#this one turned out so clean woah

[nekoning]

Sketch request: Zhuzhi-Lang from Scum Villain?

he's trying a new hairstyle

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny Pt.9

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.10]

"Fan-sea meeting you here. You must be Phantom!"

Danny slowly turned around, grin blinding. "I shore am. Who's asking?"

Danny knew exactly who was asking. Bludhaven's vigilante, Nightwing. If the giant dark blue bird emblazoned on the front of his suit didn't give it away, the friendly demeanor and the puns would have. Plus, now that Danny's figured out who Tim was, the rest were pretty simple dots to be connected.

"Hi. I'm Nightwing. Thanks for saving Batman."

"I am Phantom. You are welcome. Please lecture him on the necessity of keeping the waters clean."

"Uh, I think he knows," Nightwing grinned. “So, why are you cleaning Gotham’s bay? I heard the Atlantic is nice this time of year.”

“Exactly. This?” Danny flapped a gloved hand around them, specifically at the moldy docks and the paint scraped board. “This is not nice. If it were nice, I wouldn’t need to be cleaning it. Look at that paint! It’s flaking off into the water! Does Gotham not have proper boat maintainance? That’s dangerous for the waters and seafarers!”

“Woah, you know a lot about boats,” Nightwing commented, crossing his arms and leaning back. What the hero didn’t know was that he knew more about boats than Danny did, as Danny’s hyper fixation was more focused on space ships and Dick had education à la maison de Bruce Wayne which usually meant an absurd amount of information for someone who doesn’t actually use boats as a regular mode of transportation.

“Rust! Rust is very much a thing!” Danny ranted, using his ice to scoop up water and using it like a makeshift filter. “It weakens bonds! It’s a tetanus hazard! And oh, don’t even get me started on how you people mutated the ocean life!”

“Mutated ocean life? I’m pretty sure we hadn’t. It’s just a little weird, right?”

Without another word, Danny dove into the weird ecosystem that was the Gotham bay. He came back holding a wriggling green thing the size of a worm.

“Do you know what this is?” Danny demanded. The thing flopped around on his gloved hands.

“A sea monkey?”

“They’re brine shrimp. Brine. Shrimp. Do you know what regular brine shrimp look like???” Danny shoved the thing at Nightwing, who took a step back.

“Not like that?” He replied, a quizzical look on his face.

“No, not like that! What in the ancients is this?!” Danny waved the weird sea brine that had started glowing faintly, like Danny’s natural ectoplasm glow. “Far be it from me of all people to judge evolution but this was all man made!” Danny gently tossed the brine shrimp back into the bay. “Brine shrimp is staple food for the ocean! You’ve got weird brine shrimp? You’ve got weird fish! Why is it impossible for this place to, for even one day, refrain from dumping hazardous chemicals or dead bodies in the water?”

“Ooookay, how about we take a breather?” Nightwing quickly glanced around, trying to find something to change the subject, feeling oddly guilty at the earnest expression on the kid’s face. “Uh, I was actually wondering if you’d swing by the waters near Blüd?”

Danny crossed his arms. “I clean the waters as a past time because you humans don’t know how to keep it clean. I am not a personal, on call, seakeeper.”

“Batman will pay you for your time,” Dick offered. Danny straightened. Amity didn’t actually cost that much to live well, but Gotham was a whole other ball park. The rent might be dirt cheap for a city, but the special pricey little add ons such as gas masks and space level insulation on top of the sky high insurance policies were draining what’s left of his half dead soul. As they say, Danny was a city dweller first and Phantom second.

“How much, when, and I won’t fish up the bodies unless he pays me extra.”

“Four thousand base pay, extra one hundred per identity, fifty for bodies with no shades, and on the weekends.”

Danny straightened as his mother’s steel spine, Jazz’s whip sharp wit, and his own craftiness made their appearance as he bargained. “Five thousand. Rate agreed, but I can only do every other weekends and I’ll have to call out some days.”

“Okay.” Nightwing rocked back on his heels with an affable smile. It’s Bruce’s money and it’s going towards his probable future baby brother, after all, even if said baby brother is a dead immortal Atlantis founder. Or something.

Danny groaned. “You are supposed to bargain back. But I’ll take it.”

“Great! Who do we got tonight?” Nightwing looked down at the plastic/burlap wrapped person Danny dragged onto the shores a bit ago.

“The lake kept the body cold, so it should be preserved adequately if you want to examine him,” Danny tilted his head to the side, the flames of his hair tilting with him. “He said his name is Gorganzo Bean.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s a nickname he got for eating a whole can of beans straight.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it. Any more details?”

“Sure.”

When Danny reached to take the money from Nightwing, he found that the hero had tightened his grip on it.

Danny pointedly dropped his gaze from Nightwing’s face to the money.

“Wait. I- I heard from a source that you could possibly smell souls.”

Danny yanked the cash out of Nightwing’s hand and shoved it into his shoulder. If that didn’t confirm Nightwing’s identity, he doesn’t know what would other than the guy telling Danny who he was. “You’ve been speaking with Danny. Yes, I can.”

“Can you tell what’s wrong with my brother?” Nightwing blurted out.

Danny stared at him, his legs flickering in and out to his tail form. “…Other than dressing in probably leather or Kevlar and going out to beat criminals with his bare hands?”

Nightwing opened and closed his mouth. He coughed awkwardly. “Other than that. Why is he- um, stinky? Soul-wise,” Nightwing added, clearly humoring the tinny little voice at the base of his temples that was an annoyed Red Hood saying that he showered. “He showers often. And is definitely not stinky body odor wise.”

“I am not a doctor. Well, not now anyways,” Danny said, thinking about his future PhD. “But he’s got a… soul infection. His natural immunity- all souls have a natural immunity against regular outside influences- is working hard to repel the equivalence of chronic bronchitis.”

“There’s… no way to help him?”

“I never said that,” Danny tilted his head. “Bring your brother to meet Danny. He could probably handle it.”

“The civilian?”

“His parents hunted my kind, once. He helped protect me and my people. If anyone knows how to cure it, it would be him.”

Phantom could not afford to deal with this right now, because Danny had a presentation tomorrow that he needed to finish.

“Oh. Thank you, Phantom.” Nightwing said, looking relieved and pensive. Danny decided right then and there that was Future Danny’s problem.

Danny nodded distractedly, blinking out.

He blinked back in. Nightwing jerked back. “Do you happen to have any examples of corrupt politicians in Gotham?”

Nightwing blinked before laughing. “It’d probably be easier to name the ones that aren’t.”

“Good to know. Thank you!”

——

A couple of days later, Tim and two older guys ambushed him in the quad.

“Hi! I’m Dick! This is my brother Jason! We’re Tim’s older brothers!”

Danny looked down at his hand- trapped in an overexcited handshake- and back up at Dick.

Whatever expression he was making, it must have been ha-fucking-larious because Tim and Jason burst out into laughter. Danny cursed his past self.

“Yeah?” Danny blinked. Wait. His smile grew and he made a face like he just realized something. “Oh. So you’re Nightwing?”

The laughter cut off.

“Haha, what?”

“Phantom told me you’d be coming but I, uh, thought you’d be in gear. Not… straight up telling me who you are?”

“You’re in regular contact with Phantom?” Tim demanded.

“Yeah, dude. After you- wait, you’re Red Robin!” Danny whispered.

“Oh shit, B’s gonna be pissed,” Jason drawled, looking mildly amused and hiding an extremely cautious, possibly lethal (if it weren’t for the fact that Danny’s pretty much impossible to kill with regular weapons) reaction.

“You’re one to talk. I’d smell your soul no matter what your disguise was.”

“…About that.”

——

You might be wondering: wouldn’t Dick know not to show up in civvies?

Yes. Except for the fact that Tim stalked Danny for weeks after he met Phantom and Danny hadn’t hung out with (himself) at all. They think Danny doesn’t know Phantom well enough to even talk to him much, despite being from the same town because: they’re all big city kids and have never experienced small town solidarity and, more importantly, gossip grapevines + they have no idea these two are the same people.

A deleted scene:

“When did you have time to talk to Phantom?” Tim demanded. Jason nudged Tim. That had hinted too much at what Tim was doing on his off hours and stalking was usually frowned upon.

“When I wasn’t talking to you, duh.”

[luvnami]

i wanna pluck his brows

“what are you doing?”

you’re currently wearing a kuromi headband and an under eye mask. your posture is abhorrent as you peer into your bathroom mirror, tweezing away at your eyebrows. you squint your eyes and pluck out a singular, stray hair. 

“plucking my brows,” you reply to your husband without even batting an eye. 

ushijima doesn’t say anything. he watches silently as you tweeze out your eyebrow hairs and line them up neatly on a piece of toilet paper. he’s grown used to you and your self-care habits, be it the guasha routine you have in the morning or the terrifying red-light mask you don at night. one time, ushijima was so scared by that same mask because all the bedroom lights were switched off and he thought the devil had come for him. you barely avoided being hit in the face with his mean left hook. 

it’s not like ushijima doesn’t take care of his appearance. he had a minimal skincare routine of actual face wash (not bar soap!) and some moisturiser, but anything beyond that was unknown territory. you helped out with organising a simple schedule for masks, retinol, exfoliation, and sunscreen. he likes it when you help him do his skincare, soft fingers working the product into his skin. 

“do you want to pluck my eyebrows too?” ushijima offers. 

now, you turn to look at him. kuromi’s ears wiggle with your movement. behind on the counter is ushijima’s own corner where he keeps his skincare and razors neatly organised, his matching cinnamoroll headband neatly atop everything else. 

“are you sure? it hurts, toshi. i could do it for you if you want, though.”

ushijima wakatoshi is a strong man. he can deadlift about 200kg, he’s 192.7cm tall, and has played in the olympics before. surely he can handle some eyebrow tweezing. 

ushijima insists because he always wants to share experiences with you, even in the most mundane of things, so you concede because you do want to see him react to having his eyebrows plucked. he helps you sit on the bathroom counter and stands close enough that your knees brush against his abdomen. he places his palms on either side of your thighs, kissing your hairline affectionately. 

you take your time to comb out ushijima’s eyebrows with a spoolie. he’s blessed with rather thick brows and a nice, gentle arch, but you spot multiple stray hairs near his tails.

“i’ll just help you clean up the shape, okay? let me know if it hurts. i’ll start with this side.”

ushijima hums and closes his eyes as you place your thumb under his eyebrow to keep the skin taut. your tweezers find their target, and you pluck the offending hair out of his skin. 

ushijima jumps. his eyes are watering as they fly open, his brown bone stinging with pain. he doesn’t want to admit that his asshole just clenched. you stifle your laughter at his bewildered expression.

“toshi? are you okay?” you soothe. 

you kiss his brow. 

“how many more do you have to do?” he asks, deadpan. 

“mmm… maybe twenty on each side?” 

he pales. alas, ushijima wakatoshi is not a man who backs down from anything, even the most butthole-clenching pain of eyebrow plucking. he squeezes his eyes shut and lets you continue. 

the next day, he shows up to the olympics team training with neat eyebrows. kageyama stops mid-step to stare at him and even tilts his head to the side.

“you look different, ushijima-san.”

“do i?”

ushijima takes a sip from his bottle. 

bokuto gasps loudly. “woah! you’re like, ten times more handsome today, ushiwaka!” 

ushijima thinks of you, giggling as he furrowed his face in pain last night, determined to make it to the end of his eyebrow torture. you kissed him every single time you plucked a single hair. a small smile replaces the stoic expression on his face.

“thank you. my wife plucked my eyebrows for me.”

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x muggle fem!reader

Summary: Three weeks after his devastating break up with Lily, James wanted Remus and Sirius to bring him to a muggle bar in central London.

Genre: Fluff / prequel to my fic Timeless / pt.2 Sweeter Than Fiction

Warnings: swearing, mentions of injury, intoxication

Remus has warned him him has always had a flair for the dramatics.

"I mean, why did I even like her?" James slurs loudly as he slams his whiskey glass onto the counter, white foam spilling over his hand, and he curses.

Remus rests his hand on James's arm to shush him and he glances over at Sirius with a concerned expression for their friend. "Prongs, you promised you were okay," his eyebrows quirk and, crossing his arms, he looks at James with a saddened expression.

James's eyes just narrow and he nods his head furiously, "I am okay," He insists, "I just don't understand why – "

When James flings out his arms in exasperation, his hand accidentally collides with your hip as you pass by. All the wine glasses you had been balancing on your tray suddenly shatter to the ground with a loud crash. Sirius and Remus hurry to stand as the spilled alcohol barely misses their trousers.

"Oh my, I'm so sorry," You say, clearly embarrassed as you kneel down and frantically pick up the shards of glass as everyone turns to stare.

"Woah," James cries as he jumps up. Just as he starts to warn you not to hurt yourself, you cut your palm and hiss in pain. James is immediately kneeling next to you and, with a movement unusually delicate for someone so drunk, moves to hold your wrist in his hand, "Shit, that looks nasty." He mutters.

You look at him, "Yeah, it hurts like a bitch," you say plainly and stand. James drops your wrist. Sirius hands you a napkin and you press it to the wound.

James stands next to you now and you look at all three of them. "I'm sorry again, I hope I didn't spill any on you. Shit, I'm gonna lose my job for this," you look away, your hair falling in front of your eyes as you groan.

"No. Don't worry. We aren't hurt or anything, right guys?" James exclaims, again a little too aware for someone so drunk and slaps Sirius on his back.

Sirius frowns and sends him a knowing look but smiles at you reassuringly as Remus nods. "So, you really shouldn't get in trouble and," James adds, "Hey, I don't think you're okay…" His train of thought seems interrupted by the amount of blood on the napkin.

You glance down, eyes widening, "Oh, shit yeah," you tilt your head up, feeling heat rise in your cheeks, and look at them bashfully, "Fuck, ah—sorry I keep cursing. This just hurts a lot. I think I have to clean go it."

James eyebrows crease for a moment as he watches you turn around and quickly walk away, the bloody napkin still pressed to your hand.

"Oh," his eyes light up like a child when you turn around and address them over the loud bar, "Thank you," you say with a smile and while he's unsure why you're thanking him, his stomach fills with a thousand butterflies.

"You're doing it again," Sirius mutters, sipping his drink as he stares at his friend.

"Hmm?" James doesn't tear his eyes away from you until you disappear behind some curtains into a back room.

"You have that look on your face, the one you wear right before you do something stupid," Remus finishes sternly.

James's eyes roll, acting less drunk than he seemed earlier. Almost as if you sobered him up a little.

"Oh please," he lies, "When have I ever done anything stupid?"

* * *

James leans against the brick of the building, a cigarette in his mouth. His cheeks are flushed from the cold air as he looks around. The street is dimly lit and barely anyone is around at this time of night.

He smiles as he pulls the cigarette from his mouth. He had convinced Remus and Sirius to let him have a smoke outside. Something told him you would be out here. James has always been lucky with that sort of thing.

Tonight proves him right because he sees you leave out the backdoor. Your hand seems to be bandaged as you delicately shut the door. You're bundled up in a scarf and a coat that looks a little oversized. James wonders if that means you have a partner. He moves away from the wall and walks over.

"Hi," he clears his throat, making you jump.

You turn around and he can tell you're trying to recognize him in the darkness but then your eyes widen. "Oh, hi!" you exclaim, your voice coming out a little squeaky as you push down your scarf a little. "Can I help you?" you ask him.

James smiles and shakes his head. "I just wanted to apologize," he pauses when he sees your expression shift into confusion, "I'm the one that caused you to slip and hurt yourself. Here?" he adds and holds out his hand to sit on the curb.

He can tell you hesitate to follow him. Understandably. You don't take his hand but you walk with him further away from the building. You sit down and James leans his hands on his knees as he looks at you. "M'name is James. Potter, James Potter."

You laugh, smoothing a hand down your jeans, "You say that like James Bond," you smile but your smile drops when James doesn't look like he understands the reference. You don't mention it. "My name is Y/n Y/l/n, it's nice to meet you, James Potter."

"I hope you don't mind me asking this but you aren't fired are you?"

You shake your head, "Oh, no, thankfully." You look up at him a little bashfully, "I was just more worried than I should have been. I'm not the best at this job."

"Mmm, don't say that. You wouldn't have dropped the tray if I hadn't bumped you," James says reassuringly.

"I'm just clumsy," you chuckle. James smirks a little and tilts his head.

"Do you want to go out tomorrow? I know a good restaurant." He says it so bluntly you can't help but stare at him like he's grown two heads.

"What?"

"I wanna take you out," James pauses, backtracking as his cheeks burn pink, "If you'd like."

Your mind seems to be racing uncontrollably and James feels a little guilty. He doesn't want to pressure you. Could he have misread something? Or maybe he'd just imagined it all.

He stands up and dusts his pants. Usually, James wouldn't be one to up so easily but if he'd learned anything from Lily — persistence isn't the way into someone's heart.

"Wait," you stand up with him, looking into his eyes, "I would love to go out with you." You smile so wide your eyes squint and something in James's chest stirs as he can't help but smile at yours.

You laugh and it's contagious. Then, you walk up to James and rummage through your bag. Once you find your pen you scribble your number onto his palm with difficulty. "This looks much easier in the movies," you mumble with the cap in your mouth. James chuckles, looking at his palm to make sure he can read every number clearly.

"Call me?" you whisper, tucking your pen back into your bag as you look up at James.

"I will," he says, and one day later (he only waited that long because he couldn't figure out how to work the muggle phone) he does.

[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.

[yourfavwritersfavoritewriter]

fixing wade after a fight with baddies

w. wilson x fem!reader

rating: R (18+)

warnings: mentions of blood, swearing, p in v, no use of y/n, riding

word count: 1.0k

summary: you're basically wade's stay at home nurse when he goes to kill bad guys. something about him coming to you every night for help turns you on.

✧༝┉˚❋ ❋˚┉༝✧

Wade stumbles into your apartment with his Deadpool suit on, donning multiple bullet holes in it. He tears his mask off onto the floor. "I'm wounded. I might not make it!" He dramatically whines as he drops to the floor, spreading his blood all over the floor beneath him. You walk over to him, staring at his act unamused. "You're just going to stand there? You're not going to help your damsel in distress?" He pouts.

"Wade, you're getting blood all over the floor. Get up." You fling your hand out to help him up, which he begrudgingly accepts, rolling his eyes in the process. "Come. Let me get you cleaned up." You lead him to the bathroom and open the medicine cabinet to find rubbing alcohol. He sits on the toilet lid and sighs loudly.

"You'll never believe what happened today. Some Nathan Christopher Dayspring Askani'son Summers knockoff comes pummeling at me and-"

"Take your suit off." You cut him off.

"Woah! Why don't you take me out on a date first, cowboy." You roll your eyes at him. "Oh and now you're rolling your eyes at me? I can't tell if you're into me or disgusted by me. Please pick one, darling"

"Ooohh my gosh, Wade! Just take off your suit please. You're bleeding out of more holes than I can count."

"Okay, baby. Why don't you help me?" He turns with his back facing you, allowing you access to unzip him from the back. He panting, probably from exhaustion, as you push his suit off of his shoulder. Your fingers trace along the spine of his back. He lets out a deep breath, relaxing under your touch. He sheds the rest of his suit top, revealing his warped chest with now healed bullet wounds that are still covered in blood. "Well that's a surprise." Wade laughs lazily. He looks up at you with sleepy eyes. You hold his face in your hand and he slumps into it. You soak a cotton ball with rubbing alcohol and wipe his chest with it til it's clean.

"All better" you whisper. You hand travels down towards his chest, lightly brushing over his pecs and nipples. You lean down and kiss him sweetly. Your hand snakes to the back of his head, pulling him further into you. His hands go to your ass, obviously. The kiss deepens, turning into you guys making out. Wade stands up, picking you up by your ass and wrapping your legs around his hips and carrying you to the bed. He throws you down, the pillows breaking your fall.

He pulls down your shorts and underwear together, under your wet pussy, glistening. "Helping me got you all wet, sweet cheeks?" He drags his gloved finger over your folds, collecting your wetness. You moan against the friction and nod your head. Sitting up, you lay Wade next to you, and go to straddle his lap. You lock your lips with his again and again his big hands slip down your back to your bare ass, squeezing it hard. He uses his hands to rock your hips against his. Under you, you can feel his spandex straining against his growing erection.

"I missed you, Wade." You say in between kisses. Your clit continuously brushes against the leather of his suit, making your words come out breathy and moany.

"I missed you too. It gets so lonely killing people all the time. One minute they're there and then they're not." His hips buck into yours, sending jolts through both your privates. You both moan in tangent. "Fuck. You're getting my suit all messy, babe." He's looking down to where you cunt is placed over his bulge. You don't stop or slow down the rolls of your hips though, loving the way it feels. You bury your head into the crook of his neck, whimpering. "Nuh uh. Look at me." You lift your head back up to meet his eyes. "You started this, Raquel Welch." He smirks.

Without responding, you unbuckle his utility belt and he helps you take off his pants all the way onto the floor. His erection springs out of their confinement. Your shirt follows suit, also ending up on the floor, leaving you both naked. Wade's hands fly to cup both of your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers. You hover yourself over Wade's tip, lining him up to your entrance. You lower yourself down onto him, slowly, you both letting out sighs of relief and pleasure. Your hands are on his shoulders as you use him as a support beam, lifting yourself up and down, up and down. "Fuckkk." You moan. His dick is filling you up over and over again and it feels like heaven. His mouth is hung open, filling the air with obscenities as you ride him.

"Oh my Gosh, baby. You feel so perfect around me. Shit. I love your fucking pussy. All mine." He says in one long string of moans and grunts. "You look so good when you ride me." He states. You're fucking yourself so hard on his cock that you barely hear what he's saying. Especially when your moans are louder than a rape whistle. Your pace and movement of your hips sends Wade into a trance. His head lands onto your chest, your breasts bouncing onto his cheeks after every thrust. "Perfect place."

"Wade- Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum." Your legs shake as you feel your orgasm approaches.

"Go on. Cum for me baby. Cum on my cock." And those words send you over the edge. You spasm on his lap, your legs twitching and your cunt clenching around him. His orgasm comes short after yours, him shooting white ropes of his cum into you. "Shit."

Your body falls onto his, limp. You place lazy kisses onto his neck. He lifts your hips off of his, pulling out with his cum dripping out of your pussy. He disappears into the bathroom and comes back with a warm wet cloth. He wipes the inside of your thighs, "accidentally" brushing against your clit, making you jolt back. "I'm sorry, baby" He laughs.

You both lay down in bed, Wade cuddling into your back side. "I love you, Wade"

"I love you too." He kisses the back of your head.

[patscorner]

Sucker

Summary: 3 times KK was a sucker for you.

wc: 1,315

Contains: suggestive??... one mention of blood, fluff mostly

______________________________

ONE

“Baby, that doesn't even make any fucking sense.” KK rubs her forehead in frustration. It's date night for you two, and you've made the mistake of revealing how much you've spent on makeup in the last month to her.

“It's not even that much, bro.” You say, rolling your eyes. KK's eyes glance between yours and the road, jaw dropping. “You're telling me that spending two hundred dollars on makeup within a month doesn't bother your conscience-no, your bank account in the slightest?!”

You smile, eyes falling to your hands in your lap. “What?” KK asked, your change in demeanor noticeable. When you didn't answer she asked again.

“What?! What's funny?!” You look at her, shrug and smile. “My bank account feels fine.” Her face drops.

“I bought that, didn't I?”

You smile a little harder, if that was even possible. “You did indeed.” She sighs and shakes her head, a small smile placed on her face.

At her silence, you start to feel a little guilty, even though she never had a problem with it, it is her money.

“Is that okay…? I can return it- I'm sure they'll take it back, I've barely-”

Her hand on your thigh cuts you off, rubbing comforting circles. “Baby, baby, it's okay*. What's mine is yours.” She said softly.

“But two hundred is a lot of money.” You say your voice level lowering.

“And I'd give millions more if it means you can buy whatever you want.” She smiles, her hand cupping your face, pulling you into a quick kiss. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too.”

“So… how many things did you get for two hundred?” You're silent once more.

“Nevermind. I don't even wanna know.”

TWO

It's been three hours since KK had invited Paige, Ice, and Jana over to hang out. The first couple hours were spent playing Fortnite, and it left you bored out of your mind. Just when you thought they'd get off the game and do something else, Paige suggested 2k.

Which is why you're currently in the kitchen messing with anything you can get your hands on. You're bored out of your mind, and desperately need some type of stimulation, but you don't want to stop the girls from having fun.

You've already done the laundry, cleaned the bathroom, cleaned your KK room, and now you were in the kitchen messing with anything possible. It was already clean, so you were just doing the dishes. You were drying a glass cup, when it slipped out of your hand, shattering on the ground. You gasp in surprise as the shards of glass prick your leg, one larger piece breaking the skin in your shin.

Immediately, KK is throwing the controller on the couch, sprinting over to you. Her eyes are filled with concern, softening when she sees you're okay, but the concern lingering when she notices the blood on your leg.

“Baby, what happened? Are you okay?” She says, eyes dragging up and down your body, double checking for more possible injuries. You smile, but it falters when you feel your leg sting.

“Yeah, I just cut my leg.” You wince as you lean back on the counter. At this point, the other three girls have joined you both in the kitchen, hearing the commotion as well.

“Woah, what the hell’d you do?” Ice asked, attempting to hide her laugh, but failing. KK glares at her before turning back to you. “Here, sit on the counter…Paige, can you grab the first aid kit?”

KK lifts you onto the counter. “Why me?? Make Ice do it, she's the one laughing!” You smile as KK turns to Paige slowly. KK doesn't say anything, but Paige gets the hint, rolling her eyes as she goes to the bathroom.

“KK, it's fine, just a little scratch, let me clean up the mess.” She looks at you standing between your thighs stopping you from standing. “Fuck no. Jana can do that.”

“What? I'm not doing jack shit.”

“I'll give you twenty bucks.”

Jana opens the cabinet, grabbing the broom and beginning to sweep. Paige walks in, giggling at Jana, who shoots her a warning look, before handing the first aid kit to KK.

You smile as KK lifts your leg gently, pulling the tiny pieces of glass out of your shin. She soothingly rubs your leg as you wince. “I know, baby, I know. I'm sorry.”

Giggles echo, stopping when KK turns around. “Can y’all get the fuck out?” The three promptly disappear into the living room, quiet mockings of KK’s voice reaching your ears. “I can still hear you!” KK shouts, rolling her eyes.

You stare at her as she finishes pitching up your leg. Her eyes eventually meet yours, scanning your face. “What?” She asks.

You shake your head, pulling her flush against the counter, her body standing between your legs, her hands instinctively migrating to your thighs.

“You're so cute.” You whisper, wrapping your arms around her neck, pulling her impossibly closer. She smiles, burying her head in your neck, groaning loudly. She always gets flustered when you compliment her.

You laugh before she pulls back, kissing you deeply. “You're so sexy.”

“Mm… am I?” You ask seductively. KK nods, leaning to your lips. You sigh into the kiss, her hands wandering to your waist as yours find their way to her jaw.

She pulls away from your lips, immediately attaching her lips to your neck. She sucks lightly, kissing the marks that would inevitably end up there.

“KK..” She hums against your skin, continuing her gentle assault on your neck. “KK.” You say more sternly this time.

You laugh as she huffs and pulls away. “Later, baby, later.” She pouts, kissing you once more before helping you down.

You both walk into the living room, all the girls busy on their phone. KK leans into you, her lips dangerously close to your ear. “They wouldn't even have noticed.”

You slap her arm. “You're so fucking horny.” You roll your eyes.

“For you? Always?”

“Ugh, you're corny too.” You say, walking over to the couch, ignoring how turned on you are.

THREE

The team had just had an amazing game against South Carolina, so naturally, they went out clubbing. The Huskies went from bar to bar, dancing and drinking at one before moving to another. Classic bar-hopping.

At this point, you are far from being sober and KK was almost as drunk as you. That didn't stop her from being an amazing girlfriend.

When she recognized you both were plastered, she called an Uber and slurred a destination to the driver. You both made your way to the car, before you winced at the ache of your feet.

KK noticed immediately because she always did, and guided you to the nearest bench. “What're ya doin’?” You asked as she struggled to take your shoes off.

“Taking your shoes off. We’re switching.” She said it like it was obvious. You shake your head. “You don't have to do that.” You mumble.

It's too late now, she's already putting her shoes on your feet, tying the laces tight.

“I know. I want to.” She says, helping you up, your heels in one hand, leaving her in her socks.

“KK- socks? Really? At least put the heels on.”

“I'm already drunk as fuck, we wouldn't even make it to the car if I was in these fuckers. I truly don't know how you've been in them all night.”

You giggle as you interlink your arm with hers, leaning your weight on her.

“Thank you.” You smile up at her appreciatively.

She looks down at you, eyes filled with what can only be described as undying love. “Of course, baby. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

A comfortable silence settles between you both.

“Would you ever wear the heels so-” You begin.

“No.”

______________________________

taglist: @wintersstan @bueckerslover @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @girlokwhatever @pbloverr @breeloveschris-deactivated20240 @cosmopretty @hellokittyfeenie

[luveline]

is it too late to request a Father’s Day request for kbd steve?🥹

KBD —Steve starts his Father’s Day. mom!reader, 1k

“What does that mean?” 

Steve leans back, baby toothbrush in hand, baby toothpaste dripping down Dove’s chin. “What does what mean?” 

“Father’s Day.” She licks her lip. 

“Dove, don’t eat it.” He rinses her toothbrush and beckons her carefully on her stepping stool to the sink. “Come spit, honey.” 

Dove spits her toothpaste. Steve grins, leaning over her, turning on the faucet and grabbing a handful of warm water to wipe her face. She spits again into his hand, but he’s unphased, wiping her down and turning off the water. 

She turns expectedly for a towel. Steve brings it to her face and dabs her dry gently. “Father’s Day just means a day for dad’s.” 

“Day to do what?” 

“It’s sort of like a birthday. Like, a day for children to show they love their daddy’s.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “So if you really love me, Dove, today’s the day to show it.” 

Her lashes kiss her eyebrows as her eyes widen. “Today?” 

“It’s today, yeah.” 

Steve looks down on her, his little baby with her mom’s surprised face and his everything else, give or take. She’s getting so smart, but she’s still so small, Steve can pick her up like a couple of cans of tinned pears. She’s never heavy, just whiny. She looks up at him and he can see a few cogs still turning. 

“Babe,” he says, holding her face softly, “it’s not a big deal. Every day we spend together is a good day, so you don’t have to worry. I love my girl, I love all my girls, and I’m just excited for mom’s big breakfast.” 

“I love you, too,” she says seriously. 

He smooths the temporary wrinkle from between her eyebrows. “I love you more. Are we all done in the bathroom? Do you need to pee before we go have breakfast?” 

She doesn’t need a pee. Dove offers her hand and he takes it, helping her down from the stool, and guiding her out of the bathroom back to the master bedroom. You’re sitting on the made bed with Wren laying down beside you, freshly changed and dressed for what feels like the millionth time. 

“Hey. Did you brush?” you ask him. 

“We both brushed, duh.” Steve leans down behind Dove to frame her shoulders proudly. “Show mom your pearly whites, baby.” 

Dove beams. You pick Wren up and prop her, smiling and quiet, on your knee to see Dove’s teeth. “Woah, look at that, Wren. Look at Dove’s clean teeth, aren’t they perfect?” 

Wren gurgles with a distinct sense of sisterly love. Wren and Dove get along well, all the girls do, but Steve believes there’s been a faction forming between Beth and Avery, so he’s glad for Dove’s fondness as she steps away from him to try and give the baby a hug. Wren doesn’t know enough to hug back yet, but you do. 

“Come on, let’s go have breakfast,” Steve says, sparing a glance behind you for the spoils of Father’s Day. There are some clothes, some candies, and a favourite tray of crafts made through teamwork for Steve to display at his discretion. He couldn’t be any luckier. 

You’re smiling too as you follow him out of the bedroom. You usually are, to be fair to you, you’ve always smiled around Steve because you’re both remarkable idiots in love with one another after everything, because of everything. Steve can’t believe he gets to be in one of those marriages that get stronger each year, and occasionally you return the sentiment aloud, whispering something kind in his ear when you’re both almost sleeping. They don’t have a word for how much I love you, H. 

He catches you for a quick kiss pressed to your cheek as you reach the bottom of the stairs. 

“Oh, thanks,” you mumble, rubbing your cheek against your shoulder in a mock demureness that actually makes his heart skip a beat. If he does it enough times, your faking it will become real. 

He kisses you again. “Beautiful,” he says. 

“Thanks,” you say again, your tone tipping into shyness, just a touch. 

“I’m beautiful,” Dove says. 

She paws at Steve’s leg. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, ushering her forward to make room for everyone to keep walking. “Dove, I think you’re the most beautiful three nearly four year old in the whole wide world.” 

“Am I the most beautiful…” Bethie pauses, standing on a chair at the table, her nightie creased but her hair done and out of her face. “How old am I?” she asks. 

“Six!” Steve says. “You don’t remember how old you are?” 

“I forgot.” She frowns, and then she shakes it off. “Daddy, we’re setting the table.” 

“And you’re doing such a good job!” He turns his head one way and the other, searching their tired kitchen for his eldest girl. “Avery, where’d you go?” he asks. 

She pops up in front of him with a roar. “Got you!” she declares, wrapping her arms around his legs. 

“You think so?” He grabs her under the arms and lifts her. She’s much heavier than the rest of her sisters, but she’s his big girl, so of course she is. Steve isn’t too old as to carry her yet, letting her torso fall forward, her back to his chest as he hangs her upside down. 

She bursts into terrified laughter. “Dad, put me down! You’re dropping me!” 

“How many times do we have to go over this, Ave? I have never dropped you. I will never drop you.” He chuckles nonchalantly. “Looks like I’m the one that got you.” 

“You’re not funny, dad!” 

“I’m very funny.” He manages to get her the right way round again, and puckers his lips for a kiss. She doesn’t kiss him. “Avery, it’s Father’s Day. You can’t be mad at me ‘cos that’s illegal.” 

“You’re illegal.” 

“Just one little kiss?” he asks softly. 

“You have to!” Dove says, attempting to climb onto the chair with Beth, your hand behind her back. “Avery, it’s Father’s Day.” 

“I know, Dove, he just said that!” 

Still, Steve gets his kisses and a good hug, too. He lets his voice go all melty and corny as he rubs his nose into her cheek, “Thanks, my little nugget. You give the best kiss in the world.” 

“I am not a nugget.” 

“Are you sure? How do we check?” 

You put the baby in her padded high chair, convince Dove and Beth that they’ll be happier sitting in their own chairs on their booster pillows, and then slide behind Steve and Avery to push at them. “Come on, I’m making breakfast.” 

“What are we having?” Steve asks, smiling over Avery’s shoulder as she nuzzles her face against his neck. She used to fit in one arm, but he doesn’t mind wrapping both of them around her as he sits down, his long girl tight to his chest. 

“Everything,” you promise. “The whole works for my guy.” 

“Whole works,” he says, kissing the top of Avery’s ear. “Can you believe that?” 

[acotarxreader]

Healing Hands

Azriel x Reader (Devlon's daughter)

Synopsis: A new suitor in your life interrupts your friendship with your three best friends at Windhaven. The budding healer in you finds yourself breaking more hearts than healing.

Warnings: Angsty angst, fluff, descriptions of injury and cleaning injury. Blood and bruising city.

A/N: Hehe this is just a silly little will-they-won't-they taking place towards the end of the boyos time at Windhaven.

(Alternative title for this was Flutter lol)

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

“Woah what happened to you?”

“Fucking Devlon, fucking surprise drills” Azriel stomped inside your minuscule cabin, a mile or so from Windhaven where your childhood friends were coming to the end of their training. Your wings hung in their usual state, bumping the front door closed behind Azriel as he threw himself down on the couch. He flexed his cracked hands into small fists at the sight of your clipping scar while you retrieved your box of medicinals.

“Poor Illyrian baby” You teased, sinking into the seat alongside him, scarlet dripping from deep in his hairline, to slip past his split open lip and his bloodshot right eye.

“Just fix it”

“A please would go a long way” You jerked his chin towards the light to inspect his injuries. 

“Hands” you ordered, they shook slightly before being steadied by yours, you inspected his splintering knuckles, your thumb slipping over his now well-over decade-old injuries decorating his skin for the rest of his life. Hazel eyes softened at the loving action until you returned his hands to his lap and reached for the mixture of alcohol and herbs to soak on balls of cotton wool. You kneeled on the couch cushion, tilting his head down to attempt to find the source of the stream of blood.

“YNN, on your knees for me? You’re such a tease”

“Careful Az or your eyes will be a matching set” You shot back with a smile, the mouth of the wound coming into your view, you leaned in further, tilting his head downwards as you inked the mixture slowly into the cut.

“You know you're basically forcing my head into your chest now right?”

“Are you complaining?” You squeezed the cotton ball tightly, the liquid free flowing into the cut, releasing a hiss from Azriel, his hands gripping your hips into the burn. The cotton ball soaked the majority of the blood into its fibres until you replaced it with a fresh victim. 

“Don’t cross the healer/patient relationship line Az” You grinned, prying one of his hands from your hip to hold the cotton down. You swiped a cloth across the drying blood before sitting cross-legged across from him after retrieving something else from your bag and pulling him closer to you to look at his swelling orbit. 

“This was just an excuse so you could spend the night looking into my eyes wasn’t YNN” He grinned until you flickered a small fae-light directly into his eye causing him to flinch away from you. 

“Argh!”

“Well your pupils are fine” He shoved you back as you laughed in almost hysterics, his body now hovering the length of yours, a hand above your head to support his weight. 

“No need to fix my eye now that you’ve blinded me” 

“You're right, we should fix your lip though” You lightly catch him by the chin, dragging him down closer, him willingly going, dropping the cotton pad he held. Your faces were mere inches away now, Azriel believing he was about to have some of his dreams come true. He slowly closed his eyes but you quickly reached for another soaked cotton pad and pressed it to his lip. Azriel half howled from the surprise and accompanying pain, shooting up straight, a leg on either side of you while patting his lip dry.

“Bitch!”

“An odd way to say thank you but I accept” You smirk, his hands reaching to your sides as he had you pinned, tickling you mercilessly leaving you caught between a scream and laugh.

“Truce! Truce!” You called out as he beamed down at you, only stopping once you had begun to turn purple. You smiled up sweetly at him before the sound of a rusty lock shattered the peace in the cabin. Azriel leapt from you, shooting down to hide behind the couch as the latch on your front door lifted. You stuffed the used cotton pads behind the couch cushion as your father allowed Summer air to whip through the cabin. 

“Evening sweetheart” You smiled up at his greeting as he rolled his head along his shoulders. His eyes landed on the open case of medic supplies on the coffee table, a brow raising. 

“YNN you know I don’t like you messing around with that stuff”

“But I’m good at it” 

“It doesn’t matter, not the way to secure a useful match, playing around with things we leave to the professionals” He sighed, picking up a ball of cotton, the minuscule drop of blood threatened to betray you, you could practically feel Azriel holding in his breath behind the couch.

“Okay Father” you dipped your head, resulting in a small smile growing across Devlon’s face at his wallflower daughter. 

“YNN, have you given further thought to the offer of courtship you’ve received” Your eyes darted back to him before he strode back over in the direction he came from, you felt the gentle press of a shadow around your ankle, only for you to softly brush it away with your other foot. 

“No”

“Perhaps you’d enjoy this male’s company, it would certainly be a better use of your time than those three males I see you sneaking off with”

“Surely there is no better than a High Lord's son” you quipped, him spinning back to you, rage flashing across him before disappearing again. Azriel bit hit tongue from behind the couch, the sheer thought of you with his brother threatening to rise a laugh from him.

“There’s better than that High Lord’s son” You could practically feel the heat radiate from the other side of the couch at the disrespect towards Rhysand. You gave an obedient smile before standing to close the distance between you and your father, hoping he wouldn’t sense the quietly boiling Illyrian. 

“I will consider meeting with this match Father, now please rest, I’m sure those surprise drills were rather taxing to arrange” 

“Quite” He nodded, moving across the cabin before his hand hovered on the door handle that led to the hallway of bedrooms. 

“How did you know about the surprise drill?” His eyebrow raised like the heat in your cheeks. 

“Umm it’s a Tuesday...every fifth Tuesday you have your surprise drills” You offered. 

“Quite right-” he laughed, air returning to your chest “-perhaps I should move things around if even a female can work it out, no doubt some of my cadets have it twigged as well. Goodnight Sweetheart, clean up that mess and head to bed” He passed through the door with a smile. Azriel stayed hidden until the click of Devlon’s door met his ears, your shoulders slumping down. 

“So little YNN has a suitor” He teased quietly, hoping to cover the simmering jealousy as it rose through him. You just rolled your eyes as you packed a small care package for Azriel to use on his wounds. 

“Well, who is he?”

“Leave it Az”

“No no, you have to tell me” he whispered, gratefully taking the small package you made for him. 

“He’s no one, he finished up training last year and is doing pretty well for himself, Rhy’s father has even taken notice of him”

“Rhy’s father notices me”

“Yes but he notices him for good reasons” He threw a cotton wool ball at you before heading back towards the door. 

“Make sure you wipe down your hands and apply the cream I gave you”

“Yes boss” He gave a mock salute to you, hand resting on the door handle.

“Do you think you’re going to agree to meet up with this so-called Mother’s gift to Illyria” you chuckled at him, resting your arms behind your back and rocking from one foot to the other. 

“I don’t know, maybe, I’m not getting any younger, my wings are ruined, why not add my future to the list” Your sad smile caused a twinge in Azriel’s heart. 

“Marry me then” he teased.

“I don’t want to marry you” he rolled his eyes at your toying, suddenly releasing the handle of the door to push you flush into the coat rack with a gentle thud. You let out a slight sexually charged whimper at the sudden control he was taking and he smirked. Damn it, you thought. He was inches from your face once again.

“Yeah, I thought so” he winked before releasing you, revelling in the little victory you just granted him while you cursed yourself.

“I think I will agree to meet him” You tried to regain control as Azriel allowed more air to flutter into the apartment. He didn’t reply, afraid he’d shown you too many cards already.  

—--------------------------

Try as you might, Devlon stayed persistent with you with regards to meeting this male. Surprisingly, he wasn’t as terrible as you had assumed, Cal had a somewhat medley of opinions similar to your fathers but also to your friends. More importantly to you, he introduced you to the world outside the war camp, bringing you to Velaris for the first time, an easy place to fall in love with. You learned quickly that if you agreed to meet with him, more often than not the courtship would lead you out of the Illyrian mountains, your deepest desire. With more and more time away from the camp, more and more time away from your friends coincided, not going unnoticed by the trio. Azriel believed he’d lost you to the dashing soldier when really you were enamoured by the city of starlight while still able to keep a healthy distance from Cal’s advances under the guise of proper etiquette. It had been almost three months since Azriel had heard of the potential match your father was in favour of, his moody behaviour being sent on overdrive ever since, his two best friends being tormented by the increasing edge to their friend. 

You wandered home through the camp on your usual route after a rendezvous with Cal, blushing as you walked thinking of the way the music on the streets of Velaris made you feel. 

“Your cheeks are the same colour as my ribs” Your head spun towards Cassian, leaning against a post of a training ring, the Autumn night air beginning to give over to the Winter bite. 

“Cass” you rushed to him, hugging quickly to evade any eyes that may still be lingering around so late at night. 

“Surprised you still remember my name YNN” He teased with a slight edge of annoyance, your hand ran over his cheek, his eye swelling slightly to match his lip. 

“What happened?” 

“Ehh surprise drill, the Blood Rite will be in a few months, all the practice we can get is needed” He said softly, pulling your hand from his face, you swished your bag from your side to dig through its contents. You passed him a pouch of homemade lotions and potions to help soothe his splintered face. 

“Thanks, YNN, I got out fairly unscathed in comparison to Rhys and A-”

“I’m not that ruined” Rhysand’s laugh met your ears, one of your favourite sounds but the sight of him quickly ended any ounce of joy you held. 

“Rhys…” It was as though he had been torn asunder by wolves, even his clothes shredded.

“You two are coming home with me right now. My fathers meeting with yours Rhys, I’m not leaving you two to die of infection before you have a chance to kick all their asses at the Blood Rite” You didn’t give them much of a choice, the two Ilyrians following you home, under the guise of accompanying a lady safely home. 

You had patched together what you could of your friends, finding the return of comfort in their company that you had missed so deeply. 

“It seems rather early still for Blood Rite drills” You mused, offering Cassian a large cup of fragrant floral tea as the two warriors lounged on your couch.

“Drill? It wasn't a-” Cassian stomped down harshly on Rhysand’s foot to silence him, the action immediately alerting you, Cassian exhaling deeply as an accompanying roll of his eyes travelled his face. 

“Spill, now” you ordered Rhysand.

“Well…Az has been kind of… temperamental, we decided on temperamental didn’t we Cass?”

“I voted for raging asshole but whatever” Cassian sank further into the couch, pressing a medicinal-soaked cloth into his eye as it threatened to close. Your hands found your hips, glaring down at your friends like scolded schoolchildren. 

“Anyways, he’s been picking a lot of fights lately which is fine, it’s how he should work through his feelings but this time…this time he kind of decided to take on a whole fleet of Ironcrest members all very eager to receive their stripes, all by himself, we got to him just in tim-” Cassian sighed again through Rhysand’s confession, slightly annoyed that Rhysand had forgotten their deal to not tell you. 

“-Where is he?”

“YNN, I don’t think you should g-”

“Where is he?” you chewed out, not welcoming negotiations, the two brothers sharing a worried glance.

“Oooone-”

“-YNN we’re not children-”

“-Twoooo-”

“That’s not going to work on us-”

“Thhhhr-”

“He’s at Rhys’ mother's house!”

“Cassian!” Rhysand scolded, returning the stomp of a foot from early.

“She’s fucking scary when she does that!” Cassian exclaimed, a hand landing on his now bruising foot. You shot away from the two of them, quickly changing into a looser top and trousers. 

“Bunch of 24-year-old babies” You muttered, filling your bag with fresh supplies. 

“It’s not our fault you’ve driven him crazy” You stopped on the threshold of your home, turning your head towards another one of Rhysand’s confessions, tilting your head daring him to continue. 

“C’mon YNN, you’re off fluttering about with some hot shot, forgetting all about us, you're not around to rein him in lately so he's bound to go off to his own devices to distract himself”

“I do not flutter”

“Fine, let's go with galavant-”

“-I would say whore around but-”

“Cassian, inside thoughts” Rhysand warned, your hand leaving the handle to storm in front of the two Illryrians again. 

“I think you all forget that in a couple of months, you’ll be gone, off to be unleashed on the world, with one another. I’ll be here, I’ll always be fucking here, broken wings to match the broken dreams of escaping this hellhole while the rest of you go on and live your fucking lives without me. So please, forgive me for seeing an out no one else could provide me and fucking taking it” You snapped out, stunning the two males into silence, moving quickly with a heavy foot out the door. 

“And for fuck sake take your feet off my coffee table!” You shouted back, slamming the door behind you in a fit of rage. Cassian's feet returned to the ground, both men brought down a few pegs with their new awareness of their ignorance. 

Your rage could melt through the first fall of snow that began to glitter on the roofs of the war camp. Your heavy treading split the mud apart as you landed outside the haven provided to your friends. Your hand found the hidden key, letting yourself in, practically taking the door off the hinges. 

“YN? What the fuck?” Azriel groaned, attempting to sit up on the couch, his muscles screaming at the movement as they fought to stay attached to the bone. 

“No, you don’t get to talk right now!” Your feet pounded the floorboards and right through Azriels ears. 

“Where the fuck do you get off thinking it’s my fucking responsibility to regulate your emotions?!” You couldn’t stop the rage-fueled truth flying from your mouth.

“I-I don’t do that” he winced out, a hand wrapping around his torso to keep the muscle tying his ribs together from giving up, his feet landing shakily on the floor to sit up on the couch and face you properly. 

“Save it! Dumb and Dumber already told me about your recent…outings. What the fuck is wrong with you!? Alone!? They could have killed you!” You couldn’t seem to bring your voice back to its normal register, slamming your trusty bag of lifesaving ingredients down on the small table in front of Azriel. 

“Don’t pretend you all of sudden care about that! What? Has your prince charming turned back into an Illyrian frog like the rest of us?!” The blood coating his lip ran freely as his equally sharp tone reseparated the skin. 

“Shut the fuck up, give me your stupid hands” You sat on the coffee table, his knees touching yours as he slipped his hand to you with caution, your thumb tracing over the scars of his childhood as they always did while you inspected hands. Despite your current temper, the action gave comfort to Azriel that all was not lost between you both. 

“There’s a duck on the sink” You said oddly bitterly.

“Wha-ARGH FUCKING HELL!” You relocated his thumb back into its socket, his hands snatching back from you as they attempted to flex away the pain again. You pulled his face closer to yours, a particularly deep laceration decorating across his eyebrow. 

“Fucking idiot” you murmured, pulling thin threads of fabric that you began to coat with a sticky substance. 

“Bedside manner could use work”

“Shut up” You chewed back, Azriel’s shoulders sinking. Despite the nature of the visit, if he was honest with himself, there was an element of him that loved this one-on-one time, the first in weeks. He winced as you ran the strips on either side of the incision, using the tension to pull the skin back together where his healing powers would aid the knitting together. 

“Right. Shirt. Off. Now.” You ordered, removing yourself from in front of him to quickly fill a dish of water and elixir at the sink, returning to your starting point. Azriel fought the urge to shriek at the movement of his arms. You exhaled, helping him to pull the fabric from his skin, revealing the mottling covering his chest and abdomen. 

“Some of these are older” the first time your voice had softened since your arrival, your fingers lightly brushing over the blotches of winter palette in front of you. His eyes traced the lines of your face as it dipped to inspect his dappling. 

“It’s been a tough time recently”

“Who’s fault is that?” You gave a breathy laugh, running some thick creams over the fresher bruises before dipping a cloth into the dish and running it down his face to remove the dried blood. 

“Mine” He gave the gentlest of smiles that you returned, meeting his eyes for the first time since you arrived. 

“Good answer” You found yourself grinning, the boiling rage seemingly sinking to a simmer as you stood to retrieve a fresh shirt for Azriel to shield himself in. 

“You’re going to have to start getting better at taking care of your wounds for when you leave Az” You gestured for him to lift his arms as you pulled the surprisingly soft cotton down around him again, the bruising having happily drank the serum you applied. 

“Not if I steal you away with me” he laughed as his head popped through the collar, his body jolting slightly with the movement. 

“Ah to be your nurse”

“To be my partner in crime as you always have been” His soft words ceased all heating of your rage as you found your familiar spot next to him on the couch, the snow now beating down on the windowpane. 

“I wish I could Az but as you know my only way out of here is in a bright white dress or a casket, some might say those are the same thing” Your hand found the side of his cheek before tangling slightly in his hair as he leaned into the touch he missed so much. 

“You know those aren’t your only choices, we’ll come back for you YNN” He fought the rising salty mixture threatening his eyes, your hand slipping from his face to find your lap. Azriel grimaced as he turned his body to face you, his hands held yours as you often held his, his thumbs tracing the backs of your hand.

“And am I to wait and hope you don’t find another female for your group”

“Mor is not gonna like that comment” You laughed, pushing him back gently, regretting it as he recoiled his tender muscles. 

“There is no other you YN but we understand if you can’t wait for us, your survival is more important than our pride” his soft smile met your hands with a gentle kiss, your wings dipping at the action. 

“So you’re telling me if I chose to accept to marry Cal you’d be happy with that”

“Yes” he gritted out.

“Liar” you laughed wholeheartedly.

“He is a suitable match” he managed, his hands fixating on your delicate palms against the stark contrast of his own blood betrayal.

“I think you're a suitable match for me” You finally admitted out loud, the words had never left your mind before but now they floated out there in front of you for him to hear. 

“I am not suitable for anyone” His hands slipped from yours, landing back in his lap, his hazel eyes fixated on them as the cracked knuckles attempted to fuse together again. 

“Azriel”

“It’s not your job to regulate my emotions YNN” You laughed lightly, pulling his hands back to yours.

“I’ll regulate the stupid ones and that my love is a stupid one” A soft shiver shot down through Azriel’s spine at the term of endearment. 

“YNN, I am going to climb every mountain they put in front of me until I am worthy of you”

“Az, you’re worthy now” You leaned across the space between you, the taste of slight metallic and iron meeting your lips as you met him. Warmth transversed the air around you, the action healing something cracked in your soul and something in Azriel’s he thought had long died. 

“Looks a lot like fluttering to me” Rhysand laughed from the doorway, separating the two of you quickly, Cassian limping to his side, snow-covered. 

“How come that wasn’t offered to us in our care plan?” 

“You called me a whore Cass, you’ll get nothing and like it” You laughed as they closed the door behind you, Azriel a little more than annoyed at the interruption. 

“He what?” Azriels stiff neck shot towards his friends, Cassian lifting his hands in a truce. 

“Easy Az, another stupid emotion is showing” You smiled.

“I have no regrets, I’m team Az” Cassian settled into the carpeted floor across from you both. 

“By the looks of it, so is YNN now” Rhysand called from the kitchen, searching for snacks. He returned with a dragon trove amount of snacks, happy to see his family healing together as one again. 

“Cassian and I are sorry for what we said YNN, jokes aside”

“Aw no not jokes aside” Rhysand clipped Cassian into the chest with an orange, the four of you laughing. Azriel’s hand folded neatly into yours, and as always your thumb traced soothing circles over his scars. 

“I’m going to speak with my father tomorrow, his lead healer, Madja, is looking for an apprentice and Devlon won’t be able to refuse his High L-” you leapt from Azriel’s side, practically crashing Rhysand into the plush fabric of a well-worn armchair. 

“Sorry sorry!” You quickly added as Rhysand groaned into the weight you were putting down on his still-healing body. 

“See, whoring around” Cassian quipped, one of Azriel’s shadows nipping him with more precision than an orange. 

“No white dress or casket required while we’re around YNN” Azriel beamed from behind you.

“You’re rescinding your marriage proposal from Summer” You fake offense, finding your spot next to him again. 

“Only if you don’t accept it” he laughed. 

“Ugh cauldron boil me, are we going to have to deal with this for our last few months” Cassian whined.

"I'm hoping the rest of our lives" Azriel received more groans from your two best friends. 

"I think I preferred when you were a raging asshole"

"Too bad Cass" you grinned, Cassian pressing his face into a pillow to shield his eyes as you Azriel pecked your cheek.

The remainder of the night was wrapped in overwhelming familial familiarity. The four of you catching up on the months of escapades you had missed from one another during your absence, Azriel’s head resting in your lap where you swirled your fingers in his hair, his hands resting on your legs, wishing the end of this moment would never come.

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

Whatcha think?

[lw6xwoso]

Lucky | Leah Williamson

Looking after a drunk Leah

Warnings:none really suggestive? Fluff

You set down your plate, eyebrows furrowing. “Leah?” You call out, walking towards the kitchen door. “Hey, who's there?” Leah stumbled in. Tripping over her own two feet. Her hair was messy, strands falling down from her ponytail wind blown, and her shirt was slightly unbuttoned, showing off her collarbones. “Well well, it seems like someone had far too much to drink.” You tease, reaching for her hand. She lets you grab it, eyebrows furrowing eyes raking over your body.

You suddenly remember what you were wearing. Tight shorts that rolled over your soft thighs and one of Leahs tank tops, with no bra. She was very tall, so you always rolled the shirt right above your waist. You noticed her tongue roll over her lips, smirking. “So, by any chance.. Do you have a girlfriend?” Leah leaned forward, taking a bite of the toast on your plate shovelling it into her mouth. “Leah,” You burst out laughing, leaning forward into the table.

“What? Youre like…really fucking hot. Really.” She watched you take a bite of the same toast. “We have been together for 4 years now, god how much have you had to drink?” You shake your head. “I'm not drunk at all.” She slurred the last part. “And we are together? No fucking way.” She smiled to herself like she won an award. “Yeah! Look.” You shove your phone in her face, showing her your lock screen. It was Leah smiling and you kissing her cheek with a beautiful pink-ish sunset in the background

“Im a veeery lucky geezer then, you’re quite hot.” Leah’s eyes closed. You shook your head an amused smile playing on your lips. “Let's get you cleaned up.” You pull her up, dragging her to the bathroom like a lost puppy. She leans against the counter, watching you as you walk around the bedroom, grabbing her some fresh clothes. “Here.” You set them down, working the buttons on her shirt.

“Woah, woah, woah. You haven't even kissed me yet.” She frowned as she shrugged her shirt off “Just put these on. I’ll kiss you after this.” You urged, putting toothpaste on her toothbrush. “Are you saying my breath stinks?” She threw on her arsenal shirt, one hand snaking around your waist. “Yes, Leah, totally.” You roll your eyes, sarcasm lacing your voice. She finished up, arms wrapped around you. “I never got my kiss.” She squeezed the fat of your hips. You turn around quickly, pulling her down from the nape

She prodded her tongue in your mouth almost immediately, her kiss full of lust and excitement. Her hands traveled to your ass, hands massaging you softly. “Oh, im really fucking lucky.” She pulled away, pushing you against the bed. “Wanna show me how lucky?” Was all she needed to hear before she was quick to pounce on you kissing you again. 

[secretly-dum]

Could I get a Joel miller x reader fic where the reader gets her period and her past partners always made her sleep on the couch bc they thought it was gross and Joel is just like wtf at someone treating his daeling like that?

Come Back to Bed, Please?

pairing: joel miller x AFAB!reader

genre: romantic fluff <3

summary: you get your period and freak out over what Joel’s reaction could be.

warning/contents: reader has a period, blood mentions(obv), Y/N is used, AFAB reader, mentions of past relationships, it gets a tad bit angsty.

additional notes: ty for the request!! Im actually AFAB(I identify as agender btw) so I can relate to this 😭

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Your stomach starts to hurt and you immediately realize what time of the month it is. You rush to the bathroom and grab your stash of pads underneath the cold sink.

Knock, knock.

You completely forgot about Joel..

“Uh..Y/N? You..you alright…?” Joel questions worryingly, thinking the worst that could possibly happen to you.

“I’m alright…I’m just on period!” You yell out nervously, hoping that he wouldn’t make a snarky remark or say you’re disgusting.

“Alright, just tell me if you need anything.” He says and you hear him walk away. Fear washes off of you, but confusion starts to settle in when he didn’t give you the reaction you thought we was going to give you. Cleaning yourself up, a cold darkness settles outside, indicating that you should start to go to rest.

“Took Ellie to sleep, she told me to tell you ‘goodnight’” Joel says chuckling softly and you smile.

“Well, I’m tired too. Think I’m gonna head to bed now.” You say as you pick up your pillow and a blanket from you and Joel’s shared bed.

“Woah woah woah! The hell are ya’ doing?”

“Picking up my stuff…?”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I’m on my period, dummy.” You nonchalantly reply, and lay down on the couch. Joel looks at you with the most confused expression ever and realization hits you like a truck.

“That don’t mean you have to sleep on the couch.” His southern deep accent breaks the short silence between the two of you. Opening your mouth, your voice seemingly disappears from your throat, and now you’re the one confused.

“But that doesn’t…that doesn’t make you disgusted? Or something? Doesn’t that bother you?” You say, barely above a whisper.

“No…? Y/N…god dammit.” He pinches the bridge of his nose making you even more confused.

“Wha-“

“I’ve dealt with all sorts of blood before. I’ve seen clickers in front of me, and those shits are nasty. You really think blood like that is gonna bother me?”

Now that he says it, that really doesn’t make sense. His statement lingers in your head for a while before you say something.

“Well- I guess that’s just a reaction I get a lot. My past partners didn’t like the fact that I naturally bled, so they usually made me sleep on the couch.” You admit, looking down at the floor to avoid looking at Joel’s face. He stays silent longer than usual and you look up to see him being shocked.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You giggle.

“That’s fucking absurd? No one should treat you like that, ever. They’re lucky I don’t know who they are.” He says walking to you and pressing his forehead against yours, pinning you down on the couch. A warm, fuzzy feeling enters your heart and you let your left hand trail up to his cheek. Moonlight hits the floor, brightening the living room.

“It’s not that serious Joel.” You say, playfully rolling your eyes.

“It’s that serious to me, you’re…you’re human. It’s something that happens naturally, if they don’t like that then you should’ve left them.”

Your gaze at him starts to turn blurry as tears show up in your eyes, you kiss him and he unexpectedly picks you up bridal-style. You squeal out his name and he tells you to ‘shush up’. He gently places you down on the bed.

“Get yourself comfortable, I’ll be back in a minute.” The covers of the bed get on top of you and Joel leaves the room.

A few minutes passed, where is this man? you thought, and he walks in the moment you stop thinking.

“U-Uh..H-Here..” you grab a mug out of his hands and embrace the warmth of it.

“What is it?”

“Tea��it’s from a uh..tip that Tess told me that would help with cramps..” Red tints his face, but luckily from the darkness it’s not visible.

“Aww Joel, you didn’t have to do that!” You say as he steps in bed, you take a few sips from the tea and place it down on the table next to the bed. Joel slips more under the bed and fully gets comfortable, and you position to be the big spoon. You arm wraps around his back and you feel Joel kissing your shoulder.

“I love you, don’t let anybody tell you different.”

“Joel…

I love you too.”

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

[rainylana]

“I’m not always bad.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: eddie finds you crying. why does he care?

warnings: bully eddie, bad boy, awkward and meanie eddie, language, crying, upset reader, talk of cancer, readers dad has cancer. a potential series if you want it, let me know!

gif is not mine!

update! part two has been posted and is located on my masterlist!

He supposed maybe over time it wouldn’t be absolutely crazy to have some sort of care for you, after all, he had known you since the both of you were in diapers in preschool together, and ever since, he’d treated you like dirt beneath his leather boots.

He was an absolute prick to you, and you couldn’t remember one memory of him being nice to you. Maybe it was because you came from a ‘white picket fence’ home, had good grades, an honor student, actually. Maybe it was because you were pretty? Maybe he liked you? No. You had long since disregarded that idea many years ago. He wouldn’t be this mean.

You walked as quickly as you could to the gymnasium, pink heels clicking with every step and turn. Your eyes blurred with tears and you hiccuped a breath. You pushed open the door, relieved no one was in there, at least, not to your knowledge, and plopped down on the closet set of bleachers to your right. You put your head in your hands and cried like a baby pathetically.

Eddie was closing up a deal when you’d come busting in dramatically. He quickly hid his stash, thinking it was a teacher as his customer quickly left the scene, muttering a thank you as he did so. When he say it was you, he cursed under his breath and put away his things.

He adjusted his jacket, putting away his weed and wallet as he watched you. He squinted his eyes. Were you crying? He’d seen you cry before, that wasn’t anything new, but you looked upset. He walked across the gym floor, adjusting his junk like a typical male specimen.

“Why the long face, L/n?” His demeaning voice boomed and echoed.

You jumped, revealing your tear stricken face. You groaned. “Fuck! I- I didn’t know anyone was in here. Sorry.” You went up to leave.

“Woah, woah,” He held up his hands. “You’re on my turf, L/n. Crying and trespassing on my property are not to go unpunished.” He tried to ignore the fact you were visibly upset, thinking maybe you got a bad grade or tripped over your own feet and embarrassed yourself. That’s usually what it was, anyways.

Today, however, you couldn’t deal with his dramatics. Your face crumbled into tears and you sobbed, slowly sinking back down to your seat and hunched back over. Eddie, despite his antics, couldn’t help but furrow his brow. He watched you for a moment, looking to see if anyone else was around he could pass you off to. He looked back at you, and when you pushed out a particular harsh sob, he knew that this time was different. Something was wrong.

Unbeknownst to him, he frowned, pursing his lips and climbed up to bleachers to sit beside you. He looked at you like you were from another planet, eyes wide and alert like you were playing a joke on him. He didn’t like this said joke.

“Hey, uh,” He cleared his throat, looking for the quickest way out. “Stop crying.” Way to cheer her up, buddy.

“I can’t.” You sobbed into your hands. “My life’s falling apart!”

That broke him out of his shocked state and he rolled his eyes at your dramatics, leaning back into his seat. “What happened now?”

“Just leave me alone, Eddie!” You snapped angrily, jerking your head toward him so hard he thought it was fly clean off and roll onto the floor with the rest of the disregarded basketballs. “Do you have to be such a jerk everyday of my life? Can’t you let me cry in peace just for once?” You stared at Eddie, who was startled and wide eyed, looking at you like you’d gone made.

He sighed heavily, a mask of irritation and annoyance falling over his hooded eyes. “Fine.”

He got up to leave, obeying your wish for once. You watched him get up and leave, and for some odd reason, your heart seemed to sink even further. Once again, you sank back into yourself, listening as his footsteps got further and further away.

He cursed when he got to the gymnasium door, turning back to look at your weeping figure. “Fuck.” He clenched his fist and brought it up to his teeth angrily. Why? Why did he suddenly seem to care about your distress?

He was back beside you, sighing loudly like he didn’t care. “Alright, L/n, what’s going on?”

You gave him a sharp glare, shooting him daggers. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” He fired back. “But I don’t need you busting in during my deals, so you might as well get whatever it is off your chest and wipe your damn tears.” He lifted himself off the seat briefly, reaching back and grabbing his black bandana and handing it to you. You didn’t grab it, so he placed it on your lap with a huff.

It was your turn to look him strangely, like he was from another planet, a strange land you’d yet to be aware of. “You’re being weird.”

“Shut up.” He retorted. “You’ve got snot all over your face.”

You purposely rubbed your nose with his bandana, making sure to clean your face of mucus and tears. He recoiled, grossed out at the action. “Yeah, you can keep that.” He said.

He gave you a minute. Nobody said anything as you calmed down, sniffling to yourself here and there. His concern grew when he noticed the shaking of your hands. “Hey,” He said, voice deep and gruff. “What’s the matter with you?”

You looked at him sadly, shaking your head. “My dad has cancer.”

He couldn’t help it then. His whole face dropped. His jaw fell slack and his eyes widened.

“I just found out yesterday.” Your voice was full and thick with tears. “I was in math class and just had to get out before I had a public fucking breaking down like I’m doing now!” You said, angry with yourself.

“It doesn’t even make sense!” You continued. “My dad is a good man! He’s done nothing to deserve this! I don’t understand!” You cried, rambling to him at this point. He didn’t mind, he didn’t know what to say anyways.

“My whole family is just…numb. Dad’s pretending he’s not bothered by it. He’s doing everything he normally does. Mowing the grass, helping mom with the flower bed.”

You kept talking and Eddie listened, and in that moment, he felt pure sorrow and remorse, compassion and empathy for you. He listened to your words and felt his stomach sink. And you were beautiful, a random thought jostled in the middle somewhere between sorrow and empathy.

You cried to him for almost an hour. You talked about your family falling apart, but continuing on despite the downfall. The number of months the doctors had given your father to live. You talked about not being walked by him down the aisle, him not seeing his grandchildren. It was all here and there, but Eddie listened and said nothing, and after awhile, you forgot he was there and that it was Eddie.

When two o’clock rolled around, you breathed heavily and looked at your watch, then him. “You didn’t need to stay.” You were completely exhausted, mentally and physically.

“It’s alright.” It was the first thing he’d said in an entire hour. “You needed someone to talk to. I’m just being a good samaritan.”

“Still,” Your eyes were red and raw. “Why?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not always bad.”

You managed to smile. He didn’t.

“Well, thanks.” You said softly. “My friends don’t know yet. Nobody does. Please don’t tell?” You looked at him with round eyes that were always so full of innocence.

“I won’t say anything.” He shook his head.

You sniffled once more and nodding, standing up and fixing your white skirt. “Well, I better get back to class. Thanks for listening.”

He let you walk all the way across the room and to the door before he spoke. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t look at him and he didn’t look at you, but both of your hearts seemed to lighten. The door clicked open loudly and shut, leaving him to himself.

[writingthroughmyass]

Service Animal (Part one)

My mans Logan Howlett X Reader (afab)

Part two here

WARNING: This is soooo self insert it's not even funny. I get weird migraines that present like absent seizures and thought it would be nice to get a warning beforehand by my favourite babygirl Logan (like my own personal service animal). This is gonna be in three parts, it's mostly finished and ends in smooshing so be ready for that ;)

The after effects of using your power was kicking your ass.

In a daze, you made it to your private room and went straight to your bathroom. You felt the nausea rising up in your throat and quickly opened the toilet lid to throw up. 

The multiple alternate realities of what could have happened tonight flashed before your eyes. Ororo, Jean, Scott, Logan, all collapsed on the floor, dead. Their screams played in a relentless loop in your head; you were dissociating badly. Your surroundings melted away until there was nothing but the countless ways they could have died if you hadn't bent reality to avoid it. 

Always. It's always like this. 

Gradually, you begin to return to your body, only to realise there was someone in the room with you, holding your hair back. 

Terrified, your body snapped up from its kneeling position to face the intruder. 

“Woah, hey, it's just me. Calm down.”

“L-Logan?” you slurred, suddenly feeling self conscious of the smell of your breath. 

“I knocked and called out but you didn't answer. So I came in to check on you.” 

You eyed him, feeling suspicious of how out of character this was for him. 

“Why are you looking at me like I'm lying? I'm not totally heartless,” he said defensively.

“Why'd you come in the first place to see me though? I thought you were pissed with me,” you grumble.

When you'd overdone it with your powers, Logan threw a hissy fit and yelled at you for going too far. While you knew it was out of care, it still rankled you that he was acting as if you were a child. You knew what you were doing. 

“I… just had a bad feeling,” he said quietly. “Y'know how I've got my heightened senses. I could tell something was off with you.”

“I'm fine. Just need to rest. This is normal for me.”

You turned around to the bathroom sink and grabbed your toothbrush. You gave your teeth and tongue a quick clean, wanting to just wash all the blood off your body so you could sleep. 

It felt like you had a raging hangover from drinking Everclear all night. 

When you turned from the sink you noticed Logan was still there. 

“Uh… need something? I wanna get ready for bed and pass out.”

“Yeah, I need to know you're okay,” he says.

“I told you, I'm fine. I'm going to shower so please leave.” 

Your patience was wearing thin. But you were also aware that some of it was nervousness coming out as aggression. You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards him, although his attitude left much to be desired. His behaviour tonight was quite frankly really sweet and it was psyching you out. You were already in the midst of losing touch with reality and his actions were so contradictory to his usual self that it was causing you a psychotic break. 

“You're not listening to me,” he ground out, losing some of his own patience. “I'm telling you that something is wrong with you.” 

You stared silently at him, mouth slightly hanging open. 

“Okay, that came out the wrong way.” He was ruffling his hair in agitation. Cute. “What I'm saying is- I'm… ah…”

“Please, Logan, I just want a shower so I can go to bed…”

“Look, I'll just wait in your room and I'll leave once you're in bed safe, ‘kay,” he says, turning to the door and walking out, shutting it behind himself. 

Fuck. 

You just wanted to be alone so you could have a good cry. You were incredibly confused about what in the world was going on but now you were really getting scared. And Logan's words were not helping. 

What if he's right and this time your connection with reality has been completely severed? But what else were you supposed to do? Let them all die? Even with your special training with Charles, your power was so unruly and chaotic that it was terrifying. You had to be careful or there would be no way back. 

You got undressed and turned on the shower, stepping inside. It was only once you were under the hot stream of water that you realised you'd left your pyjamas in your bedroom. You groaned aloud. Fuck, now you'd have to walk in front of Logan in nothing but a towel. Why the fuck was he here? You wished he'd just leave. 

You watched the dried blood wash away from your skin, turning the floor of your shower a bright red. 

You felt your stomach drop and your head turned fuzzy. The sound of your shower disappeared. The safety of your surroundings melted away. 

Scott, his eyes gouged out from his head. Ororo’s limbs crumpled every which way, her eyes clouded over not because of her powers but because she was lifeless. Jean, her neck holding on to her body by a thread, her cranium blasted open and her brain dripping down her face. 

Logan, on the ground, ripped to shreds, his Adamantium bones showing through his torn flesh. And the wounds weren't healing. 

It was always like this. As if you were being punished for playing god. It was as if all the horrible realities you prevented from happening still lived on but solely in your mind, driving you insane. It left scars of trauma on your psyche, Charles had told you. So you had to be careful in how you used your powers or you may become completely untethered from reality. A fate worse than death. 

Vaguely, you could hear yourself mumbling and gasping and swallowing loudly, trying to find some kind of equilibrium in the mess of your mind. 

You were trying desperately to connect back with your body but at the same time you didn't want to because it only meant having to fight this same battle over and over again. 

Seeing your friends die before your very eyes in hundreds of thousands of different ways, experiencing each traumatic story to its conclusion. Only to have it all unravel into a reality where none of it happened, but the whiplash makes you doubt this reality too. It's always too good to be true. You feel it in your bones that you don't deserve this. That the way you twist reality is wrong and one day it'll catch up to you in the worst possible way. 

You feel water running down your face and remember that you're in the shower. You try to ground yourself and come back to your body. You hear the water splashing, feel the ground beneath your feet, the solid embrace around you. 

You try to move but you can't. Finally, you snap fully to your body. Your mind is groggy, feeling like you'd been hit by a truck. But there's the unmistakable warmth surrounding you, dense and as unyielding as brick. 

Your face is roughly yanked upwards and you open your eyes.

“Fuck, finally! Are you alright?” 

You stare blearily, mouth open and dry from the adrenaline that had been pumping through your body just moments ago.

Bright hazel eyes. Huh. So pretty. You'd never noticed. 

You realise you're not supporting your own weight. You're finally aware that Logan has you in an embrace, holding your body up, one hand around your waist and the other on your jaw as he looks into your face. The water on your face isn't from the shower, you realise. It's your tears. 

“Bloody hell, please say something,” he says angrily. You feel some of your own anger flare up in response. What's his problem? 

“Fuck,” you croak. 

You feel his chest vibrate against yours as he laughs, suddenly aware that you're as naked as the day you were born and this man is fully clothed standing in your shower, getting his white singlet wet. Giving you a bear hug…

Your brain short circuits as you try to come up with words, feeling your whole body heat with embarrassment. 

“W-what are you doing in here?” you manage to slur.

“Helping your ass,” he says roughly. “Can you stand?”

Fuck, good question. Can I stand??

“C-close your eyes first,” you demand. 

“Bit late to be feeling shy now don't you think?” he teases with a wink. 

“Just close ‘em!” you yell at him. 

He laughs before complying. 

You extricate yourself from his arms, turning off the shower, then navigate carefully around him to exit the cubicle. You grab a towel and cover yourself, making a mental note to grab a clean one later since this one was definitely dirty now. 

“Okay, open your eyes and get out, please.”

He turns to look at you.

“Don't think that's a good idea, bub.”

“And why is that?” you huff impatiently.

“What if you collapse in the shower again?” he says matter of factly.

“I've been having these things for a long time. I've managed to survive so far so don't stress about it.”

“It's different now though, isn't it? You've been having these for a long time, you said so yourself, and they're only getting worse instead of better.”

You sigh heavily in frustration. You hated that he was right. 

“So what exactly are you suggesting?” 

Your heart was beating like crazy. He better not suggest what you think he was going to suggest.

“I'm sure old Chuckie boy wouldn't mind lending you his shower chair for the night,” he smirked. 

You laughed out loud despite the tension in the room. He always managed to make you laugh. 

“Yeah, I'm just going to wake up an old man in the middle of the night to ask if I can borrow his shower chair,” you joked, lightly slapping him on the shoulder. 

He laughed along with you then you both shared a few moments of comfortable silence. Only for him to break it with-

“My other suggestion is to shower with me so I can make sure you don't faint and hurt yourself.”

You stared at him distrustfully.

“Hey, look, I'm not being a pervert, it's just the only solution I can think of on the fly,” he placates, hands raised as if to say I'm innocent and unarmed. 

“Right…”

You stopped to think for a second, your muddled mind trying to make sense of the situation. 

It made you especially uncomfortable that you didn't exactly have your full mental faculties about you. 

But Logan was a good friend. You'd fought beside him many times before and you saw that you could trust him. But… he was still a man. A man much bigger and stronger than you. 

“Can I trust you?” you asked falteringly. What a stupid idea to ask the opinion of someone fully in power over you. 

“I promise I won't do anything without you wanting it. This is entirely your choice.” 

You looked him in the eyes, trying to find a trace of falsehood in them. But you only saw honeyed eyes, dripping with conviction. The same conviction you'd seen many times before when he was protecting those he loved. 

You felt yourself feel a little calmer. 

“Okay… but you better not break your promise. Or I'll sick Charles and his shower chair on you.” 

“I won't. I just want to keep you safe,” he said in a low, serious voice. 

You felt a fluttering behind your ribs. Fuck… I'm about to shower with this incredibly attractive asshole.

“Okay… you get in first,” you said. 

“Yes, ma'am,” he said a little too cheerily. 

You turned around to give him privacy to undress. You heard the rustle of his clothes then a thump as he dropped them on the floor of your bathroom. 

Should've known he'd be a slob…

You heard the shower turn on and you braced yourself for what was to come next. 

You turned towards the shower, keeping your head down and eyes averted. You removed your towel and stepped into the shower, still not looking at Logan and ignoring his presence, which was hard to do in your little shower. Thankfully he was turned away respectfully.

You stood behind him, turned away from his body. You took your soap and began to lather it over yourself as you usually did when you showered. 

“Would you like a hand with your back?” Logan spoke up. 

You paused as you weighed up the question in your mind. 

“Sure,” you said quietly, trying to keep yourself calm. 

This is totally normal. We're just friends having a shower. Together. 

You turned your back and heard him applying soap to his hands. Slowly, gently, as if you were made of glass, he began to rub your back, starting with your shoulders. You felt yourself give an involuntary shiver.

“Are you cold? Do you need the water a bit hotter?” he asked you. 

“No, it's fine. The temperature is okay with you?” 

“Yeah, bub, just perfect.” 

His hands felt massive against your back. He massaged your neck for a few seconds before moving down your shoulder blades towards your middle back. 

“Did-did you want me to do your back too?” you asked, trying to hide how nervous you were. 

“Since you're offering, sure,” he said gruffly. You turned towards him at the same moment he turned away from you, unfortunately catching a glimpse of his insane fucking abs, but thankfully managing not to make eye contact. 

You soaped up your hands and began with his neck, trying not to notice how thick and muscular his traps were. 

God… this is hell but also heaven. 

You ran your hands across his ridiculously broad shoulders and down his middle back, avoiding going too low lest you caress his stupid, tight ass. 

“I'm going to wash my hair, okay?” you told him, unsure of why you were asking permission. 

“Don't know why you're asking my permission.” Fuck. You were being weird. “But I can do the same right?” he responded, holding in laughter. 

You felt your face go hot.

“D-do what you want,” you said petulantly. 

You took the shampoo bottle, squeezing what you needed for yourself before handing it to him over his shoulder, which he thankfully kept turned to you in respect. 

You both washed your hair in silence. You already felt a bit better. You dreamily thought of your bed as you rinsed the shampoo from your hair. 

You then grabbed the conditioner and squeezed some into your hand. 

“Need the conditioner?” you asked Logan.

“What for?” he asked, confused. 

“For your hair, duh.”

“Nah, I'm good. Haven't had to use it so far in my life, won't start now. Need a hand with washing your hair?” 

You knew he was trying to be helpful. But it felt so, so wrong. Like overstepping your relationship as friends. But then again… would you ever get the chance again to have an incredibly sexy man wash your hair for you? 

“Sure,” you said stiffly.

Silence, then his hand moved around you to grab the bottle from you. 

“Ah-” you already had some conditioner in your hand. You were about to tell him but decided to keep quiet as he worked on your hair. 

His fingers… so thick and strong yet gentle through your hair, over your scalp. You couldn't help but to close your eyes and enjoy the sensation. 

It was over too soon and he stepped away from you again. You tipped your head to rinse your hair, giving your face a quick scrub with water while you were at it; fuck your skin routine, you were going straight to bed. 

“I'm going to step out first,” you informed him. 

He grunted in reply and you stepped from the shower, grabbing two clean towels from your bathroom cupboard. You covered yourself with one and half turned your body to Logan, gaze still averted from his direction. 

“Here ya go,” you tried to say cheerily, offering the towel to him.  

“Thanks,” he said and grabbed it from your hand. You quickly moved to the door. 

“Wait until I say you can come in,” you said before closing the door behind you. 

Fuuuuucccckkkkk.

This was not helping you to relax at all.

You dried yourself quickly and threw your pyjamas on. 

“I'm done!” you called through the door. 

He stepped out with his towel wrapped around his stupid, slutty waist. You could see his happy trail adorning his abs. His enormous pecs, his dog tags resting in the dip of his gorgeous chest. 

“Hey, bub, my eyes are up here,” he teases. 

You swallow thickly and glare at his stupid, smirking face.

“Have I ever told you I hate you?” you retort, only succeeding in making him laugh. 

“How are you feeling now?” he says softly, suddenly serious. 

“I'm… exhausted. I usually sleep a lot after an episode.” 

He nods in understanding. 

“You'll be okay if I leave?”

This gives you pause. If you were being honest to yourself, you'd say, “Please stay. I don't want to be alone tonight.” 

But you weren't honest with yourself. 

“Thanks for looking out for me, Logan. I really appreciate it and sorry for putting you out. I'll be okay. You can go to bed now if you want.” 

He looked at you in silence. He stepped towards you, so close that you had to look up to keep eye contact. You could feel the warmth radiating from him. Fuck he runs hot. 

“You mean it, right? You're okay to be alone?” 

You stared at him, a little bit dumbfounded. Was he able to read minds or something? 

“Yes, I'll be fine. I'll be in bed so I can't exactly fall,” you chuckled. 

He didn't laugh with you. Only watched you carefully. 

“Okay. I'll respect what you say you want,” he says carefully. 

Again, this is so out of character for him that you second guess yourself whether you're in reality or not. 

You watch as he turns to the bathroom and grabs his clothes from the floor then goes towards the door to the hall. 

“Hey-w-wait-y-you're not going out like that are you?” you stutter in disbelief.

He turns back to you. 

“What else am I going to do?” he asks incredulously. 

Clueless.

“Put your clothes back on,” you retort.

“Ew, you're a bit of a slob, aren't you? They're dirty and covered with blood and who knows what or who else.”

You deadpanned. 

“What if… what if you stayed here for the night?” you blurted out without thinking. You flinch at your own words.

Logan pauses with his hand on the door knob. 

“I don't exactly have my pyjamas here with me,” he says slowly. 

“I've already seen and touched you naked. What's the difference?” you hear yourself say.

What the fuck am I saying?

“I-I mean, surely I have something that can fit you,” you amend quickly. His face seems to go slack in surprise.

“Wow. You really want it, huh?” he smirks at you. 

You ignore the heat that overtakes your whole body. 

“N-never mind! Fuck off already,” you say sourly. 

“Hey, I'm just joking,” he laughs. “I can definitely stay if it helps you feel better.” He smiles at you and you feel yourself melt a little bit. 

“It… it would. Help me feel better, I mean.” 

Having him near you would help remind you that this is real, you justify. 

“Alright then,” he nods to you. “Some clothes would be great.” 

“Ah, sure, give me a second.” 

You quickly go to your wardrobe to locate the loosest pair of pants you own. He'll just have to sleep shirtless, there's no way you have a top that will fit over his broad shoulders. 

You find a dark grey pair of trackies and turn back to him. 

“Try these.”

“Thanks,” he says as he takes it from your hand.

As he moves back to the bathroom you jump into bed to wait. Your bed never felt so fucking good. 

You've barely settled under the covers when Logan reappears from the bathroom, his hair still wet and dripping down his neck. You do your best not to stare. 

He moves towards you and lifts the covers to slip into bed with you. 

This is just a sleepover, you tell yourself. Like when you have a friend over for the night.

Logan slots himself into your bed alongside you and you become suddenly aware of how small your double bed is. The frame creaks loudly from the weight of him and his Adamantium bones. 

“Comfy?” you ask.

He turns in the bed so he's facing you. A smile slowly makes its way to his face and you find you can't breathe for a second. 

“Yeah, definitely,” he murmurs. 

“Alright, sweet, g’night then,” you say quickly, turning away from him to still your beating heart. Fuck, I hope he can't hear my heart right now.

“Are you sure you're ready to sleep? Your heart is beating pretty fast,” he points out cooly. 

Mother fucker.

“So… you have heightened senses right? Kind of.. like a dog?” I'm not thinking straight, why am I trying to piss him off? 

“Thought you were going to sleep,” he grunted. The sound of his gravelly voice did something to you. But you ignored it. 

“It just kind of reminds me of those service dogs, y'know the ones that can sense when their owner is going to have a seizure? I mean, I know I don't have seizures exactly, but I guess it presents sort of like one.”

“What are you trying to say?” he asks gruffly. He doesn't like it when people compare him to dogs. You're just grateful you can't see the look on his face right now. 

“I'm just wondering how you can tell? What is it exactly that you're sensing? It's always interested me,” you say honestly. 

He grunts again and goes quiet before answering.

“I can smell it. Can't even explain what it actually smells like. But that's how I know, although it isn't always accurate.”

“That's really interesting.” And you mean it. It really is interesting… although the implications concerning his sense of smell have you a little bit paranoid… 

“So that's why I'm telling you to listen to me when I fucking tell you to stop with your powers. You could've killed yourself tonight,” he grinds out, anger in his voice. 

“Logan… you need to understand where I'm coming from. You all died tonight. Like literally, right before my very eyes, you were all dead. What do you expect me to do?” 

You feel tears pricking your eyes, the lump in your throat is choking you.

“I… I can't talk about this right now okay?” you tell him, trying to keep your voice steady. 

“Okay… okay, I'm sorry,” his voice softens. “Please, just get some sleep, okay? Guide dog’s orders.”

And just like that you're laughing again, feeling a tear running down your cheek to your pillow. You were so grateful to have him in your life. You were also grateful he couldn't see you crying right now. 

“Alright, g'night, puppy,” you tease.

“‘Night,” he says softly. 

A minute passes and you can already feel yourself starting to drift off. You smile to yourself, knowing that you have your own personal “service animal” to keep you safe tonight.

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x girlfriend fem!reader

Summary: You want to help your boyfriend with his prank but it goes horribly wrong (happy ending)

Prompt: angst - "I told you not to touch that, now look what you've done."

thank you for requesting @doting-dov3 🤍! this did indeed help with writers block ;)

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

BLURB MASTERLIST

James takes his pranks very seriously. 

You know this, his best friends know this, hell all of Hogwarts knows this. Usually, he keeps you separate from his pranks because he knows you aren't into them that much anyway, and that's never bothered you because him and the other Marauders have been doing their pranks longer than you've been dating him. 

But, around James's seventeenth birthday, you had wanted to join in on a prank. You wanted to show your loving boyfriend that you liked the silly, sometimes reckless, side of him as much as the charming maturity he'd grown into.

So, you wanted to surprise him and you asked Sirius if you could add your flair to his enchanted fireworks. Sirius had warned you that it wasn't a good idea and that you shouldn't do this, but you dismissed his worries.

Your idea was funny.  

However, when the charm you had enchanted into the fireworks, sent them into a frenzy that countered the original spell James had used and changed their direction from the Slytherin table to the Gryffindor one, coincidentally landing over James and his friends, the pink powder you'd infused the fireworks with suddenly wasn't so funny anymore.   

The Marauders and a few other students jump from their seats and everyone in the Great Hall erupts into laughter. You stand as well, your eyes wide, proving your involvement in the mess.

You rush over as Sirius and Remus pat their robes and James shakes out his hair, his cheeks tainted almost as pink as the powder on his skin. 

"I told you not to touch that," Sirius hisses, glaring at you as he points at the fireworks, "Now look what you've done!" 

You flinch, feeling helpless as James's head turns to you, and his voice is strained when he asks, "You did this? You messed with the prank?" When you nod, he narrows his eyes and grabs your hand, practically dragging you out of the Great Hall and into one of the bathrooms. 

"James," you spin around, desperately pointing your wand at him to clean him up. 

Your boyfriend's eyes round and he snatches the wand from your hand. "Woah, haven't you done enough!?" he snaps, clearly furious as he turns to look in the mirror. He touches the now, weirdly gooey pink substance on his cheeks. "What the fuck is this, Y/n?"

"It turns into glue," you whisper, ashamed, "It wasn't for you, obviously! I enchanted the powder in the fireworks and it must have changed the trajectory. I didn't mean to mess up the direction, I promise. I just wanted to help!"

"Help!?" James grits, glaring at you, and then turns back to the mirror as he removes more glue and shakes it from his hands and into the sink. "You wanted to help? This isn't helping! You know almost better than anyone I don't like when people mess with my pranks and look what you did!" 

You hold in your tears. He's making you feel stupid but you refuse to cry because of this. "I was trying to do something good. To help you," you plead and walk to him, reaching out to hold his hand. "I didn't mean to upset you, I promise."

"You humiliated me and my friends." James pulls his hand away and looks at you again. "In front of everyone." 

Your lip trembles. "I'm really sorry."

James pauses and he stares at himself in the mirror for a minute. Finally, he lets out a tense sigh and nods towards your wand. He'd put it on the edge of the sink and you move closer, taking it in your hand.

Your eyes are shiny with tears as you wave your wand in front of him and clean him up. James is silent and he feels better once he feels clean.

"You wanted to help?" he whispers, needing more of an explanation.

"Well, it was sort of an early birthday present because I wanted to show you I like your pranks a-and I support them most of the time," you add in a whisper, your cheeks feeling warmer, "so I wanted to surprise you and join in. I didn't know I was gonna mess everything up," you ramble as some tears escape from your eyes, your hands shaking. 

James's facial expression softens now and he holds his hands over yours so they don't shake. He feels like a prick now, realizing your intentions had been nothing but good and kind, just like you.

"Hey, I'm sorry I shouted at you," he says and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles. "It's okay. I understand you didn't mean any harm."

You nod and he leans in, kissing under your eye, halting your tear on its descent. "Dry those tears, dove, everything's all right. Next time, just ask. If you wanna join me in doing some pranks, all you have to do is ask, okay, my sweet girl?"

James nuzzles into your cheek and kisses under your other eye as he adds with a smile, "Didn't think you liked the pranks, my love. I thought you found them mean."

You sniffle. "Sometimes they are."

James laughs against your hair as he kisses the top of your head. "Adding pink goo to the fireworks doesn't count as mean then? How saintly of you," he teases. 

You scrunch your nose and look away, your cheeks all warm. "Um, no? It wasn't meant to be mean, it's just funny."

James grins and leans in to kiss your lips this time. "My baby can mean," he ignores your desperate attempts to convince him it hadn't been slightly messed up to want to pour some pink guck on a group of Slytherins, no matter how horrible they were themselves.

"Don't worry, I'll teach you how to prank properly," he whispers in a promise, "It takes time and practice and you have to plan it all out and—" James begins to ramble back to the Common Room and you can't help but smile at his hearing his explanations.  

James does take his pranks very seriously, but he also takes you seriously and if you want to help him with some pranks from now on, that's what you'll do.

tag: @mischievousmoony, @longlivedelusion, @sayitlikethecheese, @fangirl-swagg

[rubiehart]

hi! ‘m not sure if you’re taking requests rn but i had this thought of jj x waitress!reader, like she’s just trying to take their order and he won’t stop flirting with her. love love love your work!!

i think this request has been sitting in my inbox for over two months i’m soo sorry i’m only just getting to it now. love u nonnie!

you’re working the bar, turns out bussin tables wasn’t your strong suit when the locals would get a little too persistent towards you and you’d go off, snarky little comments that’s just piss them off in turn, you just couldn’t help it.

it’s another gloomy day at work, wiping the counter with some dirty rag that was probably doing more harm than good, but it was just so boring, until the little bell rings above the door signaling an enterance of someone new, eyes springing up from the counter as the boy walks in.

he was cute, fairly buff, red cap rested atop his sun damaged blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, you did a double take and sharply looked away when he began walking towards you, reaching for a glass and cleaning it with the same rag, as he sinks down into the bar stool directly in-front of you. “that rag don’t look very sanitary to me.” he smirks, waiting for you to catch his eye but you don’t. “no shit.” you mumble, internally rolling your eyes but refraining.

“woah.” he chuckles putting his hands up in surrender, which only makes you more pissed. “got a little fire in you, my bad.” you just flick your eyes up to him, clearly unamused. “what do you want?” slamming the glass down onto the beer mat, resting one hand on the beer taps.

“bold of you to assume i want a beer.” he shrugs, not loosing his playful tone even after being shot down so many times, you’ve gotta applaud his confidence. “so natty light?” you ask, fed up of his antics as his smirk only grows wider. "another assumption.” he assess.

“listen, you look poor, natty light’s target consumer. so yes or no?” you ask, and he scoffs. “natty light please.” and you nod, bending down to grab one from the fridge under the counter. you slide it across to him and he hands you a pile of coins, you roll your eyes and start counting it.

he cracks open the tab and takes a long sip before speaking again. “so, what’s a pretty girl like you doin’ working’ at this shit shack?” he leans forward, flashing that charming smile. “what’s it to y’a?” you mumble and he hisses. “you’re stubborn.” he adds and you nod. “y’a think?” you ask sarcastically and he smiles, before you look at him again.

“you’re 25 cents short.” you nod towards the pile of coins, he tongues the cut on his lip and sighs. “tell you what? consider this payment.” he says before reaching for your hand, turning it over and scrawling something on your palm, dropping the pen onto the counter top and winking, taking the can with him before the bell above the door rings again fo signal his departure before you can even get a word of protest in.

he’d written his number on your palm, in possibly the worst handwriting you’d ever seen, wondering how you were gonna decipher this shit later. you finally let the smile creep onto your face that you’d been holding, you were calling, no doubt about it.

[satoruhour]

if you haven’t done it yet! aftercare with gojo?

a/n: oh i just HAD to write this thank u for the prompt mirah <3

warnings: unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink but it’s described as briefly as possible

he used to think aftercare was sort of boring? i feel it’s because he never really found the right person so he usually does the bare minimum, cleaning his partner up, getting them water and making them feel comfortable

but he always felt empty inside after they fall asleep, always keeping his distance no matter what

that was until he got together with you and he feels like he’s been missing out on so much

i have a headcanon he’s so unused to affection that his partner will be the one to introduce aftercare to him

like foreplay, aftercare can anything you want it to be!

and he laughs at your comment, fingers shaking from how much he liked you when you sink into his side with the tv droning on at the back

gojo loves all forms of aftercare but i feel he would love a few minutes of cuddling and skin to skin contact before you actually clean up

always has a packet of wet tissues on the bedside table and a glass of sweet sweet tea

it’s kinda gross bc of how sweet it is and if you have a sweet tooth too then good for you

but otherwise it’s insanely sweet, and he uses his cursed energy to heat up the tea!!! waow

but if you dont want hot tea then u gotta drink lukewarm tea sorry

he always carries you. dont try to fight him but he loves to take care of you after sex. loves to wash ur hair and body and you’ll do it back to him :)

sometimes it escalates to another round but most times he likes the two of you in the quietness of the bathroom and just the swooshes of the water

he doesn’t prefer the bathtub or shower more but he’ll pick what you like and go along with it

if you still have energy he likes to watch random youtube videos like cat memes or funny videos (the ones he picks are not exactly funny however…)

you two rarely watch movies bc they’re really long but if you do you’re usually the one to fall asleep bc gojo is naturally replenishing himself with his technique. and also he likes to watch you sleep

creep

he takes photos of you when you’re asleep in his arms and he shows it to you the next day but one day youre suggesting to him that maybe he can fall asleep first

and when he stops his CT it’s like … woah. he falls asleep so soundly in your arms that it’s adorable and now he’s more open to being tucked under your arms to succumb to sleep first

that time also allows you to say your confessions softly and to admire him without any teasing

this time is very soft and delicate and intimate and satoru thinks it’s his favourite, but then again every moment with you is a blessing ♡

the air is thick and musky with sex, skin laced with tear stains while gojo continues to rock into you long after you’ve cummed, moans and pants leaving your mouth with whispers of satoru’s name. the kisses he litters there makes your skin tingle before he’s releasing in you, and it’s thick, filling you up while his lips meet yours passionately, muttering confessions with a smile.

“baby…” gojo pokes your cheek, your expression close to pure bliss from the orgasm that he’s a little worried but he knows you’re being dramatic. it’s something you picked up from him. “you okay?”

your eyes crack open a bit as your hands make their way to his cheeks, feeling the fat of his cheeks fill up your hands when he smiles. with a free hand, his hand engulfs yours, planting a kiss to it and the smile-turned-grin he gives you is blinding before he decides it’s been too long that he’s kissed you.

slipping out of you, he pulls you closer with an arm while the other brushes the sweat-filled hair from your forehead, lips capturing yours softly. you move together, languid and slow and satoru cannot stop smiling as he pulls away, drunk on you.

“let’s get you clean, hm?” gojo plants one more peck on you after twenty minutes; twenty minutes of talking in whispers and kissing (satoru’s doing). he waits for your outstretched arms, hooking his own under your neck and knees just as you plead for him to carry you. “such a big baby.”

you giggle, mumbling a soft yeah before pecking his cheek, holding his stare so full of ardent love that your heart feels like it might actually stop — it almost does when you feel the cold water from the shower head hit your back and you jump with a yelp.

satoru laughs, “my bad, heater wasn’t on.”

“bastard.”

“you certainly don’t think i’m one by how much you were screaming my name just n—”

you groan as his giggles only increase in volume, swooping you up easily before it falls silent and it’s only the sound of the shower filling your ears.

soon, the night is calm, something that isn’t the case usually with gojo, but you’ve casted such a deep spell on the strongest — the weakest when with you — that all he can do is watch your content face and humming voice with a silent love, fingers gliding through his white locks with shampoo and suds.

recently, satoru finds that he’s starting to smell more and more like you.

i have chronic loving-gojo-satoru-like-an-clinically-insane-person disease