boyfriend's stoic expression, completely focused on your body with dark eyes.

"I bet you're so wet right now, aren't you bubs?" Teary-eyed from frustration, you can't do anything but nod your head. "Think you can cum just like this? I don't even have to touch you, do I baby?"

Your movements get faster, more frantic in response. You're sure he's right, you probably could cum just like this, but when his hands move to your hips to still you you whine.

"Poor thing," he coos. "Were you close?"

"Please, please, please please pleasepleaseplease Seung--"

He shushes you, fingers moving up to grip your hair right at your scalp and pulling just hard enough to silence you, a breathy gasp releasing from your lips.

"It's okay baby. Weren't you saying you wanted to ride me, hmm? Be good for me and cum on my cock instead, okay?"

You're standing now on trembling legs, moving frantic to help your boyfriend get his pants off of his body. He chuckles condescendingly at your actions.

You can't get back into his lap fast enough, and he lifts you up by your waist to line up his cock with your entrance. Just his tip pushes in and you can't help the tears that start escaping from your eyes. He waits until you take a deep breath, preparing yourself until he pushes you down on top of him, now completely full of him.

His hands come back and rest behind his head, as if to say, 'it's your turn.' So you lift your hips, still shaky and start riding him just as you said you would. You start off slow, just to get used to him, but as you start gaining momentum again your ride him in earnest, wet and messy and fast just the way you both like it. You can only hear your own breathing and the sound of your thighs slapping together, and it doesn't take long for your high to approach once again.

He looks at you, lips slightly parted and eyes glazed over, and you see it again, that shiny silver fucking lip ring, and despite yourself and your need to see his face your lips are crashing against his, desperate and hungry. The ring is cold against your own lips but you can't find it in yourself to care, tongue pushing into his mouth eagerly.

Your hips start to stutter as your orgasm crashes over you, and though your mouth never separates from his you're breathing heavy into him, open mouths against one another as a squeak falls from your throat.

He grabs the backs of your thighs, lifting you up so he can piston into you, fucking you through your orgasm. His head falls back as you pulse around him, and his hips snap into yours harder, harder, and you can tell he's close now too.

You clench around him purposefully, and that's enough for his orgasm to crash over him just as hard, his own hips stilling as he spills into you.

You hunch over, finally, the two of you catching your breath. When you look at him again, a sheen of sweat coating both of your features, his hand comes to brush away a stray piece of hair stuck to your forehead.

"Never take that piercing out. Never," you tell him. His lips press into yours once more.

"Never," he agrees.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n: yeah so that's my reaction to the new pics... i'm not okay

masterlist

[whayjhey]

excuse this silly drawing but— once upon a time i thought of a padme!survives au where she raises the twins in tatooine but she has no idea who vader is and it went a little something like this: Padmé eyed her five-year-old daughter from across the table. Leia was in a grumpier mood than usual, evidenced in the way she gripped her spoon tightly and the way she chomped on her breakfast like an angry Sarlaac. (Padmé was reminded of how her baby girl looked a lot like Anakin, especially when she was this way. Her heart clenched at the thought.)

"Leia," Padmé said when she was no longer able to take the silence. "Sweetie, what's wrong?" And where in the galaxy was Luke? Leia grumbled a reply, one that her mother could barely hear. "Use your words, sweetheart," Padmé chastised half-heartedly. "I said," Leia huffed, looking up finally, her brown eyes meeting its identical, yet older, counterpart. "Why didn't you tell me about Daddy?" The admission caught the former senator off-guard.

Padmé's brows furrowed, confused. "What do you mean, baby? Of course I've told you about Daddy." About one side of him, anyway. The one of the kind Jedi Knight, her handsome protector. Of her sweet husband, the love of her life. Of the man who was so excited to have a baby, but had fallen along with the demise of the Republic before he had gotten the chance to know that he was a father of two. "No, Mama," Leia argued. "I mean— why didn't you tell me Daddy was alive?"

Before Padmé got a chance to react, Luke bounded into their small dining area, hands clutching a piece of paper close to his chest. "Mama!" Luke exclaimed excitedly. "Look, I drew Daddy!"

He slammed the tiny piece of paper onto the table.

Padmé paled at what she saw.

She almost balked at the words "DADDY" scribbled in his childlike handwriting, underneath the sketch of the galaxy's most feared.

She took a deep breath after a moment of silence. "Luke," she whispered shakily. Her son had a smile so bright she didn't have the heart to warn him of the man — if Vader even was one? — on paper.

The Empire had little of its propaganda on the sand planet; how in the living Force was Luke able to conjure the image of Palpatine's right hand man? Worse, why was Luke suddenly calling him his father? It didn't make sense.

It was Leia who brought Padmé out of her state of shock. "It's not fair!" the little girl cried. "How come Luke gets to dream of Daddy but not me!"

Padmé was having a hard time comprehending. "You dreamt of him?" She asked Luke, who was still eyeing his work of art proudly.

"Yeah!" Luke nodded his head happily. "I dreamt of him, Mama! He had a big black suit and a glowy red sword and he said he was Daddy!"

"Luke," Padmé started again. Kriff, she didn't want to break his heart. "Are you sure, sweetie? It was only just a dream."

Dreams. Force forbid, Padmé had to deal with another one. The last important dream belonging to a certain someone ended up costing her her entire world.

"I'm sure, Mama," Luke said seriously. "He walked up to me and said, 'Luke, I am your father!' He was very tall! Do you think I can get to be as tall as Daddy, Mama?"

Padmé blinked once. Twice.

After everything she'd ever been through, she didn't think that she'd be caught off guard by anything anymore.

She didn't want to believe it. This was all simply a misunderstanding. Luke had been always wanting to meet his Daddy; maybe her baby boy was just projecting, his wishes manifesting itself in his dreams and imagination.

Not all visions by Force users turned out to be true; she was living proof of that.

Padmé watched as Luke continued to boast about his encounter with his supposed father, Leia pouting in jealousy beside him. Right. Luke was just a boy. It was only just a dream. She could already see the difficult conversation ahead with her twins.

But then she couldn't help thinking... why would Luke picture Vader, of all the people? She needed a chat with Obi-wan. Soon. (check out the rest of my stuff: masterpost)

[risuola]

▶ NEEDY AND SHAMELESS — Satoru was needy and couldn't deal with it himself.

contents: needy, whiny, whimpering Satoru (that's a warning!), college+roommates!au, nsfw, oral (m! receiving), reader discretion is advised — wc. 2585

a/n: dedicated to my dear 🎶 anon for creating the movement #HeadForGojo, love ya! but also, we're diving into dangerous waters with the trio and i'd like to think that the reader is closer physically with Satoru and mentally with Suguru but fear not, spicy Suguru is coming as well!

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 | series masterlist

You’re not the type to get easily surprised.

Usually.

Living with two boys and knowing them for most of your life had prepared you to expect the unexpected and it was the spontaneity that was at the base of most of your best memories. The impromptu hitchhike travels during which you’d sprawl on top of either of their lap, the tight spaces in which you slept sandwiched between them, the unplanned sleepovers and long, nighttime rides on their motorbikes.

You’ve watched the stars with them, spread-eagled on the dew-sprinkled grass outside the city, talking the nights away while getting eaten alive by mosquitos and you loved every second of it. You’ve survived few days on nothing but instant ramen just so you three could get the best time at the beach without robbing a bank. You didn’t blink twice when Satoru once dragged you into a kissing competition just so you could win a two nights’ stay in one of the most luxurious hotels in Tokyo for all three of you around valentine’s day — you won of course, and after that you partied like royalty, getting drunk with Suguru on expensive champagne (and getting Satoru drunk), and jumping on beds in hotel-branded robes.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” But this time you were flabbergasted. Blinking a little faster, you tried to force the gears in your head to turn and process what you just heard. There was no way he just asked you to—

“Can you suck my dick? Pretty please—”

—never mind. The question sounded just as unexpected as the first time, if not more. There was no reason to it, no background information, no nothing that could make it sound a little less out of place.

“Context?”

Gojo groaned. You watched his cheeks turning bright red, the tips of his ears crimson as well and his hand met his face, covering it, hiding it from your expectant gaze. He was nervous, he was embarrassed and you had no idea what the hell was going on underneath the white mop of fluffy hair, but it wasn’t hard to tell that there was smoke coming out of there. For a short moment you wondered if he’d be able to trigger the fire detectors in the building.

“God, this is so embarrassing. I can’t— fuck.” He stuttered and it was the first time in your life you herd him stumble over his own words. “I really can’t do this with my hand. I just can’t, it doesn’t feel right and I’m so fucking frustrated because I tried to get some girl from the campus to give me a head but I can’t force myself to get hard for them. I somehow go all limp and useless whenever they throw themselves at me and ironically the thought of you makes me so painfully, impossibly bricked up that I might just chop the thing off to feel some release.” He was speaking so quickly it was almost difficult to understand, looking everywhere but at you. His eyes were bouncing off the walls and furniture, windows and ceiling but not once settled on you.

“And you want me to get you off?” You questioned, making sure that you understand his rumble correctly and the moment you spoke, Satoru finally stopped fidgeting and froze. His gaze slowly made its way towards you and his breath hitched, his heart pounded in his chest, his whole body tensed up. His mouth opened and closed, and then opened again but nothing came out. It took him a good ten seconds to find his voce, and even then, it came out as barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” he said simply, the single word hung heavy between you. His hands were in the pockets of his sweatpants, fingers curling around something — maybe a coin, maybe his own sanity; knuckles turning white from the strain as he took another deep breath. “I know we’re friends and roommates and all sorts of things that should make this a terrible idea but, I swear to all gods out there, it’s not about me wanting you to get me off, it’s about me needing you to get me off.” He swallowed hard, the knot in his throat threatening to choke him. This was so wrong, so incredibly bad and yet, here he was, practically begging you to touch him. To taste him. To swallow him whole. “I know it’s weird and fucked up and probably a huge mistake, but I don’t know what else to do here.”

You saw the vulnerability in those cerulean orbs, the raw honesty behind his confession. The desperation in his voice almost broke your heart, he looked like he’s about to pass out from sheer exhaustion — emotional, mental, physical; every kind imaginable, and you knew him. It wasn’t one of his whims, you can see through them in a blink of an eye. He was serious, he was trembling, his eyes seemed to well with tears as he begged you.

“Does it come from the day you asked me to judge your cock?”

“Yeah, I guess so. You said I make you salivate and fuck, the vision stuck with me.”

And then, he dropped onto the bed, sitting on the edge with elbows resting on his knees as he buried his face in his hands. He swallowed thickly, gulping down the lump in his throat. He hated the thought of ruining what you had as friends, it terrified him.

“Satoru—” you let out a sigh and he flinched, straightening up and looking at you again.

"I'll do anything. I can eat you out after that to pay you back. I can clean the room for a month. Fuck, I can even give you money if you need it. I'm just fucking going to combust if it goes for any longer–“ He rambled, babbled, desperate to get his point across. "I'm so impossibly hard when you're around, it hurts and every time I try to get my shit together, it's just getting worse."

“You don’t have to pay me back, Toru,” you said lightly, laughing at his nervousness. “I love you, idiot, I’m not gonna let you suffer, though I warn you that I might suck at this, no pun intended.”

“You don’t even have to use your mouth, honestly, if it’s your hand I’m sure it’s still going to be fine, as long as it’s you.”

“Oh, no, if we’re doing this, you’re getting the proper, sloppy, messy head,” you teased and he nearly moaned. The very thought of your mouth wrapping around him almost made him cum in his pants.

His cheeks heated up, all of his body felt like it’s on fire and he loved the feeling. You were straightforward; there was never any pretense or games played between you and him and he adored that about you.

“Please,” he whimpered, paralyzed by the thrill of excitement. The nerves were churning in his stomach, ecstasy coursing through him like electricity through wires. He watched as you moved, putting down the phone, there was a grace in the way you were crawling to the edge of the bed and you made a little sound when you got down onto the floor. He was quick to grab a pillow to throw below your knees, and you shot him a little grin.

It felt odd to you, to kneel in front of your best friend like this with intention so explicit but you also felt at ease with it. It wasn’t pity that drove you, you just loved him genuinely and there was no forcing involved in the way your hands moved to give his thighs a little squeeze.

You chuckled, amused by how sensitive he was, how impatient when just the slightest touch of your fingers over his clothed legs was enough to make him jolt. You could feel the heat radiating from his body and as your eyes moved down from his face, you noticed how strained his cock was against the fabric of his pants. There was a tiny dark spot where his tip was underneath, precum soaking through the grey sweats and you leaned in, flicking your tongue over the cotton, teasing him and he moaned.

“Sweets, please, have mercy. Mochi, I beg you–“ he was a whimpering mess, he was flushed, his chest was heaving and you touched him just barely, through the clothes.

“Oh, patience Toru,” you grinned, reaching up and hooking your fingers over the waistband of his pants. The elastic snapped against his stomach, making him whine and you acted innocent as if you didn’t do it on purpose.

“I’d love to be patient but keep it going and I might just bust in my pants and then die,” he dramatized; his knuckles were turning white from the sheer force he was squeezing the sheets behind him.

Finally, you pulled on the band, taking both pants and underwear at once and his manhood sprung free. The tip hit his stomach, leaving a droplet of seed on his light skin and he twitched as the cool air hit his sensitive flesh. The sight of him made you swallow, the saliva gathering at your mouth because he did look delicious and yet again you were reassured at the belief that god has his favorites.

Dragging your nails across his thighs, you reached to wrap your fingers around him, feeling his weight against your palm and the girth you struggled to embrace at once. You stroked him few times, experimentally, and it made him writhe and fidget, with the whiniest of moans. Satoru felt like he’s going to go crazy, your touch was gentle yet firm and it sent sparks shooting up his spine. He bit his lip to stifle another moan, his hips bucked into your hand involuntarily, seeking more friction. Despite his best efforts to maintain control, he couldn’t help but squirm beneath your touch.

“Be a good boy,” you warned playfully, leaning in, and savoring the moan that broke his apology when you run your tongue along the curved underside of his dick, the veins there felt prominent against the flat of your muscle. The kiss you planted on the tip of it was almost tender, gentle; the salty taste of precum mixed with your own saliva when you twirled your tongue around him.

“Fuck, that feels amazing,” he managed to gasp out between his clenched teeth, his eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure surged through him. He could feel the heat, the tension coiling within him and he swallowed thickly. The sensation of your mouth was unlike anything he had ever experienced before and he felt his eyes rolling to the back of his head when you took him in. Satoru’s whole world narrowed down to the feel of your mouth on him — so wet and warm and wonderful — enveloping his cock in a velvety embrace that had him seeing stars. Your tongue was hot and slick, gliding expertly over his throbbing length. Each lick, each suck had him writhing in pleasure and he barely managed to hold his hips down, to not thrust them deeper into the dreamy embrace between your lips.

The mixture of precum and your saliva was coating his cock, dribbling down his length and your chin. Messy. You were bobbing your head up and down his length, taking more and more of him sloppily. You were greedy, your movements like a dance to an unknown melody with the main dancers being your tongue and his member. You were twirling, tasting, teasing him mercilessly. Your cheeks were hollowing and your nose meeting the few white hairs at the base as you took him deeper and deeper and he was moaning. Shamelessly, loudly and oh so sweetly.

“Swee–mhaah–‘m gonn—” he stuttered, whined, tried to warn you but the words came out incoherent and stretched along the sounds that were ripping through him. His heart pounded in his chest, a wild rhythm that matched the rapid beat of pulse in his veins. Satoru felt his body tensing, one of his legs bouncing as tried to keep himself from shooting his load into your mouth.

Panting, heavily, shakingly, he watched you below him. You looked pretty like this, so drop dead gorgeous and straight out a fantasy that he’s been pushing to the back of his mind for the longest time now. Truth is, he wanted you, needed you much more than a friend would long for a friend, but he was too scared to act on it.

You hummed, the vibrations of your vocal cords pushing him near the edge, sending jolts of pleasure straight to his balls. His cock throbbed in your mouth, leaking precum that coated your tongue with its salty sweetness and he squealed, reaching to grab your head, your hair, to pull you away before he—

A loud, lewd mewl cut through the room and Gojo’s body went rigid as wave after wave of pure, carnal pleasure washed over him. He saw fireworks underneath his eyelids, he felt them exploding inside his veins, and he exploded too. The feel of your mouth sent him spiraling right into climax, speeding with no brakes and he was delighted. His cock twitched, pulsed with each spurt of cum and his entire body trembled with ecstasy, head tilted back, spine arched and mouth agape.

Joyful. He felt so utterly, unapologetically joyful.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him, leaving him panting and spent in their wake. He looked down again, catching the sight of you lapping at his cum, licking him clean and he finally went limp, falling back onto the bed with a weak, gleeful moan.

“Fuck… that was… oh god,” he panted, his blue eyes glazed oved with delight. His chest was raising and falling rapidly, each breath coming in short gasps as he struggled to regain control of his senses but he didn’t want to. He wished to bask in the afterglow a little more, a little longer.

You finished the job with a loud pop as you took him out of your mouth and finally let go. He was softening, his body deflating, relaxing and you took it as the job well done. Once fixing his underwear and sweats, you climbed back onto the bed and dropped next to him, taking in the sight of his flushed face and disheveled hair. He looked angelic, with teary eyes and parted, swollen lips, glistening from saliva. You committed the picture to memory.

“Good?” You asked, though the answer was obvious from the way he looked.

“Heavenly,” he panted out and turned his head towards you. He watched as you reached up to the corner of your lips, thumb wiping off the lone drop of cum that lingered there and he grabbed you gently, pulling it to his own mouth. You chuckled when he sucked on your digit, his warm tongue circling it precisely as his mouth enveloped it whole.

“Nasty,” you teased and leaned in to kiss his forehead.

“Look who’s talking,” he played back, his words muffled over your finger before he finally let go of your hand. A string of saliva stretched from the tip of it and to his mouth but he licked it off like a kitten. “Thank you, mochi.”

“You’re welcome,” you offered him a smile and got off the bed, heading towards the bathroom. “You’re cleaning for a month by the way!”

He whined and you laughed.

taglist: @kibananya @r0ckst4rjk @rixo-19 @soraya-daydreams@hyun0200 @ilykii @roscpctals99 @mushkasstuff @siimp4youu @juicedcherry @themoreeviltwin @stevenknightmarc @ms5m1th @local-mr-frog @minimorale @lansy-4 @dancer545 @lordbugs @tojislittleprincesss

[lee-laurent]

Home Away From Home -- Luke Hughes

Summary: Annika isn't gonna fall for the stupid hockey guy her parents are housing... right?

content: angst, implied smut but no explicit smut, some makeout scenes, fluff!!

wc: 8.9k

notes: i love this trope so here we are!! enjoy!!

Annika hadn't signed up for this.

She sat at the kitchen island, her arms crossed, watching her mom fuss over a plate of freshly baked cookies. George Thompson, her dad, was setting up the dining table with an enthusiasm that made her roll her eyes. The boys--twelve-year-old Alex and nine-year-old Flynn--were practically shaking with excitement.

"Do we really need cookies?" Annika asked, a touch of exasperation in her tone. "We're not adopting a puppy. He's just a guy. A hockey player, at that."

Andrea turned, a stern look on her face. "Annika, be polite. Luke is our guest. He's going to be a part of this family while he's here."

"Right," Annika muttered, "because this house isn't already crowded enough."

"Hey!" Alex piped up, shooting her a look of betrayal. "Luke Hughes is not just a guy. He's going to play for the Devils! He's super awesome!"

"Yeah!" Flynn added. "And he's way cooler than your boring boyfriend."

Annika groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "For the last time, Bryce and I broke up like three months ago."

"Probably cause he wasn't cool like a real NHL player!" Alex nodded.

Andrea shot the boys a warning glance but said nothing as she placed the plate of cookies at the centre of the table. "All I'm saying, Nick, is that this is a big adjustment for him too. He's young, he's new to Jersey, and he needs a supportive home environment. So please, try to make him feel welcome."

Nick refrained from commenting, though her skepticism must have been obvious, because her dad chuckled. "Come on, Nick. You might like the kid. Who knows?"

She doubted it. Sure, Luke Hughes was talented--she'd heard her brothers talk about him nonstop since her parents agreed to host him--but "some guy who skates for a living" didn't exactly sound like the type of perso she wanted to hang out with.

Still, when the doorbell rang, she couldn't help but feel a little curious.

~~

Luke hadn't expected to feel nervous.

But as he stood on the porch of the Thompsons' suburban house, duffle bag swung over one shoulder, his nerves hit him like a train. He rang the doorbell twice, the chime ringing out into the evening air.

The door swung open, and two kids stared up at him like he was a rockstar.

"Whoa," the older one--Alec or Alex, Luke couldn't remember--breathed. "You're really Luke Hughes."

Flynn just blinked, his jaw practically on the floor. "You're so tall," he finally said, wide-eyed.

Luke laughed awkwardly, glancing past the kids as an older man appeared in the doorway.

"You must be Luke," George said warmly, extending a hand. "Come on in, son. Welcome to our home."

"Thanks for having me," Luke said, stepping inside. The house smelled like cookies and furniture polish--cozy and warm, a sharp contrast to the hockey house he'd lived in the last two years.

The rest of the family came into view, and Luke felt the weight of their attention. A kind-looking woman who must've been Mrs. Thompson smiled warmly, and then his gaze landed on the girl standing behind her.

She was... unexpected.

Annika's arms were crossed, her expression unreadable. She didn't seem particularly thrilled to see him, though Luke couldn't tell if that was because of him or if she was just naturally unimpressed by life.

"This is Annika, our oldest," Andrea said, gesturing to her daughter.

Luke offered a hand. "Hi."

"Hey," Annika replied shortly, barely glancing at him before turning to her mom. "Can we eat now, or...?"

Luke's hand fell awkwardly to his side. Okay, then.

~~

Luke followed the Thompsons into the dining room, where the table was already set with a plate of cookies and some milk. He wasn't sure if it was meant to be welcoming or if they thought he was still ten years old, but the gesture was nice.

"Sit, sit!" Andrea said, waving him toward the table like he was royalty.

He slid into a chair, his bag at his feet. Across the table, the two boys continued to gape at him like he had two heads.

"Can I touch it?" Flynn blurted out, and Luke's eyebrows shot up.

"Your hockey stick," Alex clarified, giving his brother an exasperated shove.

"Uh, yeah, sure," Luke said, chuckling nervously. "I left it by the door. I can show you later."

"Awesome!" Flynn squealed.

Nick, leaning against the doorway with her arms still crossed, looked like she might die of secondhand embarrassment. Her blue eyes were narrowed in thinly veiled irritation.

"Boys, give him a minute to settle in," Andrea scolded softly. "Luke, you can call me Andrea, and that's my husband George." She gestured at her husband, who was helping himself to a cookie. "You've met the boys, Alex and Flynn."

"Yep," Luke said with a smile. "They're... enthusiastic."

"And Nick already introduced herself."

"Nick?" Luke tilted his head, confused.

Annika sighed as though she'd had to explain this a million times. "It's short for Annika. You know, like a nickname?"

"Oh. Got it."

Luke was quickly starting to realize that Annika wasn't the "warm and fuzzy" type.

"Nick's a student at Rutgers," George chimed in, as though sensing he needed to fill the silence. "She's studying communications. Smart kid, but she's a bit of a grump."

"Dad," Nick said sharply, though her cheeks flushed slightly pink.

"Don't mind her," George added with a conspiratorial grin. "She's just mad she doesn't have her bathroom all to herself anymore."

Nick shot Luke a look, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Sharing a bathroom? Great. This was going to be... interesting.

~~

By the time Luke hauled his duffle bag up the stairs, he was ready to crash. The Thompsons were nice--mostly--but the whirlwind of introductions had left him drained.

"This is you," George opened a door at the end of the hall. The room was small but tidy, with a twin bed, a desk, and a window overlooking the backyard.

"Thanks," Luke said, dropping his bag onto the bed.

"Bathroom's just down there to the left," George added. "Sorry in advance if Nick complains about you using it. She's not used to sharing."

Luke nodded, unsure how to respond. George clapped him on the back and left, leaving him alone to unpack.

"Just so we're clear," Nick showed up in the doorway. "I don't care if you're some big hotshot hockey player. It's still my house, and if you leave your gross hockey gear lying around, I will throw it out."

Luke blinked, caught off guard. "Uh... noted?"

"Good," she said, her tone sharp enough to cut steel. She started to leave, then paused, glancing over her shoulder. "And don't take forever in the bathroom. Some of us actually have places to be besides the hockey rink."

Before he could respond, she was gone, leaving Luke standing there with a pair of socks in his hands and the faintest trace of a smirk on his face.

She was definitely going to be a challenge.

~~

Nick woke up the next morning to the sound of running water and muffled thud from next door. Groaning, she rolled over and squinted at the clock on her nightstand. It was barely 6:30 a.m.

"Seriously?" she muttered, pushing the covers off.

Her first day sharing a bathroom with Luke was off to a fantastic start. Wrapping herself in her fluffy robe, she shuffled out of her room, only to nearly collide with Flynn, who was standing in the hallway, clutching his toothbrush.

"Is he still in there?" Nick asked, jerking her thumb toward the bathroom door.

"Yeah," Flynn said, his voice tinged with awe. "I think he's doing hockey stuff. Like stretches or whatever."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "In the bathroom?"

Flynn shrugged, and Nick let out an exasperated sigh. She banged on the door. "Hey, Hughes! Some of us need to use the bathroom too, you know!"

There was a brief pause before the door cracked open, revealing a very shirtless Luke. His hair was wet, beads of water clinging to his skin, and he held a towel loosely around his waist.

Nick froze.

"Uh... sorry?" Luke said, looking sheepish. "I didn't think anyone else would be up yet."

"Yeah, well," Nick snapped, forcing herself to look anywhere but at his chest, "you're not living in a bachelor pad, so maybe keep it moving."

"Right. Got it." He stepped aside, gesturing toward the sink to let her pass.

Nick brushed past him, her cheeks burning, and shut the door firmly behind her.

~~

When Nick made it to the kitchen, she was still fuming. Flynn and Alex were already seated at the table, shoveling cereal into their mouths like Luke sat across from them, wearing a hoodie and looking way too innocent.

"Morning," Andrea chirped, sliding a plate of scrambled eggs in front of Nick. "Sleep okay?"

"Would've been better if someone didn't turn the bathroom into his personal sauna," Nick muttered, shooting a pointed look at Luke.

To her annoyance, he just smirked. "I'll set an alarm for 6:29 next time. How's that?"

Alex snorted milk out of his nose, and Flynn started laughing so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.

"Luke's funny," Flynn declared, as though it was groundbreaking news.

"Luke's annoying," Nick corrected, stabbing her eggs with a little more force than necessary.

Andrea sighed. "Annika, be nice. Luke, honey, make sure Annika has time in the bathroom too."

"Yes ma'am," Luke grinned.

Nick glared at him, but his smile only grew.

~~

Nick had classes at Rutgers until late afternoon, which was usually her excuse to escape the chaos of her house. Today, though, chaos seemed determined to follow her.

She was sitting at her favourite coffee shop near campus, trying to focus on a group project, when her phone buzzed with a text from Alex.

Alex (12:34 PM): Guess what??? Luke said he'd come to my game on Saturday!!!

Nick rolled her eyes but responded anyway.

Nick (12:35 PM): wow! cool, bud. tell him to pack an extra helmet in case you miss a slapshot

Her phone buzzed again almost immediately.

Alex (12:36PM): u r not funny

Nick smirked, but her amusement was short-lived. A voice behind her said, "You look like you're plotting someone's downfall."

She turned to see Luke standing there, hands shoved in the pocket of his hoodie, looking slightly out of place in the sea of students.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, frowning.

"Your mom said you had the extra car... and I need a lift to the rink."

Nick blinked. "So you walked here? Just Google how to walk to the rink."

Luke shrugged. "Figured you'd just let me borrow the car."

She sighed, grabbing her laptop and shoving it into her bag. "Fine. Come on."

~~

That evening, after dinner, the boys dragged Luke into the living room for a mini hockey practice. Flynn wore a devishly determined look as he tried (and failed) to get the puck past Luke, while Alex gave commentary.

Nick watched from the sofa, trying not to smile. It was hard to keep her guard up when Luke was crouched on the floor, pretending to dramatically miss a save just to make Flynn cheer.

"He's good to them," Andrea whispered, sitting down beside her.

Nick blinked, startled. "Huh?"

"Luke," Andrea said, nodding towards the game of floor-hockey. Luke had ruffled Flynn's hair, earning a high-pitched giggle, and Alex was laughing so hard he had to clutch his side.

"Yeah, I guess," Nick admitted reluctantly. She wasn't ready to admit that Luke might've been slightly, a tiny bit okay-ish.

~~

She wasn't sure when she started noticing the little things about Luke.

Maybe it was the way he always made time to answer Alex and Flynn's endless questions about hockey. Or how he seemed genuinely interested in her every meal her mom made.

Or maybe it was that he wasn't as cocky and annoying as she'd originally thought.

Not that she'd admit it.

Saturday morning found Nick sitting in the bleachers at Alex's hockey game, sipping a lukewarm coffee and trying to focus on anything other than Luke, who was perched on the edge of the bench next to Flynn.

"Think he'll embarass himself?" Luke asked, lowly enough that only Annika could hear.

"Alex?" Nick smirked. "Absolutely. He lives for the drama."

Luke laughed, and Nick hated how much the sound didn't make her cringe. He was wearing a Devils cap pulled backwards over his messy curls, a plain hoodie, and an easy smile. It was almost... attractive.

The game started, and Alex threw himself into it with the subtlety of a wrecking ball. He wasn't the most skilled player on the ice, but his enthusiasm was unmatched.

"Go, Alex!" Flynn shouted, nearly toppling over the edge of the bench.

Nick found herself glancing at Luke occasionally, surprised by how invested he looked. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, watching Alex like it was Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals.

When Alex scored--a chaotic, scrappy goal that Nick was pretty sure only counted because the ref was feeling generous--Luke jumped up to his feet, clapping and cheering louder than anyone else.

"You act like it's the Olympics," Nick teased as he sat back down.

"What? That was awesome!" he said, still smiling like an idiot. "Kid's got guts."

Nick shook her head, but a smile tugged at her lips. She hadn't seen Alex light up like that in a long time.

The parking lot was full of parents chatting as they loaded their kids and gear into cars. Alex was still on cloud nine, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead as he recounted his goal for the tenth time.

"And then I deked left, and the goalie totally fell for it!" Alex said, demonstrating with exaggerated movements.

"More like you tripped into the puck," Nick teased, ruffling his hair.

Alex scowled. "You weren't even paying attention!"

"I was," Luke cut in, slinging an arm around Alex's shoulders. "And I think it was a sick goal."

Alex beamed up at him, and Nick had to admit--grudgingly--that Luke's support was doing wonders for her brothers' confidence.

"Thanks, Luke," Alex said. "Maybe you could help me practice my shot sometime?"

"Yeah, anytime, dude," Luke said without hesitation.

Nick's mom appeared then, holding Alex's bag. "Luke, seems like you're fitting in just fine around here."

Nick rolled her eyes but didn't comment.

~~

Back at the house, Alex and Flynn insisted on replaying the game on the living room floor, complete with mini-sticks, a foam ball, and way too much shouting.

Nick sat, pretending to read while Luke crouched on the floor, acting as a goalie.

"Careful," Luke warned, blocking one of Flynn's shots. "I don't want to break another lamp."

"That was Alex's fault!" Flynn protested.

"Was not!" Alex shouted, aiming another shot.

Nick couldn't help but laugh as the foam ball ricocheted off the wall and into Luke's chest.

"Game over," Luke declard, collapsing dramatically onto the floor.

The boys groaned, but Nick was grateful for the silence as they finally trudged upstairs, still arguing about whose shot was better.

Luke sat up, running a hand through his hair. "Your brothers are intense."

"They're obsessed with you," Nick said, closing her book. "It's kind of nauseating."

"Jealous?"

"Of what? The chaos? No, thanks."

He stood, stretching, and Nick's eye flicked to the hem of his shirt, which rode up just enough to reveal a sliver of toned abs. She quickly looked away, hoping her cheeks weren't as red as they felt.

"Good game today," she said, standing and heading toward the stairs before he could say anything else.

"Thanks," he called after her, and there was something in his voice that made her stomach flip.

~~

Nick paced back and forth in her room, her phone pressed to her ear as she tried to keep her voice down.

"I'm telling you, Mia," she whispered, "he's insufferable. Like, he doesn't do anything that bad, but the fact that he exists in my house is enough to drive me fucking insane."

On the other end of the line, Mia snorted. "Translation: You're fucking obsessed with him."

"What! No?" Nick flopped onto her bed, glaring at the ceiling. "I'm just... he's in my way. All the time. The bathroom thing? Unforgivable. And he's always around, charming my brothers and being all polite to my mom, and--it's annoying!"

"You're mad because he's polite?" Mia teased. "Wow, Nick, you're really reaching."

Nick groaned, throwing an arm over her face. "You don't get it. He's--ugh. He's just one of those guys, you know? All... awkwardly cute and unexpectedly funny and stupidly attractive--"

"Uh-huh," Mia interrupted, her voice laced with amusement. "Say that last part again?"

Nick sat up, her face heating. "I didn't mean it like that!"

"Sure you didn't."

"Mia," Nick hissed, her eyes darting toward the door. "I'm serious. He's just--fine, okay? I'll admit it. He's hot. Like ridiculously, stupidly hot. But that doesn't mean I don't hate his guts."

"Hate his guts? You sure you don't just want him to rearrange yours?"

Nick groaned. "I can't stand you?"

"And yet here you are, calling me for emotional support about your hot hockey housemate," Mia said smugly. "What a tragedy."

"He's just... objectively attractive. I can hate someone and still recognize that they're good-looking. Those two things can coexist."

"Sure, Nick," Mia giggled. "Whatever you say."

Nick groaned, burying her face in her pillows.

Flynn crouched in the hallway, his ear pressed to the crack under Nick's door. Beside him, Alex knelt, covering his mouth so he didn't giggle too loudly.

"Did she just say Luke is hot?" Flynn whispered, eyes wide.

"She totally did," Alex grinned.

Flynn giggled. "We have to tell him!"

"Duh," Alex said, scrambling to his feet.

The boys darted down the stairs, giggling like they'd just discovered the best secret in the world.

Luke was sitting in the living room, flipping through channels on the TV, when they skidded to a stop in front of him.

"Luke!"

"You're not gonna believe this!"

Luke quirked an eyebrow, setting the remote down. "What's up, guys?"

"Nick thinks you're hot!" Flynn blurted out, unable to contain himself.

Luke blinked, caught completely off guard. "What?"

"She said it on the phone," Alex explained. "She was talking to her friend, and she said you're 'ridiculously, stupidly hot.'"

Flynn nodded eagerly. "She also said you're annoying, but mostly that you're hot."

Luke huffed out a laugh, leaning back against the couch. "She actually said that?"

"Yup!" Flynn said proudly.

Luke shook his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Alright. Thanks for the intel."

The boys high-fived and ran off, leaving Luke alone with his thoughts.

Ridiculously, stupidly hot, huh?

He filed that tidbit away, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He didn't plan on using it right away--but when the right moment came, he'd be ready.

A few hours later, Nick came downstairs to grab a glass of water, grateful that the house was finally quiet. She froze when she saw Luke in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a glass in hand.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked casually.

"Nope," she said shortly, pouring herself some water.

As she turned to leave, she felt his eyes on her, and her steps faltered.

"What?" she snapped, glancing over her shoulder.

Luke shook his head, his expression unreadable. "Nothing. Just... interesting."

"What's interesting?"

"Nothing you'd want to admit," he said with a slight smirk, turning back to his drink.

Nick scowled, marching back upstairs, vowing to ignore whatever cryptic nonsense he was playing at. Behind her, Luke chuckled softly to himself, his smirk only growing.

~~

Annika was still determined to go about her life as if nothing had happened. Luke was still the irritating, too-hot-for-his-own-good hockey player who'd invaded her space. Nothing more.

But he wasn't making it easy.

It started small. Like how he suddenly seemed to be everywhere she was.

Case in point: the kitchen.

Nick had just finished a workout and was rummaging through the fridge for a bottle of water when Luke appeared, freshly showered and leaning against the kitchen island.

"Morning," he said, annoyingly chipper.

"Morning," she replied shortly, avoiding eye contact.

"Work out hard?" he asked, his gaze sweeping over her.

Nick's head snapped up. "What?"

"You're all flushed," he said innocently, taking a slow sip of his protein shake. "Maybe you overdid it."

Her cheeks heated further, and she hated that he'd noticed. "I'm fine," she said, grabbing her water and slamming the fridge shut.

Luke smirked, watching her retreat.

~

That weekend, Andrea sent Nick and Luke to pick up groceries. It was supposed to be a simple errand, but the tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Nick fiddled with the AUX, flipping through songs until Luke reached over and stilled her hand.

"Pick something already," he said, his fingers brushing hers.

The touch was brief but electric, and Nick pulled her hand back like she'd been burned.

"What's your problem?" she snapped.

Luke shrugged, trying to conceal his amusement. "No problem. You just seem... jumpy."

"I'm not jumpy," she said through gritted teeth.

"Okay?"

Nick gripped the phone a little tighter, silently cursing him and the stupid butterflies in her stomach.

~~

That evening, the family decided to have a movie night. Nick reluctantly joined, sinking into the sofa and snatching the bowl of popcorn.

Luke sat beside her, closer than necessary, his knee brushing against hers as he man-spread.

She stiffened, but he didn't move.

"Comfortable?" she asked, shooting him a pointed look.

"Very," he said innocently.

Andrea shushed them, and Nick tried to focus on the film. But every time Luke shifted, she was hyper-aware of the warmth of his thigh against hers.

Halfway through, he reached for the popcorn, knocking her arm with his.

"Do you mind?" she hissed under her breath.

"Not at all."

Nick gritted her teeth, determined to ignore him. But when the movie ended and she stood to leave, he softly caught her wrist.

"Hey," he said, locking eyes with her. "Relax. I'm just messing with you."

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, she couldn't look away.

"Whatever," she muttered, yanking her hand free and hurrying upstairs.

~~

Alex and Flynn barreled into the kitchen, sweaty and red-faced from playing street hockey.

"We crushed the neighbours!" Alex announced, dropping his stick and gloves on the floor.

Flynn followed suit, throwing himself onto one the barstools at the island. "Yeah, but Alex missed like ten open shots."

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Guys," Nick interrupted. "Gear in the laundry room. Now."

The boys groaned but trudged off, muttering under their breath. A minute later, Luke strolled in, hair damp from a shower. He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and hopped to sit on the counter, watching Nick with his lopsided grin.

"You run a tight ship," he teased.

"Someone has to when my parents aren't home."

Before Luke could respond, the boys returned, still arguing.

"Whatever," Alex said, rolling his eyes. "At least I'm not as bad as Bryce."

Nick scowled, her stomach sinking. "What does Bryce have to do with anything?"

"Nothing," Flynn said, grabbing a cookie off the counter. "Just saying Alex is better than him at hockey."

Luke's brow furrowed, gaze flickering between Annika and the boys. "Who's Bryce?"

"No one," Nick glared at Alex.

"Her boyfriend," he said, completely ignoring her. "Well, ex-boyfriend. He was like super into hockey but I think he sucked. Nick used to help him with his stats for school."

Nick shot him another warning look. "Shut up, Alex."

Flynn, too young to realize the tension in the room, chimed in, "He coached Alex's team last year, but he's not as cool as you, Luke."

Annika could feel Luke's eyes on her and turned away, busying herself with wiping an already-clean counter. "Bryce is like... history. Can we drop it now?"

The boys shrugged, losing interest as they rushed off to play Xbox.

Luke lingered, arms crossed, watching her closely. "So... Bryce?"

Nick sighed, turning to face him. "It's not a big deal. We dated for a while. It didn't work out. End of story."

Luke nodded slowly, though his expression shifted slightly. "Sounds like a real winner."

Nick narrowed her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing... nothing. Just that he doesn't sound like much competition."

"Competition for what?"

He shrugged. "Relax, Annika."

"You're fucking insufferable," she mumbled, pushing past him and heading for the stairs.

~~

Luke was still thinking about Bryce.

He told himself it didn't matter, that it was none of his business, but the image of some guy hanging around Nick, talking hockey and being such an important part of her brothers' games, made his chest feel tight.

Jealousy wasn't a good look on him, but there it was, simmering just under the surface.

He was sprawled on the couch when Nick came downstairs again, her arms full of laundry. She stopped when she saw him, a guarded look on her face.

"Still brooding about Bryce?"

Luke smirked, trying to mask his annoyance. "Why would I brood about some guy I've never met?"

"Good question."

Her tone was casual, but the way she avoided his gaze told him she was more affected by their earlier conversation than she cared to admit.

She shook her head, going to walk past him. But just like the other night, he grabbed her wrist. "For the record, I don't think he deserved you."

Nick just stared at him, blinking slowly.

"Goodnight, Nick."

And with that, he got up and walked away, leaving a very confused Annika in his wake.

~~

The rain started in the late afternoon, a light drizzle that quickly turned into a full-on downpour.

By the time Nick got home from class, her sneakers were soaked, and her hair was plastered to her face. She shoved the door open with a grunt, muttering curses under her breath.

"Rough day?"

She startled, looking up to see Luke in the living room, also soaking wet, with his bag slung over his shoulder. He must've just gotten back from practice.

"Rain fucking sucks," she said shortly, kicking off her shoes and peeling off her wet socks and jacket.

"Not a fan of Jersey weather?"

"Not when I have to walk through it because someone took the car," she snarled, brushing past him on her way to the kitchen.

He followed, watching as she rummaged through a cabinet for a snack. "Where's the rest of your family?"

"Out," she said, grabbing a box of crackers. "My mom took the boys to the movies, and my dad's working late. Why?"

"Just curious."

Nick turned to look at him, but before she could reply, a sudden crack of thunder made the house shake. The lights flickered once, twice, and then everything went dark.

"You've got to be kidding me," she groaned, fumbling for her phone.

"Relax," Luke said, his voice steady. "It's just a power outage."

"No big deal for you, maybe," she muttered. "I've got work to do."

"Yeah? What kind of work?"

"The kind that requires electricity."

"Well, unless you can magically fix the power grid, I'd say you're stuck."

Nick rolled her eyes, but she couldn't ignore the flutter in her chest at the way his voice sounded in the dark--low and teasing, but with an edge she couldn't quite place.

"Great. Guess I'll just sit here and wait for the apocalypse."

"Or," Luke said, his voice closer now, "you could stop being so dramatic and light some candles."

Nick scowled, but another loud crack of thunder made her jump.

Luke laughed. "Scared of storms?"

"Of course not," she snapped, though her hands were trembling slightly.

"Right."

Nick shook her head, retreating to her bedroom, hoping to escape the weird tension that always settled between them. She lit a few candles, their warm glow casting flickering shadows on the walls, and tried to focus on her textbook.

But her thoughts kept drifting--to the storm, to the empty house, and to Luke.

She didn't even hear him knock.

"Hey," he said. "Mind if I hang out in here? It's kind of creepy downstairs."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "You're a professional hockey player, and you're scared of the dark?"

"Not scared. Just bored."

She sighed, gesturing for him to come in. He shut the door behind him and sat on the edge of her bed, his presence suddenly overwhelming in the small space.

For a while, they sat in silence, the sound of rain pounding against the windows filling the room.

"You're quiet," Luke said eventually.

"So are you."

He glanced at her, his eyes catching the candlelight in a way that made her stomach flip. "You've been weird around me lately."

"I'm always weird around you."

"Not like this," he whispered.

Her heart started thudding against her chest. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Nick."

She froze at the way he said her name--soft, almost pleading. When she finally looked at him, the intensity his gaze made her breath catch.

"Are we just gonna keep pretending this thing between us doesn't exist?"

"What thing?"

Luke huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "You're really gonna make me say it?"

She didn't answer, and in the silence that followed, he got closer.

The air between them crackled, the storm outside quiet in comparison to the sound of her heart.

"I think about you... way more than I should."

Her breath hitched at his words, and he leaned in, his hand brushing hers.

"Nick," he whispered, his lips hovering just inches from hers. "Tell me to stop."

But she didn't.

Instead, she closed the distance, her mouth crashing against his in a messy kiss of spit and teeth.

His hands quickly found her waist, pulling her until they tumbled onto the bed. Hers found the curls at the nape of his neck. And outside, the storm faded into nothing.

~~

The storm had become nothing but a soft patter of rain against the windows. Nick lay across her bed, Luke's arm draped lazily across her waist as they caught their breath.

The room was warm and still dark, the flickering candlelight casting a soft glow over their bodies. Nick could feel the steady rise and fall of Luke's chest against her back, his skin sticky but still comforting against hers.

"You're sweaty," she mumbled, her voice muffled by the pillows.

Luke chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "So are you."

She wrinkled her nose but didn't move, too content--and too tired--to care.

They lay there in comfortable silence for a while, the weight of what had just happened settling over them. It wasn't awkward, though. If anything, it felt... right.

Luke broke the silence. "You know, the candles really set the mood."

Nick snorted, turning her head to look at him. "Oh, totally. Very romantic."

"You don't think so?"

She rolled her eyes, biting her bottom lip. "Honestly? It might've been the most romantic sex I've ever had."

"High praise."

"Don't let it go to your head."

They fell quiet again, Nick tracing lazy circles on Luke's arm as his fingers skimmed along her hip.

"Can I tell you something?" Luke said suddenly.

"Sure."

"Your brothers... they told me."

"Told you what?"

"That you think I'm hot."

"They what?!"

"Yeah," Luke smirked, clearly enjoying her reaction. "Apparently, you were on the phone with your friend, and they overheard you saying I'm 'ridiculously, stupidly hot.'"

Nick stuffed her face in the pillows, groaning. "Oh my God. I'm gonna fucking kill them!"

"I mean," Luke continued, "I wasn't going to say anything, but now that we're here."

"Shut up."

He laughed, gently tugging her out of the pillows. "Hey, I'm flattered. Really."

"Don't be," she said, though the blush creeping up her neck betrayed her.

Luke leaned in, his lips brushing against her temple. "For the record, I think you're ridiculously, stupidly hot too. Still wanna kill your brothers?"

"Absolutely," she said, but her voice was lighter now, her cheeks still pink.

Although killing her brothers didn't really matter when she was laying in bed with Luke.

~~

Nick had no idea the thrill that sneaking around would give her.

There was something almost intoxicating about the stolen moments--the way Luke's touch would linger as he walked past her, the charged glances across the room, the whispered goodnights as they traded the bathroom.

It was dangerous and utterly addictive.

She hated how much she liked it.

Family dinners at the Thompsons were always chaotic (as were most things in their house). Andrea was bustling between the kitchen and the dining room, carrying plates of steaming food, while George tried to wrangle Alex and Flynn into their seats.

Luke sat across from Nick, his expression perfectly innocent as he buttered a piece of bread.

Nick didn't trust him for a second.

The meal started without incident--Andrea asking Luke about practice and an upcoming roadie, Flynn babbling about a school project, Alex loudly debating which NHL team had the best defence. Nick tried to focus on her food, keeping her gaze firmly away from the boy across the table.

Until she felt it.

A soft nudge against her ankle.

She froze, her fork halfway to her mouth, and glanced up. Luke's eyes were on his plate, the faintest hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

Nick shifted her leg, but the nudge came again--this time more deliberate, slowly moving up her calf.

Her eyes narrowed.

Subtly, she kicked back.

Luke's smirk widened, but he didn't react otherwise, his foot pressing against hers in a way that made her stomach flip.

"Nick," Andrea said, snapping her out of the moment. "Pass the salad, please."

Annika blinked, her face burning as she shoved the salad bowl across the table.

"You okay?" her mom raised an eyebrow.

"Fine," Nick said quickly, glaring at Luke.

He looked up then, his smirk replaced with an innocent smile. "Everything alright, Nick?"

She wanted to throttle him.

Instead, she dropped her napkin on the floor, ducking under the table.

"What're you doing?" Alex asked as she crouched, fumbling for the napkin.

"Nothing," she muttered.

She grabbed the napkin--and Luke's ankle.

He jerked slightly, his leg pulling away, but she squeezed just hard enough to make her point before sitting back up.

"You sure everything's okay?" Andrea asked, her tone tinged with suspicion.

Nick forced a smile, her heart pounding. "Just peachy."

Across the table, Luke's smirk was back, but this time it was tinged with something darker--something that made Nick's breath catch in her throat.

~~

Later that evening, they weren't so lucky.

Andrea had sent the boys upstairs to clean their shared room while she and George tidied up the kitchen. Nick, seizing the opportunity, had slipped into Luke's room under the pretense of "helping him settle." As if he hadn't lived there for weeks.

Luke was waiting for her, his grin smug as he pulled her inside and shut the door.

"You're getting reckless," he teased, his hands sliding around her waist.

"You're the one who started it... and keeps tempting me," she shot back, her voice breathless as he backed her against the closet door.

"Is that so?"

Her lips found hers, and for a moment, she forgot all her worries--her parents, the risk, the fact that her brothers were just down the hall.

Until the footsteps started.

"Luke!"

Nick froze as Flynn's voice rang out.

"Shit," she whispered, shoving Luke back.

He stumbled slightly, but didn't stop smiling. "Relax."

The door burst open a second later, Flynn standing there with hockey stick in hand.

"There you are!" he exclaimed. "Alex and I want you too referee!"

Luke cleared his throat, stepping back even further from Nick. "Uh, yeah, for sure. Be right there."

Flynn squinted at his big sister. "What are you doing in here?"

"Helping him find something," she lied, her face burning.

Flynn shrugged. "Okay, whatever." He turned and darted back down the hall, yelling for Alex."

Nick let out a shaky breath, her head dropping back against the closet.

"That was close."

Luke chuckled, stepping closer again. "Too close?"

"Yes," she hissed, swatting his arm as he leaned in.

"You love it," he teased, his lips brushing her ear before pulling back. "I'll see you later."

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Nick to realize that she did, in fact, love it.

~~

The bathroom was filled with steam, despite the fan being on. The warm spray of the shower drowned out the storm that had started outside.

Nick leaned back against the cool tiled wall, her skin slick with water, as Luke pressed a line of soft kisses along her collarbone.

"This is so stupid," she mumbled, her hands sliding over his shoulders.

"Probably," he agreed, smirking as he pulled back to look at her. "But when have we ever done anything smart?"

"If we get caught--"

"We won't," he promised, pushing his lips against hers.

The sound of a knock at the bathroom door had them both pulling away.

"Luke?" Andrea's voice called from the other side of the door.

"Oh my God," Nick mouthed, her heart hammering inside her chest.

Luke held a hand up, silently telling her to stay silent, before clearing his throat. "Uh--yeah?"

"Have you seen Annika?" Andrea asked. "I thought she might be in her room, but she's not."

Luke shot Nick a panicked look, and she mimed strangling him, her lips forming "fix this."

"Uh, no," Luke said, scrambling for an excuse. "I think she said something about--uh--going for a walk?"

"A walk? In this weather?"

Luke winced, cursing himself for the lame excuse. "Yeah, she, uh...said she likes the rain. Said it's like refreshing or something?"

Nick buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

There was a long pause on the other side of the door, and Luke could practically feel Andrea's doubt seeping through the wood.

"Well, alright," she said finally, though her tone was still dubious. "Let me know if you see her, okay?"

"Will do," he said, waiting until he heard her footsteps retreating before turning to Nick.

She was doubled over with laughter now, her hands braced against the wall. "Refreshing?" she wheezed, still whispering. "That's the best you could come up with?"

Luke scowled. "You're welcome."

Nick pressed her chest against his, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Guess I should be grateful," she whispered, her lips brushing his ear. "You're quick on your feet when panicking."

"Yeah, well," his hands settled on her waist, "let's just hope your mom doesn't start asking more questions."

Nick smirked, leaning in to kiss him softly. "Guess we'll have to be more careful, huh?"

"Guess so."

~~

They'd barely recovered from their bathroom incident, but Luke seemed determined to push their luck even further.

They were standing in the kitchen, the rest of the family scattered--Andrea folding laundry upstairs, George in his office, and the boys glued to a hockey game on the TV.

Nick was just trying to make herself some tea, trying to ignore Luke's presence at the counter, when she felt him move closer.

"Relax," he wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning in his chin on her shoulder. "Nobody's around."

"Ugh, you're insane."

"Probably," he said.

"Luke, not here," she tried to escape his grasp, but his hockey training must've been paying off because he wouldn't budge.

"Why not?"

"Because we almost got caught earlier. You're pushing our luck. If someone walked i--"

Her words her cut off as he spun her around, her lips ghosting his. She crumbled instantly, her fingers gripping the counter as she kissed him back.

"Annika!"

"Fuck me," she groaned, jerking back so quickly she almost knocked the kettle over.

"Later," Luke retorted, earning a glare.

"What?" she called back.

"I need some help up here! Can you make your brothers' beds?"

"Uh--yeah! I'll be right there, Mom!" She pressed her palms against Luke's chest. "You're a bad influence."

He shrugged, moving to let her escape upstairs with her tea in hand, but not without giving her ass one last squeeze.

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

~~

Luke seemed determined to finish what they started in the shower, because he'd managed to be in the laundry room just as she was heading there to grab her mom a blanket.

"Are you fucking tracking me?"

"Just lucky timing."

"You're going to be the reason we get caught."

"Only if you scream," he teased, boosting her on top of the washing machine.

"Luke..."

"Relax," he pressed a kiss to her neck.

She really wanted to believe that they'd be in the clear down in the basement, but apparently her parents really wanted that spare blanket.

"Let's go, Nick! Chop, chop!" George shouted from the top of the stairs.

"Coming! Coming!"

"God, why is it so hard to get you alone?" Luke groaned.

"Welcome to my life."

~~

It was bound to happen sooner or later.

Nick knew their little game of sneaking around was risky, but she hadn't pushed it to stop. She blamed Luke entirely--his stupid smirk, his stupid face, the way he couldn't seem to ever keep his hands to himself.

But when the door to her bedroom flew open late one afternoon, she swore she had a heart attack.

"Annika!"

Her mom's voice was sharp, the shock in her tone unmistakable as she stood frozen in the doorway.

Nick and Luke jerked apart like they'd been electrocuted, the tangled sheets doing little to hide the situation.

"Mom!" Nick shrieked, her face going bright red as she scrambled to grab the blanket.

Andrea's eyes darted between them, her face covered in disbelief and mortification. "Luke?"

Luke, to his credit, managed a sheepish smile he sat up, adjusting his shirt and ruffling a hand through his hair. "Uh...hi, Andrea."

She blinked, her mouth opening and closing like she was trying to form words but she couldn't process what she was seeing.

"I--I'm gonna go see your father," she shook her head, backing out of the room and slamming the door shut behind her.

Nick groaned, burying her face in her hands. "We're so fucking dead."

Luke flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. "I told you to lock the door."

"Luke!"

"Yeah, this is... not ideal."

~~

The tension in the living room was palpable as Nick and Luke sat on the sofa, side by side, waiting for her parents to join them. The rest of the house was quiet for once--Alex and Flynn had been banished upstairs with strict instructions not to come down.

Andrea and George finally appeared, their expressions grim as they sat down across from the couple.

"Well," George began, clearing his throat. "This is, uh... unexpected."

Nick wanted to crawl in a hole and die.

Andrea crossed her arms, her gaze sharp as it landed on Luke. "I think we need to have a very serious conversation about boundaries."

Luke nodded quickly, the confidence he'd felt the last few days nowhere to be found. "Of course. Absolutely."

She turned to Nick, her tone just as firm. "Annika, you're an adult, and I understand that you're going to make your own decisions, but this is our home. And there are certain... expectations."

Nick groaned, slouching further into the couch. "Mom--"

"No," Andrea interrupted. "This is important. You're under our roof, and we expect you to be respectful of that."

George cleared his throat again, clearly uncomfortable. "What your mother is trying to say is, uh, we don't want anything... inappropriate happening here."

Nick buried her face in her hands, her voice muffled. "Can we not do this right now?"

"We absolutely need to do this right now," Andrea said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

She turned back to Luke. "We welcomed you into our home, Luke, and we expect you to behave like a gentleman. This... this cannot happen again. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Luke said quickly, nodding so fervently it was a wonder his head didn't fall off.

"And that goes for you too, Annika," Andrea added, fixing her with a pointed look.

"I get it," she muttered, her face still hidden.

"Good," Andrea said, standing. "Because if I find you two in a... situation again, you're both going to regret it."

George stood as well, patting Luke awkwardly on the shoulder. "Just, uh, keep things... above board, okay?"

"Got it."

The parents left, leaving Nick and Luke in stunned silence.

After a long pause, Nick finally spoke, her voice still muffled by her hands. "I'm never leaving his house again."

"I don't know. I think that went pretty well," Luke let out a breathless laugh.

Nick finally dropped her hands to glare at him. "Pretty well? Are you kidding me?"

"Hey, at least your dad didn't kill me... or cut off my balls."

"You-- UGH!"

"If you say so."

~~

The shift in the house was obvious.

Andrea seemed to materialize whenever Luke and Annika were in the same room, her watchful gaze making Nick's skin crawl. George was less obvious but still lingered nearby, pretending to fiddle with the thermostat or check a sports score while clearly keeping tabs on them.

Even Alex and Flynn had picked up that something was wrong, their usual teasing replaced with curious glances and hushed whispering.

"Your mom's fucking scary," Luke said one evening, his voice low as he passed Nick in the hallway.

"You're telling me," she muttered, glancing over her shoulder to make sure nobody was around.

Luke smirked, leaning closer. "So... does this mean we're done?"

Nick frowned. "Done with what?"

"This," he gestured between them.

She hesitated, gnawing at her bottom lip. "I don't know. Do you really think it's worth getting caught again?"

Luke leaned against the wall, his grin softening into something more sincere. "Yeah. I do."

"You--"

"I'm insane, I know But I'm not ready to let this go. Are you?"

Her walls crumbled as he reached out, his fingers brushing against hers.

"Fine," she whispered. "But you have to keep it under wraps. I'm not dealing with my mom's wrath again."

"Deal."

~~

Keeping things under wraps was easier said than done.

Every interaction felt like a minefield, with Andrea constantly dissecting their every move.

Luke made it harder by being... well, Luke.

He would brush against her as he passed by. He'd lean in close to whisper something that wasn't remotely necessary.

It was maddening.

One night after dinner, they were in the kitchen, Nick washing dishes while Luke dried. Andrea was sitting at the table, her back to them, flipping through a magazine.

Luke bumped her hip with his, his voice low. "You're tense."

"Gee, I wonder why."

"She's not even looking," he grinned, reaching for a plate.

"She doesn't have to look. She knows everything."

"You're paranoid."

~~

Sitting in the backyard under the stars, finally having time together. Their hands were intertwined as they stared up at the sky.

"Is it really worth all the trouble?" Nick whispered.

"Of course it is," he replied, swinging their hands.

"Why?"

"Because I like you."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

Nick didn't respond, but the smile on her face told him all he needed to know.

~~

A quiet afternoon in the Thompson house was hard to come by. The boys were upstairs playing video games, Andrea and George watching a show in their room.

Nick and Luke were taking advantage, lounging on the sofa and watching a movie.

Well, trying to watch a movie.

Luke kept nudging her with his knee, a silent plea for attention that she ignored for as long as she could.

"What?" she paused the movie, turning to look at him.

"Nothing. Just... thinking."

"Dangerous," she teased, though her stomach fluttered at the way he was looking at her--soft yet serious.

"Nick," he said, his voice lower. "I've been thinking about this for a while now."

"Okay..."

"I want to make this official," he said, his hand finding hers. "I know we've been sneaking around and keeping things quiet, but I... really, really like you. And I want to do this for real."

"You're asking me to be your girlfriend?"

"Yeah... I guess I am."

Nick hesitated. She knew this was risky, that saying yes meant inviting even more complications into their already chaotic situation.

But as she looked at him--his goofy grin, the way his thumb brushed over her knuckles--she knew she couldn't say no.

"Okay. Let's do it."

Luke's grin grew, and before she could second-guess herself, he leaned in and kissed her.

"Ew!"

They sprang apart, Flynn stood in the doorway, his face scrunched in disgust.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at them.

Nick scrambled to her feet. "Flynn! Don't you knock?"

"This is the living room!" he retorted. "You can't kiss here!"

Luke cleared his throat, standing up and running a hand through his hair. "Uh, maybe we keep this between us, bud?"

"Why?"

Nick groaned. "Flynn--"

But he was already running toward the kitchen, yelling at the top of his lungs.

It didn't take long for Alex to join the chaos, and before Nick and Luke could figure out what to do, both boys were standing in front of their parents, firing off questions.

"If Luke and Annika get married, does that mean he gets to live here forever?" Flynn asked, his face alight with excitement.

"Wait, does this mean Luke is our brother now?" Alex added, his brow furrowed.

"Do you think Luke will take us to games since he's Annika's boyfriend?"

Andrea's eye widened, snapping to Nick and Luke, who were standing awkwardly in the doorway.

"Annika," she said slowly, her tone suspiciously calm, "is there something you'd like to tell us?"

Nick opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. She glanced at Luke, silently begging him to say anything, but he looked just as panicked.

"Well?"

Nick swallowed harshly. "It's not what it looks like--"

"It's exactly what it looks like," Flynn interrupted. "They were kissing on the couch!"

"Flynn!" Nick hissed.

Andrea sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as George rubbed the back of his neck.

"Annika," Andrea said firmly, "we talked about boundaries."

"I know! And we only kissed! We've been careful!"

"Careful? You were kissing in the living room!"

Flynn leaned over to Alex, whispering loudly. "Do you think they kiss a lot?"

Luke coughed, trying to stifle a laugh, but one sharp look from Andrea wiped the grin from his face.

"This isn't funny. We'll be having a conversation about this later."

"Great!" Nick threw her hands up.

~~

There they were, sat on the couch... again. Two angry parents in front of them like they'd just gotten in trouble for something stupid.

"Alright," Andrea said. "Start talking."

Nick glanced at Luke, who gave her a small, reassuring squeeze of the hand before she cleared her throat. "Look, I know this isn't ideal, but... Luke and I really like each other."

"Really like each other?"

Nick nodded, her voice steadier now. "Yes, and we've been trying to keep it low-key because we didn't want to make things weird for everyone else."

Andrea snorted. "Well, that worked out great."

"I know it's a lot to ask," Luke said, leaning forward. "But I care about Nick. A lot. And I don't want to mess up the trust you've shown me by letting me stay here, and I don't want to make things uncomfortable for your family. But I also don't want to pretend I don't... like Nick."

Her gaze softened slightly, though her expression remained guarded. She looked at George, who shrugged.

"They're adults," he said simply. "I'm not thrilled about it, but it's not like we can tell Nick who she can and can't date."

Andrea sighed, hands on her hips. "I guess that's true. But if this is going to continue, there are going to be rules."

Nick and Luke exchanged a quick glance, relief washing over them.

"Rules?" Nick asked cautiously.

"Yes, rules. First, no sleeping in each other's rooms. Doesn't matter if you're both adults, it's my house, that's my rule."

"Understood," Luke nodded.

"Second," she continued, "keep the PDA to a minimum. Especially in front of the boys. I don't need Alex and Flynn asking any more awkward questions."

"Agreed."

"Third...if I catch you breaking these rules, this arrangement is over. Got it?"

"Got it," they said in unison.

"Alright. As long as you respect the rules, I won't stand in your way."

"Thank you," Luke said sincerely.

"Don't screw this up, kid," George whispered to him as he left.

"I won't."

~~

A few months later, the whole Thompson family was packed into The Rock, cheering as the Devils faced off against the Pens.

Alex and Flynn were decked out in jerseys, cheering as loud as they could, while Andrea and George clapped politely whenever Luke's name was mentioned.

Nick sat by her brothers, trying (and failing) to hide her smile every time Luke skated by.

When he scored late in the first period, Flynn jumped out of his seat, yelling at the top of his lungs.

"THAT'S MY SISTER'S BOYFRIEND!"

Nick groaned, pulling her Hughes jersey over her red face as the people around them laughed.

But when Luke glanced at their section, his grin wide as he pointed toward her, she couldn't help but cheer just as loudly.

Because, for better or for worse, Luke was a large part of her life now. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

[whoskimii]

You asked for nsfw requests, and therefore I happily oblige (I'm a whore for Kento)

Kento spanking and fucking his wife good in front of a mirror, forcing her to look herself or else🫢

yummy yummy yummy :3

⋆౨ৎ˚ notes > kento x you. rough sex! you tease him and he gets pissed off hehe <3 tell me if i missed anything!! ^^ ౨ৎ warning : you may have butterflies in your belly while reading this!! 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

it was your anniversary today. and you decided to go to a high-end restaurant with your husband. kento planned everything, as usual.

you've been together for four years now, married for two. kento was the perfect husband. whenever he came home from work, all tired and sleepy, he would ask you if you wanted a back massage. he just was the perfect man. you've known it from the beginning.

even your family liked him. they've been saying how he was the perfect man for you. and they couldn't be more right.

the little date went well. everything was perfect. but you felt like teasing him. every time you teased him, he'd go all bossy and pissed off. and that's precisely what you wanted tonight. of course you loved how gentle and tender he was. but for your anniversary, you wanted to get dicked down. and dicked down good.

so what better way to tease him than to flirt with the waiter ? and it worked. of course it did.

at first, it was innocent. you just blinked your pretty eyes at him a few times, gave him little smiles. that didn't go unnoticed, by both your husband and that waiter. the waiter seemed flustered and your husband was definitely starting to get pissed off. but he contained it.

then, it grew obvious. you crossed your legs and even went as far as rubbing your thighs together suggestively as you stared at the waiter. kento didn't intervene.

that's maybe why you found yourself on the bed, your back covered by your husband's chest. your face was buried in the pillow, drool staining it as kento's cock slid in and out of your twitchy little hole over and over again.

you pissed him off so much that he became rough. he was usually never rough with you. he grabbed your hair and tugged on it, forcing you to stare at yourself in the mirror. "watch. yourself. i won't say it twice." he whispered in your ear threateningly. "like seeing yourself like that ? getting fucked like the cheap little slut you are. good for nothing except taking dick." you whined softly, sloppy pussy clenching around his cock. "yeah, you like that. i can tell by the way she's clenching around me."

you gasped as his palm suddenly made contact with your ass. he spanked you roughly, causing you to cry out softly. "ken..." you mumbled. your jaw went slack as he responded with a harsh thrust. you watched yourself get literally used with hazy, unfocused eyes. "ken, s'too much..." you gasped for the second time as he spanked you again, harder than last time. "suck it up, slut. you asked for it. take it." you were about to bury your face in the pillow again but he gripped your jaw before you could. "i can't— ken !" you moaned as the tip of his cock bullied your sweet spot, hitting it harshly.

your eyes rolled back as you drooled, jaw slack. he chuckled breathlessly as he watched you through the mirror. "look at yourself," he clicked his tongue. "going all dumb on my cock. instead of the waiter's, huh ? how ironic, since you were almost begging him to fuck you. i could see it in your eyes."

you shook your head weakly, gripping the sheets. "was jus'... jus' teasing you, ken..." you managed to babble, although with difficulty. "yeah ? just teasing me, huh ? i can't believe how much of a slut you are. and here i thought i married an innocent little woman. you just wanted me to fuck you, mhm ? is that it, honey ?" you nodded vigorously, arching your back to get the tip of his cock to graze against your sweet spot.

he shook his head, almost disappointed, before grabbing your hips and fucking you with more energy. you moaned and buried your face in the pillow, fucking yourself back on his cock. "ken, m'gonna come... s'too good..." you babbled. he only hummed and continued thrusting into you as if you only were a little hole for him to fuck.

your orgasm washed over you as your eyes rolled back. you moaned loudly, eyebrows furrowing in pleasure. your pussy pulsated around him like crazy, which prompted him to spill himself inside you.

after coming down from his high, your husband placed a kiss on your back and gently pulled out. "come on," he murmured. he carefully picked up your fragile, trembling body and walked to the bathroom. "let's clean up."

well, you indeed got dicked down. and dicked down good.

being a whore for kento is a canon event i fear :3

⋆˚࿔ kimi 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[fefern]

Hiii I saw ur Scar hcs, and the TD Hybird part really piqued My interest. If Reader (gender-neutral), agreed to it, how would Scar react to it! And also Maybe, if it’s painful (because it probably is, considering it’s like shoving a whole New Lifeforce into your body) would He feel sorry for Reader? (I would feel sorry for myself if it Hurt 💀)

✧˖° scar's reaction to you agreeing to merge with a tacet discord. | scar headcanons.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ synopsis: after some thought, you agreed to merge a tacet discord with your body just like your lover scar has kept asking you to do! how does he react, and what's the process like?

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ characters involved: scar, gender neutral reader.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ warnings: none! no serious details of the transformation process, but if it's too much let me know and i'll change the warnings!

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ notes: hi hi pretty anon!! thank you for sending this wonderful ask in!! had me wondering for a long while how exactly scar shoved that whole other being into himself LOL!! (~ ~)" hope you enjoy this! requests are open as always! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ scar ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

when you first come to him with the idea, he’ll blink once. then twice. then a third time.

did he hear you right?

he’d at first be shocked that you’d agree

he’s used to asking many people to join the organization and insert a tacet discord into themselves just to be met with rejection time and time again. it's a normal part of his job.

but for you to agree? and it being his lover nonetheless!

scar is over the moon, so happy that you’re aligning with his ideals! he knew you’d come around!

he’d immediately begin talking energetically to you about the side effects that he experiences, and what it’s like being able to transform and merge your body with a whole new life form. 

it takes a lot of preparation for you two to be ready for this event, and when you’re all set up and ready to go, he’s the one that flicks the switch to begin the transformation. 

sparks fly, and a bright white light appears in an instant, almost like lighting. 

and he knows it’s a part of a process, and he knows what it’s like to be in there.

heck, he’s kind of got a manic happy expression seeing how successful the process of putting the tacet discord into you is going.

but can’t help how a small part of him feels his heart drop as he hears you scream, hears the way you’re in pain, sees the way that you’re in tears because of how painful it is.

watching you, his lover, get ripped apart in real time, and then getting pieced back together, hurts a part of him he didn’t expect to feel.

he almost wants to turn it off, to go back, but that in itself is risky. if he stops it  now, he’ll be threatening you with being seriously injured or worse, dead.

so he lets the process finish, basking in your glory and shoving down his worries before it finishes with a halt. 

some smoke appears, but when it settles, there you are.

you most likely have some new scars now or other physical changes due to the process, but he still finds you just as beautiful as you were before. 

he’ll quickly rush to your side and for the next week or so, he’s stuck to your side. his eyes are always on you, and he’s essentially nursing you back to health. 

you will be doted on to the fullest extent, and he’s suddenly the best house husband in the world.

he keeps telling you during this time how excited he is for you, how much of a stronger duo you two will be together, and how he’ll train you to be the best of the best just like he is.

but on the first night that he’s taking care of you, he’ll have his back towards you, sitting on the edge of the bed as you lay down. his tone gets softer, a little out of character for how usually smooth and charismatic he can be. after some silence, he breaks it.

“thank you for doing this for me. for a while, it felt as if this side of me was something i couldn't explain to you, but now, you truly are able to understand me for who i am. i will guide you through this new journey, and i will love you with all i can.”

probably also kisses the back of your hand after he says this KICKING MY FEET AND GIGGLING-

[vialovesyou]

𝗯𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿 𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗪 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗞𝗘𝗬

don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. y/n told herself, blinking her eyes as she cast her gaze away from the table. drew and odessa were beside her, blatantly flirting. it was the little comments and the hand on his shoulder and y/n wasn't sure she could keep doing it.

madelyn noticed, anger bubbling inside her stomach as she stood up. " i'm going to the toilet, y/n/n,  you coming with ? " she asked, y/n immediately nodding as she stood up. drew just smiled at the girl, before turning back to his conversation with the curly haired girl.

-

madelyn took y/n's hand in her own as they walked to the bathrooms, noticing the girls breathing speed up. apparently madelyn wasn't the only one who noticed what drew was doing.

" yo, drew " jd murmured, as odessa went up to the bar to order a drink. drew hummed in reply, turning to jd as he sipped on his drink.

" what are you playing at ? " chase questioned bluntly.

" what? what do you mean ?" questioned drew, his eyesbrows drawn together.

" you invited odessa to y/n's birthday dinner, you've been flirting with her all night and ignoring your girlfriend, plus you let her walk out of here crying " chase told him.

" y/n, y/n said she was fine with dessa coming, and what? " drew tried to reason, but once he saw the looks everyone was giving him he mumbled.

" because she didn't want to make you feel bad!"austin exclaimed, louder than he intended causing everyone's eyes to widen.

"shit" drew pushed away from the table before making his way to the bathroom.

-

" fuck me " y/n exhaled, coming into the bathroom. madelyn let go off the girls hand, watching as she tilted her head back and began fanning her eyes in an attempt not to cry.

" he's an idiot" madelyn huffed, nostrils flaring in anger at how disrespectful drew was being. y/n lowered her head, looking in the mirror infront of her as she took in a deep breath.

" she's a lovely girl but-" y/n cut herself off, immediately beggining to fan her eyes again. "shit, why do i keep crying" she groaned in frustration as tears began falling down her face. madelyn immediately wrapped her arms around y/n, not caring about the makeup that was going to inevitably stain her white top as y/n put her head in the crook of madelyn's neck.

y/n pulled away as her phone was going crazy, so she glanced at, kissing her teeth as she saw it was drew.

drew💌

baby, please come out

i'm sorry

i didn't realise

i'm an idiot

please, y/n

i love you

i'm outside the door, come

out please

come speak to me

" do you want to speak to him? we can go out the back?" madelyn asked in a hushed whisper so drew couldn't hear. y/n laughed lightly at this, but still shook her head. " you sure?" madelyn asked, completely ready to bolt out the back door. y/n nodded, causing madelyn to pull a beauty blender from her purse and tap it under y/n's eyes in an attempt to fix the tear stains.

" i'm sure she's a lovely girl but fuck me if she keeps touching him her face is going to end up in the spaghetti" y/n spoke, before her and madelyn fell into fit's of giggles. " there's the y/n i know" madelyn grinned, putting the beauty blender back into her purse.

" good as knew " madelyn smiled, looking into the mirror at y/n who fixed her hair glancing at madelyn in the mirror. " did i ever tell you how much i love you, maddie?" y/n asked, leaning her head on the taller girl's shoulders.

" once or twice " madelyn hummed, before the two began laughing again.

drew, who was on the other side of the door couldn't decide if the laughing was a good thing or if this was y/n's physcotic break. he tapped his foot anxiously, looking back at his table of friends who were all speaking with solemn looks on their faces. drew could tell they were talking about him, but they all quickly shut up when odessa returned to the table.

" wish me luck " y/n exhaled, before making her way out the bathroom her heels tapping against the marble floor. drew pushed off the wall he was leaning on when y/n came out the bathroom, immediately wrapping his arms around her.

" i'm so sorry, sweetheart. we can leave right now, just me and you and go anywhere " he spoke, his thumb rubbing circles onto her exposed shoulder. y/n had her head on his chest before she pulled away, looking up at him.

" let me say what i have to say, okay?" she spoke softly, toying with her ring anxiously causing drew to furrow his brows as he nodded.

" look, drew. i'm not trying to be the selfish, controlling girlfriend but it's like ever since you filmed hellraiser. she's everywhere. you talk about her, she's blowing up your phone i mean their's a picture of you and her in our livingroom for crying out loud " y/n's voice unintentionally raised, practically shouting the last few words causing the restraunt to fall silent. all eyes were on them, as drew blinked slowly.

"oh, shit " y/n muttured, shifting on her feet as everyone was blatantly staring at the couple. odessa, who clearly heard their conversation stormed off causing drew to shout her name.

y/n raised her brow, he was proving her point. she could see the internal battle within drew, causing her to sigh loudly. " just go " she mumbled, gesturing to the door odessa just stormed out off.

" are you sure?" he asked. and even though every single part of y/n wanted him to stay, she nodded. and with that, he was gone.