#sorry this took a few days i was out of town <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[bisexuallsokka]

would love to read about the college husbands for the wip game 🤍

here are 3.5k words of sokka being a TA and flirting with one of his students (zuko) and korra and her friends realizing that actually there may be more going on than meets the eye

Korra clears her throat. 

“This seat is taken,” the stranger says, glancing at the empty seat next to him at the end of the row and not looking at her. 

“Good for you,” she says. “You’re in the way.”

He rolls his eyes and barely moves his legs from where he is attempting to stretch them out as much as possible in the cramped lecture hall seats. Korra doesn’t apologize for stepping on his toes when she shuffles past him and he doesn’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction. 

She puts a few seats between them and is fine with ignoring him, but Bolin turns to the stranger pretty soon after he and Asami find Korra and sit next to her.

“Hey, I know you!” he says brightly. “You were my older brother’s TA for his Shakespeare course last semester! He took me to one of your shows, you make a great Hamlet.”

Korra remembers Mako talking about that course, how he was excited to have another trans guy in his class, especially one who was a great TA and stage actor. Well, the dude is sure putting on a great performance of “miserable and caffeine deficient college student”.

Asami looks at him curiously. “Are you one of the TA’s for this class now?”

His shoulders tense and he lets out a sigh. “No. I’m just a student.”

“Aren’t you now like, what, a junior or senior?” Bolin asks. 

“Senior,” he answers tersely. “This is my final semester.”

Korra snorts and looks around. “Why are you in a class with a bunch of freshmen?” 

“Because my academic advisor is an idiot,” he snaps immediately, then takes a deep breath. “There was some miscommunication. Now I’m stuck here to make up the credit so I can graduate.”

“Hey guys! Welcome to class!”

Korra recognizes the newcomer from the email he sent the class a week before the semester started. Sokka, the head TA, looks about as friendly as his overuse of exclamation marks made him seem to be. He grins at them before dropping in the seat that the stranger had supposedly been saving. He doesn’t say anything about it, though, and Korra is willing to bet that he lied about it being taken so he wouldn’t be stuck sitting next to a freshman. 

“I see you’re all getting to know each other, that’s great! It’s awesome making friends on the first day of class. You never know what it’ll lead to.”

The stranger gives Sokka a weird look, outwardly expressing the confusion that Korra is feeling in regards to his cryptic statement, and Sokka just beams back at him. “I’m Sokka,” he introduces.

They introduce themselves and then Sokka looks expectantly at the stranger, who mumbles, “Zuko.”

“I hope you are all ready for the best semester ever,” he says, his voice so enthusiastic that Korra has to remember that this is Physics 101 and not a class that is, well, actually exciting. 

Zuko seems to slump even more in his chair with a slight sigh as Sokka starts to ramble about his love for the course and how he was hooked since day one when he took it as a freshman himself.

“Come on, it won’t be that bad!” Sokka says, noticing Zuko’s withering attitude. “At the very least, you have a gorgeous TA to stare at when I give lectures or review sessions or whatever. And I have the pleasure of having a beautiful face in the audience.”

Zuko clears his throat loudly, his face in a scowl, but his cheeks are slightly pink. “Is it professional for TA’s to flirt with their students? Maybe I should have a talk with Professor Piandao.” 

“Eh, Piandao isn’t about to fire me or anything. I’m his favorite student and TA of all time, and he’s the best professor and coolest guy Republic City University has ever had. He’s the kind of guy you’d invite to your wedding, you know?”

Korra frowns. Strange way to describe a professor, but Zuko doesn’t seem fazed by it. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says dryly. 

Korra was banking on the first day to consist of the boring standard run through of the syllabus, but within a few minutes she realizes Sokka was right about Piandao being a pretty cool guy. Sokka jumps up to help him set up his powerpoint, and together the two of them introduce themselves to the whole class and talk about the course. Sokka explains that he has been a TA for Piandao since he took this class his freshmen year, and while he moved on to TA for the 300 level courses, one of the TAs unexpectedly had to leave and Sokka took up this class again as a nice way to tie up the end of his college experience before he graduates at the end of the semester.

“There is no way I’d rather end my pursuit of a degree in physics than by helping you all learn the ins and outs for yourselves, so please, don’t hesitate to let me help you,” Sokka says kindly, and damn, Korra thought classes with professors and TAs like these two only existed in the movies. “I am here if you have any questions.”

Zuko, Korra quickly learns, has lots of questions.

The first few classes, he raises his hand the most out of anyone. He asks good questions, the kind that Korra usually wouldn’t think of asking until she was reading over her notes to try and figure out the homework. Sokka answers each one with a great deal of patience, and whenever they are given time to work on a practice question, Korra notices how Sokka tends to linger on the side of the room closest to Zuko. 

It’s almost cute: Sokka’s eyes drifting toward Zuko while Zuko scowls down at his paper where Bolin is gently pointing out a mistake he made, Sokka telling Zuko that he can go to his office hours for extra help -- his voice quiet enough for only Korra to hear -- , Zuko trying to hide his smile whenever Sokka is being particularly ridiculous that day. Some days it makes Korra want to gag, but she manages to control herself. Besides, they have a good system going on. Sokka had suggested they make study groups that first day, and Bolin invited Zuko to theirs. 

“The dorms are kinda small, but I could ask my roommate to give us the room and we can sit on the floor?” Bolin winced as the four of them lingered after class to hash out the details to meet before their first exam.

“I’d offer my place, but unfortunately my roommate is a huge distraction,” Zuko had said. “I can show you guys how to reserve the best study rooms in the library before they’re all gone.”

Zuko always sits in the same seat with the aisle one on his left open, and Korra continues to sit in the same row with Bolin and Asami. Bolin and Asami are naturals at physics, judging by their high grades and the way that Piandao and Sokka beam at the two of them when they answer questions. It works well for their group: Bolin and Asami help Zuko and Korra, Korra helps Asami with her statistics homework and Bolin with his history class, and Zuko gives them college tips from a seasoned student that actually turn out to be very useful.

Plus, watching Zuko interact with Sokka is free entertainment.

“Any questions?” Sokka asks at the end of his powerpoint.

The room is silent. Korra doesn’t entirely understand everything that the midterm review session just covered, but she’s not sure she knows where to begin asking questions, so she taps her pen against her notebook and waits for them to be dismissed so she can ask Asami to explain everything to her.

“Yes, Zuko?”

Or not.

She manages to not groan out loud, but not everyone in the room is as successful. They’ve witnessed this same scenario play out several times before: Zuko asking questions that push them to the very end of the class hour and losing them the extra ten minutes that Piandao had offered if there were no more questions. Korra glances at her phone to see that it’s almost 8pm, and she is starving.

Sokka ignores the complaining students and continues to smile at Zuko.

Zuko, sitting on Korra’s left today, puts his hand down and opens his mouth, then closes it, flips his notebook back a few pages, then sighs. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“That’s not a question,” Sokka says sweetly.

“The practice problems in the textbook are completely different from what you just showed us.”

“Yes, well, science is often about learning formulas and knowing how to plug in different data.”

“But this one involved negatives. I thought I was getting it but those just make no sense.”

“I thought you were the expert at negatives, seeing you’re always correcting my use of double negatives,” Sokka says with a smirk.

“I don’t--” Zuko huffs. “I don’t correct you, I just enjoy pointing them out, you know my honors thesis is all about descriptivism in language…”

Korra glances between the two of them as Zuko continues ranting. She would remember hearing some dumbass conversation about double negatives in the middle of their physics work, and she feels like she’s missing something.

“Anyone else feel like we’re witnessing some weird kind of foreplay?” Asami mutters to her and Bolin. Bolin stifles his laughter, but her words have Korra’s mind spinning.

The rest of the class has had enough and has decided to start packing away their things, and Sokka tears his eyes away from Zuko to notice them.

“Zuko, I would love to discuss this with you some more,” Sokka says, interrupting him. “Everyone else, please email me if you have any more questions, I’ll be checking my inbox regularly so you don’t have to wait for a response! Good luck on the midterm!”

Zuko doesn’t move, his arms crossed across his chest as he impatiently waits for the class to clear. Korra gets up and follows Asami and Bolin out, but she throws one last look over her shoulder to see Sokka sliding into the seat next to Zuko with a soft smile that makes her pause.

…

“How did you all do on the midterm?” Zuko asks the day after the grades are posted online. He looks to be in a good mood, so Korra assumes he did well. She opens her mouth to respond, but then her eyes trail down to his neck and she finds another possible source for his good mood.

She tries to cover a laugh with a forced cough, but Zuko catches it and narrows his eyes.

“What?”

Asami takes pity on him. “You have a little something...” she gestures at her own neck with her hand. 

Zuko looks confused, but then his eyes widen and he slaps his hand over the assortment of hickeys on his neck. “Shit,” he hisses. 

“I have some makeup in my backpack,” Asami offers. 

Zuko sighs and slowly lowers his hand, accepting his fate with red cheeks. “Whatever. I have time to go home after this. But thanks.”

Korra snickers. “I guess that answers the question of if you had a good weekend.”

Zuko gives her a half-hearted glare, but before he can respond, Sokka is taking the open seat next to him. 

“Hey guys!” he greets, then frowns when he looks over at Zuko. “Is your neck okay, Zuko?” he asks, looking slightly concerned. 

He grunts when Zuko kicks him roughly in the leg, and Zuko smiles sweetly at him. “Oops, sorry, I hope that doesn’t leave a mark.” 

Korra glances to her right at Asami, who is already looking at her with a bewildered expression.

Zuko’s good mood doesn’t last. They start the next unit and only ten minutes into class, Korra can tell he has the same headache that she’s feeling. Even Bolin’s eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, and Korra glances at her girlfriend and breathes a sigh of relief to see that she seems to be absorbing all the new information like a sponge. Asami explains it in simpler terms, but even then Korra isn’t sure how they are supposed to solve this practice problem together.

“You guys doing good?”

Zuko’s hand tightens on his pen, and he doesn’t look up at Sokka as he hovers over their group. “We are doing well. You can leave us now.”

Sokka scoffs. “Oh, is that how this is going to be? And here I was going to tell you the simple mistake you made in your formula...”

Korra half expects Zuko to lash out again, but instead he sighs and slumps back in his chair, looking up at Sokka. “Please help?”

The smile on Sokka’s face makes Korra look away, feeling as if she is intruding on something, and he takes the seat next to Zuko and starts to walk them through the problem. Her gaze lands on Sokka’s left hand and she notices, not for the first time, the small but elegant tattoo on one of his fingers.

…

The second half of the semester is much harder than the first, and she wonders how and why on earth Sokka wanted to take more physics classes if this was supposed to be the introduction. Then again, Asami seems to be enjoying it, and after hearing about Sokka’s double major in physics and engineering, she’s pretty sure he becomes her personal hero. 

Korra has no choice but to pay more attention in lectures and stop wondering what the hell is going on between Sokka and Zuko. She wonders if Sokka will finally ask Zuko out once they finish the course. Judging by the way Zuko’s icy exterior thaws whenever Sokka is speaking or is within five feet of them, she’s betting he’ll say yes. Alas, she has more to keep her mind occupied than their odd path to courtship, and she tries to at least understand the basic concepts so Asami can walk her through the more complex parts later.

When Zuko arrives at their reserved study room a week before the final, he’s carrying a plate that may as well have rotten fish on it, judging by the expression on his face and the way he is carrying it.

“I brought cookies,” he says in the same tone that someone would use to announce “I lost all my possessions in a fire”.

He places it on the table, and when Bolin starts to say something about no food allowed in the library, Korra kicks him and grabs two.

“I didn’t think you were the baking type,” she tells him around a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie.

“I’m not. My husband made them and insisted I bring them for motivation or something,” Zuko says.

Korra manages to not spit out her cookie everywhere, but carefully swallows it and clears her throat, exchanging wide-eyed looks with her friends. “You’re married?”

Zuko gives her a confused look and holds up his left hand. Sure enough, there’s a wedding band on his ring finger that managed to blend in with his other rings. “I have been for almost a year now.”

“Wow,” Bolin whistles. “Poor Sokka, he seemed really into you. You should let him know so he doesn’t get his hopes up.”

Zuko gives him a flat look. “I’ll be sure to tell him. Did you guys start filling out the study guide yet?”

The next hour drags on. Korra knows she should be focusing on studying for their final. Their schedules are too busy to meet together as much as they’d like to before they have to take it, and she needs to take advantage of the time she has. But she is too distracted by the puzzle in her mind that is coming together perfectly. 

Fortunately, Zuko gives her a break when his phone rings and he steps out to take it outside of the library. 

As soon as the door closes, Korra reaches over and locks it. 

Asami quirks an eyebrow at her. “Are you locking us in, or locking Zuko out?”

“The second one. You guys, I just realized something that’s going to blow your minds: Zuko and Sokka are married.”

It does not have the reaction she was hoping for. Bolin and Asami stare at her, then look at each other and start laughing. 

“Zuko and Sokka? As in, our TA Sokka? What makes you think that?” Asami giggles, and it’s too endearing to watch that Korra can’t get frustrated that they don’t believe her. 

She focuses and looks away, splaying her hands on the table and leaning forward. “No, trust me, I have been suspicious about them for a while now, but it didn’t add up until tonight, when I saw Zuko’s wedding band. It has a simple design, but I swear there is a similar pattern in the tattoo on Sokka’s hand, and I’m 90% sure it’s on his ring finger.”

“Sokka has a tattoo on his finger?” Bolin asks, brows furrowed.

Korra groans. This is going to be harder than she thought. “Listen, I know you two are like, the future Sokkas of this course, but you can’t tell me you haven’t been paying attention to anything else. Sokka helps us during class enough that I’ve noticed his tattoo when he points stuff out on our pages. Also, isn’t it a little suspicious just how often Sokka helps us, considering you two are the smartest people in that room? It’s because he’s helping his husband.”

Bolin and Asami share a glance, the wheels turning. “Has Sokka ever talked about being married?” Bolin frowns, grabbing another cookie.

Korra pauses, her mind racing. Sokka talks with his class about his love for physics more than his love for anything else, but then Asami gasps next to her.

“Does anyone still have his introductory email from the beginning of the semester?”

Korra’s eyes widen. “Babe, you’re a genius.” She pulls out her phone, aware that Zuko could come back any second, and searches Sokka’s name in her inbox. There are a few announcements, some responses to her questions, an email that he sent full of pictures of his cat to make them smile while studying for the midterm…

“I got it,” Korra whispers, opening the very first email from him. Asami and Bolin try to read over her shoulder, but she spots it first. 

“Oh my god, he said he’s a newly wed,” she tells them. 

Bolin’s jaw drops, and Asami sits back in her chair, the look of disbelief slowly fading from her features. 

“Oh my god. How have we never noticed?” Bolin wonders aloud.

“So that means Sokka made these?” Korra says, holding up a third cookie. “My compliments to the chef.”

“Why would they hide that, though?” Asami asks.

“Who says they’re hiding it? They both are pretty busy, I don’t think--”

“Zuko’s coming!” Bolin hisses, his eyes glancing over Korra to peer through the glass door. Korra launches herself forward to unlock it then sits back and tries to act normal. Unfortunately, Asami and Bolin are doing the same, and they’re not the best of liars.

Zuko is smiling at his phone when he walks in, and he glances up and freezes when he sees the three staring at him.

“What?” he asks slowly. “Did I miss anything?”

“Nothing at all,” Bolin says, his voice higher than normal. Korra sighs, but is grateful when Zuko mentions that he has to leave in two hours, and they get back to work.

…

i can't be fucked to give this an ending or to fix it up enough for me to like it and post it (i wrote it almost four years ago so the writing style feels too different) but i hope you enjoyed what i do have <3

[wandaslittlepsycho]

Precious

pairing: 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚢!𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚍���� ༝༝ 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary: your bunny slips through the crack of your front door and you run after her in hopes of catching the pet again. You get lost but your time still ticks, nightfall inching closer and closer as you inevitably sink further into the woods. Luckily, your eyes spot a cabin, and you become acquaintances with the unusual redhead that resides there.

warnings: dubcon, filthy smutty smut smut, HEAVYYYY dacryphilia, groping, dry humping, praise kink, thigh riding (r receiving), mid writing, wanda is lowkey a sadist, slightly unhinged crazy yet loveable and sexy cabin wanda, age gap > r is 20 w is 32

A/N: first fic!!! hi… im very new to writing fics so please be nice ૮꒰ྀི >⸝⸝⸝<꒱ྀིა (i wrote this listening to a true crime documentary idk)

kind of a messy plot but I still hope my little freaks enjoy…… and I’m also sorry this took longer than expected I just kept contemplating if it was good or absolute shit </3

+

this is a dark fic. 18+. wlw. men & minors dni!

⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘

It’s getting pretty late…

You think to yourself, hugging your shoulders as you look up at the overcast sky.

How did I end up here in the first place?

✦

You move a leaf to the side and pick the fresh strawberry that was stashed there, rinsing it in your small bucket of water and taking a mouthful of the delicious treat.

You hear a shuffle beside you. Turning your head, you see a white bunny hiding behind one of your sunflower pots. You smile and place another strawberry onto the ground before slowly walking away. Your eyes relish how cute the little animal is as they chomp away at your colourful fruit.

You stand in the corner of your garden and decide from then on, you’d feed the hungry bunnies that would stroll into your neighbourhood.

A few days pass and you quickly became friends with two specific bunnies who you named Clover and Daisy. You eventually took them in as your own, rottenly spoiling both of the creatures. You loved having them around because living alone in a small town that was an hour away from the city can definitely become lonely.

“This tastes like candy to you doesn’t it Daisy?” You say as you hold out your hand and watch her nibble it up. The fur around her mouth is stained purple, you laugh at the sight.

“Okay that’s enough blueberries for tonight! You’ll get sick if you keep eating those.” You click the plastic container shut, standing up and walking into your kitchen. You place the container in the side compartment of your fridge for tomorrow and stroll back into your living room.

Your brows furrow. Daisy is gone. Daisy and Clover are such good bunnies, they never leave your sight for more than a minute. You assume she ran to her sister Clover, but your eyes widen in horror when you see your front door slightly more cracked open than it was before you left.

You anxiously open your phone and dial your best friend Frankie. You ramble to her about how stupid you felt for leaving the door open, like you are an irresponsible parent who’s no smarter than a bag of rocks. She calmly tells you to go look for Daisy and that she’ll come over as soon as she can to watch Clover.

“Thank you so so much, Frankie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You sigh in relief, a hand pressed over your chest. You feel your heart jump underneath your palm and your lips trembling with every breath.

“It’s no problem, Y/N/N. Now go look for that bunny, I’ll be over in 5.”

“Bye, thank you again..” You hang up the phone and dart out the door. You frantically look through your shrubs and call her name, but a bright white spot in your peripheral steals your attention.

There she is, bouncing her way into the open forest across the road from you. As soon as she hops out of your view you race towards her, carelessly running past two moving cars. You ignore the frustrated yelling and the beeping horns, continuing to boost into daisies direction.

“DAISY! WAIT!!”

You yell, but your shouting only seems to spur her on. You run after her and neither of you lose pace. You turn corners, run through mud and almost slip doing so at least two times. The animal suddenly picks up it’s speed, turning abruptly and disappearing into a thick bush. You get on your knees and practically rip this bush to shreds, but she was already long gone. Daisy is no more.

You feel tears sting your eyes, ears and cheeks becoming hot from your stress. You sniffle and wipe your tears with the sleeve of your jacket. You knew it was impossible to look for her now. That bunny became your life in just a couple of days, she felt like a childhood pet. The thought of never seeing her again made your heartstrings tie themselves into knots.

You lose the path you were on but you couldn’t care less. You lost your beloved bunny baby; life is no longer worth living. You wonder if Clover’s okay, and how exactly you’d break the news to her.

So lost and full of woe, mind not even switched on, you didn’t notice the thick tree root in front of you until you stub your foot against it and fall forward. You wince and slowly stand up again. Dusting the crunchy leaves off of your clothes, you use the back of your hand to wipe the dripping bead of blood from your cheekbone.

Great, a cut. I’ll have to clean that up when I get home..

You wonder aimlessly with your head hung low. A brisk breeze that brushes past you is what makes you finally look up.

You hug your shoulders as you stare at the gloomy airspace. The sun isn’t beaming, only a variation of different grey clouds flood the sky.

A person? This far out on in the woods?

Wanda thinks. She watches you with a deranged, curious look as you weave yourself through the webs and bushes, seemingly extra careful about tree roots.

You look up from the ground, scanning the area around you and pause when you see the warm glow of her cabin.

My god, she’s gorgeous.

She takes a swift step back so she’s not in the frame of the window anymore, her brows furrowing. She stares at the wall, she hasn’t seen an actual person in so long.

What is a girl like you doing traipsing in the woods?

She peeks again and now you’re making your way over, big wary eyes cautiously examining your surroundings. A shiver rocks through you as you cough into your elbow, then using that arm to place three firm knocks on the door.

You sigh while you wait for someone to answer the door. You switch from tippy toes to the heel of your feet in a nervous manner. The cabin looks great, almost pristine, there’s no way it’s abandoned.

You feel stupid for going into a cabin in the woods. It’s like some dumb movie; you’re just hoping you don’t end up dead. You expect to see an old, wrinkled man the size of a third grader, but your eyes widen when a tall red headed woman swings the door open. You stutter, stunned that a woman like her would live in a place so isolated.

Holy shit, she’s fine.

“Hi, um.. I know it’s a lot to ask but can I stay here for a little bit? I… got lost.” You fiddle with your fingers. She chuckles as she crosses her arms, biting her lip and letting her eyes run up and down your fidgety figure.

“No it’s not asking anything at all. It’s not like I get visitors very often.” She moves to the side and welcomes you in. You look up at her and mumble a small thank you, slowly stepping inside her warm homestead.

The smell of firewood burning and sweet lavender conquer your senses. The comforting atmosphere relaxes you despite how unfamiliar it is. You kick off your boots and grab them so you can neatly place them next to the door. She shuts the door and clicks it locked, quietly making her way over to what looks like her kitchen.

You drink in the sight around you. A tall, cobblestone fireplace lined up against the wall with wood already burning inside of it. A soft lounge suite with a fluffy mat sitting right underneath it. There’s a short hallway and two doors, one you assume leading into her bedroom and the other probably being her bathroom.

One thing you notice in particular is a painting, one with two women sitting on a red velvet couch. One is dressed in white, the other is dressed in black and they both have lace blindfolds wrapped around their heads.

Their Victorian dresses were detailed and long, their lips so close but afraid to touch and give in.

You look away and clench your fists. Your face is now hot, when you entered a remote cabin in the woods, a gay victorian painting was the last thing you expected.

“Take a seat, make yourself comfortable.” The woman’s hoarse voice echoes through the room. Your ears perk up when they catch a touch of an accent.

Is she some type of Russian? That’s hot.

Your anxious form shifts over to her couch to sit down. You sigh in relief, your aching bones melting into the man made cloud that was this woman’s sofa.

“So what’s your name, milaya?” The woman hands you a cup. Your cold fingers feel fuzzy against the hot mug, shuffling back further into her couch so you can sit up comfortably.

“Y/N. You?”

“Wanda.”

A small smile sits on her face that is on some level, disturbing. It’s such a beautiful smile but you can feel something is not right with her. Your intuition has never made itself more distinct, it was less noticeable when you were walking alone outside.

The room feels like it’s getting smaller, the claustrophobia whips the air right out of your lungs. Your eyes flicker between hers. The room starts to spin. Your ears start to ring. Before you could pass out cold, she cups your chin, the gentle gesture pulling you out of your panicked state.

“That’s a nasty cut isn’t it? Would you like me to take care of that?” She says, her tone coaxing. Your curious eyes linger on her,

Why is this stranger being so generous?

If someone entered your home and needed to stay the night, you’d tell them to get lost. She caresses your face softly while she stares at the wound.

“No it’s oka-“ She suddenly pushes a finger to the fresh cut, forcing you to wince and pull away from her. She looks at you in a way you can’t describe, your reaction seemingly piqueing her interest. Her pupils dilate but not enough for you to notice. You look at her with fearful eyes and think to yourself,

Who would do that?

“Actually, that would be nice. Thank you..”

~

Your eyes switch between the steaming drink in your hand and the obviously unhinged redhead sitting next to you. Her aura is intimidating, but you convince yourself it’s paranoia.

I’m in a remote cabin deep in the woods.

Who wouldn’t be unsettled? She’s nice and she helped you…stop being dumb Y/N!

“Thank you again for cleaning my cut, Wanda.” You try to strike up a conversation, but all you’re met with is painful silence. She watches your lips touch the ring of the porcelain teacup, then moving her eyes up to meet your own.

“You’re very observant aren’t you?” You refer to her endless stare, disguising your discomfort with a small chuckle. Her smile widens.

"Fascinuješ ma, miláčik.” “You fascinate me, darling.”

Your brows squeeze together. You wish you could understand what she said, but it felt rude asking her to repeat that in English. You result in shyly looking away and focus on your dangling feet.

Her hand occasionally runs down your back or strokes your arm. Her icy featherlight touches cause goosebumps to ride over your skin. She notices your eyes following her fingers, a mischief smirk hiking up her cheeks.

“You’re so lucky I’m here to help you, dear. What was a girl like you doing in the woods all alone?” Her hand lands on your knee, slowly climbing up closer to your heat and lightly massaging the flesh there. You squirm when she inches closer to your mound, but you’re in her home. She could do anything to you if you said something that upset her.

What if she’s just being nice? I don’t want to offend her…

“I- uh- I was hunting?” You try to paint yourself as tough but fail spectacularly; you can tell by the way she squints her eyes when she hears your answer.

“If that were true, you’d have hunting gear on you, sweetie.” She moves your hair to the other side of your neck to expose the milky skin there. She gawks at your neck like a predator creeping on her prey, ready to pounce on you at any given moment.

The thought of kissing and licking at your silky skin and the vivid image of you biting your plush pink lips made her tremble with desire.

You shrink, staring at the drink in your hands and feeling a strike of vulnerability as you quietly say the words, “I was chasing a bunny..”

“Aww aren’t you precious?” She praises. She toys with the soft threads of your hair, your cheeks glowing a rosy pink from her comment. Her hand squeezes your thigh more roughly, the unexpected act making you jump.

“Such a pretty thing.” She whispers to herself. You don’t catch her words, so you hum and tilt your head, showing your confusion in hopes she would repeat herself.

“Oh… nothing.” She quickly replaces her shock with a crooked grin. Your lips stretch into a small and nervous smile, slowly putting the cup to your mouth again.

A few more moments of silence are present. The crackling of burning wood and the crickets chirping in the distance gave you a chance to finally breathe, although you still struggle to ignore her invasive presence.

“Put the drink down.” You look at her in surprise. You stutter, taken aback by her orders but don’t dare ask any questions. You lick your lips and shuffle, leaning forward to sit the drink on her coffee table. You then move back against the couch and stare into the orange flames in front of you.

“Do you like when people are rough with you, angel?”

You freeze hearing her question. She tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear ever so gently, grinning when she sees the sheer terror written on your face. There was something eerie about the way she had asked you, a corrupted little twinkle beaming from her eyes.

“Well, no.. N-Not really why?” Your voice is shaking. You know for sure now that this woman is not in her right mind. She could be capable of doing anything and you wouldn’t expect it. She flashes you a charming smile as she continues to twirl and play with your hair, leaning closer to you before whispering,

“Can I tell you a secret?” Your breath hitches softly and your body tenses at the close proximity. You refuse to look at her. You cement your eyes to the flickering fire in front of you. Her hand smoothly travels from your thigh to the zip of your corduroy jacket, slowly pulling down at the metal teeth to reveal your white v-neck shirt and ruby necklace. The sound of your zipper in the unsettling silence makes your skin crawl. You could almost hear the ominous, suspenseful background music. You don’t know what would happen if you deny her, so you hesitantly nod your head.

“I like hurting people… Especially pretty toys like you. I haven’t done it in a long time though.” Her eyes hungrily take in your chilled expression. You gulp when she pulls the jacket off of your shoulders and throws to the side.

“I love to see girls cry, tears running down their sweet little faces…” Her hands rub your upper arms soothingly as she rubbed her nose into the nape of your neck, inhaling your scent. You found yourself unable to move or respond, giving in to her game and listening to her sick train of thought.

“Can I make you cry, please, sweet girl?” She mumbles into your neck, gently nipping at the sensitive skin there. Your breathing becomes heavier, needing her so very badly you start to tune out the blaring alarms in your head.

“Wanda listen-” She moves on top of you. She situates herself between your legs giving you no chance to close them, running her hands up and down your thighs. It all happened so fast.

“Pretty please? You’d look so good..” She becomes breathless at the thought, lunging forward and forcefully pushing her lips onto yours. Her lips feel pillowy and soft against yours, she smells of sweet vanilla and a smoky but subtle cinnamon; the mix makes your brain go dizzy with want. She tangles her hands with yours so she can pin your frantic ones onto the couch. Butterflies dance in your stomach, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Her kiss is rough but somehow so soft at the same time, the conflicted feeling makes your heart flutter.

She puts all her body weight onto you, grinding her crotch into yours as she murmurs praises into your mouth. “You’re so fucking cute,” “It’s gonna feel so so good, just let me touch you..”

She slides her tongue across your lip, silently telling you to open your mouth. She angrily tightens her grip on your hands when you groan and clench your jaw shut, forbidding her access.

“Open your mouth, or I’ll find another way to make it stay open.” You whine quietly, slowly opening your mouth and letting her slide in. You whimper and squirm when her hands land on your hips, guiding you to grind against her knee.

“There you go, so so pretty grinding on me like that..” You grab handfuls of her sweater, the fabric of your cotton panties rubbing against you creating the perfect friction. You softly moan her name, back arching while hiding your face in her neck, ashamed how riled up you are from being taken advantage of. One of her hands move from your hip to your thigh, exploring the rest of your body before snaking up your stomach to grope at your breasts.

“Fuck,” She whimpers before biting down on your lip. She twists and teases your nipples between her fingers, feasting on the sight of your pathetic writhing.

“Wanda!” Your movements against her thigh become more frantic, so blissed out you couldn’t care about how needy and dumb you must look.

Your hands advance to her biceps, clutching onto her as you try reach the high you so deeply crave. Your heart thuds in your chest, sweat glistening on your forehead and gasping for air. Your tears soak her shirt, hating yourself for giving in to her but also not willing to stop.

“Cum, make a mess for me bunny..” Her hand grabs your chin and holds it still. You foolishly kept trying to turn your head, but your actions cease when her hand moves from your chin to wrap around your throat.

“Look at me when you cum.” She forces her face impossibly closer to yours, jutting out her jaw and admiring the sparkling tears falling from your eyes. Her breathing becomes ragged listening to your whines and sobs, the throb between her legs intensifying.

“I don’t want to..”

“I don’t care if you want to or not. I won’t let you move until you do.”

Your mouth falls open and your eyes roll to the back of your head, her cruel words somehow pushing you over the edge. Everything becomes white, your thighs shake and your body tenses. Waves of pleasure crash down on you, the euphoric feeling pulsing through you from head to toe.

She eagerly watches you fall apart from your first climax, knowing that she’s not even halfway done with you. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, eyes struggling to stay open and arms spread over the couch.

She carefully pushes her knee further into your pussy, your pleas and protests only making her more excited for what she plans next.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you, angel.”

⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨Dress Up, Part 1: The Proposal✨

IT IS DONE HOLY SHIT! Yeah, I had to change this fic 3 different times, I'm really sorry this one took so long. Hopefully you all like this one and thank you for your patience <3

Consider this a reward for kicking Vox's ass in this poll and declaring our short king the ACTUAL hottest character in Hazbin Hotel lmao

Edit: This is now going to be a multi-chapter story! Look forward to more! Thank you all for the support 💖

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: Lucifer takes you dress shopping for a special night out, but for some reason he's been acting a little strange lately...

Warnings: 18+, smut, public teasing, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v

Lucifer excitedly told you that he wanted to take you dress shopping today. It wasn't out of the norm for you two to go out on the town and indulge on some sort of spending spree together. Plus Lucifer absolutely loved buying things for you; whether it be precious jewelry, beautiful flowers, or brand-new clothes. But you had to admit it's been a while since you've gone out, what with Lucifer spending a majority of time at the hotel assisting his daughter Charlie. You were so happy that they were able to rekindle their bond after so many years of being apart. You were more than happy to help with the hotel as well! You found ways to help Charlie with whatever she needed, which somehow ended up being more than you initially thought. It was exhausting to say the least, but you enjoyed it nonetheless! You were very much looking forward to going out today with your beloved king. And of course he was taking you to one of the most esteemed shops in all of Hell, Vivacious by Velvette. He truly spared no expense when it came to you.

But for some reason, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was…off about Lucifer today.

He didn't seem upset or angry or anything of the sort. More like, he was scared? Or perhaps nervous about something? You couldn't think of anything that could be making him feel this way. The hotel was doing great, Charlie and Lucifer’s relationship was better than it’s ever been, and you and Lucifer have been nothing but enamored with each other. You were just clothes shopping after all. You two had been dating for some time now; you remembered how Lucifer used to be all kinds of flustered during your first few outings. You thought it was adorable the way he stumbled over his words when he brought up the newest duck he had added to his collection or when he complimented every single outfit you’ve ever worn. He still did those things, of course, but he slowly became more and more comfortable and confident around you. But today was something you’ve never seen before. The wary smiles he’s been giving throughout day, the jitteriness of his movements anytime you approached him, his rapid speech patterns…was he hiding something from you? You intended to get to the bottom of it.

You walked down the streets of Hell with Lucifer by your side, his arm linked with yours. You stepped into the lavish shop, dresses of all kids hung from the racks: ball gowns, sun dresses, cocktail dresses; anything you could think of was there! Lucifer told you to take your time and to pick out as many as you wanted to try on while he waited for you by the dressing room. Despite the plethora of options at your fingertips, you only found yourself intrigued by a handful of dresses. Some with more material than others but you'd thought you'd give them a try regardless; you weren't shy when it came to your body.

You grabbed the three dresses that appealed to you the most and made your way towards the changing rooms. Just as he promised, you saw Lucifer standing at the end of the hall waiting for you. But he didn't seem to notice you at first, his attention was elsewhere. Next to the changing rooms was the most impressive collection of wedding dresses you'd ever seen in Hell and even on Earth, each more breathtaking than the last. You noticed Lucifer staring at the wall of dresses with an almost wishful expression, reaching out to touch one of the dresses' lacy sleeve, gently massaging it between his fingers. You smiled and quietly walked over to join him.

"They're really beautiful, aren't they?," you said, snapping him out of his trance and making him jump a bit. He smiled at you, his hand still holding onto the sleeve.

"Absolutely stunning," he beamed. Although, with the way he was looking at you, it didn't seem like he was referring to the dresses. You felt a small blush creep across your cheeks.

One of the employees walked up to you and directed you to an empty changing room. Lucifer waited outside patiently, smiling at you as you closed the sort behind you. The first dress you wanted to try on was a simple black sheath dress. Once you slipped it on, you reached behind of and attempted to grab the zipper. You can only manage to pull it up so far before it wouldn’t budge anymore, causing you to huff in frustration. Slowly, you opened the door to see Lucifer’s eager face staring back at you.

“I need your help, hon,” you admitted. “I can’t reach the zipper.”

Quickly, Lucifer stood up and followed you into the changing room. You turned your back to him and lifted your hair up and out of the way so the zipper couldn’t catch it. Lucifer placed one hand on your hip and the other on the back of your dress. You heard the zipper moving, but it only took you a second to realize it was moving in the wrong direction. Cheeky bastard, you thought to yourself.

“Up, Lucifer,” you said with a smirk, glancing at him over your shoulder. You heard a light chuckle escape him.

“Sorry, darling,” he apologized almost insincerely, peppering kisses down your neck, “can’t help myself when it comes to you.” Lethargically, he pulled the zipper up to the top, finally letting your hair fall back down. If he wanted to play games, you were more than happy to participate. Because you knew how to win. And just maybe, you could get him to admit to whatever he was keeping from you.

“I wouldn’t start something that you’re not ready to finish, sweet pea,” you threatened with a smug grin.

Before Lucifer could get a word out, you spun around and pushed him gently against the wall, eliciting a small yelp from him. You placed both of your arms on either side of his head, effectively trapping him. His eyes widened, sucking in a breath as he realized how vulnerable he was in this new position he had found himself in. His head and hands became flat against the wall as he looked into your now ravenous eyes.

“My love, p-please,” he began to stammer, “I-I didn’t want to-HNG,” you effectively cut off his meek pleas as your one hand traveled down below his belt. You maneuvered your hand up and down at an agonizingly slow pace. Nonetheless, you felt him start to harden underneath his pants almost instantly. You flashed a devious smile, but he didn’t see it, as he had screwed his eyes shut. Baring his clenched teeth, he tried desperately to hold his breath as to not make any lewd noises. You took that as a challenge, of course.

“So it’s only alright if you get to tease me, is that it, Luci?,” you questioned, leaning your head forward with your lips now pressed against his ear. “Now that doesn’t seem fair at all, does it?”

Lucifer gulped as you continued your teasing ministrations. “I’m s-sorry, sweetheart,” he looked at you doe-eyed. “P-Please don’t-mmph…don’t do this, not here. I won’t be able to hold back, not today…”

“Oh, I’m counting on that,” you retorted. “You know you’ve been acting out of sorts all day, don’t think I haven’t noticed. Maybe if you tell me what’s wrong, I’ll show you some mercy.”

Lucifer audibly gulped at your words. "It's…it's nothing, angel, I promise, I just-fuck," you pressed your hand in harder against the growing tent in his pants, silencing his response.

"You hesitated just now," you told him. "If that's how you want it to be, so be it. You don't have to tell me. But you're not off the hook, not by a longshot." You pulled away from him, giving him a chance to breathe normally once again. You gave a quick glance to the mirror to finally get a look at the dress you had adorned. It looked nice! But it came off as something you would wear in an office setting; not really your style. You looked back at Lucifer who was instantly frozen in place from your gaze.

"I'm not feeling this one," you remarked, "help me with the zipper?" You turned your back to him once more, feeling his hand tentatively grab the zipper. "You can only touch the dress, understand? I'm off limits."

"M-mhmm," Lucifer agreed. He behaved and only tugged the zipper down halfway until you could reach it yourself.

"Good boy."

You discarded the dress quickly, leaving you in only your lacy black bra and matching black panties. Lucifer forced himself to look away from you, trying to reach for the door handle.

"And where do you think you're going?," you asked coyly, stopping him in his tracks entirely.

“I umm, just uhh…giving you privacy?” He tentatively went for the handle again, but your arm shot out, keeping the door in its locked state.

“Oh, we’re way past decency here, Lucifer.” You maneuvered him away from the door and sat him down on the large white bench that was affixed to the wall. You leveraged your foot against the area just below his hip and rested one hand on the top of your thigh, the other on your hip. “Besides, you’re not really in any condition to be in the public view” leaning forward and shooting a quick glance down at his crotch, “now are you?”

Lucifer could only shake his head.

"Glad you agree," you smiled and pecked his lips, a pathetic little whine leaving Lucifer's throat. "I have a few more dresses to try on. You can look, but you cannot touch unless I say, alright?"

"Yes, love," he murmured obediently. You smiled and turned around to pick up the black dress you had let fall to the floor. You bent over slowly to pick it up, giving Lucifer a lovely view of your barely covered ass. You heard a deep inhale behind you followed by a shaky exhale.

You hung up the black dress and moved onto the next dress; a beautiful lavender colored Bardot dress with sleeves that hung off your shoulders. Luckily this one didn't have a zipper, you only needed to step in and shimmy it up your body. You adjusted your bra straps and hid them under the sleeves for the time being. You liked this one more than the last, you did as few twirls in front of the mirror checking every single angle.

"What do you think of this one, hon?," you asked, looking at his reflection in the mirror. It seemed as though he was gripping that bench with just a little too much force.

"Ravishing," Lucifer breathed. You had given him permission to look, and he was taking fully advantage of your generosity. He was chopping at the bit, fighting every urge to pounce right then and there. Lucifer's eyes were hungry, his lips curled into a smile to try and hide how badly he needed you at this moment. You admired his will power…but how strong was it truly? You made your way back towards him, chuckling playfully. Without warning, your knees found their way onto the bench, now fully straddling the mess of a man beneath you.

"W-what are you-mmph!" Lucifer tried to ask you but was cut short by your lips suddenly on his. You wrapped your arms around his neck and placed a small peck to his forehead.

"You always say just the right things, Luci," you cooed as you began to shift your hips against him. Hearing the mangled moans coming from Lucifer was nothing short of euphoric. You noticed he had released his grasp on the bench and began to move towards your hips. You gripped the back of his head, his hair firmly between your fingers, and tilted his head back gently. Lucifer grunted softly as you brought your lips to his neck. "Ah, ah, ah, what did I say, love? No touching," you scolded, now sucking and nibbling at his tender skin, desperately needing to mark him.

Lucifer whimpered and reluctantly brought his hands back to their original position on the frigid bench that paled in comparison to the feeling of your warm body that was pressed against him. "I-I can't do this f-for much longer, darling," he whimpered, "I can only h-handle- hnng, so much, I…ssshhhhhhiiittt-" Lucifer's hot breath became increasingly labored as you continued to rock your hips against his painfully growing bulge.

Just then, you heard the sound of a door closing. Someone had just entered the room next to you. With the threat of being heard now looming, you lifted yourself from his neck to see that Lucifer's eyes had turned an ominous red. It felt as if his slit black irises were staring straight into your soul, attempting to burn you from within. He was losing control fast. But you weren't done with him just yet. With a smirk, you placed a finger over his soft lips. "Shh," you whispered almost inaudibly, "you may want to keep your voice down from now on."

A low guttural growl erupted from Lucifer, not of anger, but of pure lust. His obedience hanging by the thinnest of threads as you removed yourself from his lap and stripped yourself of the purple dress. At this point, you couldn’t really care less about the dresses. This was much more entertaining.

The last dress you had grabbed was a form fitting strapless dress decorated entirely in ruby colored sequence with a long slit up the side. You held it against your body in the mirror, but something didn't look quiet right. But then in donned on you, and a devious thought had crossed your mind. You made your way over to Lucifer once more, noticing his claws were now digging into his thighs.

"Can you hold this for just a moment, dear?," you asked innocently. He looked up at you with his still crimson eyes, outstretching his hand silently. Once he was holding the garment, you reached around the back of your bra and unclasped it, letting it hit the floor with a soft thud. Lucifer's eyes became saucers, bunching up the dress in his hand with a clenched fist. Your soft and tender breasts were mere inches from his touch and yet he found he could only sit there motionless, writhing under each new temptation you threw at him.

"You…you are…" Lucifer began, finding it agonizingly difficult to steady his breathing.

You smiled and tugged the dress back from Lucifer's powerful grip. "The dress wouldn't look right with the bra on, silly! I should have brought one of my strapless ones, but oh well, live and learn!" You giggled to yourself and turned away from the fallen angel who's resolve was deteriorating with each passing moment. And with that final move, you had definitely won the game.

Or did you?

While you were mentally congratulating yourself on your perceived victory, you hadn't noticed that Lucifer had moved from his seated position, picking up every article of your clothing that you used to torment him. All you felt next was something wrap around your waist tightly. Was that…his tail?

"What the-AHH!," you tried to question, only to be pulled backwards through a portal that had been summoned, dropping the red dress in the process. The pale white dressing room vanished from sight and you were left standing in the middle of your bedroom. “Lucifer, why did you-" but you couldn’t finish your question. When you turned around, your lover was on his knees behind you, his demonic horns now on full display. He lifted his head, his eyes brimming with tears that threatened to fall at any moment. "Oh, Luci…"

"Please forgive me, I-I'm so sorry, my angel," he cried, "I know I've been acting strange all day and I know that you know I've been keeping something from you. I swear on my immortal life that I will tell you, but I'm begging you…" you kneeled down with him, cupping his face with your hand, "no more teasing. P-please…I-I need you…"

You gave him a loving smile and brought your lips to his. He melted from your touch, grabbing at your hand that held his cheek. "You know I love you, Lucifer," you breathed as you pulled away, "I'm sorry if I took things too far back there, I never want to upset you. You don't have to tell me anything if you're not ready to do so. I can wait. But first…" You stood from your kneeling position and offered him a hand up. The way his demonic form had taken over from just your teasing had you desperate for him beyond belief. Not that your previous bouts of teasing him hadn't worked you up already. You needed him too. Now.

You laid flat on you back against the soft sheets, beckoning him closer with a curl of your finger. Lucifer finally flashed you a toothy grin and in an instant, snapped his fingers, completely removing all of his clothing. Normally he liked to make a show of his undress, but you were both too far gone to care at this point. His tail swished behind him as he excitedly climbed up to join you in bed. He stared down at your crotch, licking his forked tongue across his lips. Without hesitation, he removed your panties and spread your legs apart, taking in the sight of your completely drenched pussy. He leaned down quickly and began to leave sloppy kisses and nips along your inner thighs before stopping right at your entrance.

You chuckled lightly at his eagerness to please you. "Luci, you know you don't have to do this. Especially not after what I put you through today."

Lucifer, in response, let two of his fingers slide against your folds, earning a hardy moan from you. "Trust me when I say this, darling," his voice was low, dripping with lust, "I will never deny either of us this pleasure." You felt his steamy breath against your womanhood as he looked up at you with half-lidded eyes, sending a shiver down your spine. "You may want to hold on, sweetheart."

Without another word, Lucifer ran his snake-like tongue against your cunt like a starved man. You arched your back in pure ecstasy, unable to focus on anything other than the way he was making you feel. He hooked his arms underneath your legs and brought you as close to his face as physically possible, digging his claws into your soft thighs and wrapping his tail around your calf. You realized what he had meant with his last statement and reached out to grip his devilish horns. Your grasp forced a moan out of him as he worked his tongue on your sensitive nub, circling it relentlessly. You knew how skilled he was with his mouth, but it never failed to awe you every time he used it. It wasn't long before you felt a different sensation, that of two clawed finger thrusting into you at a rapid pace.

"Lu-Lucifer, fuck, f-feels so good," you whimpered in between your heavy breaths, "right-SHIT… right there, d-don't stop, please don't stop!" Your pleas only fueled Lucifer’s hunger for you and his desire to make you come undone around him. His tongue and fingers worked in tandem, bringing you closer and closer to your release. Your knuckles were turning white with the amount of force you were using to hold onto his horns. You let one hand drop to tug at Lucifer's hair, another broken moan escaping him as you did. His fingers curled up into you, hitting your g spot repeatedly as his lips sucked on your clit with reckless abandon. That coil in your stomach was on the verge of snapping. "S-so close…gonna c-cum, fuckfuckFUCK LUCIFER!," was the last thing you could utter before your walls clenched around his fingers, feeling yourself pulsate with waves of pleasure. Lucifer helped you ride out your orgasm while lapping up every drop that escaped your body as if it was the nectar of the gods. Once your body finally relaxed, Lucifer removed himself from your thighs, your mess glistening off his chin. He flashed you a wicked grin before using his tongue to clean up the remains of your essence from his face.

The King of Hell crawled up the length of your body until he was hovered directly above you. "I can truly never have enough of you, my queen," he praised. Through your lustful haze, your barely rational mind latched onto what he'd just said. Queen?, you thought, he's never called me that before. Not that you minded in the slightest, you loved it, in fact. Regardless, you clearly weren't in any condition to question his choice of words. Not when you were desperate for his cock to be buried inside you already.

Lucifer caught your lips, his tongue begging for entrance, to which you happily obliged. You could still taste a faint amount of yourself on his lips as your tongues met in a fiery display of passion, twisting and fighting against each other as if trying to establish dominance of the other. You pulled his head closer as he devoured you, saliva dripping down the side of your mouth as his tongue explored every inch of your mouth. His tail refused to recoil as it kept its grip on your lower leg. His hard on pressed against your thigh and you were becoming increasingly impatient. You whimpering against him and bucked your hips up, essentially begging for him to take you completely.

“Please…” was the only word you could force out once you pulled away from his lips. Lucifer smiled, pressing his lips against your ear just as you had done to him earlier.

“Your heart’s desire is my command,” he cooed as you finally felt that familiar pressure between your thighs that you so desperately craved. You felt the head of his cock finally press into your sopping wet cunt, slowing inching himself into you he bottomed out inside of you. You moaned together, now feeling completely whole. Together as one again. Out of nowhere, Lucifer’s wings sprang out behind him once he was fully sheathed inside of you, adding a bright angelic glow to his otherwise hellish appearance.

He was beautiful.

He laughed awkwardly, a hard blush spreading across his face. You reached up and captured his lips once more. He hummed into you, folding his wings around you, completely blocking the outside world. In that perfect moment, the only thing that existed was you and him. After what felt like an eternity, Lucifer finally began to shift his hips, pulling himself out only to thrust right back into you. Slowly at first, relishing every single mewl and whimper you let escape your throat as he rutted into you. But it wasn’t long until his pace quickened, the sound of your slapping skin driving him to the brink. He rested his forehead against yours, refusing to look away from your loving gaze. You felt that coil in your stomach begin to clench once more, making it near impossible to form any coherent sentence, the pleasure his cock was providing was overwhelming you in the best way possible. He noticed this and brough his hand between you two and started circling your already overstimulated clit. You were not going to last much longer. And you could tell his composure was falling apart at the seams as well.

"Hng…fuck…me," Lucifer stammered, his breath hitching on every word "close…I'm close, g-gonna…c-ffffuuucckkk!" He resorted to latching his sharp teeth onto your shoulder, causing small patches of blood to flow out as he came, his hot seed painting your walls white. His wings twitched and spasmed when he finished inside you. His orgasm coupled with his hard thrusts and torturing of your sensitive nub pushed you over the edge for a second time, screaming his name as you clenched around his thick cock. Lucifer lapped up the blood he had drawn from you before he collapsed on top of you, his demonic form finally subsiding, as you both tried your best to catch your breath. You both laid there for a minute or two before even thinking about moving again. Besides, you loved the feeling of his full weight on top of you, it was comforting.

"Remind me to tease you more often," you joked, running your fingers through Lucifer's soft blond hair. He shot his head up and glared at you with a clear 'don't even think about it' look. "I'm kidding! Mostly…" Lucifer rolled his eyes playfully and planted a small peck to your lips. He finally found the strength to pull out of you and roll over onto his side, exhaling heavily.

"That…didn't really go as planned," Lucifer chuckled nervously. Up until now, you had completely forgotten what had even led up to this moment! You guessed you weren't getting a new dress after all, not that you minded, you had more than enough in your closet as it was. "What SHOULD have happened was you were going to pick out a new dress, I was going to take you out on a beautiful romantic candlelit dinner, and then I...I was…" he paused and gulped. "Oh, to hell with it!" He quickly sat up straight and turned to you, using both of his hand to grab onto yours. You sat up as well, your stomach filled with butterflies for a reason you weren't really sure of. "You were right, you know. I was keeping something from you. I am a very bad liar and I'm even worse at keeping secrets. Especially from you. You told me that I didn't have to tell you right now. But that was the problem! I was fighting with every fiber of my being to not tell you immediately! Because I love you with all of my heart and soul and I want to spend the rest of eternity with you by my side and...and..." he exhaled harshly. With a wave of his hand, a small black velvet box appeared. "My love," he opened the box to reveal a ring, "will you do me the incredible honor of becoming my bride?"

You looked down at the precious jewelry before you. A golden snake for the band, with its body wrapped around a beautiful ruby gem in the shape of an apple. Your eyes swelled with tears, you couldn't stop them from flowing down your face. Lucifer panicked and started to wipe them away.

"I-I'm sorry! Please...please don't cry! I didn't mean to-HMPH!" His apologies were cut short when your lips found his. After you pulled away, you laughed, tears refusing to stop. Lucifer's mouth was agape.

"Yes, Lucifer," you bawled, "yes yes yes, a million times yes! Of course I'll marry you, I've never wanted anything more!"

Lucifer sat there in disbelief. But only for a moment before joining you in your crying, wrapping his arms tightly around you, both of your sobs echoing throughout the room.

"You've made me the happiest person in all of Hell, my dear," he cried as he peppered kisses all over your face, clearing away more of your tears. "I love you, from now until the end of time. I promise to be the best husband I can possibly be."

"You're already the best person for me, my King," you smiled. "You don't have to change a thing. I love you, Lucifer Morningstar."

"And I you, Mrs. Morningstar."

~~~~

Congrats on becoming the new Queen(s) of Hell babes 😘

Taglist: @alastor-deer-demon @kermitdafroggy @thonethatflies620 @luc1fersducky @a-okay-rj @bat-boness @myhornybrainonlyknowsthis @misfitgirlwrites @animationmovieshipps @orbitinglumps @ramenkitten @blaackbiird @bigfatbimbo @lucisaspen @bvnnyangel @seulace9 (I'm sorry if I missed anyone!)

[starkwlkr]

I need more dad logan content he's soo girl dad 😭😭 I feel like he would get offended if someone said like "you must want a son" sorry smth 😭

been a son | logan howlett

an: my dad literally thought i was going to be a boy (he wanted a son so bad) and now him and me are besties <3 anon, thanks for the request!! and if anyone thinks logan isn’t girl dad coded TURN ON YOUR LOCATION I WANNA TALK!!! this could also work with old man logan if you want <3 and yes this is named after a nirvana song lol i love nirvana

Logan Howlett loved his girls. He would do anything for them. He protected them from anything and anyone. If someone looked at his girls the wrong way, Logan wouldn’t hesitate to speak up.

It was a normal day with the Howlett family. Rogue was visiting for a few days so when Logan told her it was his turn to pick up Laura and Ada from school, she wanted to tag along. He didn’t mind one bit.

They finally made it to the school where several parents were already parked in their cars waiting for their kids. Logan and Rogue exited the car and waited outside, taking advantage of the beautiful sunny day. After waiting and catching up with each other, the bell had rung signaling the end of another school day. It didn’t take long for Laura and Ada to reunite with their dad and sister.

“Marie!” Ada tan up to Rogue and hugged her.

“Hey, sugar! How was school?” Rogue asked. She then turned to Laura and hugged her as well. “Did you pass your math test?”

“Aced it.” Laura showed the test to Logan and Rogue.

“I think that calls for ice cream, don’t you think?” Logan smiled at the Howlett girls. Ada was telling Rogue about wanting to take ballet lessons when a pick up truck parked beside them.

The truck belonged to some guy that both you and Logan despised. He was your stereotypical asshole dad. His kids were in Ada’s class. Ada mentioned many times how they would pick on her.

“I’ve never seen you around. You Logan’s kid too?” He asked Rogue, who clearly felt uncomfortable by his presence. All she did was nod. “Is your kid mute or what? Sweetheart, I’m the friendliest guy in this whole damn town. I’m Frank.”

“She’s not mute. She doesn’t want to talk to you, Frank.” Logan replied.

“Fine, fine. So are all your girls freaks? Let me tell you, if your kids were sons, you wouldn’t be disappointed. I mean every father wants sons, right? You must want at least one. The son carries your last name after all. Girls erase yours.” Frank went on and on. He just didn’t know when to shut up.

Logan had enough. It was time to shut Frank up for good. He grabbed Frank by his shirt collar and slammed him against his truck. “Don’t ever say another word about my girls,” as Logan held Frank, his claws started to come out making Frank fear for his life. The claw was so close to the man’s face that Frank was afraid to move the slightest bit. “Got it?”

Frank couldn’t even get a proper word out. All he did was mumble what seemed like a ‘yes’.

Logan’s claws went back in. He threw Frank to the ground and walked away as if nothing had happened between them. Obviously Laura wasn’t going to let him off easy. As she passed by his truck, Laura’s claws came out and punctured his tires. She took Ada’s hand and together they climbed into Logan’s car, Rogue sitting in the passenger seat.

Before leaving, Logan rolled down the window and smirked at Frank. “Can your son do that?”

[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.

[eddiernunson]

"Do You Want One?" | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+

Summary: your cousin shows you around Hawkins High for your first day, and is surprised to say the least when her sweet cousin hooks onto Eddie Munson. Just seeing him brings a swoop to your stomach you've never quite felt before, and become desperate for more of him.

Warnings: late bloomer!reader, virgin!reader, mentions never having experienced lust of the sort or really understanding what it is, corruption!kink, little praise, taking of virginity, slight perv!eddie

Authors' note: I, myself didn't feel any sort of sexual attraction or lust until i was 15/16. I tried to write the reader innocent without being infantilized. Also, these photos are for aesthetics only, not much of the reader is described, except for height. Also, my editor pulled through, despite her busy schedule, thanks @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you! This is a birthday present to @bebe07011, always one of the first to read <3

Word Count: 9k

The subtle, yet annoying ring of your alarm yanks you out of your sleep, a sleep that took hours to settle into after anxious tossing and turning. A yawn overtakes your body as you sit up, looking around sleepily at the boxes that contain the contents of your room. You whine as the stars overflow your vision from the rubbing of your eye.

Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth, tasting the mint of your mouthwash when your mom pushes a bagel into your hand. Most of the kitchen is still in boxes, just a few appliances on the unnaturally bare counters. “Hey, Aunt Karen just called and said Nancy will be here any minute.” She offers, and a part of you feels for the bags under her eyes.

“Thanks.” You say, garbled with a piece of bagel in your mouth.

“Oh, and Mike is being a little testy, so he probably won’t move from the front seat for you.” She laughs, shaking her head.

You shrug, not caring. “I’ve been in the backseat for this long.”

Two honks out the front announce their arrival, and you ignore the anxious reminders she hurriedly spits out as you grab your backpack by the front door, already filled with school supplies from Texas. You shout an I love you to her as the Wheelers’ Station Wagon comes into your sight from the swung open door, finally out of her worried clutches that you’ve been in from the last week straight.

True to Aunt Karen’s word, Mike gave a defiant look when Nancy demanded he get out the front seat. Again, you didn’t care. “Sorry Mike has a ruler up his ass.” Nancy apologizes, her smirk reaching your own in the rearview.

You roll your eyes, a signal that it really doesn’t matter to you.

Hawkins, miniscule in comparison to that of your old home, Houston, passes by in the windows and you huff a sigh out at how much smaller your world has gotten. Your town, your school…you wish you could go back and give a reality check to the girl who patronized Nancy for it on the phone.

As promised, Nancy shows you to the front office and your first few classes. Being the new girl in the middle of a semester is absolute bullshit, but at least it wasn’t Forks, Washington levels of bullshit. That level of attention would’ve had you crawling under a bridge. Thank God only one teacher asked you to introduce yourself to the class. The rest of them couldn’t even be bothered.

Nancy sits alone at lunch, a notepad in her hand next to a near empty lunch tray. One thing you notice is that this school is much more categorized than yours was. It felt straight out of a high school dramedy, one you would criticize for being cliché.

Oh. Maybe it does some have truth to it.

“Hey loner.” You greet her, your butt hitting the hard plastic chair.

“I’m not a loner.” She huffs, hand moving absentmindedly as she writes. “My news team is getting this week’s paper done, we usually get it done during lunch.”

You roll your eyes, having noted the empty space on her tray. “You work too hard.”

“Nope. If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.” She answers, her signature side smirk on her face. Sometimes, only sometimes, Nancy doesn’t really have a serious bone in her body.

You gesture to the cafeteria, opening your fruit cup. “So, tell me about your very categorized cafeteria.”

She laughs, pausing in the middle of the sentence she’s writing. “So. There’s the jocks/cheerleaders, the nerds, the band nerds, drama nerds, science nerds—"

“Those are different from the regular nerds?” You ask, eyebrow quirked.

“Yes.” She deadpans. “Those are the kids without a clique,” she points, a bunch of kids not interacting, shyly nibbling at their lunches. “And finally, where my brother sits. Hellfire.”

It felt dramatic, but the table definitely earned their last but not least position. They stand out from the crowd, not seeming to care about fitting in like everyone else so desperately does. From the looks of it, individually, none of them would fit in the crowd. As a group, they stick out like a sore thumb. They don’t even care.

Nancy seems to be speaking, but she fades into the background. While you tricked yourself into believing you were observing the table, it occurs to you your eyes are fixated on the head of it, your heart beating out of your chest as you stare at him.

Him.

“Who’s he?” You interrupt Nancy, watching as his long frizzy hair curtain over his face. You didn’t even know someone in real life could be this good looking, you were sure it was reserved for celebrities in magazines.

Nancy switches her glance back and forth between your slack jaw and wide eyes and him. “That’s Eddie Munson.” She answers, her voice calculated. “The dork that I complained about Mike copying, remember?”

Your tongue reaches out to lick your lips, staring at him distractedly. A hot feeling in the swell of your gut overwhelms your senses. “You described a wet-rat loser.”

Nancy huffs in abrupt laughter. “That’s cause he is!”

“Him?” You ask, this hot feeling starting to radiate. You notice it’s especially hot in your crotch, a sort of…want you’ve never felt before. You’ve never craved for anyone this badly.

Nancy laughs in disbelief, surprised to say the least that her sweet cousin is openly drooling over Eddie The Freak Munson of all people. “I can put in a good word, if you want.” She teases, smirking at the way your eyes widen in panic.

“No, no, please don’t.” You insist, your eyes finally flickering back to her.

“Fine, you can drool from afar.” She muses. “Oh, lunch’ll be over in a handful of minutes. What’s your next class?”

“History.” You answer, viewing your crumpled schedule. God, not another boring lecture.

Nancy bites her lip, something she’s clearly not willing to share with the class. You don’t ask, still trying to catch your breath.

She walks you across the school to the classroom littered with historical figures and maps. She salutes you, telling you she’ll see you in AP Calculus right after this one. The look on her face never leaves it, she’s always got a secret right under the surface, but this one seemed more entertaining than the rest.

When you enter the classroom, the teacher tells you there’s assigned seats in this one and lucky for you, there’s one seat left. She directs you to the far-left corner, signalling to the one on the right. You shyly ignore the looks on your new classmates faces, all of them observing the face of the new kid who started so late in the year.

New faces are always hard to ignore, it’s just human nature to stare. Still, your stage fright is present in the forefront of your mind.

Your teacher starts the lecture by introducing you as a new kid, offering a wave to everyone that turns their head to look at you. Why can’t teachers just learn to be normal?

Your head is turned down, leaning on your elbow as she starts to explain a concept you’ve already learned last year. Are they sure they put you in a grade 12 class? At least this will be easier than most. Suddenly the heavy door opens, and your heart stutters as the man who’s taken over your every thought stumbles into the room ten minutes late.

“Mr. Munson! How nice of you to join us!” She greets, her scowl indicating that it’s anything but.

“You are so welcome, Miss. Greyson.” Eddie answers, his voice dripping in a tenor tone that sends a shiver down your spine. Not a lick of sarcasm comes from him, answering as if she was genuine.

She sighs, closing her eyes in exasperation. “Just go have a seat.”

Something in you suddenly realizes that the only available seat is right next to yours. A thrill takes over you, biting your lip excitedly as he struts as if he has all the time in the world.

After a brief stint on the projector, Miss. Greyson instructs the class to open their textbooks and answer questions on the following pages. “You may work in pairs.” She answers the many raised hands, and the room is filled by the harsh sound of desks groaning against the floor.

You get up from your desk, leaning into the teacher as she gathers the laminated sheets she had just used for the lesson. “I don’t have a textbook, yet.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She replies, dropping her pile to shuffle off to her desk. “I completely forgot, in all the excitement.” She hands you the textbook that looks about fifteen years old, the spine cracked to oblivion. She leans in as you grab it, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry about the placement of your desk, just ignore him. There was no one I hated in this classroom enough to place next to him.”

You resist the urge to raise an eyebrow, perplexed at her open disdain for him. It reminded you of the tone of voice Nancy had over the phone, wondering if the whole school was really this open about it. “I’ll live.” You answer, and she winks like you two share a secret.

Your textbook lands harshly on the desk, opening it to the page indicated in white chalk written on the blackboard. God, the reading is four pages, and the questions are a paragraph each. This much reading on the downfall of Mycenae? A jarring noise to your left surprises you, looking up to face his desk come closer and closer.

He leans over, a smile on his face that sends a thrill right through you. “So, how come I’ve never seen you around?”

He talks low, you spend the time hoping he doesn’t notice the goosebumps that trails over your skin. “Uh, I just started today.” You beg yourself to seem normal, to look him in the eyes like a decent conversationalist. You can’t bring yourself to, no matter how hard you try. Somehow you know when you finally look in those eyes of his, you’ll be too mesmerized to look away.

The printed words on the page make no sense, just a blur of boring text in black and white.

He leans back in his chair; you can feel his eyes planted on you. “Ah, makes sense. I would’ve remembered seeing your pretty face around.”

Oh my god he just called me pretty. Surely, he’s lying? Being in his line of sight and being considered good looking enough to him for him to even glance at was never in your wildest imagination, picturing him glazing right over you. Just a bug on the windshield. You gulp, pretending to be infatuated with the page in front of you instead of the man next to you.

“You shy?” He asks. In the corner of your eye, you see him leaning onto his elbow, his eyes staring a hole in your head.

Finally, you tear your glance off the textbook and onto him. God were you right about his eyes. How can a pair of brown eyes be so captivating? They’re a perfect chocolate brown, his mouth in a lopsided expression that sucks the air out of your lungs. “A little.” You admit, distracted by the sound of his fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk.

His limber fingers are dressed in chunky silver rings, the sight of his hands moving distractedly suddenly sends the heat you felt in your stomach earlier into a frenzy, the pull strong and overwhelming. “I can work with that.” A shy smile lands on your face, clenching your teeth as a method of resisting the urge to smile ear to ear. “Can I get a name?”

You tell him and hearing it from his lips is a vice and a half. “And you’re Eddie.” You say before he can introduce himself.

“So, my reputation precedes me.” He laughs, crossing his arms. “Or am I exactly like they said?”

You shrug. “Not exactly.”

His shoulders indicate a silent huff of laughter. “Care to expand on that?”

You shrug again. “You’re just…different.”

The look on his face indicates this answer isn’t good enough, but he doesn’t care to ask you to expand any further. As you work on your homework, finally settling your heartbeat and breathing rate, he writes in a notebook littered with graffiti. His left foot rests on the edge of his desk, the book resting on his thigh as he writes with the dull pencil.

He’s not doing any homework, but he’s at least letting you work on yours. The bell finally rings, dismissing you from your class and the room fills with chatter as everyone packs their bags. “You know where your next class is?”

You shake your head; having told Nancy you could work it out on your own. “Uh, no. It’s AP Calculus with Mr. Warner.”

“Mr. Warner.” He muses, his notebook in one hand and carrying a small metal tin. “Here, I’ll walk you.”

You pause, gulping as your bag rests on one shoulder. “You don’t have to do that.” You insist, suddenly realizing he’s about a whole head taller than you.

He smiles, his gaze making you feel…hot. “I didn’t ask, sweetheart.”

The way you gulp, your wide eyes darting back and forth between his, your teeth biting on your bottom lip nervously, Eddie was startled at the physical reaction and it was all going straight to his dick. The urge to shove his thumb between your pretty, plump lips is overwhelming, to say the least.

“Oh.” You answer, fingernails digging into the strap of your backpack. “Then lead the way.”

Eddie shakes his head, starting down the hallway to the other end of the school. As soon as he reaches the classroom, he turns around, leaning against the locker on his arm, neck hunching over you. Oh god, he’s gorgeous. “Will you let me take you out on a date, tonight?”

Every bone in your body wants to say yes, fingers just itching to reach out and touch his lithe hips. “My mom won’t let me go out on a Monday.”

So, that was not a No. “I would’ve asked for Friday, but I can’t wait that long.”

His admission drives you crazy, that heat ever present. Things like this just don’t happen. “Neither can I.” You admit, feeling scared of the rush that overwhelms you, yet scared of the idea of it never happening. You think quickly, biting your lip. “Think you can pick me up from my cousin’s house?”

He squints, crossing his arms as he leans against the locker. “Who’s your cousin?"

“Nancy Wheeler.”

His eyes bug out of the sockets, sighing in disbelief. “You’re cousins with Wheeler?” You nod, wondering if there’s any unspoken animosity between them. “I’ve dropped her kid brother off a few times, I know where she lives. You gonna tell your mom where you’re heading out for the night?”

You shake your head, sure he knows the answer, already.

Eddie huffs, hoping the crotch of his pants won’t give him away. “You ever snuck out before?”

“No.” You answer, looking up as the bell rings. “But I’m sure I can manage.”

You can’t place the expression on his face, somewhere between bewildered and amused.

For the record, it’s pure lust, having just met you and he’s already accidentally convincing you to sneak out for him. He wants you to, wondering if one day you’ll go so far to skip class to have fun with him under the bleachers.

His eyes leer down your body, watching as your skirt dances across your bare thighs while your feet can’t stay in place. He plays with his fingers absentmindedly, just barely resisting the urge to move them past the barrier and watch your face melt in pleasure.

“What time?” Eddie asks, eyes flickering up to your sweet face.

You think about it, knowing you’ll need time to grab at least a dress and get ready at the Wheelers’. “7:30.”

Eddie laughs, turning away from you and back down the hall to where you presumed his class was. “Pick you up at 7.”

“I-I said 7:30!”

“I’ll honk twice!” He answers, hand in his pocket like he didn’t just glue you into place.

The echo of his voice suddenly reminds you the halls are empty, only a few feet away from Mr. Warners classroom. You know more than anyone that AP Calculus students just aren’t late. Maybe he’ll give you grace on your first day.

You ignore the way every set of eyes switch to you, looking around the room for an empty seat. Luckily, Nance has saved one right next to you. “Hi, sorry. Couldn’t find it.”

“That’s alright, take this and have a seat right next to Miss.Wheeler, there.” He offers, gesturing to your cousin.

When the lecture ends and he assigns homework, she gets right to the point. “So, how was History?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “You knew he’d be there.” You accuse, her grin affirming your assumption completely. “A warning would’ve been nice.”

“Not like you had to speak to him.” Nancy sighs, opening her textbook to the page indicated.

You stare at her pointedly, opening your book to a random page. “I sat next to him.”

Nancy instinctively knows something is up, seeing something was on your mind. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“You’ve barely given me a chance.” You comment sarcastically, looking over at her expectant face. “He…he asked me out.”

To say Nancy is surprised at this development would be simply, an understatement. “I’m sorry?”

You grin, finally letting that smile you’ve been hiding take over. “He’s picking me up at 7.”

“Like your mom will let you go out on a weekday.” She squints, knowing your mom’s tendencies to make you prioritize school over anything else.

“…which is why I need you to cover for me.” You hesitate, grinning shyly when she gives you a look of utter disbelief.

“Seriously?” You nod, pleading with her silently. “Fine. But you owe me big.”

You promise to make it up to her.

When the bell rings signifying the end of the day, your heart beats rapidly as the time for your date comes closer and closer. Nancy said she wouldn’t be able to help with your conundrum of the fact that you’ll need a dress and a way to get from your house to Nancy’s.

As you sit next to her while she writes a rough copy of an article wondering who you could possibly get to drive you. You might be shit out of luck. Like an angel, a freckled redhead appears out of nowhere. “Nance, is that the cousin?” She asks, sitting right across from you.

From the look on Nancy’s face, you’re unsure how close they actually are. “Yep.”

“Cool! I’m Robin, over-sharer, anxiety ridden, fast talker. Nice to meet ya.”

You take her extended hands, sort of hypnotized by her warm green eyes. “You too.”

“Hey, Steve busy?” Nancy asks, a million thoughts behind her head.

“Probably not.” Robin offers, getting up from the table. “Why?”

“Oh, she needs a ride.”

Robin eyes you, a smirk landing on her face. “I can convince him.” She side eyes, gesturing for you to follow.

You follow her around the school to the front where you face a handsome lanky dude sitting impatiently as he waits for his friend. When he turns the window down to ask who you are, you realize he’s not just handsome, he’s hot. God, you’ll have to reprimand Nancy for leaving that detail out. “What’s with the guest?”

“She’s Nance’s cousin. She needs a ride, would you mind?”

“What am I, a chauffeur?” Steve asks, face shifting into a deep scowl.

You stop Robin from responding, having an immediate comeback. “I had to listen to my cousin bitch about you for hours. Hours. I think I deserve a little compensation for my time, don’t you?”

Steve smirks, looking from under the hair falling into his face. “Whatever, get in.”

“Where you need a ride to?” He asks as you get into his backseat.

“My house.” You pause, hesitating to say the second location. “Then Nancy’s house.”

Steve squints suspiciously at you in his rear view. “Why two locations?”

“So my date can pick me up tonight.” You admit, glancing out the window shyly.

Robin turns in her seat, jaw dropping open. “Isn’t this your first day?”

You shrug, biting back a smile. “So?”

“Oh shit.” She glances to Steve and back to you. “Who? Do we know him?”

“Um, probably.”

“We know him.” Robin states.

“Turn here, third house on the left…” you tell him, getting out of his car as soon as it stops.

When you get inside your house, you explain to your mom you are way further behind on school than you thought you were and will need some time to get caught up. She asks how late you’ll be, and when you say midnight, she doesn’t even hesitate to let you go.

Thank god you don’t lie, because this should not be this easy. Your hands ruffle through the box of dresses by your bed, grabbing at a few you know look good on you. They’re stuffed into your backpack, cursing yourself for not unpacking your makeup earlier. Hopefully Nancy will be nice enough to lend you some. (You doubt it.)

You rush a love you out to your mom and back into Steve’s back seat, out of breath from running up and down the stairs so damn fast. God, the things you were doing for your goddamn date.

Nancy only lives down a few blocks from you, thus the easy carpool your moms figured out until you get your car. God, in Houston you could’ve just taken a METRORail, you didn’t need a damn car. You thank Steve profusely, thankful for his saving grace.

You would rather tell every member of Hawkins Senior class personally a fun fact about you than go out with Eddie in the same thing you wore to school. You’re shy, not pathetic.

“You don’t owe him anything if you tell us who asked you out.” She calls out of her open window, face full amusement. “C’mon!”

You wait as they pull forward, Steve shaking his head at his best friend’s shenanigans. “It’s Eddie Munson!” You shout, laughing as she shouts a what in utter disbelief.

You wave as they take off, thinking you and her could actually be great friends. She has the kind of spunk you look for in a friend, the same spunk you’ve witnessed in your cousin. A large part of you wonders why they’re not friends.

When your Aunt Karen wonders why she wasn’t alerted, you give the disclaimer you’re just there to catch up on the schoolwork. Your Uncle Ted insinuates Houston must be so far behind Hawkins, and you grit a smile in response, an indent on the tip of your tongue from your teeth. Most of your lessons from the school day you had learned last year, already earning top marks on those questions. The only class that was remotely hard was calculus.

It was borderline hilarious.

You run up the stairs, stomach in knots.                                                                         

Nancy is nice enough to let you use her makeup, grinning up at you with amusement as you ruffle through the dresses you so hurriedly packed. She gives a definite yes to a dress you knew stands out but worry at the way it just brushes against your thigh, and the neckline dives deeper than what you’re used to.

When it cascades down your body, the look in her stark green eyes tells you everything you need to know. This was the dress. Nancy is kind enough to do your hair, talking quietly with you as she curls your hair.

The half hour leading up to 7 has you lying on her bed, freaking out. She does the homework you’re supposed to be doing, answering your questions vaguely. She tries to make you feel better, grinning cheekily as she never imagined her sweet cousin going on date with Hawkin’s resident metal head.

When two honks occur down the street, you sit up starkly at the sound, biting your lip as you glance to her. “Go. I’ll distract my parents.”

She does, asking them for faux advice in the living room as you sneak past them to the front door, closing it with the most care you could muster. When you don’t hear any commotions, that gives you the go ahead to run down the street to the large van that sticks out, headlights on as it sits idly.

You peer up at him through the passenger window, waving as he unlocks it for you. The lopsided smile on his face starts that heat up again, like he turns on burners all over your body at will. The door shuts behind you, and you smile up at him shyly when he turns down the music.

“You look…wow.” He compliments you, watching the way your eyes look up at him, that beautiful shine.

You assess his outfit, a leather jacket worn with a graphic t-shirt and jeans with rips at the knee. He looked casual, but damn fine regardless. Him losing his metal accessories and devil-may-care look probably would’ve disappointed you, anyway. “So do you.” You offer back, taking in the way he looks as he starts his van and pulls out.

“Thanks.” He winks, turning at a traffic intersection. “So, there are several places we can go, the movies, Hal’s Diner, Benny’s Burgers, bowling alley, the Drive In, up to you, sweetheart.” He insists, driving his van around the small town.

The only thing you want at the current moment is to be in close quarters with him, with the need to kiss him crazy, a need you’ve experienced far too much this quickly. There’s only one thing that allows that. “Drive in.” You decide, the prospect of those same close quarters sending a thrill down your spine.

Eddie signals left, the drive-in location the opposite way from where he’s been driving. “Sounds good, love.”

Eddie doesn’t ignore the way you subtly avoid eye contact from him, shyly looking at your near bare thighs. By the way, were you trying to get a rise out of him with this wonderfully slinky dress you’re wearing? The moment you crawled into his van he was overthrown by your sweet perfume and the way your dress smooths over your gorgeous curves. It’s too hard, impossibly hard, to resist leaning in for your sweet scent, to nuzzle his nose in your neck. The idea that you don’t want to leave the intimacy of the van any more than he does is enough to bring the urge to readjust the crotch of his jeans.

By the time he pulls up into the far corner of the lot, turning on his radio so it connects with the movie mid-beginning credit scene, you take in the sparce parking lot, only a few vehicles spread apart sporadically. Well, you wanted intimate. You wanted close, now you've got it. His freshly showered self with the mix of his cologne just adding fuel to the ever-increasing fire.

This fire suddenly sends the need to squeeze your legs together, not completely understanding the feeling, but there’s an inkling. An instinct that on some level you know what it is, but no one ever warned you it could be this intense.

The first act of the movie is shared by you and Eddie laughing at the same jokes together, grabbing candy from his hands when he offers it. You sip on a straw in a glass coke bottle, if only to calm the nerves combined with heat that has completely overshadowed any sense you seem to have. Eddie leans back comfortably in his fabric covered seat, a hand landing on your bare thigh.

Oh, that turned up the heat several notches. It starts to become clearer that this heat is what can now be more clearly defined as a want. A want for…more of his hands, further up, him, close to you. Closer.

As your thighs tense and clench under his touch, Eddie can’t hold back any more like he planned. His other hand is tucked under your chin, lifting your big eyes to look up at his. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, your mouth parting as you look up at him with stars in your eyes. “Can I?”

Your eyebrows furrow, breath stuttering as you peer up at him. You nod your head, glancing at his shiny pink lips. Every inch of air is tugged from your lungs as he leans forward, lips open as he places them on yours.

Eddie had every intention of kissing you delicately, the way he knows you deserve to be kissed, gently and patiently. As soon as the whimper leaves your throat and vibrates into his mouth, he forgets his good intentions. The kiss turns dirty, fast, the pressure of his spread hand increasing in the best fucking way, making your body fold involuntarily towards him.

Just when you’re enjoying the feeling of his tongue against yours, mewling pathetically against his lips, Eddie starts to kiss down your throat. You sigh, leaning back as that heat finally gains a resolve. Oh, god you're horny. Is that what that is? No wonder teenage boys are such perverts.

The combination of teeth and tongue is everything you needed and more; every muscle feeling like jelly as his lips and hands work like magic over you. Eddie licks a strip up to your ear, a startled and blissful moan filling up the car. He skips right past the pleasantries, past any inclination that you were anything other than wild for eachother. “You ever touch yourself, sweetheart?”

Only God knows why, but the dirty sentence just makes you hungrier for him, more eager. However, the answer to that jarring question is an honest and stuttered, “No.”

 Eddie separates from you, giving you a look, you can’t quite place. “Wait, really?” You confirm it, breathing heavily, gasping as his eyes visibly darken. “So, you’ve never cum before?”

The sentence makes your eyes widen, gulping at that gorgeous face of his. You think you know what he means, but you still need clarification.

“Orgasm, princess. Have you ever had an orgasm?” He asks, a hand placed on your cheek as he watches your reaction.

Oh. That’s what you thought. That’s an absolute and definitive, “No.”

His fingers increase their pressure, a reflex of from his reaction. God, you’re more innocent than he even knew. The idea of even teaching you what it means to get off sends a swoop through his gut, picturing you looking at him with those wide eyes as he corrupts you.

God, does he want to corrupt you. He wants to corrupt every inch of you, turn you into someone who begs him to skip class so you can guzzle on his cock. The way you stare up at him waiting for a response, eyes glazed over as you wait for him to continue kissing you, as if you don’t even remember you’re at a drive in to begin with.

His cock has never hurt so much from the blood pulsing through it, probably an angry red at this point.

“Can I give you one?” He asks, thumb starting to rub on your bottom lip again.

“An-an orgasm?” You stutter, voice squeaking through the question. He’s gorgeous, the way he stares down at you, those same chocolate brown eyes making that heat pool. Despite the fear, the arousal is greater. “Uh, sure.”

He smirks, watching your eyes dart back and forth nervously. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” You confirm, pulling him for the kiss you so desperately crave. You weren’t sure how it happens, your hands having a damn mind of their own. Despite him pulling away, he slips back into the kiss easily, the hand on your thigh and hand on your face making you feel dizzy.

You’ve had kisses before, but you knew you were missing something in them. At last, you’ve found it, desperately clinging onto his kiss. God, he’s good at making you turn into mush, relaxing into his seats almost completely.

His hand inches up your thigh, waiting for you to protest. Your breath hitches as he gets closer and closer. “I'm gonna make you feel so good.” He promises, his hot breath turning you into a liquid. Finally, his hand lands on the cotton of your underwear, his strokes tugging mewls into his open mouth. “Shit, you’re soaked, baby. You even know how much you want me? Probably confusing, hmm?”

He puts pressure at the top, rubbing small circles and it feels like fire is set to your center, gasping as your concentration falls apart. His fingers feel good, in a way you didn’t think was possible. Words in your mind echo the thought of how damn good he feels, mouth attempting to tell him, but nothing comes out but wanton gasps.

Eddie watches you wither in his chair, legs opening for him. Sure, giving you an orgasm is a fierce turn on, but knowing you’ve never experienced any type of pleasure or want is sent straight to his cock. He remembers learning how good it felt to start rubbing his cock when it got hard, how often he started doing it when he realized it led to something.

All he wants to do is turn you into a pervert, one orgasm at a time.

That same warmth that’s made home in your gut starts to build, your thighs tensing up when it occurs to you what its building to. “Fuck.” You gasp, Eddie humming at the swear that leaves your lips. “Close, and I haven’t even really touched you, hmm?” He muses, lips starting to add a second sensation on your neck with his hot and wet tongue.

He pushes your underwear aside, fingers finally making direct contact with the wet slick of your folds. “Eddie.” You gasp. The skin on skin makes your head spin, clutching onto his leather jacket with desire. The pleasure jumps up thirty notches, that build reaching an all-time high. Nothing has ever felt better, never so fantastic. Again, now you understand why teenagers are such perverts.

“Let me see you cum, I can feel it coming, baby.” He whispers, licking his lips.

He slides a finger deep in you, the sudden intrusion alien but welcome. On the edge, you become even more completely desperate for him. How was his finger even better? How was that possible? The feat thrills you, happily and willingly giving into everything he gives you. “Damn. Baby. You look so fucking good, think you can cum for me?”

His fingers hook within you, and it pushes you over the edge you’ve been staring down, stars invading your vision, the heat you’ve felt everywhere, all at once. Your tight entrance pulses around his fingers, twitching, not aware of the loud, whiny moans that Eddie’s sure the concession stand less than twenty feet away can hear, but he’s proud of it, grinning maniacally at his hard work.

He guides you through it, thrusting his fingers as he watches you come apart under his touch. When you stop shaking, his hand rubs your pussy gently, admiring the slick that is now pooled down your thighs and even onto his chair. He smirks, catching your eye when they finally open to face him. “How’re you doing, love?”

You forget to be shy in your smile, grinning maniacally as you grab him, yanking him in for a hot, wet kiss. It’s even dirtier than before, attempting to show him how grateful you feel for his magical fingers. “That was…so…good.” You mumble, smiling wider when you can feel him do the same.

“Feels good, hmm?” He asks, his fingers still stroking you gently.

“Jesus.” You answer, thighs convulsing involuntarily.

Eddie chuckles, amused that it takes you cumming to cum out of your shell. “You’re pretty like this, you know?” You roll your eyes, and he can feel the dismissal of his compliment. “Can I eat you out, baby?” It shouldn’t be this embarrassing, but it is. You barely know any of this terminology, and he can feel you tense up below him, your once liquid limbs turning to steel. “You have no idea what that means, do you, baby?”

You shake your head, gulping in the embarrassment.

“That’s ok. Of course, I don’t mind helping you.” Eddie doesn’t mind. When he says that he’s under exaggerating, not showing an ounce of his true feelings. How much does it take for you to squirm under his dirty words? How much patience does he have before he begs you to let him shove his hardened cock down your throat. How long will it be until you’re riding him like a porn star? If he was even slightly sleezier, he’d bet on it with someone. “I’d make that pretty pussy feel even better with my tongue.”

Oh. That sounds miles better than anything your brain could’ve come up with. You bite your lip, staring up at him with pure want. “You’d do that?”

“If you’re willing to come into the back with me.” He muses, nodding his head to his elongated trunk. You turn your head, facing a fleece blanket placed on the floor of the van with a few pillows. Did he do this for you, or is it always this nice?

Eddie doesn’t think you can get any cuter, but when you nod excitedly, starting to crawl into the back before he can say anything, he’s proven dead wrong. He’s never been so happy to be wrong. As you crawl, he watches your ass, your underwear still pulled to the side as the shine on your folds is still visible in the light of the movie.

He smiles, crawling as soon as you land awkwardly on the floor of the van. You sit cross legged waiting for him, one spaghetti strap fallen off your shoulder as you bite your lip anxiously. It doesn’t help Eddie that the strap on your shoulder starts to reveal a breast, just peeking at the top of the nipple. He’s barely seen you, just at the tip of the iceberg of touching you, and he’s about to pop from the anticipation.

How are you doing this to him so easily?

Eddie leans in for a kiss, something as soft as he wanted to give you the moment he saw you sitting in the desk next to his, but his hormones got the worst of him. He kisses each bare shoulder, admiring the way you relax into it.  His long fingers reach to the already fallen strap, fingers brushing as he tugs it down further, fully exposing the partially exposed tit. Your heart races, loud, too loud, in your temple and you wonder if he can hear it.

Eddie can’t, as heartbeats are usually inaudible to the naked ear. He can hear, however, the way those sweet breaths get louder, faster, and even more utterly pathetic for him. Eddie feels a goal take over his mind like a parasite, one he welcomes with a bed made. He plans to make you moan and whine louder so that everyone within ten miles can hear how good you feel, what a good whore you are—he’s getting ahead of himself.

Right now, he focuses on making you feel comfortable, helping you become at ease so you will never be self-conscious with him, never afraid of being too loud, or too eager. He can’t imagine ever thinking otherwise with you. He thought he knew the definition of impossible, but now he knows he had no clue.

Every sensible, distinguishable thought has left your brain, too focused on how good his tongue and teeth feel as he expertly works on your beaded nipple. His brain is going a million miles per hour, yours left behind in the middle of a desert. His hand guides the other strap down your shoulder, fully exposing your chest, the soft material falling so it sits wrapped around your hips.

Teeth scrape against the curve of your breast, as if his tongue is attempting to taste every inch, every centimetre of it. One hand smoothing the skin just below them. Wet kisses trail down your torso, tongue dipping into your navel, the sweet swell of your stomach, his dull nails digging into your soft flesh, the pain adding to the beauty of the mixed sensations.

Your pussy is raging in fire, shouting for the same attention he had been so generous at providing. He feels your thighs tensing, attempting to provide friction for yourself where you need it the most. “Does it hurt, baby?” He asks, mouth now at the base of your neck. “Does that sweet pussy hurt for it?” You nod, rubbing your thighs like a damn cricket. “Oh, I know, I’ll make it all feel better, don’t you worry.”

He admires your face, the way your eyes are closed with the muscles beautifully crumpled up.

“Lie down for me, and I’ll eat that fucking pretty pussy.” Without hesitation, you lay down, shifting your body so you can lie comfortably on the floor of the van.

When you do, his hands tug at the fabric around your waist, not pulling it off you, just clutching it like a vice. They slink under it, fingers tight on the waistband on your panties as he pulls them down your legs. As they leave your feet, pulling them around your heels, Eddie stares at the drenched middle, fingers playing with the thick slick that had gathered. Eddie seems to have a talent for stealing the air from your lungs, doing so as you watch him taste them. “Taste so fucking good, sweets.” He makes a show of placing them into his back pocket, shooting a wink when you give him a questioning look.

He adjusts himself onto his forearms, both hands landing on the top of your thighs as his head dives in between them. Your thigh muscles tense in his hold, begging him for mercy, any kind. “Eddie…please…I need…I need—”

He chuckles, bending over your wanton body. “I love how you say my name, but I’m gonna make you scream it.” He mutters, the scent of your arousal making his vision fizzle.

Finally, finally, his tongue touches you, relishing in the immediate whine that leaves your lips. He hums against you, enjoying the way your legs move restlessly. The first touches are so delicate, your heels digging in his (still) clothed back and grinding your hips to force more contact. “That’s a girl, take what you want from me.” He praises you, hand stroking your thigh gently.

The simple instruction drives your hips to grind more, Eddie’s tongue licking up your slick folds harder in response. At this point, fire isn’t a hot enough word to describe the heat in your pussy. Eddie starts to focus on your clit, his ears suddenly muffled by your thighs abruptly closing on his head. He starts a rhythm, switching back and forth, listening to how your sweet whines answer him.

Any thoughts occurring in your head are long gone, all out of your mouth before your brain even knows you’re thinking it. You wonder how you didn’t think of this, ‘how the first thing you thought when you saw Eddie not how good he would look between your legs’?

Answer: the best thing you’ve ever seen in your life. (Spoiler, there will be better things.)

Eddie is more than happy to play with you, to listen how you react to every touch he provides. So far, his favourite sound is when his tongue enters your sopping hole, fucking it gloriously. It was the first truly uninhibited sound he managed to pull from you. Every decision he made for you was purposeful, doing his damn best to send you over the edge again. He wonders how willing he is to put off his own pleasure for the sake of yours.

Honestly, to hear you come apart repeatedly is 1000% worth it to him, even if he has to rut against the floor of the van.

“Cl-close, Eddie.” You tell him, that sudden ending sneaking up on you. “So, so, so, so, good!”

Eddie takes your admission with pride, and as the stars invade your vision, your every limb tensing as you cum, he keeps going.

In your post orgasm haze, the over sensitivity of your pussy is overwhelming. However, his continuing and relentless mouth feels so good you relish in it, absolutely sure your legs will be sore from the constant convulsing. You whimper through a hushed and delayed swear, your hands weaving through his curls and tugging on his scalp.

His thumb meets your clit, rubbing feverishly and driving another orgasm out of you faster than you ever expected. His name is music to his ears as you shout it when the orgasm takes over you. “Fuck, Eddie, mouth feels…ah!”

His brown eyes open, nose nuzzling your clit as he stares at you through those darkened eyes. His tongue licks a long stripe, chin resting the mound of your pubic bone. “Think you can handle a few more?”

Your chest heaves, struggling to catch your breath as you lift your head up to face him.  Your head feels like a weight, too heavy on your neck. Your mouth opens to answer him, but the weight of your head wins, landing back on the van.

Eddie works your clit again, watching your breasts move up and down as you struggle to catch your breath. “Maybe not that many more, hmm? Maybe just one?” …if he’s strong enough to hold back from giving you two.

Stopping at this point would give you a break you need, but at the same time you can’t bear to, Eddie’s tongue acting as a siren’s song. You’re hypnotized by him. “More, please. Please keep going.”

“I love hearing your voice beg for me. Your whimpers are the best thing I’ve ever heard in my life, sweets.”

Eddie dives in again, your choked whimpers telling any near neighbors that you simply don’t remember they exist. They’re not important enough to care about anymore.

As much as you are sensitive to every single touch, even over-stimulated, you welcome the next three orgasms he gives you. At the end of your third, or sixth, orgasm, Eddie rests his chin on your mound again, staring up at you as you recollect yourself. He’s patient, watching the light making its way back into your eyes.

Eddie nearly asks you a question, when your hand reaches out to grab him by his leather collar. He lets out a yelp of surprise, his fully clothed form an odd juxtaposition against your completely naked one. Well, save for the dress still on your waist. Your lips meet, tongues gliding against each other beautifully, and you taste yourself in his mouth. Even with your brain as foggy as it is, your body feeling as weak as it does, the number one thing you can focus on is getting those clothes off him.

Your hands fidget on the harsh leather collar, forcing it off his back. “Take it off,” you tell him, Eddie grinning cheekily in response. As soon as his jacket is off, you feel the graphic shirt start to come off with it. The reveal of his patched treasure trail, his bare skin against yours a marvel of sensations. You become impatient, attempting to hurry the process of taking his shirt off.

A symphony of laughter leaves his lips as his shirt finally is tossed off to the side, watching your eyes marvel at his tattoo littered chest. Your tits pressed against him pulls a groan from his lips, a sound that drives your legs to tug his tented jeans down against your bare pussy. If you thought his tongue felt good, it’s nothing compared to his hips against yours.

His voice is strained, dripping in husk. “Sh-shit, doll. I-I need you. Need to feel that virgin pussy wrapped around my cock. Need it so bad, please.”

Eddie begging like this being such a turn on is a surprise, to say the least. And from the pleasure he gave you, you’re willing him to do whatever he wants to you.

Whatever. He wants.

“Really? You want me?” You ask, whining as he ruts again.

“Desperately.”

Your hand moves down to the button of his jeans, undoing it with shaky hands and even shakier breathing. “You gonna take my virginity, Eddie?”

Somehow you knew this would make him crazy. You enjoyed it, enjoyed the crazy, adored his moan in approval. “I’m gonna take you, baby.” He grunts, starting to move his jeans down his ass, legs, taking his briefs with them.

He’s quick about it, tongue against your skin as he grabs the dress around your waist and slowly drags it down your legs, tongue dragging down along with it. Slyly, he holds a condom from his pants pockets between two fingers. “You ready?”

You bite your lip, making the bottom lip swell from the constant fidgeting. “I’m on birth control…” you admit, only on it to regulate a heavy flow.

He makes a show of tossing the condom over his shoulder, grinning at his crazy eyes. “Well, shit, darling.” He leans in, feeling the size of him as it brushes against your hip. He’s big, right? “Before I enter that pussy, I need you to do me a favour.”

“Hmm?” You ask, the only thing in your mind is how good his bulge felt when it rutted up against your heat. If that felt that good? Sex with Eddie…your mind goes dizzy from the need.

Eddie takes your hand resting by your head, wrapping it around his hardened length. The moan that leaves his lips is deep and rough. Your unsure fingers allow him to assist you, getting a hold of the rhythm. When you do, he lets you take over, face falling in your neck when your grip tightens. “Okay, I can’t take it any longer.” He whispers, gentle, goosebumps erupting in their wake. “Here, help me, will you?”

You don’t ask, only because you don’t have the chance to, when his hips help you brush the head of his cock against your wet entrance. You tease the two of you simultaneously, brushing it numerous times, both of you gasping in harmony. “Oh, you little tease.”

His hand replaces yours, whining as the head finally, finally brushes into your entrance. “Eddie.” You whisper, clinging onto him desperately. “S-so, so, so full.”

“Yeah?” He asks, both winded by the feel of you and by the blissed look on your face. Maybe if he kisses the middle of your eyebrow enough, he can settle every wrinkle you demonstrate from the pain beautifully mixed with pleasure. “Look at you, so drunk on it, did you ever think a cock could make you feel this good? Ever think how much you could want to be fucked so desperately?”

You shake your head, drunk on his words, drunk on his cock. “More, please.”

“Think you can take it?”

You whine impatiently, legs attempting to pull him in harder. “Eddie.”

He smiles as you fall into his trap, pushing in more than he knows he should. He can’t help it, the smile that takes over your face is the perfect reward. “I thought you were shy?”

You roll your eyes, knowing when someone is this close to you, has seen this much of you, there is barely any time to be shy. “Shut up.”

He listens, kissing you deeply as his hips start to move. Your hand weaves itself into his hair, whimpering into his ear as he hits, deeper, harder.

You can’t fully understand the sounds coming out of his mouth, the once coherent, cocky sentences turn into mumbled groans, and it’s refreshing to know he seems to want you as you did him, craved for you the same way. A string of words on repeat come from your mouth, just his name.

The only thing you seem to be able to think of is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, EddieEddieEddieEddie…

“God, your tight pussy, I’m gonna cum soon…” At least, that’s what you think he says. “Gonna fill you up…” You tighten around him, enjoying the prospect of it. “Gonna see it dripping out of you.”

He doesn’t know how it’s possible you tighten around him more.

“God, you take me so well, it’s like you were made for me, made for my cock.”

Head? Empty. Cunt? Full.

Him? Perfect.

“Fill me up, please.”

“Listen to those dirty little words, gonna turn you into a filthy whore.” He whispers, whining together with you in bliss as his hips rut a final, harsh, jagged time.

Time seems to be endless, as he whispers in your ear, hands on his broad back when he settles, keeping his cock warm. Time is so endless; you don’t even notice the movie turning off and the subtle turnover of engines and wheels driving off past the van.

It takes a poor teenage employee to knock on the van doors, politely asking if you could leave because the drive-in is closed, and they need to lock the gate.

To say the way you avoid their eyes after hurriedly putting your dress back on turns Eddie on would be an understatement.

To say when you waltz with him hand in hand down the hallways the next day turns into a sideshow, would be an even bigger understatement.

You sit on his lap during lunch, curious to the reaction of the other boys sitting with him. When Eddie slips his hand under your skirt and plays with your clothed cunt, he knows he’s just starting to corrupt you as you attempt to seem normal.

He’s just getting started.

-

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Thanks for all the love!

[pellucid-constellations]

hi! If you’re still taking requests I would looooove some Az comforting the reader, maybe she’s having a bad day and is trying to play it off and tell everyone she’s ok but Az sees right through her and she ends up crying and he comforts her or something if you’re up for it. I love love love your writing by the way <3

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Word count: ~1.3k

Warnings: A tiny bit of angsty thoughts

a/n: I loveeee hurt/comfort and this kind of took on a life of its own. Enjoy!!! Thanks for the request ❤️

____________________________________________

You could feel his eyes on you from across the room—calculating, contemplative, planning. You had been doing your best to ignore him for the better part of the evening, but his presence was hardly discrete as he stood strong and stiff in the corner. 

This day had been atrocious. 

You had woken up before dawn to begin preparations for the gala currently taking place, been screamed at by multiple vendors unhappy about their placements, got caught in the rain on your way around town, and barely had time to sit down before you were thrust into a chair and made to get ready for the night. 

And that was just today.

There had been pressure from all sides to find comradery between the courts after the war, and as an emissary to the night court and the one most familiar with each High Lord, you had been elected to carry out that task. A task that had taken weeks of bad days to come to fruition. 

To put it lightly, you were beaten down. 

“Perhaps you can speak to the High Lord about that, yes?” the Spring Court emissary drawled, an ending to the 20-minute speech you had hardly been listening to. 

You smiled anyway. “Oh yes, of course. Perhaps you could send me a follow-up correspondence in a few weeks to ensure I get your reply readily?” 

The emissary scoffed, looking you up and down with a cloistered sneer. “Can’t even keep track of little conversation? Typical. I guess I can send you a reminder, though…” 

The vicious man’s words began to bubble out of your mind, a low buzzing replacing the demeaning tone. You jutted your jaw to the side and pursed your lips in an attempt to hold back the burning in your waterline. 

This was exhausting and too much and was quickly becoming a thankless job. You had told Rhysand you were up to the feat, but you had not accounted for all of the screaming and complaining and belittling some of the courts seemed to favor. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw Azriel kick up from the wall. You threw him a watery, chastising look—knowing by the gleam in his eye that he was set to cause trouble with the man before you—but the Shadowsinger only raised a brow and tugged on the bond deep in your chest. 

Azriel had grown weary of your tired excuses and your half-hearted assurances that you were doing okay. It was obvious that every time you lied, he grew more impatient, more concerned. 

But you had to do this—for Rhysand, for Feyre, for the court. 

You hadn’t been able to fight in the war, so you could throw a simple gala and suck it up. 

Your mate stopped his approach, but you saw his jaw clench and his fingers roll up into his palm as the man only continued to drone on. 

“Do you think you could do that, then?” 

Shit. You had not been listening to a word he said, too concerned with Azriel’s thwarted approach. 

“I apologize,” you shook your head with a sheepish smile. “Could do what? It’s just so loud in here.” 

“Is this truly the best the night court has to offer?” 

That made the battle with your tears even more difficult. You swallowed the lump growing in your throat and tried to pretend you weren’t staving off a massive headache alone with it. 

“I know, I’m sorry. There is just much I have to do for the night and my mind is elsewhere—” 

“Thank you, Fike. You can send a letter addressed to the night court emissary when the night concludes,” Azriel cut in, interrupting the rough scratch of your voice. “It’s uncouth to speak so much of business at a party. And you are always so boring.” 

You heard the remnants of another scoff leave the Spring Court emissary's mouth, but Azriel was already guiding you out of the ballroom and into the hallway with a steady hand on your back. You took deep breaths as you went, your nose burning with the action. 

Get yourself together. You’re fine. A small issue in an otherwise—

Azriel hummed and pressed you against the wall of the hallway, quelling your rampant thoughts with the hand on your stomach. His other was pressed above your head, trapping you in an embrace, keeping only him in your eyeline. 

“You’re okay,” he comforted, taking exaggerated, deep breaths. “Just us here.”

You blinked and shook your head in quick succession. “No, I know, Az. I’m completely fine. I just needed to get away from Fike. I have to go back in.” 

“You are crying, my love.” Azriel brought his hand up from your stomach and brushed away tears you hadn’t felt fall. “You’re overwhelmed. I don’t know why you’ve put yourself under this much stress, but you need to stop for a moment.” 

“No. No, I'm okay. I’m not stressed. I don’t know what’s happening to me—why I’m crying. I feel fine.” 

Azriel’s expression pinched, grimacing as he watched your chest rise and fall unsteadily. “Y/n—” 

“It’s just a gala,” you affirmed, more tears falling with the quick flurry of your words. “Just a gala. I can do this one thing. You all fought in a war and you made me stay home. You could have died. I can host a stupid gala.” 

You furiously wiped at the wet tracks on your cheeks, brushing Azriel’s soft touch aside. But he only halted your movements, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. 

“Hey—hey. Don’t be so rough. Y/n, this is not a stupid gala. Look at me.” When you refused, Azriel released your wrist and tipped your chin up until you met his eye. He smiled despite the pain in your eyes. “There’s my girl.” 

And despite the pain, you huffed out a small laugh. 

Azriel would take it. He readied the spiel he’d been prepping since you began this venture. “This is not just a stupid gala and you didn't just stay home during the war.” Azriel pressed a kiss to your forehead, a pause he couldn’t help but take. “You protected everyone in the allied courts. You were our informant. You were winnowing so often you passed out, need I remind you.” 

“But I wasn’t—” 

“I don’t care if you weren’t fighting. What you did was just as valuable and you know that. Just as this gala is valuable to our peace. You are valuable.” 

Your face heated beneath his words, his body pressed to yours in the hallway as the gala continued on. 

“I need to be useful,” you admitted, after a pause. “This needed to be perfect.” 

“It is perfect, my love. My sweet mate. You need to take a rest. You’re breaking apart and I can’t stand to see you like this. Come here.” Azriel slotted your head in the bend between his shoulder and his neck, sliding his hands down your back until his wings came around as well. “Can I force you into bed? Just for an hour at most. I swear I’ll wake you up and we will come back down.” 

You made to move away from him in disbelief, still panicked at the idea of abandoning your work, but Azriel only held you tighter. 

“That wasn’t really a question.” 

And so Azriel took you to bed. 

[eevees-hobbies]

ume devours pussy like he's been starved for days on end (he couldn't see you for a few days) and bonus points if you're actually a plaything for furin , so he'll do a pussy inspection first >-< - 💌 anon <3

Author’s Note: Hi, 💌 Anon! Welcome back 💕 I Just realized that I didn’t mention Sakura in this entire piece, and my heart hurts because of it, lol. Anyway, I’m snatching my bonus points thank you very much! I love the idea of being used by Bofurin; like sign me the fuck up! Trains go choo choo! Lastly, please don't clock me for the name of this little fic haha. I realized I don't have a banner with just Ume, and I was like, "might as well!"

Content Warning: Fem!Reader x Hajime Umemiya. You’re Bofurin’s girlfriend to be shared and loved by all, mention of sexual activities with others, fem! receiving oral, mentions of eating ass, but I spared you THIS time, some dirty talk, pubic hair mention, sorry to the two Nirei fuckers out there, I’m sure he eats pussy like a champ—Tis smut. Minors Don’t Interact. 

Word Count: 1.9K

Divider by Saradika. Banner by me

One qualification for a good leader is being unselfish, and Umemiya embodies that virtue perfectly. 

When he took on the role of leader of Bofurin, he knew that it would involve quite a bit of sharing that had the potential to test anyone’s patience. But as though it’s his calling—and it most definitely is—Umemiya willingly shares wisdom with those ready to receive it and, most importantly, shares his most limited resource: his time. He’s never had a problem giving away so much of himself for so little in return. 

It wasn’t until Bofurin had gotten back from winning an intense match-up with a rival group across town, and you all were celebrating on the rooftop with food and beer, that the obvious occurred to him. 

As he watched over the joyous faces of his crew, he found himself studying you, like he always does, as you interacted with Hiragi, whose eyes looked over your form hungrily after you placed a piece of Gyoza against his lips and the tip of your finger touched his tongue.

He watched when you went to speak to Kiryu, who pulled you into his lap playfully and planted a kiss on your cheek, his hands resting under the curve of your breasts. 

And he watched as you crossed the space to turn up the pop-punk music crooning from the stereo. Suo reached out to you unprompted and tucked a stray hair behind your ear, his hand lingering for a beat too long to be considered innocent. 

It became abundantly clear to Ume that he would be doing a massive disservice to his team if he didn’t share you, too.

You thought he was suggesting an open relationship when he approached you with the idea. Your thoughts were in flux immediately. Was he unhappy? Was there someone else? Your heart sunk into your stomach at the idea and the hurtful implications of such an arrangement, but Umemiya simply shook his head.

“I have no intention of offering myself to anyone but you.” 

Admittedly, your new role as the official Bofurin Girlfriend had you just as busy as Umemiya. You weren’t only a sexual toy for them. You were Nirei’s first date, Suo’s confidant, Tsubakino’s shopping buddy, and Kaji’s and Hiragi’s third wheel at metal shows. You felt so lucky to be surrounded by so much love—and dick. But all those excursions—and dick—kept you insanely booked, to the point that you had to develop a shared calendar with your boy toys to not overlap on dates!

So it’s not to anyone's surprise that there are days when you and Umemiya don’t cross paths. You exchange texts frequently, asking how the other is doing and sharing inside jokes with cute gifs and memes, but the absence hurts and leaves you aching for him. And maybe it was also Umemiya’s intention to busy you with the boys because he knew he couldn’t give you as much time as you deserved, but it didn’t hurt any less. 

But fret not; on rare occasions, your schedules align.

You can feel him before you see him, an overwhelming presence that makes the air dense and clotted with an insurmountable pressure. You look up to the door, and just as your intuition hinted, he strides into the room where you all commonly loiter as a group—members strewn across the worn-out couch and others talking amongst each other immediately straighten and hush. 

Umemiya’s well-kept hair is slightly messy, with a few strands dangling in front of his face, and his eyes are smoldering as they scan across the faces in the room, searching until they land on you.

As soon as your eyes meet, the air feels as though it’s coursing with electricity—sexual tension threatening to boil over and scorch anyone who gets in your path. It doesn’t take long for everyone to get the hint to vacate quickly, knowing that you two are set on a collision course that they wouldn’t be able to stop even if they wanted to.

“Ume," you start but are unable to finish as he crosses the room. His heavy steps are the only thing that prepares you as his lips crash onto yours. As he kisses you, hands placed on either side of your cheeks, he breathes you in. His chest expands against yours, and you’re reminded at that moment how much you’ve missed him—missed this. You both wonder silently, but somehow aloud with your bodies, how you could go so long without the other.

And when you’ve been apart for so long, you don’t have time for pleasantries. Ume is walking you backward until your ass is pushed against the back of the couch, which previously housed Bofurin members, the indentations of their bodies still fresh in the cushions.

He smiles at you—one that you recognize because it isn’t his usual giddy grin; instead, it’s a smile that conveys, “I can’t help what I’m about to do to you.” 

Ume gently grips your elbow and spins you around. As he bends you over, you’re now painfully aware of the feeling of a breeze as he hikes up your dress and his fingers pinch at the exposed flesh of your ass.

“No underwear?”

“Suo doesn’t like it when I wear panties. He says it’s a hassle.”

Umemiya hums to himself in response to this interesting tidbit. He kneels, placing two giant hands on your cheeks, and spreads you down the middle. If anyone else were in the room, they’d be able to see everything, from your juicy, wet cunt to your winking, puckered asshole, and the fact that Umemiya can see everything makes you gush.

“My pretty girl is already so wet,” Umemiya muses, eyeing your pretty hole as it drools for him. You blush, knowing he’s not referring to you but having a conversation with your pussy instead.  

“Have you been a good girl for the boys?” His mouth leaves hot kisses and gentle nips along the curve of your ass, tongue darting out and leaving a trail of saliva across the expanse of your smooth flesh. You stiffen, wondering if his tongue will dip into somewhere more lewd—and Ume considers it, but he’s on a mission with one goal in mind; he’ll devour your asshole another time. 

“Y-yeah, Ume. I’ve been a good girl for them.”

His finger traces your entrance, spreading your freely-flowing juices onto your cunt’s lips. His eyes take you in with pride as you clench around the air simply because his finger is so close to being inside of you. He smiles at the physical way you show how much you crave him.

“For who in particular?”

“My god, Ume! Always with the questions!” You squirm under his touch. You know he isn’t being an intentional tease, but the line of questioning still feels invasive. How do you tell your boyfriend that Hiragi’s cock was breaking you in by noon, and Kiryu had you sucking him off under the table while he tapped away at this phone screen only a couple of hours ago? 

“Why are you shy all of a sudden? Here, I can check.”

Your thighs quiver as he slides two fingers inside of you without warning. You attempt to adjust, but his probing fingers are sweeping so deeply inside of you that you have to dig your nails into the soft fabric of the couch to keep yourself from reaching back and grabbing his wrist. 

“Sugishita, huh? I can tell.”

Oh, yeah. Sugishita, too. 

You cringe as his fingers pass over your clit, making you hiss and recall that you woke up to a particular someone’s head buried between your legs.

“And Nirei, too? Did it feel good when he sucked on your clit? That’s his favorite thing, right? Sucking at your cute little clit until you cum down his throat.”

You huff and wiggle against his hand, growing restless from being exposed like this and against his eyes with no release. 

“Does his tongue feel better than mine?” There’s no jealousy in his tone—just curiosity and a hint of ego because he knows the answer before you can say it.

You give him a quick head shake and mouth the word “No,” earning a smirk. 

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

He’s teasing you, and not saying what he hears means the unfortunate consequence of not having his mouth on you. 

“Your tongue feels better than Nirei’s, Ume.”

“Good girl.” And without further comment, and to your delight, Ume places a kiss against the back of your mound, soft pubic hair tickling his lips.

You don’t like to compare sexual experiences; every Bofurin member brings their own “talents” to the bedroom, but Umemiya has to be your favorite. He touches you with such fondness and devotion that it sets you on fire. Your head falls forward, and your shoulders slump as his tongue makes gentle work of your clit, as if to apologize on behalf of Nirei for making you sore.

“Did you miss me, Ume?”

“More than you could ever imagine. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you—done this—that I was starting to get restless.”

Umemiya’s words ring true. He feasts upon you as though what you have between your thighs is the only meal that can satiate his immense hunger. The way he rubs his nose against your sex, chuckling as you whimper against him, “Needy girl. What am I going to do with you?”

Umemiya’s tongue splits you open, his tongue solid and firm as it explores your cunt, his hands are placed on either side of your ass, with his face flush against your skin to leave as little space between you as possible. 

The way his hot breath fills you up and the way he moans with every lick makes your head spin. Ume and pussy-eating are synonymous. Eating you out is like breathing in air for him, and the way he’s pushing you forward, your stomach digging into the back of the couch from the exertion, is a clear indicator that he’s just as into it as you are. 

“You taste like heaven, baby girl.” Soft, gentle praises float through the air as he laps at you. Between hungry slurps and moans, your legs begin to tremble. If you weren’t holding yourself up against the fortitude of the couch, you’d surely collapse against Umemiya’s face. 

“This isn’t too much for you, right, baby? I’m so hungry; let me have a little more of your pretty pussy.”

It doesn’t matter what you say; Umemiya is set on devouring you regardless of your ability to stand.

“Grind back on my face, sweet girl. I want you to fuck my tongue.” 

And as someone who isn’t in the business of disappointing her king, you use what little energy you have by pushing yourself off the couch and grinding your pussy on Ume’s outstretched tongue. 

He goads you on with each bounce, and in between the soft, wet, smacking sounds from the collision your ass makes with his face, you can barely make out what he’s chanting. 

As you look back at him, curving your midsection to get as best of a view as one can in a bent over, ass-up position, you’re met with the intense, unapologetic, “dare you to look away” gaze of Umemiya’s over the top of your cheeks. 

Direct eye contact during cunnilingus is an unsung hero, and Ume remains the champion. Your walls clench around his tongue, squeezing the muscle as your pussy juices cascade into his mouth and down his chin. 

And despite the way you quake around him, Ume lets you ride it out on his tongue before pulling away and unbuckling his pants.

“God, I’ve missed ya.”

[strawburry01]

The Scientist

Ford Pines x Fem! Reader

Summary: Bill disrupts a wedding

Word Count: 3k

A/N: I highly recommend reading all previous parts before this for maximum oof-age. I hope you enjoy and I'm sorry I get great satisfaction from writing unhappy things. 500 likes and I'll write their happy ending.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 2.5

It had been a few years since you and Ford moved to Gravity Falls now. You finally moved from your ramshackle cabin into a cozy wooden A-Frame (you insisted on an A-Frame as you always loved the way they looked). Ford and you had worked on building a deep lab in the basement in order to keep it safe from the random storms and power outages, while you kept your growing photography and videography library upstairs. You collected random antiques from stores and sidewalks to add to the house to make it feel a little more lived in. Ford chuckled as he watched you perfectly balance an ornate hourglass you had bought on top of a jammed globe. Satisfied you brushed the dust off your hands and stepped besides Ford to look at your growing mantelpiece.

“I’m thinking about going into interior design if this whole cryptid hunting stuff doesn’t work out,” you grinned. Ford scoffed and put an arm around your waist to pull you closer.

“The whole cryptid hunting stuff is going fine though. I’m just having a bit of a plateau,” he mumbled as he kissed your head. You cleared your throat. “We- we’re having a bit of a plateau,” he quickly corrected himself, his face turning red. 

It was true, the hunting had been stalling a little bit. Ford’s focus had turned from recording these anomalies to trying to track where it was all exactly coming from. It was the real scientist in him needing to know where everything was coming from. On the opposite side was you, who was content to continue trying to get better pictures, better recordings, better visuals of these anomalies. Oftentimes you’d tape or clip pictures into Ford’s journals as you got better so they didn’t just have his scribbles to describe the beasts. You were happy for once in your life, you felt content living with the love of your life in a beautiful, albeit spooky, little town. You were pretty sure Ford felt the same way, if he ever let himself feel accomplished, rather than just continuing to pine over the next question and torturing himself over the solutions.

A few weeks later you woke up groggily checking the alarm. Ford had just slammed the front door and was stumbling back into the house. It was 3:00 am. 

“Hon?” you shouted out as you sat up in your shared bed. You heard him pause and slowly walk to the bedroom door. He stood in the doorway, staring at you for a second too long until shaking his head and snapping back.

“Hey, sorry about that dear, I um-” he said as he slid his shoes and coat off onto the ground, “guess I lost track of time in the cave I was exploring,”. He huffed and thumped into bed besides you as you went back under the covers.

“Are you sure?” you asked, as you carefully took his glasses off his face and set them on the nightstand.

“Mmmm, positive,” he said without hesitation as he traced along your arm with his eyes closed.

“Alright. Sleep well hon,” you said as you kissed his forehead and fell back into your own sleep.

Unfortunately he wasn’t quite the same after that night. He started spending longer hours in the basement. He started staring off into space noticeably more. And strangest of all he was talking to himself more. He was still the same Ford to you though, always snapping out of whatever trance he wrapped himself up into, and he was always endlessly grateful whenever you’d bring coffee or lunch down to him. He seemed revitalized in a sense though, so you didn’t want to discourage his new quirks. You finally did crack and force him to tell you what was happening when you caught him calling Fiddleford McGuckett one day.

“Stanford Pines you haven’t talked to that man since we left Backupsmore! What in the hell is going on?” you demanded with crossed arms as he hung up the phone. He opened his mouth and tried to start a sentence a few times. 

“I’m building a portal,” he finally stammered out. You raised an eyebrow. There were a few random metal supports and debris cluttered in the lab basement, but you had no inkling that’s what it was going to be used for.

“What kind…of portal?” you continued, unmoving. Ford awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and looked away again. 

“I’ve been consulting with someone. They said it would explain all the weirdness and strangeness of Gravity Falls,” he said. The room got cold when he said it.

“Who are you consulting Ford,” you asked again, trying not to overthink the way it really did feel like there was another person in the room now. 

“It was a deal. With someone, well, something, named Bill Cipher. He’s helping me with all of this. He’s a being from centuries ago, and that’s all I can really say,” he sighed, looking back at you, realizing how unsure of all of this you were. He stepped forward and held your hands in his. “I promise, it’s all okay dear. I’m being safe. This portal is what will put our names in the history books,” he said with a gentle squeeze. You looked up into his eyes and could see hope and excitement for the first time in a long time. 

“Okay…” you sighed with a small smile. Ford wrapped you into a hug and you laughed at him slightly crushing you. “Okay, okay, okay, just let me know what I can do to help huh?” you laughed with a sigh as Ford began rambling off all the next steps. 

Later that night you sat in your dark room, listening to the assorted thumps and sizzles from the basement. You could hear Ford talking to whoever this Bill person was. His high pitched shrieking of a voice was hard to miss. But you knew if you went downstairs there wouldn’t be anyone but Ford. You’d tried to catch Bill before, but to no avail. He always zapped out of existence whenever you would turn the corner. 

“Stupid to be jealous of a fuckin’ triangle,” you mumbled to yourself as you finished a glass of wine. You knew that much. That it was some sort of manic triangle. Ford had shown you that much in his journal. You walked down to your kitchen and left the glass in the sink.

“Ford! I’m going to bed!” you shouted down the stairs into the basement. You heard him scuffle and quickly run up the stairs. Your heart melted as he held your face and kissed you. 

“I’ll be there soon dearest,” he smiled. You smiled back and nodded. You were just overthinking everything. It was all going to be okay.

Fiddleford showed up a few days later and started joining Ford in the basement for long hours. Bill’s voice disappeared which was a nice break, and it was pleasant getting to talk to Fiddleford again after so many years. You would make dinner (or more often pick it up from some restaurant) and force the guys to come up and eat with you at the table. It was like you were all back in university. 

“So how long until there’s a mini Ford running around?” Fiddleford asked one night when you all decided to get into the liquor cabinet. Fiddleford was laying on the carpet, staring up at the ceiling, with you and Ford draped over the couch. Both of you reddened and avoided eye contact, unable to think of what to say.

“Well I’ve always thought I’d want to get married first,” you said, breaking the silence, “so the dress would fit, obviously,” you drunkenly giggled. Ford absentmindedly placed a hand on your knee and laughed as he took another swig of his drink. You two had talked about marriage once. Near the beginning of your relationship. You both had poor representations of marriage at your respective homes, which made you both hesitant of commitment to that scale, but you agreed to play it by ear. 4 years later you were still playing it by ear.

“What’re you WAITING FOR FORD,” Fiddleford drunkenly shouted from the floor, “We don’t have all day!” he declared before passing out in snores on the floor. You laughed and laid your head on Ford’s shoulder.

“He hasn’t changed much,” you giggled. 

“His tolerance hasn’t gotten much better either,” Ford remarked. You two both sat in silence listening to the hum of the generators. “Are you good dear?” he asked, obviously referencing Fiddleford’s outbursts.

“Yes love,” you sighed, as you closed your eyes.

It was another average drizzly pacific northwest day when shit hit the fan. You were sitting on the porch taking pictures of a deer nearby eating from a brush when the ground underneath you shook. You were used to random earthly shakings but Fiddleford quickly stormed out shortly after. 

“Fiddleford what’s-” you tried to ask as you stood up to follow after him. 

“Do NOT trust him!” he shouted as he threw open his car door, “That portal is nothing but pure evil Y/N. Get out of here while you still can,” he said with a furrowed brow before peeling away in his car. You stood in stunned silence as Ford threw the door open a few seconds later. He let out a defeated sigh as he saw Fiddleford driving away.

“What the hell did you do?!” you asked under your breath, not looking over.

“I-I don’t know,” Ford said, “he got sucked into the portal…and saw something,”.

“You’d tell me if we were in danger, right Ford?” you asked, as you finally looked over at him. He nodded silently. 

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he stated, “I’m not working with Bill anymore. It’s not worth it,” he sighed as he sat on the porch and held his head in his hands. “I got blinded by the potential for fame. It’s not worth losing my friends and love over,” he said softly. You sat down beside him and put an arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer. He wrapped his arms around your waist and the two of you sat still as the rain pattered around you. You never told him but you could feel him crying, just a little. 

Ford quickly began installing precautions to keep Bill out. He insisted on installing a plethora of metal plates around the house. He kept trying to convince you to get a metal plate installed in your head but you were able to convince him you weren’t in danger. You’d never seen Bill before. The rain turned into spring and flowers began to blossom around the yard. 

One day you were out picking them to make a bouquet for the dining table with Ford watching you on the porch. He was back to where he had been before meeting Bill, but he seemed more content. Outwardly at least. He read more, and criticized himself less. He was taking a break from reading when he saw you standing in the field picking flowers and kneeling by every animal you saw to say hello to it. At that moment he realized.

“Can we get married?” he asked, when you came back to the porch. You nearly fell backwards before jumping into Ford’s lap, knocking off his book, and smothering him in kisses.

“Of course we can Ford,” you said through your kisses.

It was a short turnaround. The next week Ford had found his suit and you had gotten a wedding dress from town. It was long and flowing and got Ford’s approval for having renaissance-esque sleeves and details, which made you roll your eyes a little. You two didn’t know anyone else in town well enough to invite them to a ceremony, and neither of you wanted to invite family. Ford felt guilty about having nobody so he invited the colony of gnomes in exchange for hors d’oeuvres. So that’s what was determined. You were able to scrounge up enough random chairs to have a few spots for them to sit with you and Ford facing each other in front. You had done your makeup and hair, which was the first time Ford had ever really seen you try to do something with your hair which left him slack jawed. All of the gnomes also oohed and awed when you stepped out. You smiled when you faced Ford. The two of you agreed to exchange vows and then you’d sign the marriage certificate and turn it in the next day at the courthouse. 

You bit your lip and opened your mouth to start when the ground shook and the string lights you had hung up went out. The power inside the house went out entirely. 

“Peculiar,” Ford said under his breath. 

“Just a moment folks, we’ll be right back after a few messages,” you said, trying to keep the crowd happy, “take a snack break,” you said, gesturing to the table of random snacks you’d gotten for them all. 

“I can turn the breaker back on downstairs,” Ford said as he stepped into the house.

“Here I think I have the flashlight,” you said as you thumped the flashlight you kept in the utensil drawer. It flickered to life. Ford took a second and nodded. The two of you made your way downstairs to the lab basement, Ford supplying a six-fingered hand to hold to make sure you didn’t trip. 

Once downstairs it was obvious that something was wrong. The portal was still up and whirring. A haze of blue swirls in its center.

“Ford I thought you turned this off,” you said.

“I couldn’t just- turn it off,” he mumbled under his breath rubbing the back of his neck, “it’s been months of work. I figured leaving it running and able to be returned to would be…fine,” he said sheepishly. You chewed the inside of your cheek, looking at it. He had a point, but it was also a memento to losing his dearest friend. Research be damned.

“Ford, I need to know you’re looking to the future and not staying in the past if we get married,” you said, feeling guilty about the ultimatum, but knowing it was the only way. He pushed up his glasses and nodded.

“You’re right,” he said, “besides, there’ll be something better than this piece of junk,”. He pushed the button on a platform and the portal quickly fizzled and closed in on itself, leaving the room engulfed in darkness for a second before the lights flickered back on overhead. 

“Hey look at that,” you remarked, looking up, “bet our electricity bill is about to get a lot lower mister,” you smirked as you tapped Ford’s chest.

“Stanford, you didn’t tell me she had a sense of humor!” a sickeningly familiar voice said. Ford quickly pushed you behind him as you both turned to see the floating triangle form of Bill Cipher in the air. It was your first time seeing the thing that had taken up so much of Ford’s time.

“Bill, why are you here? The deal’s off,” Ford shouted.

“I can’t believe I didn’t get an invite to the wedding! Keeping it intimate with just friends and family I see,” Bill continued on his own as his eye contorted into a video of the gnomes outside waiting.

“Answer the question Bill,” Ford demanded. You hadn’t seen him ever get this serious. 

“Well Fordsy you broke our deal, but don’t worry, there’s a way to get it back on track!” Bill’s voice pinged through the basement, “Y’see, you take something I love-” he said, blinking into the now empty space of the portal. You gripped Ford’s forearm.

“Ford I’m scared-” you said softly.

“I think it’s only fair if I take something you love,” Bill chirped, appearing in front of you two again.

“Don’t you dare Bill,” Ford shouted as he held your hand. 

“Not convincing! Boop!” Bill’s voice pinged and with that, you were gone. 

One moment you were on Earth, in your universe, and the next thing you knew you were falling through space and time, seeing eons of other planets pass by as you floated through free fall. 

After what felt like decades of falling through nothingness, but also everything, you slammed into the dirt of an apocalyptic planet. You grunted as you lifted yourself up, seeing the smoky, forgotten landscape stretch out in front of you. 

Fuck.

Back in the basement, millions of universes and timelines away, Ford screamed at Bill. 

“What did you do to her?!”.

“I evened the deal, Stanford calm down!” Bill responded, rolling his single eye, “besides she was getting in the way of your work, you should be thanking me,”. 

After that, Ford’s world changed. He installed a metal plate in his head to keep Bill out for good and got serious about trying to hide how to reinstall the portal. He hid his journals throughout the town and decided to call his brother to properly take care of the last one. Take it so far that nobody would ever find it. He’d get you back on his own. He’d figure it out. He just couldn’t let Bill ever get the satisfaction of the portal. 

There was a knock on the door and Ford kicked it open, crossbow aimed. It was his brother. He breathed out a sigh of relief and dragged him in.

“Damn what happened to this place? What happened to your woman Ford?” Stan asked, looking around the now cluttered house.

“He took my wife, and I need to make sure he doesn’t take anything else from anyone else,” Ford muttered, “listen there isn’t much time and I’ve made a huge mistake. I don’t know who I can trust anymore,”.

“Hey easy there let’s talk this through okay?” Stan said as he looked around the house, slowly realizing his brother may be crazy.

“I have something to show you. Something you won’t believe,” Ford sighed as he turned to face his brother.

“Look, I’ve been around the world okay? Whatever you’re going to show me I’ll understand,” Stan shrugged.

It was safe to say Stan did not understand. And Stan did not understand when Ford shoved the journal into his chest demanding his brother to take it to the ends of the earth to hide. 

It was safe to say that you and Ford were both tumbling through endless dimensions together, but also so far apart.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

uhm cowboy!rafe who tries to keep you as far away from everything illegal he does :3 !

“Well, we can’t go into town. And we sure as hell can’t stay in no hotel or anything. Sheriffs got people everywhere.” Rafe told them, everyone stopping their horses in the middle of the desert.

Robbing the bank had backfired- they had been caught, despite being so careful.

“What about your home, your missus, Rafe?” One of his friends asked, not the worst suggestion.

“Yeah, y’all ain’t close to town and-“ another started.

“Nah.” Rafe cut the boy off before he could finish his sentence, eyebrows furrowing. “What, so I can get her involved in this shit? I ain’t doin’ it.” Rafe adjusted the hat on his head, shaking his head at his gang.

“Well, I don’t see any other-“

“I said no, if any of you fellas say another word ‘bout it I’m shooting you myself.” He grumbled out, all of them shutting up and taking it as a sign to move on.

It wasn’t until a few days later when you saw him, him knocking on your door with a flower he had picked in his hands. He looked down at it, twirling it in his hands as he stood.

“Coming!” You shouted from the inside, cleaning up your hands, walking over to the door. He took off his hat when you opened the door.

“Hey, darlin’.” He spoke, your jaw dropping at the sight. You looked at him, he nervously stood in front of you, giving you a small smile. “Can I come in?” He asked you, you opening up the door more, letting him step inside.

“I missed you.” He told you when you shut the door, locking it.

“I missed you too, but where the hell were you?” You asked him, more so out of concern.

“You don’t gotta worry ‘bout that, sweetheart.” He told you, going to the kitchen and grabbing a glass of water, downing it and sitting down, kicking his legs up onto the table.

“I was worried sick, I mean, the police came over, and you jus’ show up outta thin air now, and I mean- what the hell’d you do this time? I thought you was done with this stuff, Rafe. You told me you stopped and-“ You rambled on angrily, he felt regret in his stomach.

“I know, I know, ‘m sorry, a’ight? It’s just, the boys needed my help with something. And- and, look.” He dug into his pockets, pulling out a large wad of cash- more you’ve ever seen in your life. Your eyes widened, you stopped your pacing and looked at him.

“You understand why I did it now? This shit.. can change our lives. We’re gonna get outta this damn town- get a big farm, like you always wanted, all the animals and cows you could want, and-“

You cut him off by crashing your lips into his, hopping into his lap and straddling it, your hands on your shoulders. He chuckled when you pulled away.

“Rafe! That’s a lotta money, i- I mean, Lord-“

“I know, I know. And hey, I promise you, I’m done with all this shit. No more, right? Jus’ like I promised when I married ya.” He spoke, putting his forehead against yours, and interlacing his fingers with yours. You nodded against his forehead, he smiled at your understanding and kissed your forehead again.

[tasiawrites]

Slashers and their black partner getting their hair and nails done

ft. Brahms Heelshire, Micheal Myers, Jason Voorhes, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair and Billy Loomis + Stu Matcher

contains: general fluff, poly Ghostface (i think that's it idk let me know)

Brahms Heelshire

you had to sneak out at 3 am even to be able to leave to get them done in the first place.

did three days worth of food prep only to be back in under 26 hours

Brahms was NOT happy and wanted to hurt you but then his brain clicked

loves the feeling of your nails on his scalp, might forgive you (if you give him some extra kisses)

likes playing with your hair, even if you say no you owe him

will allow you to get them done every two months ONLY because he likes the feeling of you playing in his hair with your nails done.

"kiss?" Brahms asked in his childlike voice as he stood at the foot of your bed later that night. you rolled your eyes at his voice decision after his behavior earlier but allowed him into your bed for late-night cuddles. you placed a few kisses on his porcelain mask. "I'm sorry for leaving without telling you Brahmsy," you coaxed running your fingers through his hair as he settled in next to you. 

Micheal Myers

didn't even notice you were gone until he did the math, trips to the store DO NOT take 10 hours

hoe where is you at?

He kinda sulking when you get back

likes the hair didn't notice the nails AT ALL

pulls a single braid every chance he gets and he pulls it HARD

he learns that 10+ hours out means a new hairstyle to fuck with, sometimes he follows you

"oh come on Michael," you rolled your eyes at the sulking man on your couch. he doesn't even look at you until you stand directly in front of him. he ignores you and you eventually give up and continue about your evening. that is until you felt a tug on a braid that slipped out of your bonnet. a hard tug. you turn to find a smug-looking Micheal with the end in his hand. well, at least he's not mad. it took him until the third day to realize your nails were done.

Billy Loomis and Stu Matcher

you did tell them, they just forgot 

you come back and they acting like you went missing for nine years

Stu loves the hair while Billy loves the nails

you spend the next few hours giving kisses and being showered with praise

every other time you go at least one of them goes with you

you walked into Stu's house slightly confused at the silence. you were just about to call one of them when Billy came barreling down the stairs half dressed in his Ghostface costume. "um.. hi?" you tried as he quickly began searching you for injuries as Stu came down the stairs asking too many questions in quick succession.  after calming them down, you sat between them as they played with your hair and nails respectively. 

Thomas Hewitt

The Texas heat was making your hair hard to maintain so you asked Luda Mae if you could get a few days off so you could fix that

you had to go three towns over to get it done

to thank her you got Hoyt to drop Luda Mae off so you both could manicures and pedicures

Thomas was too excited to see you after three days to realize your hair was done

when he did he spent an unnatural amount of time just, looking at you??

he's so in love

also loves it when your nails massage his head, especially after a long day at work

misses you every time you leave but he gets to see a new hairstyle so it balances out, he does miss playing with your natural hair tho

"hi Tommy," you whisper as he crawls into bed next to you. he gathers you up into his arms and you give him a soft smile. he connects his lips to yours and you run your fingers through his hair and rub on his scalp. he shudders and a low sound of approval climbs out of his throat.

Vincent Sinclair

I mean he doesn't stop you from going anywhere, he's just pouty about it

spends the night you spent in the other town making wax figurines of you

he's so happy when you get back

you get your nails the color of his eye, a lovely brown with a pretty white design to accompany it.

absolutely obsessed with your hair. 

like he likes the nails but by god does he love your hair

the next time you go hes vibrating with excitement, he can't wait to see what you do next

"Vinny?" you call as you walk down into the basement. it did not take long for Vincent to come around the corner looking as excited as someone with a mask on his face could look. with hasty footsteps, he approached you hands fidgeting in excitement. it only took a small nod from you to have the lanky man all over you. he took your hand in his and watched the nails closely before his fingers played with your hair. the next morning you found a small wax figurine of yourself on your bedroom side table.

Jason Voorhees

poor baby, you almost gave him a heart attack

he thought you left him

sulky large man

when you come back he's like O-O 

very happy, thinks you're so pretty

puts flowers in your hair and is very gentle with it

likes to see your nails when you hold his hands

please give him a heads-up next time

he waits with wildflowers for you to return

Jason's fingers clumsily placed another flower in your hair. it dislodged another one that you quickly caught and handed back to him. it took a few more flowers for him to be satisfied and when he was he gave a grunt and lifted you to your feet. "ready to go home?" you asked the large man as he intertwined his finger with yours happily rubbing his thumb over the smoothness of your nails.

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

this has nothing to do with the poll, it has been stewing in my drafts for a minute

POLY GHOSTFACE IS THE ONLY CORRECT OPTION good night

n e way lemme go study for my exams

[hajiberry]

3:56 am - Katsuki bakugou

domestic fluff + pregnancy

Bakugou would give anything right now to switch quirks with someone and be able to teleport home. He feared he might explode if he spent one more moment in this car.The thirty five minute drive from the airport was starting to feel like an eternity and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand it. He knew he was in for a headache when his connecting flight got delayed, getting him home hours after he had planned on arriving. Glancing out kirishimas passenger window he started counting down the seconds till he could see you. He hated when missions took him away from home but this one was extremely difficult, considering you could go into labor any day now. He had felt like a maniac the whole trip, constantly calling to make sure you weren’t at the hospital moments away from giving birth.

Opening his eyes he was about to ask how much fucking longer when the car pulled into the neighborhood and two seconds later Kirishima was pulling into y’all’s driveway. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been happier to see the home the two of you shared. “Fuck it’s good to be home”, he mumbled, stretching out his limbs before sitting up. “Thanks for picking me up”, leaning back he grabbed his luggage, hauling it over before opening the door.

“Yeah of course man tell y/n I said hi”

“Will do”, closing the passenger door he gave him a wave before heading up the driveway. Selfishly he was hoping you were still awake, so he could at least sneak in a kiss and an ‘I missed you’, before drifting off to sleep. But he also knew you’ve been struggling with sleeping lately so he was hoping you at least were getting some rest.

Opening the front door he smiled at all the packages littered in the foyer, boxes that he assumed were filled with baby stuff. He kicked his shoes off before making his way up the stairs to your bedroom. Opening the door he smiled when he saw your sleeping figure curled up in the bed. Setting his bag down he made his way over to you, kneeling down in front of you to press a kiss to your forehead before moving his attention to your belly. “I missed our little chats buddy”, he still was baffled at how much he missed talking to his unborn child. “I’m back though, I had to go out of town for work but that’s the last trip for a while so I definitely won’t miss you being born”

“Thank god”, you mumbled, slightly startling him.

“Fuck I didn’t know you were awake”

“I’ve been in and out of sleep for the past hour”, sitting up slightly you gave him a tired smile. “How was your flight?”

“Awful”, leaning forward he pressed his lips against yours, “just glad to be home”

“Glad to have you home”, wrapping your arms around his neck you littered a few kisses on his cheek. “It always sucks when you’re gone but this time just really fucking sucked”

“I’m sorry”, he mumbled as he started kissing you again, “not leaving on a mission like that again anytime soon”

“Good or I’d have to make a phone call”, you said with barely any bite in your words.

Chuckling, he stood up, pulling off his clothes to get ready to hop in the shower, “how terrifying”

“I know right”, standing up, you followed him into the bathroom, sitting on the toilet while he got in the shower.

“Go to sleep I’ll be in bed in a minute”, he said over his shoulder as he stepped under the hot water.

“I wanna hear about your trip”, the sleep that laced your voice caused him to smile.

“Well you’ll get a kick out of this but apparently icy hots dating someone”

Gasping, you pulled the shower curtain back a little bit, mouth wide open. “No way”

“Yup, deku was filling me in on the plane ride there”, he wasn’t sure when he started pocketing away stuff that was going on in his friends lives so that he could fill you in on the gossip but he wasn’t mad about it.

“So he’s keeping it quiet I’m assuming”

“Mhm only the nerd knows”

“Cause he snooped?”

“Yup”

“Well now I have to invite shouto over for dinner”

“What? Like he’s gonna tell you?”

“Everyone eventually caves and tells me”, he couldn’t even argue with that statement.

“But the trip itself was fine just standard shit”, turning the water off he stepped out, grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist.

“Well I missed you”, smiling down at you he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I know I missed you too”, resting his hand on your belly he gave you a tired but genuine smile. “Let’s get you in bed though”

“Me? You’re the one that’s been traveling all day”, you said, standing up to follow him into your bedroom.

“But you’re growing a baby which I assume is a little more exhausting”

“Can’t argue with that but let’s just say we’re both tired”, you said with a yawn before laying down on your side of the bed.

After quickly throwing his boxers on he climbed into bed with you, wrapping his arms around you. “Wanna grab breakfast in the morning?”, he asked softly, a volume of his voice only you got to hear.

“Of course I do”, smiling you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I’m so glad he waited till you got home”

“Me fucking too”

Letting out a sigh of contentment you closed your eyes, finally being able to let yourself sleep.

[hidtired]

Unfortunate Timing [Part 1]

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Description: You found out your pregnant early into your relationship with Daryl Dixon. To make matters worse? The apocalypse happens a few days later! (not fully canon)

5.7k words

Warnings (Pregnancy, gore, smut, reference to abuse, violence, fluff, walking dead stuff, ect.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 etc.

Pre Apocalypse

You had moved to a small town in Georgia to get away from your parents. Your Aunt Mary had a little boutique and offered a job. Your parents didn’t like you weren’t married yet, not even dating either. So they have been shoving men at you for the last few years. They thought by your age you should have been married with kids. They wanted grandkids. Your brother was married but him and his wife struggled with fertility. The final straw was trying to get you into an arranged marriage with one of your father’s business buddies kid. You had only just turned 30.

It had freaked you out how your parents made it seem like you didn’t have a choice. So you packed your bags, your mother pleaded for you to not go. You broke the lease to your apartment and left without telling them where.

You like the simple life you were leading now. Helping your Aunt's business. You lived with her because she was a widow with no kids and wanted the company. You had some interesting neighbors across the street. You had just driven into the driveway taking notice of a man fixing his truck. It was hot outside and his arms were covered in grease.

You walked into the kitchen where your Aunt was doing dishes. You decided to help making idle talk about how the shop was until you looked out the window to still see the sleeveless man. Your Aunt caught you looking, "Thought you came here to get away from boys?" You smile shyly at being caught, looking back down and handing her a wet plate to be dried. "Never said that... Just the one my parents choose. Didn't have time to look for a date when men were thrown at me randomly by them." Your Aunt was amused to say the least. "That's Daryl Dixon, him and his brother live there. You have to watch yourself with a Dixon. But Daryl has helped me with a few things that broke around the house. He replaced the battery's in the fire alarms for me a week before you came."

You gave her a sideways look, "You trying to set me up now to?" Mary laughs, "Fine fine, granted I do bake something for him every time he does something for me. Could just have a sweet tooth." You look back out the window, ‘Daryl huh?’

It was a week later that you got a call from your brother. You went on a walk to take the call. He was anger that your father was on him for a kid because you had disappeared. The pressure had turned to his wife who was already having a hard time with infertility. It was when you were walking back to the house did the conversation get heated.

"Grow a back bone and yell at them Mathew! Why are you coming at me for!?" He responded with his own venom, "Why couldn't you just do what they asked! But go ahead die alone for all I care!" He ended the call abruptly after. You clenched your teeth tight and closed your eyes trying to compose yourself. A voice called from across the street, "Ya doin alright over there?" You turned to see Daryl beer in hand with the hood of his car open. You sighed shoulders sagging, "Sorry for the yelling." Daryl pick up another beer showing it off to you, "Sounds like ya could use one of these." You put your hands to your hips before deciding to walk over. You grab the beer he handed you with a smile, "Thanks..."

You cracked the can open taking a sip. Daryl stare at you for a second before saying something, “Yer boyfriend causing you trouble?” You chuckled at the thought, making a small face of disgust at it even, “No, that was just my brother being an ass.” Daryl took mental note of that ‘single’. He huffed and looked back down into his trucks hood. “Oh trust me I know how that is.” You look at him as he refocused his attention to his car, ‘That’s right, that’s what your Aunt had said.’ You lean against the truck. “Your Daryl right? I’m Y/N” Daryl looked back up at the mention of you knowing his name, “Oh so ya heard bout us.” He sounded a bit disappointed at the thought. You lean to look inside the car, smiling over to him, “Only the things my Aunt said.” He perked a brow at that, “Who’s yer Aunt? What she say about us?”

“Mary.” You pointed over your shoulder to the house, “And she mentioned you might have a sweet tooth.” Daryl looked over to the house of the lady he often did things for, her niece chiming in again. “Always see you fixing this truck across the street.” He pulled a red rag from his back pocket wiping his hands, “Ya damn thing always seems to be breakin.” He took notice of the girl fully now. You took slow sips of the beer he gave you while starring into the hood. “Well if I have any trouble with my car I know who to ask.” You looked up to him with a shy smile. “I’m useless when it comes to knowing anything about cars.”

That’s how they both started talking. You watching him fix a couple spark plugs while talking about things. Getting to know each other a little. Like how you were helping Mary with her shop. “Ah, so you just moved here.” You nodded, “Mmm about a month. Have no clue where anything is and have no friends so…” you shrug. A breeze started as evening was setting in. Daryl hesitated before saying, “I could show you some local spots.” He bit the side of his thumb nail waiting for an answer. You had bit your bottom lip looking up at him and smiled, “Sounds like fun to me.”

He was worried for a second he messed up, “There’s a bar that everyone knows, real popular on Fridays.” You nodded while looking at him staring down at your watch seeing you had been talking for about a hour. It was getting late so you slowly started to walk backwards to your house. You smile with a glint in your eye, “Sounds like a Date… see you Friday!” You waved and all he could do was look on with wide eyes. Did you just- “Pick you up at 8!” He yelled. He was in slight disbelief at the out come. Had you been flirting with him the whole time?

You had handed him a tool before he could even ask. You had known how to do it all along and played stupid to talk with him. He smiled down as he closed his hood. ‘Oh you were trouble.’

When Friday came he was kicking himself. This was unlike him to go on dates. But he wouldn’t deny he liked you. You were also looking forward to a date for the first time in a while. Preferring it more than being tricked on to one with some guy your parents liked. Daryl probably didn’t fit that kind a guy they would. Oh but your kind definitely. Your Aunt watched you try on an outfit before deciding to go with a floral casual dress that went to your knees. She gave you a smug look and you only rolled your eyes. You had a long black jacket over you, knowing it was already cool outside.

Daryl knocked on the door and off you went in his truck to this bar. He was slightly nervous when he saw you dolled yourself up, and for him? He had lied to Merle where he was going and doing. He was desperately trying not to blow this, “Ya look pretty…” he had said it at a stop light looking over to you. It’s everything a girl wants to hear, and it sure made you smile.

When they got to the bar the bartender seemed confused to see Daryl with a girl. He was normally there with his brother. Mostly to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid he had noticed. “Well if it isn’t a Dixon, tell your brother he still owes me for the glass he broke.” Daryl cringed at the mention of his brother. You just simply took a seat on a stool. “What can I get you two.”

You had a few drinks you’ll admit. You tried a classic drink that the locals had. You were grossed out at the drink causing you and Daryl to laugh. He only had a drink with the need to drive you both home. You had tried to play pool but decided you were a little to inebriated at how many times you missed the ball entirely. You were standing in a corner of the bustling bar talking. You held a bow empty cup dying laughing at a story had told you about his childhood. Sometimes kids dumb actions, like jumping off a shed in a hero outfit, were just funny. You had lost a little balance at your laughing and place a hand onto Daryl’s chest. He only looked down to you putting a hand to your waist to steady you. You had tears of laughter in you eye, you fanning your face to no ruining your make up. He was definitely enjoying this more than he wanted to.

You had been at the bar for about 4 hours with Daryl. You now walked leaning into him in the parking lot. He had an arm around your shoulder leading you to the car door. He started the car and looked over to you, “Should have told me ya were a lightweight.” You gasped offendly, “Lightweight! I’ll have you know I’m just tipsy.” He looked at you questioningly humming. You relaxed into the car seat, “Ok, I’ll admit I haven’t done this in a while- might be a little rusty on the drinking game.”

You both continued to joke around until getting to the neighborhood. He back up in your drive way to later drive into his own. Him doing that thing with his arm as he back up. You bit your lip at the sight. When he parked and looked at you you spoke, “Thank you for this Daryl, I had fun.” He nodded, “Was my pleasure…” you had slowly moved closer crossing the middle seat. He looked down at your flushed face, mostly done by the alcohol. That liquid courage probably giving you the strength to grab him by the chin and slowly kiss him. He leaned into it grabbing your hip. You pulled back with a bashful smile,

“Same time next week?”

He had fully smiled at that, “Ya bet your sweet ass. Now get out of here miss ‘tipsy’.” You giggle wiggling your way out of the car. Waving goodbye with a stupid smile on your face. He felt his heart skip a beat, ‘oh he was real screwed…’

That night he even thought back to how you were looking at him on the way back. He had caught you leaned against the window with hooded eye. When he looked at you, you tried to fight a smile. Oh and how could he not think of the kiss. His hands dragged down his face at the thought.

This went on for a little over a month. You would see each other throughout the week but Fridays you would go out. Small touch’s and kisses here and there. It wasn’t until you ended up back at that bar that things changed. You were only 2 drinks in. You sat in a booth with Daryl. Head on his shoulder and hands intertwined under the table. You pulled away getting up, “I’m going to get another drink and you a beer. Then I’ll wipe your ass in a game of pool!” Daryl chuckled, “Let’s hope you can hit the ball with your cue this time.” You stuck out your tongue at him while walking to the bar. You had only been waiting for your drinks when a man slide up next to you.

“Whats a pretty thing like you doing with a Dixon? He blackmailing you?” The man held a sleazy smirk. You only look at him with disgust ignoring him. It was when he put his hand to your arm pulling you closer did you talk to him, “Hey back off!” The man’s grip tightened, “What you a hooker or something? Only way a Dixon could get some pipe is by paying for a slut.” You had yanked your arm from him, you falling back a little before landing against someone behind you. A arm rapping around you, you recognized it instantly, Daryl. His voice growling and rumbling against you, “Back off my girl.”

The man who was bothering you only rolled his eyes, “Maybe keep your slut on a leash-“ You had felt Daryl lean forward behind you before you even saw him sock the guy in the face. You had gasped and turned to push Daryl back from the guy. He stumbled and held his nose. You whispered to Daryl, “Ok it’s time to go…” You tried to push him closer to the door but the jackass decided to spit out another comment, “Ya let your bitch drag you away pussy!” You felt Daryl lean forward and resisted you leading him backwards but you spoke softly up to him, “Please…” His eyes briefly met yours. He looked back up to the guy who was probably drunk but, Daryl’s blood was boiling with rage. He relented at your plea and walked out the exit.

He was quiet as he walked back to the truck. Walking a little faster ahead of you. When he got into the drivers seat you had said his name but he wasn’t listening. He put the key in the ignition, turning it on but your hand rested onto his arm and you said his name again, “Daryl…”. He slumped a little and turned the car back off. He slowly turned to look at you. You scooted closer into him. You closed your hands around his face so he would look at you. You gave a small smile, “Thank you.” You gave him a quick peck before leaning back to look at him.

He signed and placed his forehead to yours talking a moment. He thought maybe he was gonna scary you off at the out burst. He whispered, “Hope I didn’t scare ya.” You chuckled shaking your head, “They opposite really. I was scared of that guy and then you came and I felt ok again.” He inhaled a breath before I closing his arms around you. He pulled you into him more and you rapped an arm around his back. You sat there for a moment before you spoke, “Soooo, Your girl huh?”

Daryl froze in place. Didn’t even register he said it in the moment. He pulled back from you, mouth agape, stuttering before he gave up at trying to say anything. You placed a hand into his hair playing with a strand of hair, “I’m your girl?” You had almost whispered it. Daryl cleared his throat, “Will you be?” You let out a breathy sigh,

“Yeah, thought you’d never ask.”

That is when you officially started dating. Sat in the truck, in the parking lot, making out for a good 10 minutes.

You were enjoying the new found established relationship. Over the next week was filled with your Aunt seeing you cuddle on the couch watching a movie. You had even managed to give him a small haircut in his bathroom, “Hmm, I think you would look good with long hair.” Sometime you would find yourself in Daryl’s room laying on his bed just talking when Merle was away.

Speaking of Merle he had later found out when at the bar that his baby brother started a fight over his girlfriend. He had thought nothing of it until he asked his brother if it was true. When it was confirmed he laid hurtful comments at him. ‘No one can love someone like us!’ ‘Like you really?’ It was a definite damage to his ego. But some of the things he said about you rubbed him the wrong way. It made him defensive, ‘She a good lay?’ ‘got you pussy whipped.’ They had yet to even cross that line.

You know understood why Daryl had not wanted you to met his brother at first. He made rude and sexually comments to you. Often either being sexist or racist any time near him. You mostly tried to say clear of him.

Then there came the drama that followed from your parents. Apparently your Aunt let it slip to your brother you were with her. He told your parents and now here you were getting a call from her shop. You picked up the business phone and before you could even spit out your prepared greeting you heard your father’s voice boom over the phone. “Now you listen to me little lady you’re coming back home!” You pause shocked. “Your little tantrum is done and you will do as you’re told!” You could hear your mother in the back telling him to calm down. You to in a breath and replied calmly, “Dad, I will do no such thing.”

He was yelling more. You had caught something about a wedding date and some name before your mother took the phone from him. “Honey, you need to come back home ok?” You really couldn’t understand why, “No Mama I like it here.” She went to go on, “We are just doing what we think is best for you. We just want you to be happy with a husband.” You had enough snapping at them for the first time, “You want what’s best for you. If you wanted me happy you would have listened to me! I’ll have you know with the time I’ve been gone I finally feel free. I even got a boyfriend!”

Your mother gasped, “In the town you’re in! What redneck white trash could you possibly find out there!” You were surprised at the way your mother spoke. But you were also mad at it. You angrily replied, “His name is Daryl Dixon! Fuck you! Never call me again!” You hung up seething. You had closed the shop a little early.

After the call from your parents you walked to the bar. The bartender seemed surprised seeing you without Daryl before asking, “Your usual?” You nodded with an appreciative smile. While waiting for the drink you noticed Daryl’s brother with a few other people. You ignored him deciding you would have the one drink and go home, not really in the mood to deal with Merle.

You had just finished your drink when you heard a commotion behind you. Merle and another were arguing. It was getting really heated. You had stood about ready to leave when the other guy threatened Merle, “I’ll kill you for this!” When you had turned Merle was smug looking and unaware of the knife being pulled from behind the man’s pants. You had yelled, “Merle!” In a panic you lobbed your glass at the man. It shattered over his head sending him to crumple to the side on a table. The knife slipping from his hand and landing in front of him. Merle looked down at the knife before looking up to where the glass came from, spotting you. You were shocked with your mouth open looking at the man holding his head in pain, before looking back to Merle. The few other men that were sitting with them getting up displeased.

Merle realizing he was out numbered started to run toward you. He had grabbed you by the arm and dragged you with him to the exit. The bartender yelled as you got dragged away. “Hey!” You had yelled back before the door closed, “Sorry Lawrence I’ll pay you back later!” Merle was still dragging you along to his motorcycle. The door had swung open and the angry men started to pursue you both. Merle had yelled at you when you pause to look at the door, “Get the fuck on!”

You had hopped over the seat and sat behind him. Not having a moment to hold on before he started to speed off. It wasn’t until he pulled into his driveway that you started telling him off.

Daryl had heard Merle’s motorcycle pull in but he wasn’t expecting to hear you yelling right after it. “Goddamn I’m already having a shit day!” When he walked out the front door to see you telling Merle off as he just sat there on his bike silently taking it. He had never seen his brother not throwing words back at someone. “Are you an idiot!” Not even that got a reaction from him. Daryl knew that would normally get replied by violence. It wasn’t until he spoke did you turn at his voice, “The hell is goin on?” Your anger soon crumpled into tears, you were overwhelmed and maybe a bit scared still body pumping with adrenaline. Daryl almost got whiplash at the sudden mood shift.

That didn’t stop him from hugging you as you started to cry. He shot a look to his brother who still sat on his bike. Merle looking weirded out at the sudden tears. "The hell you do ta her?!” Merle rubbed the back of his neck, "May have got into a bit of a fight at the bar with some folks. She kinda stopped me from being stabbed." He had felt you shaking in his grasp now. He knew you hated conflict, told him about the pit that would form in your stomach. But you stopping Merle from being stabbed? "How she do that?" Merle chuckled, "Threw her glass across the room! Knocked him clean on his sorry ass." He seemed almost impressed by you.

Daryl started leading you back toward your home. Daryl turning to yell back to his brother, "Whatever man piss off." He had gotten you into your house before you spoke, "My Aunt went on her Cabo trip with her book club friends. She'll be gone a week... stay?" He gulped, "If ya really want me to." You nodded, "I don't wanna be alone." He saw you were scared.

He lay next to you in your bed after you calmed down and ate dinner. "Want to talk bout it?" You moved closer to him leading him to put a arm over you. You sighed into him, "I was at the bar because I had a rough conversation with my parents. Somethings were said. Their the reason I moved here, to get away from. I saw Merle and then the knife- then all those men chased us." Your hand rose to pinch the bridge of your nose, "Just been a- a shit day." You move to look up to Daryl's blue eyes a smirk rising to your lips at the worried and tight look he was giving you. He relax a little at your attention. He dragged a hand up your arm to your face, "Merle seems to think your a badass now." He himself was a little proud to hear what you did. You grunted into his chest, "He'd better. Saved his dumbass."

You were talking for a while after that. Seeing the clock blinking 1am now. You were sleepy but enjoyed talking to him to much to fall asleep. Sleep was pulling at your eyes and a question that should have been a inside thought slipped out, "Why haven't we had sex yet?" Daryl was a little taken back but not to shocked at the question, he hummed, "Honestly not a clue, I like you to much to mess anything up." Maybe the tired feeling was making his lips a little loose to. He paused before continued, "I've only had meaningless sex. Nothing with feeling behind it." He smirked down to your hazy eyes, "Why? You tryin to get in my pants?" You chuckled adding a little shrug, "Perhaps. Take me out to dinner and we'll see how the night goes from there." That made Daryl's heart beat a little harder. Of course he has thought about it before just didn't know how to act on it with you. He held you a little tighter to him, goofy smile to his face, "Yes Ma'am."

Take you out to dinner he did. Nothing to fancy but by the end of that night you offered him to follow you inside. You were laughing while bumping backwards into things as you both kissed. You stripping buttons down his shirt when he paused face looking uncomfortable. You stopped at the look. He sighed squeezing his eyes tight. Reminding himself it was you. "Uh sorry, just forgot to mention- just look fer yourself..." You softly pulled the shirt down off of him. Revealing scars along his body.

You dragged a finger along one. You look up at him with round eyes. He looked away before saying, “M’ Daddy was a drunk.” You intake air and release it at the information. You leaned down and kissed the scar you touched. Everything turned slow from that point, more sensual. He rolled into you at a pace he never had before. He was used to chasing a feeling, getting it over with. But every time he would push into you he couldn’t help but love the groans you made. You sure loved the noises subconsciously coming out of him as well. You would move up into him. The slow motion had sent you crazy. Leading you to claw at him begging for more. He didn’t go faster but harder.

Your moans filled your bedroom. Daryl was sucking on your neck while rutting into you. He was huffing out air and grunting in exertion. The tight clench he felt around him damn near knocked the wind out of him. He had pulled out and rested his head on your chest while trying to catch his breath. You dug your hands into the back of his hair.

That night lead to many more like it. Which is what lead you to the current situation going on. You were in the bathroom staring at a positive pregnancy test. Not just one but three. You sat on the floor contemplating, 'How did this happen?' 'Do I keep it?' 'How do I tell Daryl?' You and Daryl had been only officially dating for 3 and a half months now. The first test had you in denial, the second had you begging. The third had you close to acceptance. At least you weren't ugly crying anymore. Before anything you needed to tell Daryl. So you called him over saying it was urgent.

He opened the front door and jogged to your room seeing you crisscross on the bed looking distraught. He kneeled down at the front of your bed looking up at you. You took in a nervous breath before talking, "If you need a moment after I tell you this, its okay, I wont be mad." Daryl's heart dropped to his ass, 'were you about to end stuff between them?'

"I'm pregnant."

His eyes slowly widened and he looked down to your stomach then back to you. He abruptly stood up then paused again. His mind moving a mile a minute but also not at all. The one thing to click was "A father? ME?' He slowly walked out the room. You sat there with tears burning in your eyes watching him leave the room. He paced back and forth hand running into his hair. The fight or flight in him was telling him to run, he was overwhelmed. Then he heard a small sniffle come from the room he had just come from. That stopped him in his tracks. He thinks he loves you. You both hadn't gotten to saying it out loud to each other. He didn't know what love felt like but this was what he imagined it to be. He hated to see you cry. Made him feel like maybe he would to if he didn't fix your tears. When he heard you he slowly made his way back into the room. Realizing you were most likely as terrifies as him, more so even.

You felt his arms around you making you cry harder. You had run the possibility of him leaving in your mind. Fully aware of his lack of a good father in his life. When you pulled away to look at him he also had tears going down his face. It was the first you have seen him cry. You had now put your arms around his middle and pulled him down to now lay on top of you. You had a tight hold on him and he you. You both calmed down and you knew he wasn't leaving, then he also whispered into you, "I've got ya. Both of ya."

It was rough that first day. It didn't feel real. You told Daryl how you were going to make a appointment in the morning. You asked if he was wanting to go with. He had slowly nodded deep in thought. You had said they could talk about everything in time.

You both had time.

You had an appointment in a week, the receptionist suggesting you go and buy prenatal vitamins before then. You also broke the news to your Aunt, she was supportive. Saying she would love to help with anything you needed. You and her walked a few blocks to a small store connected to a pharmacy. You looked to the shelves of pills. You held two big bottles, different brands, of prenatal vitamins. The sound of screaming alerting you to a disturbance in the store. You turn to your Aunt with a questioning look. You both peaked around the aisle spotting someone on top of the other, a fight perhaps?

Gun shots to your left making you jump. You turned seeing a man backing down the aisle beside you shooting rounds into a woman approaching him. You witnessed the women not even flinch to each shot. Your Aunt pulled you by the shoulder backwards down the lane. Another person who was pale with foggy eyes rounded the corner. It grabbed your Aunt and before you could blink took a bit out of her neck. You watch in horror as she dropped to the ground with that person on top of her. Blood from her throat being ripped out had splattered across your face. You screamed terrified. The lady the man had been shooting at now turned the corner from the aisle they were in. Now she was covered in blood though. You look down to your Aunt who had stopped moving. The thing taking notice of you. So you ran.

You had just seen your Aunt being brutally murdered. You ran out the door of the building pill bottle still in hand. You saw people running, cars crashing. Others getting hit by cars. It was a nightmare but you felt like you need to keep moving. You ran down the road back to your house. Dodging anyone covered in blood.

Daryl had kicked the door open to your house. Merle was packing stuff into the truck across the road. He screamed your name looking for you anywhere. When he couldn’t find you he ran back to the car, “I can’t find her!” Merle rolled his eyes, “Forget about her! She probably died someone where let’s get are asses out of here!” Daryl yelled back at him with rage. “THE IS NO WAY IN HELL IM GOING ANYWHERE WITHOUT HER!” The yell had shocked Merle. Daryl had never talk to him like that. “We can find you a new lady we gotta go!” Then Daryl did something more unexpected. He shoved Merle back. He had hit the side door of the truck, Merle was about to hit him when he yelled, “She’s pregnant man!”

Daryl had a panicked and pained expression on his face. He started to stuttered out, “I-I gotta go look—“ The sound of his name being yelled from a distance made him turn in the direction. He was relieved to see you running full speed toward him. His relief flooded by panic at the sight of blood painted across your face and cloths. He ran the rest of the way to you. Crashing into each other in an embrace. You struggled to regain breath after how long you were running. Daryl had held your face seeing were the blood came from. Tears forming in your eyes, “It’s not mine…” Merle’s voice cutting in, “Come on love birds we gotta go now!”

Daryl lead you to the car opening the door and making you jump in, “Stay here I’m going to get some of your stuff.” He ran off back to your house and Merle started tightening the cables to the bike in the back. He sat down in the driver seat and looked over to you. You had two pill bottles on your lap and you stared at your hands shaking. He then noticed all the blood on you and decided to keep his mouth shut. Daryl ran back throwing a duffel bag in the back before going to the passenger side. You sat in the middle still a little stunned. Like a bird who flew into glass.

Daryl’s arm went behind your head resting on your shoulders. You leaned into him. Merle had started to peel out of the space driving off into a direction. You heard little of the talk between them. Choosing a quarry they know to get away from the towns and head into the woods.

All you knew was the world was changing.

Part 2

Feedback welcomed and requests open!

Sorry for mistakes I to eepy its 2 am. I'm dyslexic and struggle with it and normally reread 10 times to fix mistakes but this is so long I wanna go to bed.

[moosesarecute]

Song of the Wind part 3

Since so many people (aka two 😅) asked, here is a third and final part

Part 2

Masterlist

Azriel was pacing back and forth in the entrance of the Town House. His house.

He still wasn’t used to being the owner of a house. And he still sometimes flew to the House of Wind instead of here.

It had been four months since his first dinner with your family. Four months since your mother and brother accepted his request to court you.

And it had been the best four months of his life, even though he felt like he was playing a part.

He used all his experience as a spy to pretend that he knew what he was doing as he gave flowers to your mother, talked politics with your brother and carefully talked about everything and nothing with you.

Only in his letters to you could he be his embarrassing self.

You would send back and forth letters all the time. You wrote about your daily life and ambitions, he wrote about his personal life and every thing else that he wanted to tell you.

He wished to tell you everything, he realized.

He had been pacing for the better part of an hour. Thinking about all he had planned to do these two days you were going to come to Velaris.

You had been there before, of course you had. You and your family had visited twice before.

That’s when he realized your family excepted him to own a house and Rhys gifted him the Town House. Azriel tried to refuse, but soon Feyre and Elain had started to decorate, and he had no other choice. He had really started to love the house.

This time, you were arriving alone. No chaperone. And Azriel felt like the pressure of all courts had been put on his shoulders.

If he messed up now, all his chances were gone. This was it.

A knock on his door, made his shadows stop clinging to him and he moved to the door. He straightened his back and took a deep, but quiet breath, before he opened the door.

Outside stood both you and your brother, Mateo. His eyes immediately met yours and all worry he had disappeared.

“Hello,” you said with your bright voice.

“Hi,” he answered dreamily, before he realized you were waiting for an invitation to come in. “It’s good to see you, please come in.”

You gave your brother a small hug and Mateo gave Azriel a look that almost screamed “don’t you dare mess this up”. Azriel gave a grave nod in return.

You walked into the house and Azriel showed you to your room. You would have to sleep in separate rooms, of course.

“This will be the best weekend ever,” you said as the two of you started making lunch.

The weekend was packed. Azriel had only planned a few things to do, so that you would choose the rest.

You ended up dragging him along to one of Feyre’s painting classes, you went on walks through the Raindow and went to every single cute cafe you could find.

In the evening, the two of you went on a dinner date and the day after you had joined his family for family dinner.

Smiles were big on both faces throughout the entire days.

Azriel held the door open for you as you walked out of the River House.

“I have one more thing I wished we could do,” you said.

“Anything,” he responded as he closed the door behind him.

“I was wondering if we could go flying again,” you asked him with a quiet voice.

He almost froze. Of course he wanted to fly with you. Flying was his favorite thing ever. Nothing had ever given him as much peace.

But that would mean holding you. Carrying you in his arms as he flew above Velaris seemed like a dream, but was he allowed to?

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that,” you said before he could answer.

“No, no, it’s okay! I really want to fly with you, but I would have to carry you. Is that okay?”

He felt a stupid blush reaching his face. He had flown multiple women before, but the thought of having you so close made him flustered.

“I would be okay with that.”

When he picked you up and felt the warmth of your body against his he thought he was going to lose all control.

It felt so right holding you against him. He absolutely loved it.

Throughout the four months of courting he had been longing for the day he could fly with you again. Not in a life-death situation, but for fun.

“Ready?”

You nodded and he took off.

The scream that left your mouth was a lot quieter than last time and was soon changed with laughter.

He flew them far above the ground and while you were amazed by the lights from the city, he was amazed by your bright eyes and the feeling of holding you.

It was the most amazing thing he could ever have dreamed of.

“This is amazing,” you said and turned to look at him. “Thank you, love.”

The pet name made his knees weak and he was so happy he wasn’t currently standing on them. He would definitely fall.

“No problem at all,” he answered as he got lost in your eyes.

After a while, he flew you down to the Town House.

Being from Summer meant being used to a warmer temperature than what it was in Velaris, so he made sure you felt warm under a blanket.

The night disappeared into day, but neither of you noticed. The entire house was filled by laughter and love.

The mating bond was humming in both chests. Humming stronger than ever before.

“I love you,” you whispered to him.

“I love you too.”

Relief was the feeling that spread through his body. Both from you and from him. The second feeling was pure happiness.

His shadows were swirling around you, like they had done the entire weekend. Now, they became a little braver and clung closer to you in a protective, but also comforting manner.

Azriel half expected you to get scared from them, but you only leaned further towards them, and therefore also towards Azriel.

His shadows on the other side of his body started to push him towards you and soon you were touching. He lifted his hand and you did the same, interlocking fingers.

Both of you relaxed completely against each other.

You stayed in the same position until a knock was heard and Azriel knew that your brother had arrived.

Disappointment filled his heart, but then it was gone again.

It was your disappointment he realized. He was about to ask if you were okay, when you sat up, kissed his cheek and made your way to the door.

The kiss made his shadows go crazy, but he hoped you didn’t notice.

It was a simple goodbye and then, you went back to the Summer Court.

Azriel had been sosial the entire weekend, but he didn’t feel as tired he usually would. It only felt empty. The house was too big without you in it.

So he decided to make his way to the River House.

You had expected him to do it when you made food the first day.

Or when you ate dinner at the restaurant.

Or when you walked through the rainbow.

Or when he flew you around and gazed at you like you were a goddess to his god.

You at least expected him to do it when you stayed up talking the entire night. Leaning into each other and feeling the warmth and smell from his body.

But then he didn’t.

Your brother arrived and winnowed you home and it only took one hug for you to break down.

He didn’t want you.

He said he loved you, but he still didn’t want to marry you.

Breathing became harder and harder. You weren’t good enough for your own mate.

Your brother carefully moved you from his arms into your mother’s.

You could almost smell his anger, but you were too deep into crying to realize what he was going to do.

That was until he winnowed away.

“How did it go?” Nesta asked as soon as he walked into the River House.

Most of his family was still there after the dinner last night. Being either too tired or too drunk to go home.

“It went fine, I think,” he answered.

All his family was looking hopeful at him. They wanted details.

“We talked the entire night and her brother picked her up not long ago.”

“We really like her,” Rhys said and it made Azriel smile. “She seems right for you. I’ve never seen you smile like this before.”

He nodded at his brother. He really did love you. It was an incredible feeling knowing that you loved him back.

“What’s going on?” Amren asked.

She and Varian had been gone for the last two weeks. They had therefore no idea that you had been visiting.

“Y/N was here this entire weekend,” Feyre said and she continued with a blink in her eye. “Without a chaperone.”

Amren only snorted, but Varian’s eyes grew double the size. Azriel felt his smile fall.

“What?” He asked.

“Did you-,” Varian started speaking, but was cut of by a door closing.

In walked Cassian and to Azriel’s horror, Mateo.

“Look who I found,” Cassian said.

Azriel immediately got worried. Did something happen to you? Were you hurt? Didn’t they get home properly?

Azriel stood up and was about to voice his concerns, when Mateo’s fist met his nose.

Mateo wasn’t the tallest or strongest fae, but he knew how to punch. Azriel both felt and heard his nose break.

He realized he must have messed something up for Mateo, who had become his friend, so want to hurt him so badly.

So he let Mateo do what he needed.

In the end he had a broken nose, a black eye and he was drenched in water…twice.

“What the hell is wrong with you? I let you get close to my sister even though you messed up about everything in your first dinner with us and then you play her like that? Don’t you own any shame? She’s been the most patient. She’s been urging me to let her see you and then you prove all the bad accusations about Illyrians right?”

In the end, Rhys pulled Mateo off him.

“I’m sure it’s a good explanation for all this. Azriel gave us the impression that the weekend went quite well,” he said and tried to calm Mateo.

“Well? Well? How can it go well when he doesn’t have any plans on attaching himself.”

Azriel’s eyes grew wide. What? Of course he was planning on attaching himself to you. He wanted nothing more in the entire world to call you his.

A small attempt on clearing a throat was heard in the corner of the room. Azriel met Varian’s eyes before the male no longer dared to look at him.

“I might have forgotten to mention the part about how a unchaperoned visit is the same as telling someone to propose.”

Azriel’s mouth flew open.

You had excepted him to propose. You had waited patiently the entire weekend for him to say he wanted to marry you and then he hadn’t.

He had to hold back his shadows to prevent them from killing Varian, but he let them punch him to the ground.

“I didn’t know,” he almost pleaded to your brother. “I swear, I didn’t know. Of course I want to marry her, she’s the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

A ring!

He needs a ring.

But it was Sunday and most of the shops were closed.

He was about to ask Rhys for one when his shadows lifted his hand and dropped a ring-box into it.

He opened it and was met with the most beautiful ring he had ever seen. It screamed you. It would look amazing on your cute hand.

“You have a ring ready?” Mateo asked. He seemed to suddenly realize that Azriel was serious.

Azriel almost told the truth about his shadows buying a ring behind his back, but then his shadows forced his head into a nod.

“May I please propose to your sister?” He asked hopefully.

Mateo gave him just a stern nod and Azriel was on his way.

He winnowed and flew and winnowed until he stood outside your home.

He didn’t knock, but just opened the door and left it open. Your mother was almost burning with anger as she saw him.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” he said. “I don’t have time to explain, I need to propose to your daughter.”

His shadows told him where in the house you were and he immediately ran to your room.

He almost ripped open the door and stormed inn.

You were about to go into bed, but stopped as you saw him.

His heart broke at the sight of your bright eyes that were now red from crying. You were crying the first time you met, but now that the tears was because of him it was ten thousand times worse. He wanted to throw up.

He didn’t let you speak as he walked up to you, went down on one knee and opened the ring-box.

“Y/N Y/L/N, daughter of Dana, sister of Mateo and owner of my heart. I’m the stupidest male alive for not realizing what your visit this weekend meant. I promise you, I didn’t know, but it doesn’t matter. I messed up. And I promise to try to mess up less in the future, but please, please, please, will you marry me?”

“Ready?” Your brother asked you.

You leaned into a hug and he kissed your forehead.

“It’s not too late to back away,” he continued and you only laughed.

“I’m sure I made the right decision, even though you’re still mad,” you answered with a bright smile.

He took your hand, tilted your flower-crown a little to the left and started walking with you.

The weather was perfect. Not too warm, but a blue shy and a bit of a wind.

The garden you had chosen to get married in was the most beautiful and it felt so right. With a mix of pink, blue and green plants as decor.

Azriel cried as he saw you. He stood out in his black suit, but you at least got him a white flower to have in his hair. He wore it proudly.

The ceremony was beautiful. Your vows were a mix of Night Court and Summer Court traditions. Your first kiss was the most amazing kiss ever and you soon became addicted to kissing.

Your entire family and his entire family were together for the party afterwards.

It was the most beautiful day ever.

“I can’t believe we finally got married,” he said and kissed you on the mouth.

“You proposed last month, love. You made it seem like you’ve waited forever.”

“I have,” he said. “540 years to be exact.”

You laughed at your cheesy mate.

Rhysand winnowed you both to the Night Court. The Town House was now also your home.

What Azriel didn’t know was that you had, with the help of Feyre and Nesta, placed a small cake that you had made on the kitchen table of the Town House.

Azriel ended up eating that cake quite quickly when he realized what it meant.

And you know the rest.

Extra:

“Can you at least give me a two meter radius?” Cassian asked the guards that were currently surrounding him.

“No, we have orders from the High Lord,” one of them answered.

It had taken Rhys two weeks of almost begging Tarquin to let Cassian come to Azriel and Y/N’s wedding. And he was allowed to come, but he was constantly watched by at least three guards.

“Enjoying yourself, Cass?” Rhys asked him. He stood and talked with both Azriel and you, but Cassian wasn’t allowed. It was a too crowded area for the guards to have complete control.

Azriel and Rhys broke out in laughter at Cassian’s annoyed face. You, however, walked up to your new brother in law with a small glass of champagne.

Cassian was about to take the glass when one of the guards slapped his hand away.

“No alcohol!” He said.

Cassian had to hold back from stumping his foot like a toddler.

“You break one building,” he muttered and his words were answered with laughter.

@historygeekqueen @daughterofthemoons-stuff

Divider by @cafekitsune

[takamiwife]

hawks x pregnant reader?... either his kid or someone else's doesn't matter, as long as he's loving sweet and spoiling tf out the baby ❤️ he would be soooo good w postpartum care. im sure he's helped deliver kids in emergency situations - 🌕

thank you for the request! this is adorable <33 sorry this took a while </3 schools been kicking my ass

but anyways

this man is literally meant to be a father

when you told him you were pregnant, his reaction was: “we’re having a baby?” (shocked) -> “we’re having a baby?” (terrified) -> “we’re having a baby?!” (over the moon ecstatic)

your pregnancy wasn’t planned, so admittedly he was very nervous. he always expected to have kids when he had taken a load off of his hero work, and as soon as you asked if you two should reconsider, he immediately stopped you

“no, no, no. i’m.. i’m ready. as long as you are.”

of course he wifed you up IMMEDIATELY

he can’t have you walking around with his baby without a ring on your finger!

for a short period of time, it was extremely stressful and hectic. you wanted to get your wedding done early on in your pregnancy so you could still fit into your dream dress, and keigo was balancing trying to work a lot to try and make the city the most secure he could for when the baby arrived while also wanting to be home with you, but you two found a way to do it. you postponed your honeymoon until a few months after the baby was born (hey, you’d need it then anyways), so the beginning of your marriage was filled with baby-proofing your now shared apartment and setting up a nursery

everyday when he’d wake you up, he’d kiss you on the forehead, then on your growing bump

this man would come home EVERYDAY with baby stuff, “i saw it in a store while on patrol, wouldn’t this be perfect?”

plus, he’d find the exact vitamins you should take and got them for you, wanting you and the baby to be as healthy as possible

he’d insist you don’t lift a single finger, especially since you went through a lot of stress early on with rapidly planning your wedding, but you convinced him to let you be able to help with the baby’s room

whenever you two are alone together, his hand is like, CONSTANTLY on your stomach

he cried when he felt the baby kick

you guys would celebrate every trimester with a little cake with candles on it

you often got late night cravings, and you always told him not to worry about it, but he insisted because he just so happened to be craving the same thing, so it really wasn’t a problem

rubs your back and holds your hair during morning sickness, and is so patient with you with mood swings

when you really started to show and you couldn’t fit into your old clothes, you broke down crying about how you felt so bad about yourself, and he was genuinely so confused because you had never looked more beautiful to him

nevertheless, he took you out shopping the next day for maternity clothes

he’d love buying onesies and bringing them home to “show off” to the baby, aka holding the onesie up to your stomach

“just remember that daddy picked this one out for you, not mommy, so this one has to be your favorite, okay?”

“you are gonna be the best dressed baby in town”

he’d also have the room filled with toys

“oh, i just saw it in a store window and thought it’d be perfect”

you actually had to stop him bc you were quickly running out of room

he’d have your hospital bag packed and ready by the door a month and a half before you were due

so when your water broke, this man was READY

he was right next to you the whole time, encouraging you and letting you squeeze his hand as hard as you needed

so when the baby was finally born, you handed them to him, and he was so, so scared

it all suddenly felt so real

and the baby looked like a perfect combination of the two of you. but they had your eyes. your perfect, loving eyes

he tried to bite back the tears as he gently brushed his finger along the baby’s face

“hey there.. i’m your daddy.. nice to finally meet you, you’ve been giving your mommy lotsa problems these past few months, kiddo.”

he’d kiss their head, still trying to hold back tears. he promised himself that he would be the best goddamn father he could be. better than his deadbeat dad ever could be. your baby would never doubt that they were loved, they’d never wonder where there next meal would come from, and they sure as hell would never be scared of him

postpartum was a bit hard for you, but keigo was there every step of the way. he was a boat in a dark sea, and you knew that you weren’t going through it alone. he got as much time off of work as he could to try and be there for you and the baby, but he still never felt like it was enough

he’d always make sure you knew you were absolutely adored no matter what your brain was telling you, and made sure to take as many of the responsibilities off of you as possible on particularly hard days

not once did you get up at night to feed them or change their diaper. he would always immediately turn the baby monitor off, creeping quietly down the hallway to their room, and would stay with them as long as it took for them to get back to sleep. he was used to having a fucked up sleep schedule, so this was no problem for him

he takes pictures constantly

everyone at work is constantly getting updates on the baby, and you guys started taking monthly family photos, which he rotates out on his desk

you guys know how (unfortunately) a lot of women have to beg their husbands to take care of the baby so they can go shower?

well that’s not you

as soon he gets home, he scoops the baby up, telling you that it’s your time now

“i’ve been gone all day! it’s my turn with the baby, go on, i already started the bath for you” and the bathroom has lit candles, a bath bomb in the warm tub, and one of those little bathtub desk things for a drink and an ipad (yall pls know what i’m talking about 😭)

it’s a constant competition for the baby saying “mama” or “dada” first

one day, the baby just would not. stop. crying. no matter what you guys did, it seems that they would never cease. overstimulated and running out of ideas, keigo strapped a baby wrap to his chest and stuck them in it

“keigo, what are you doing?”

“we’re goin’ for a ride. it always helps me calm down”

“wh- you can’t take the baby flying!”

“they’re my kid, they’ll be fine!”

“oh my god- okay, don’t go too fast, or i swear to god-“

“relax, baby, i got this” he flashed his charming smile at you, and you only sighed

“be back in one piece, okay?”

despite being known as the man who’s too fast for his own good, keigo enjoyed a calm, slow flight. as soon as he hit the air, the baby seemed to immediately stop crying; and as the baby looked up at him with those big, round eyes, keigo realized just how lucky he was to be able to fall in love with those eyes twice in his life

“there ya go kiddo, i knew you just needed some air. just like your dad, hm?”

and he had never felt more proud

[darkmatilda]

╰┈➤ the pumpkin reaper

part 2: second day of investigation

part 1 here!

part 3 here!

in which you and the bau are handling the case of a murderer in a small, sleepy town

tw: decapitation, description of the crime scene etc, mention of a suicide attempt, mental illness

contents: spencer reid x fem!baureader, solving a criminal mystery, angst, slow burn

words: 7.3k

okay, i realize how incredibly long this is but that's just how i am, i have to stretch every scene to the limits. i'm sorry!!!" anyway, i hope you'll enjoy it <3

You were pulled out of bed at five in the morning.

 Just three hours after you’d finally managed to fall into a light, broken sleep. Maybe you hadn’t really been sleeping at all — just lying there with your eyes closed, half-aware? You weren’t sure. The exhaustion weighing on you suggested the latter. Yet you didn’t complain. As soon as you learned that another body had been found in that same cursed forest, it felt like you’d been plunged into an ice-cold bath. All that mattered now was reaching the crime scene as quickly as possible.

You and Spencer ended up in the same car with Hotch and Rossi. Although the drive took almost half an hour, it passed in the blink of an eye. None of you spoke; the tension was evident on each of your faces. You’d dressed more comfortably than the day before, opting for navy jeans and sturdier shoes better suited for walking in the forest. In the rush, you hadn’t changed out of your pajama shirt — you’d simply thrown on a black leather coat over it. You buttoned it up carefully so no one would notice the shirt featuring a duck holding a knife with the caption I have stability (ability to stab), easily the worst possible choice of clothes for examining a murder scene.

The next steps proceeded in a typical, meticulous way. Everything around was secured, and you examined the body, which was roughly in the same state of decomposition as the bodies of the city council members. The inflicted wounds also appeared to be similar. There was a missing head, but aside from that, there were relatively few injuries.

At sunrise, the whole team gathered near the cars. Derek leaned against one of them, and you all had sleepy, slightly puffy faces with dark circles under your eyes. JJ looked so good and put together that you found yourself wondering if she went to sleep fully dressed in her professional attire.

“The victim is a man with an unidentified identity, but there is a strong likelihood that this is the missing city councilman, Percy Donovan, who disappeared in the last few weeks.”  Hotch informed you all. “This trio of women, who were treated the most brutally, were the earliest victims, lying in this forest for about six weeks. The one found last night was likely killed around the same time as the other two city council members. It’s unclear why his body was left in a different location, but considering the relatively short distance, it might have been a matter of convenience for the perpetrator. He was unable to transport all three bodies at once, so he delivered the last one after some time. He discarded it closer to the road but concealed it more carefully. The time of their death is estimated to be around three weeks ago”

“Let’s analyze everything from the beginning,” Rossi suggested, raising both hands. “The unsub’s first victims were killed six weeks ago. They were three women: a teacher, a social worker, and…”

“A worker from the orphanage,” Reid recalled. 

“Then there’s a three-week gap, and three more bodies are hidden in the forest. This time, there were two men and one woman, all of whom were city council members. The only connection between all six victims is that their heads were severed. Don’t you think we might be dealing with a duo? That would explain the differences in brutality.”

“That’s one possibility,” Hotch agreed. “I asked Garcia to check for criminals or psychiatric patients who have been released recently, but she didn’t find anything noteworthy.”

The sheriff approached you, the same big man you’d seen before. Shock was written on his face; as a cop in such a small town, he likely rarely dealt with cases like this.

“I knew Percy,” he shared immediately. “I knew him very well. We sometimes went out to the bar together to play pool. He had some problems in his marriage; they often argued. When he disappeared, I thought he had just left because he needed some space…”

“We’re very sorry,” JJ said gently. “Yesterday, you mentioned that you know a lot about the people in this town. Could you provide us with more information about the victims? We’re trying to find any connections, if there are any.”

Before they stepped aside to discuss this, Reid raised a finger.

“Sheriff, do you think the offender had to know this forest well to choose to hide the bodies here? In these specific locations?”

Russell pondered the question.

“I don’t think so. In my opinion, it could have been anyone, and they didn’t necessarily have to be from here. I doubt he comes from this town; as I said, it’s mostly decent people.”

JJ led him a few steps away to begin their discussion. You and the rest of the team fell silent for a moment.

“One thing worries me,” Morgan said, furrowing his brow. “Okay, a lot of things worry me, but this one particularly. If there was roughly a three-week gap between the murders of these two groups of people, and the last bodies were found just three weeks ago…”

“That means the unsub could strike again at any moment,” you finished his thought, nervously clenching your hands into fists.

Everyone turned to look at you; you had just voiced a shared concern. Hotch stared into space for a moment, then nodded to himself as if coming to a decision. He spoke in his usual commanding tone.

“We need to take action. Morgan and Prentiss, you’ll meet with the families of the first three victims, the women, I mean. Rossi, you and JJ will go to the families of the other victims. Your job is to find out if there’s anything that could connect them. Y/N and Reid, your task will be to go to the forester’s lodge and gather information on whether anyone has encountered any suspicious individuals in this forest. I’ll head to the city hall to talk to the mayor.”

Everyone scattered, ready to tackle their tasks. You nodded at Reid and together you headed towards one of the cars, where you hesitated.

“Do you have a map of this town, or will we need to ask the sheriff where the ranger station is?” you asked, glancing back at the man still talking to JJ.

“I left it at the hotel, but it just so happens that I memorized the whole thing, so I know where we need to go. It’s not far at all.”

Your eyebrows shot up.

“You memorized the entire map?”

“I always do that when we’re working a case in an unfamiliar place,” he explained, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Memorizing an entire map, with all the roads and landmarks. Just an everyday activity.

You snorted and got into the car, an unmarked police vehicle, on the passenger side.

“We'll have to stop at a gas station,” you said, fastening your seatbelt.

“Why? The tank’s almost full.”

“Coffee.”

He opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. You glanced at his profile as he, focused on driving, pulled off the shoulder onto the road, choosing a direction.

“You couldn’t sleep last night, huh?” 

You shrugged. You didn’t want to get into the backstory of your sleep issues with him, so you decided on a slightly embellished answer.

“I couldn’t fall asleep for a bit; it’s usually like that in new places. But then I slept like a baby, really. At least until Hotch woke us with that call before 5 a.m.”

“No, you didn’t. I woke up a few times, and your breathing suggested you weren’t sleeping. It was too shallow and irregular. Normally, when someone’s asleep, it looks different because their breathing engages the diaphragm muscles.”

Did he really just analyze your breathing and deduce you hadn’t been sleeping? You looked out the window, momentarily at a loss for words, before deciding to turn it into a joke.

“Reid, this is the creepiest thing I’ve heard in a while.”

“Really? It’s just basic human physiology. So, back to my question, which you decided to turn into a joke to avoid answering”

“Jesus Christ, Holy Mother of God, yes, I couldn’t sleep because I forgot my sleeping pills,  and I can’t get a wink without them. What’s it to you?”

Your outburst of irritation caught him off guard. You immediately regretted your unpleasant tone; he had always been so kind to you. Reid paused for a moment, cleared his throat, and calmly returned to the topic. 

“I figured that out after you were so upset last night. When you told me you forgot something. You know, you could have just asked me or someone else on the team. It just so happens that I always have Ambien on me. I don’t need it anymore, but I carry it just in case.”

You fell silent, not knowing how to respond. You felt doubly embarrassed, especially since his initial question wasn’t even attacking! It was just that you had been so closed off, pushing that barrier further and further away whenever someone showed even a hint of concern for you.

The car glided along the empty road, one of those that seemed to stretch on forever. Like an endlessly long carpet with a white stripe down the middle, unfurling as you drove. Surrounding it was the forest—the same one where you sought refuge yesterday to avoid answering Prentiss’s question about your brother. Your reticence was becoming burdensome, but you didn’t know how to deal with it. When you opened up, you felt vulnerable, as if you were at the mercy of someone else. You also hated pity. Your mom loved it. She relished the chance to burden random people waiting at the same bus stop with tales of how her husband didn’t love her and how her kids hated her, even though none of that was true. Talking to someone about yourself made you feel just like her.

As you drifted off in thought, filled with a sense of guilt, Reid spoke up again.

“I’ve noticed recently...”

He barely began the sentence before he cut it off. He didn’t continue, as if the wind had slipped in through the slightly open window, snatched his words, and whisked them away to some unknown place, never to return.

“What have you noticed?” you asked.

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter,” he replied, shaking his head.

“You can say it, whatever it is. I won’t be offended.”

Deep down, you were afraid his comment would hurt. Maybe he’d say, “Your inability to open up is just pathetic. And it’s not just me; the whole team thinks so. Though honestly, it’s probably better that you don’t say anything. None of us want to hear about it.” Just the thought of him saying something like that tightened your chest, and you went pale. It was a stark reminder of how much you feared what others thought of you. You knew Spencer would never say something like that—he might not always be socially adept, but cruel comments were not in his nature. What scared you more was the possibility that he could think that way about you. You were terrified that it might be true.

Meanwhile, Reid asked:

 “Do you like autumn?”

You let out a surprised laugh. “That’s what you’ve noticed lately? That I like autumn?”

“No,” he replied. “I’m asking if you like autumn.”

Your confusion left you momentarily speechless. You looked at him as if he were a math teacher back in school trying for the third time to explain what a logarithm actually was. That question distracted you from your earlier, unpleasant thoughts.

Looking at his slight smile, you answered. 

“I’m not a fan. I hate it, actually”

“Really?” 

“I don’t know why people love it so much. It’s cold, it makes our work harder. It rains, and you've seen the extent of decay those bodies had because of it. Again, it’s cold”

It seemed that your arguments didn’t resonate with Reid.

“You’re looking at it from a very practical standpoint. For our line of work, I agree, autumn can be terrible. But there’s something enchanting about it. The leaves. Reading in the evening while it’s raining outside is particularly enjoyable.”

“I personally prefer reading in the bright sun, on the beach, soaking up the rays. Without the risk of my hand falling off from the cold as soon as I pull it out from under the blanket to turn the page.”

He laughed.

“In less than twenty-four hours, I’ve learned more about you than I have in the past year,” he said. “That you have a brother, you definitely prefer summer over autumn, and you love Haruki Murakami’s books.”

“That’s all because we’re roommates now.”Wait, I’ve never told you I like Haruki Murakami!”

“I saw you reading his book yesterday. Kafka on the Shore.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I like him.”

“You read more than half of that book on the flight, hardly taking your eyes off it. You only paused when your brother called you. You were completely mesmerized, so I’m guessing you must’ve liked it.”

He was right; you had been completely absorbed in that novel. So much so that you didn’t even realize he had been watching you on the plane. Seizing the opportunity, you asked him for his interpretation of a certain part of the plot that seemed unclear to you. For the rest of the flight, you listened intently as he passionately shared his thoughts, surprised that someone could talk about a book with such enthusiasm.

The smiles faded from your faces as the car suddenly jolted. Concerned, you looked around for the cause and quickly figured out what had happened. Reid had veered off the main road and onto a forest path leading to a cabin. Due to the rain, it had turned into a muddy mess, making it difficult for the car’s wheels, ill-suited for such terrain, to push through.

“How much further it is?” you asked. ““Maybe it’d be better if we walked from here. We don’t want the car to get stuck” 

Spencer agreed with your suggestion. Your shoes sank into the mud as soon as you touched the ground. The weather that day was better than before; a gray layer of clouds hung overhead, but it wasn’t raining. The air around you felt pleasantly crisp and invigorating. You took a deep breath that tasted wonderful, energizing like coffee. Your companion cursed softly under his breath as his feet began to slip on the troublesome surface as well.

“So, do you still like autumn that much?” you couldn’t help but ask teasingly.

“I love it,” he assured you, in an exaggeratedly eager tone. But after taking just one step, he nearly fell over. “God dammit…!”

You burst into loud laughter and confidently moved ahead. You’d learned your lesson from the previous day and put on more comfortable shoes, which you were very grateful for. The ones you were wearing not only repelled water but also minimized the risk of tasting the mud.

There was just a straight path leading to the cabin, and after a moment, you spotted a wooden, wide building with a sloped roof on the horizon. It looked rugged, not like one of those places city folks rented for the weekend to feel connected to nature.

As you walked, you didn’t turn back, busy looking around. Behind you, Reid was probably struggling for his life on the slippery path.

You reached the cabin first. Instead of knocking right away, you decided to wait for your companion. Just as you were about to turn around and shout some motivating phrase to him, the door swung open on its own.

You came face to face with a young man who had a military hairstyle. It was worth noting that he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

He looked you up and down, nodding to himself.

“Lost, are you?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Or maybe it was just your imagination, but he seemed to be trying to adopt a slightly flirtatious tone. Behind him, from inside the house, a loud barking could be heard. “Ares, quiet!”

By the time he turned back to you, Reid had already caught up and pulled his badge from his pocket.

“We’re with the FBI, and we’d like to ask a few questions.”

“Alright, so you’re definitely not lost… But hang on a sec, let me see your badge too. You’re way too young to be in the FBI,” he said, eyeing Reid as well. “You both look too young.”

“And yet,” you replied, patiently reaching for your badge.

He nodded and held the door open for you with a slight flourish. He didn’t seem the least bit fazed that the FBI had shown up on his doorstep. You wondered if he’d act differently if, instead of you two, it had been Hotch and Morgan paying him a visit.

“Take it easy,” he said, nodding to the Doberman at his side. “He’s aggressive, I won’t lie. But as long as you don’t make any sudden moves, we should be good. Ares, off you go.”

Reid glanced at you with amusement, and the corners of your mouth twitched. The ranger’s doberman was… a puppy. Tiny, tail wagging eagerly, clearly thrilled to see you both.

"Are you here alone?" you asked, looking around for any sign of others. From what you knew, there were usually a few rangers stationed together.

"Yeah, I’m the only one responsible for this whole area." he replied, folding his arms over his hips, where his loose pants hung low. He hadn’t even bothered to put on a shirt.

He had this strange ability to take up way more space than his body actually needed, standing with his legs planted wide apart. He also tried to look down on everyone around him—though it didn’t quite work, since Reid was taller than him.

"We’re here to ask you a few questions," Reid informed him once again.

"I heard you the first time"

You definitely didn’t like the tone of his voice. The unpleasantness of it made him far less attractive in your eyes. That was just how you were; you were drawn to well-mannered men who didn’t feel the need to assert their masculinity at every turn.

"This is related to a six-fold murder, so I'd advise you to tone it down a bit when talking to the FBI” 

Reid's sharper tone created an immediate tension between the two of them. The ranger tilted his head to the side, his shoulders suddenly drooping.

“Wait, sixfold?”

The information about the last body found had not yet been made public, though it was surely only a matter of time. The sheriff seemed like a complete gossip.

"It was found last night, so be aware that this case is extremely serious. We need to know if you’ve encountered anyone suspicious while patrolling this area in the past six weeks. Actually, it would be best if you could list everyone you remember."

"Actually, it might be better if you asked for my name first. It’ll come in handy for the report."

"Oh, right." His comment threw you off your rhythm. You should have done that first. He smiled at you, and you felt a slight blush rise to your cheeks. It wasn't because of his charm but rather from being caught in an unprofessional moment.

That was enough for Reid to look at you with a judging expression.

His phone suddenly rang.

“It's Hotch,” he said, furrowing his brows. He briefly touched your elbow, and his gaze softened significantly compared to how he had been speaking to the ranger. “Can you handle this? It shouldn't take long.”

You nodded, and he stepped aside to take the call. The ranger extended his hand as if he was just welcoming you to his home.

By the way, the cabin seemed quite cozy, mainly with wooden furniture, a fireplace, and a fur rug. Two sets of doors led out of the main room, one to an open kitchen and the other presumably to a bathroom or bedroom. His dog happily circled around your legs, and you bent down to gently pet him.

“Do you want to sit down, agent? I thought you came here on foot.”

“I’ll stand. The car didn’t quite handle the road. We left it nearby.”

“Yeah, that happens a lot, especially after the rain. There’s no way a typical patrol car could get through that. But anyway, I’m James Rivas. What did you want to ask me? Who caught my attention over the past six weeks?”

He sighed, thinking.

“That’s a really tough question, considering I often forget and feed the dog twice in the same morning. But I do remember a few people. First of all, there was a certain couple…”

“A couple? Two men? Or maybe a woman and a man? Did they seem nervous when they saw you?”

“A couple, as in a guy and a girl. Now that I think about it, she looked about twelve, probably his daughter.”

Your enthusiasm waned a bit. One of your theories was that the murders were committed by a duo, but the people he described didn’t sound like the perpetrators of such acts at all. He mentioned a few more people, mostly dog walkers, who caught his attention for trivial reasons like a flashy scarf or a pretty face (when he spoke about a woman). Even though the information didn’t seem particularly useful at first glance, you wrote it down in the small notebook you had brought with you.

Who knows, it might come in handy?

Reid returned with a serious expression on his face. You immediately straightened up, fearing what he might say.

“Another body has been found.”

“What?” you nearly shouted. The ranger also tensed up, abandoning his relaxed, flirtatious attitude. “Seventh? Where?”

“At a pumpkin farm. Apparently, some teenagers stumbled upon it; there were a lot of people at the scene, and a little panic broke out. Hotch wants us all there. Have you finished?” He glanced at you and James.

You raised your notepad and nodded. The skin on your hands paled from how tightly you were gripping the item.

Together, you started toward the door. You wanted to turn to the ranger and thank him for his help, as it hadn't been as difficult to cooperate with him as you might have thought. At that moment, he stopped you from leaving with a hand gesture.

"To the pumpkin farm? You'll get there faster through the woods than on the main road, but your car won't make it there. I'll give you a ride in my SUV."

You looked questioningly at Reid. You were both eager to get to the scene of the body as quickly as possible. The offer sounded tempting, but not entirely safe. He immediately shook his head in refusal.

"We'll manage," he said to James.

"Seriously, come on," the man insisted.

Reid opened his mouth to refuse again when James suddenly stepped closer to you, reaching for something in his pants pocket. You took a step back, having learned from experience, while your friend moved one step forward in a defensive gesture.

However, the ranger had no bad intentions — it turned out he was going to hand you the car keys.

"You can drive," he said. He closed the keys in your fingers as if offering you some precious item, grabbing you with both hands in the process. You were in too much of a hurry to flinch. You nodded gratefully. He smiled. "Actually, you have to, I just drank a beer. Plus, I’m coming with you; someone has to navigate, and who better to do it than me?”

You agreed, and Reid sighed, clearly unhappy with how things were turning out. James hurriedly grabbed a shirt and led you behind the house, where his black Jeep Wrangler was parked.

Following his lead, you settled into the driver's seat, though it stressed you out a bit. Since getting your driver's license, you hadn't had many opportunities to drive; you preferred the subway or, lately, relying on Prentiss's kindness.

“Don’t worry,” the ranger laughed as you hesitantly set off in the direction he indicated. “Now…”

“Turn left,” they both said at the same time.

James looked surprised at Reid, who was sitting right behind you in the back seat.

“How do you know that?”

“I memorized the entire map of this town and the surrounding area,” Reid replied with a shrug.

“You did…what?”

You and Reid smiled at each other in the front mirror.

The mentioned farm resembled a place straight out of an autumn photoshoot, where a pregnant woman embraces her partner against a backdrop of pumpkins arranged on hay bales or something like that. People came to this place from bigger cities, buying overpriced tickets and spending the whole afternoon strolling among rural decorations and props, soaking in the small-town atmosphere. From what you learned from the forest ranger, they also had horses there.

You got out of the car as soon as you spotted Hotch standing by a table made of red planks. There was no sign of anyone else from your team around, so you assumed that thanks to the shortcut, you had arrived there first. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of the sheriff’s car, several patrol cars, and a group of shaken people who must have made that traumatic discovery.

Among them was a certain teenage girl. You looked at her with pity; she would likely remember this for the rest of her life. The forest ranger walked off to speak with the sheriff, while you and Reid headed toward your boss.

“Good thing you got here so quickly,” he said, eyeing the black jeep warily. However, he didn’t ask any questions, likely too absorbed in the case to think about it. “They were found… just see for yourselves.”

You exchanged a worried glance with Spencer. Hearing such words, you could expect the worst. You held your breath and allowed yourself to be led to two pumpkins placed in a secluded spot next to the barn. All the others you passed were huge, perfectly shaped, and brightly colored. But in these two specific ones, holes had been made, as if someone wanted to place a lantern inside. Instead of candles, however, there were… human heads inside.

“Oh my God…” you whispered, taking a step back. You bumped into Reid, and dazed, you mumbled some apologies. However, your gaze remained fixed on Hotch. “Did… did this young girl find this?

He nodded. It was only after a moment that you felt a hand gently placed on your shoulder. You looked up to see Spencer’s face.

“Were the other parts of their bodies found?”

“Only the heads,” your boss replied in an unreadable tone. “Y/n, I’d like you to talk to this girl Not interrogate her, just talk.”

Despite being shaken, you nodded eagerly. You had always considered yourself one of the more sensitive ones in this field, better suited for making deep psychological analyses based on the childhood or life experiences of an unsub rather than the crime itself. Still, you had no choice but to deal with such sights daily; you had toughened up a bit, which couldn’t be said for this girl. You shook off the tension in your body, put on a composed expression, and made your way toward her. The people surrounding them, including the farm workers, stepped aside to let you pass.

“Hey,” you said as gently as you could. She was a blonde girl with such delicate beauty that she reminded you of a snowflake. Her bright eyelashes framed her cool-colored eyes, her pale complexion was almost flawless, and her light hair was braided. She looked to be about sixteen, wearing a white jacket and a powder-blue beret. “I’m Y/n. Can we step aside for a moment? We can sit down and wait for your parents to arrive…”

“I am her parent,” the sheriff replied, pointing to himself with his thumb, as if he thought you might have trouble understanding. It surprised you slightly. They looked completely different; he was huge with dark hair, while she was also very tall but petit. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that JJ and Rossi had already arrived at the scene.

“Well, I still think your daughter should sit down for a moment. She’s very pale and has been through a huge shock. What’s your name?” you asked her.

Her lower lip trembled, she opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

"Charlotte," her father replied. "I need to talk to her myself first. What are you doing here at this hour? It’s barely noon, you should be in school. Skipping classes?!"

"What does that matter right now?" you snapped at him, angry at his lack of empathy towards his own daughter. Charlotte gave you a grateful look. You looked your boss in the eyes. "Now we’re both leaving, and you can think about whether that’s the right tone to use with someone who’s seen something like that..."

True to your words, you led her aside, wrapping your arm around her. You managed to find a secluded spot and sat down on one of the hay bales.

"My dad is pretty strict," the girl explained. "He cares more about my school than about me."

"My dad was exactly the same," you said, though it wasn’t true. Your father didn’t care about you or your education. He didn’t care about anything except work. You lied to make the girl feel like you understood her situation. “But school is the last thing you should be worrying about right now. How are you feeling?”

She shrugged. She had been sitting for about five minutes, and the color was slowly returning to her face.

“I’m… in shock. When I close my eyes, I see it right away, and… and I’m even afraid to blink. How can someone do something like that to another person?”

"I keep asking myself that question," you admitted.

"You're with the FBI, right?"

You nodded. Charlotte fell silent, staring at her hands.

"My dad’s right, I should be in school right now. I came here because I paint. I’m currently working on autumn-themed paintings for a school competition; I needed some inspiration..." The girl sobbed, the horrible sight must have flashed before her eyes.

You put your arm around her, and to distract her from it all, you asked about her passion, painting. She spoke to you in a quiet tone, telling you that she took up art after her mother’s death.

“After that, Dad shut himself off. He’s obsessed with rules, grades, my behavior, school attendance,” she scoffed, playing with her braid. “But he doesn’t even try to understand me, ever. The only person who understands me is…”

She trailed off, looking nervous.

“Someone special?” you suggested with a smile.

She shyly lifted the corners of her mouth.

“You could say that. Just don’t mention it to my dad…”

You made a key-turning gesture near your lips.

“Your secret is safe with me. Well, as long as you tell me a little about this Romeo of yours…”

The topic clearly cheered her up; she seemed less shaken.

“There’s not much to say. Dad would hate him. He’s his complete opposite.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, he is very different about the rules…”

This worried you. She seemed like such a polite, well-behaved girl, and you hoped she hadn’t fallen into the wrong crowd. You didn’t want to judge based on such limited information, but your intuition was speaking up again…

You were interrupted by Morgan’s arrival, calling you over for the team meeting. You said goodbye to Charlotte.

“If you need to talk about all this, I’ll be in town for the next few days,” you said, gently patting her shoulder. After a moment’s hesitation, you reached into your coat pocket for a notepad and quickly jotted down your phone number. You folded the note in half and offered it to the girl. You felt you had to show her some support, something she wouldn’t find from her parents. 

 Charlotte smiled at you with genuine gratitude — she seemed really nice, and you regretted that she had to see something like that. 

Arriving at the meeting point, you experienced a sudden shift in atmosphere, from light to serious and tense. You stood between Reid and Prentiss, waiting for what Hotch had to say.

Spencer glanced at you briefly, his eyes gentle, silently asking if everything was okay. You confirmed without words as well. This silent conversation felt almost amusing; without speaking, you both knew exactly what the other intended to say.

Emily's thin eyebrow shot up, but before she could say anything, Hotch spoke up.

“Morgan and Rossi are questioning the farm owner and the workers. They seem unhappy about the police presence, especially the FBI.”

You found it doubtful that these people had anything to do with the murders. Did they really risk hiding their heads at their workplace? In a movie — maybe. In reality—certainly not. And what could their motive be?

“JJ, we’ll need to issue a statement. Journalists are starting to gather, and we don’t want them spreading any misinformation. It’s important that we don’t give our unsub any nicknames. What did you learn from the victims’ families?”

One by one, everyone gave a brief report. You listened with bated breath, hoping for some vital information, but unfortunately, none of your team had discovered anything that could move the case forward. Finally, you summarized the ranger's testimony.

Prentiss looked like she was holding back an explosion. 

“What is all this about?” she finally burst out, throwing her hands up. “Why has the killer, or killers, suddenly changed the location where they’re dumping bodies?”

“Theoretically, we don’t know if they have,” Reid said. “Only heads were found on the farm; we don’t know what happened to the rest. Searches of the forest have just begun.”

“In any case, what’s the point of this charade? Does it thrill them to think they’re inflicting lifelong trauma on some random person?”

“Hotch, what’s next?” you asked, feeling a void in your mind.

“We’ll finish questioning the owner and his workers. Garcia is checking them out now. After that, we’ll wait for the identification of the newly found victims. Without that information, we can’t move forward. “

Your least favorite part of working on a case had arrived—idleness and waiting. Usually, that was when all your adrenaline would drain away, and your suppressed needs would strike back with double force. You were hungry, tired, had a headache, and needed a second coffee. Leaning your head back, exhausted, you suddenly felt someone watching you. The ranger was staring at you, leaning against the hood of his jeep. You signaled Spencer with a nod, and together, you approached him without much enthusiasm. You needed to head back to the ranger's cabin to retrieve the car you’d left there.

“Sick, isn’t it?” James asked, nodding toward the whole farm. “I can’t wrap my head around it. We’re heading back to mine now, right?”

“Just to pick up the car. I have one last question for you.”

You looked at your friend with curiosity, noticing a strange expression on his face, as if he’d suddenly connected some dots.

“In your opinion, as a ranger, would the killer need to know this forest well to dispose of the bodies in these specific locations?”

James hesitated before answering, looking Reid directly in the eye.

“Yes. I think so. It had to be someone who spends a lot of time here. This forest is huge — an outsider wouldn’t go that deep.”

Reid studied him closely. You frowned and walked back to the car. The three of you drove to the ranger’s cabin in complete silence. Fortunately, the police car was still parked exactly where you had left it.

“Will you drive?” Spencer asked, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I need to make a call.”

“Sure,” you replied, taking the keys from him. You got behind the wheel, casting him a curious sidelong glance, intrigued by what he was up to.

“Garcia? Have you finished checking out the farm owner and employees? Okay, but when you're done, could you also check someone out for me?” Spencer pulled the phone away from his ear, looking at you with a questioning expression. “What was the ranger’s last name?”

“You’re kidding,” you snorted. “James Rivas, but…”

“James Rivas,” he relayed to Penelope, gave her a quick goodbye, and ended the call.

Meanwhile, you had already merged onto the main road.

“Reid, it’s not him.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Intuition? Shaman, remember?”

“Well, your intuition isn’t exactly a reliable measure. It’s pretty easy to influence—by, say, sympathy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Sympathy? The guy’s a jerk, even my intuition can tell.”

Your explanation didn’t seem to convince him at all. You stared at the road for a moment, tapping your nails on the steering wheel. Reid crossed his arms, avoiding looking in your direction. The ranger had clearly gotten under his skin. You hadn’t liked him either, but even so, you thought suspecting him was a waste of time. You weren’t even sure why. You were slowly beginning to form a possible image, a profile of this killer in your mind. It wasn’t worthy of being voiced ye t— too sparse and vague, even to you, with many essential pieces still missing. But it definitely didn’t fit James. Chaotic, you realized that much.

“Do you think if he were our unsub, he would have just answered your question like that? About whether the perpetrator had to know the forest? That alone made him a suspect!”

“His ego wouldn’t let him answer otherwise,” he scoffed at first, then turned serious. “Did you see his reaction when I mentioned finding the seventh body? He tensed up, like he was spooked.”

“Well, I was spooked too. We’ve got a seven-time murderer, a decapitator, on the loose.”

He sighed in resignation, seemingly deciding there was no point arguing with you about it. As you drove, you wondered if you should outright clarify that you weren’t defending James because you liked him or, heaven forbid, found him attractive. But surely Reid didn’t actually think that… right? Then again, you could never be certain what was going on in his mind. It was vast and complex, with thousands of branches reaching off in completely different directions. Impossible to decipher.

You drove in silence, sighing back and forth every so often, as if hoping that these pitiful sounds would eventually prompt the other to speak up or change the subject. At the gas station, he stepped out of the car, and you asked him to get you the largest coffee they had. When he returned, he surprised you by silently handing you a sandwich as well, reminding you just how hungry you actually were.

The rest of the day, you spent with the team back at the pumpkin farm. Garcia had uncovered a very interesting lead. Most of the workers were employed off the books, without contracts, which likely explained the farm owner’s strange behavior. He’d been afraid — rightly so — that it would come to light.

This forced you to take a closer look at the workers, considering them as potential unsubs. But somehow, none of it seemed to connect. A dead end.

J had already given a statement on TV, but word about the victims’ identities still hadn’t come through. Because of this, Hotch decided to let you head back to the hotel early, a small reward for having been dragged out of bed so early that morning.

When he said it, you and Reid exchanged a smile, forgetting your little disagreement. The topic of the ranger never came up again—after all, Penelope hadn’t found anything on him.

You returned to the hotel relatively early in the evening, though with the time of year, it was already completely dark outside. You were utterly exhausted. The fact that you were planning to collapse into bed in your jeans was probably the best proof of that. But just before you did, you remembered you hadn’t called Jeremy since the day before. You hesitated before dialing his number—being in different time zones, it was already very late for him. Then you recalled your brother’s sleep schedule. Back when you’d lived together, he’d often go to bed around the same time you were getting up.

“Have you been wearing that shirt all day?” Reid asked, amused, as you took off your long coat. He was, of course, referring to the shirt’s graphic — a duck armed with a knife.

A smile appeared on your face as you opened your mouth to respond, but then you saw something that rendered you speechless.

“Y/n?”

Exactly eight missed calls from your mother. It wasn’t that alarming — she sometimes had a flair for the dramatic and would call over something as trivial as a broken egg, even though you had made it clear that you didn’t want to maintain contact with her anymore. However, a chill ran down your spine at seeing one missed call from your father.

You stammered, “I’ll be right back,” and headed to the bathroom. Once you closed the door, you leaned against it and dialed your mother’s number. It felt like an eternity waiting for her to pick up. During that time, the gentle movement of your knees turned into a tremor so intense that you had to grasp onto something for support.

“Mom?” you asked when she picked up. “What’s—”

“Finally!” her sobbing came through the line. The sound hit you like a powerful shockwave, leaving you feeling dazed and suspended in a void. “Oh my God, why haven’t you answered your mother all day? Do you have any idea what I’m going through right now? How do I feel? I was the one who found him…

You shook your head, partly in confusion, partly in denial.

“And through all of this, no one, not even your dad had asked how you were feeling! Abandoned by two children, including you, who wouldn’t even answer her calls…”

“Mom,” you barely managed to squeeze out, feeling an unimaginable weight in your chest. “You found who? Where?”

Your mother suddenly began to berate you for the lack of contact, completely ignoring your two questions. She shifted from shattered sobs to pure rage, almost hysteria. She had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder for years, and she approached her treatment carelessly, often forgetting to take her medication. In the face of difficult situations, she reacted in an intense, complicated manner, chaotically swinging from one extreme emotion to another.

Though her broken voice indicated that she, too, needed help, you pulled the phone away from your ear. You couldn’t bear to listen to her, too frightened by the visions that assaulted you. You needed to find out what had happened, and she wasn’t able to give you that information. With a heart-wrenching pain in your chest, you hung up.

With a trembling hand, you barely managed to dial your father’s number.

part 3 coming soon!

tag list: @miriamnox @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @nightfullofparadox

oh and i have one question for you guys, how to connect two parts of a story with each other?? i'm new on tumblr