#when i tell you that was me in the theater the ENTIRE time when they meet | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hazelfoureyes · 8 months ago

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I just need you to know this story has had me in a chokehold and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it. This is gonna be a weird smutty slow burn, so still smut every post but full p in v sex will be a reward you have to work for?

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Redsmut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedysmut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

「warnings/tags: HumanAlastor x FemaleReader, implied attempt to SA, fingering, plot with porn?, Multi part work, bad kind of choking, blood kink, blood licking, just in general blood, Non-Sex repulsed Ace Spectrum Alastor, stalking, murder obvs, finger sucking, smoking kinda kills if you squint, Public sex acts, garter belt, You have a stage name but no one important uses it, Greed, Lust, Human Alastor is a little different than Demon Alastor. 」

minors dni 💅🏽

Part 1 Pretty in Red

The marriage between burlesque and jazz wasn’t unexpected. Before the Great Depression took the nation into a stranglehold, both Jazz and Burlesque were immoral wastes of time only the most barbaric sought out.

And oh, did you love it. Everyone who was made to feel like nobody flocked to your theater and the surrounding neighborhood. Men, women, the people who didn’t agree with either. The biblically inclined, those closer to sodom, the sapphic dolls. Everyone was equal in the halls of jazz rooms and theatres where burlesquers were welcome.

Because of the inclusive nature of such places, you often saw familiar faces. It wouldn’t be unusual for someone from Thursday night to be seen Saturday at a different locale.

That presented certain opportunities and challenges. When you found a good mark, it was easy to be wherever he was and play it off as fate and common interests.

And when you gained a new stalker, someone wanting a personal show, it could be hard to tell until it was too late.

Maybe it was your greed, or just your love of attention, but you found yourself focused almost entirely on a particularly well dressed man one evening. You’d seen him around before. Clean cut, sharp suit, a welcoming smile always on display. He looked like he had money, the most attractive quality of any man you could meet.

So focused on his gleaming stare from the side booths you hadn’t noticed the man at the stage front tables. You barely noticed him the night before, or the night before that, either. Because Smiles, as you took to calling the handsome stranger in the back, had been here three nights now too.

You really put on a show. Shimmying your hips, ostrich feathers following suit with every move. Your brassiere was heavy with shining rhinestones, panties of silk and lace. Your set was almost done, all that was left was to remove your top and slink away behind the curtains to hollers and whistles. Back turned, you unhooked the painful bra and let it fall to the stage with a clunk. Foot in front of foot, you stalked the stage length. With your hand hidden from view you took the feathered fan from the stagehand behind the curtain. As the music crescendoed you turned, fan unfurling just in time to hide yourself.

Groans, mass begging from the audience. Your stage name a chant now, a prayer. “Autumn! Come on!”

As the band slowed, music dying to mark the end of your number, you scanned the crowd. Eyes blinking coyly, you mouthed, “More? Did you want more?”

People were jumping to their feet, not Smiles but that was fine, you were focused now on the adoration of the crowd. The music ended, a second of silence.

You winked, the drums hitting one last beat as you let the fan close.

Fanfare! Men whistling, women clapping. Someone shouted a marriage proposal. You took a bow, twirled on the balls of your feet and slipped gracefully behind the curtains.

Your hands wound to your spine, rubbing blood flow back into your skin as the staff removed your headdress. Someone slipped your robe over you and you nodded a thanks, aching feet carrying you to the dressing room. It was chaos, as usual. Women buzzing around, tits and ass here and there. You smiled. You happened to enjoy this part of the job. Soft bodies in shiny costumes, lovely smells and sweet voices. If you could get dressed quickly enough, you could still take a tour of the room and slide into Smiles’ booth.

“Enjoy the show?” You’d ask. He’d lean in, maybe blush, “Always when you’re here.” Or something like that. You’d cozy up to him, flag down a waiter for something strong and pricey, and get him properly drunk. He’d wake up outside, fine and dandy except his missing cash.

You’ll call him a drunkard if he confronts you, accuse him of getting himself robbed after you refused his advances. You’ll say it too loudly, and he’ll run off.

You danced a little in your seat, another game of cat and mouse about to commence. But first, a smoke.

Unbeknownst to you, the well dressed man hadn’t come to see you. He preferred your singing shows at the little dive bar two blocks over. No, he had come for the man at the front table. For weeks now, he had watched him harassing the ladies of the few joints in New Orleans that weren’t regularly hounded by police. Your smiley mark even heard stories of unsavory acts, many women leaving the dance scene entirely after.

He didn’t care for it. He didn’t care for him. So he took to his hunt, following the man to come to his own conclusions. The pattern of behavior was obvious, and though he hadn’t seen what ended the last obsession, it was clear one of the performers at this club was being stalked as the next victim.

He watched your dance with half lidded eyes, just as much as he watched the man give dirty looks to the other men cheering. Heard the, “Marry me!�� shouted at you.

Yes, it was obvious to him now.

So when the target of his interest got up and pushed his way into a staff only door, well, the well dressed man was sure to follow.

The great thing about confidence and a nicely tailored suit is that no one questions you about why you are where you are. So while the brute he tailed had to shove past people to get wherever he was going, people smiled and made room for the gentleman who was not far behind.

He caught the street access door before it closed, allowing it to stay open just a sliver. Enough for one golden brown eye to watch the events unfold.

“Can I have a light?” The stranger asked you. You looked at him, then to the staff only entrance he just came out of.

“I don’t think I know you….,” you handed him the lighter but he instead leaned into you, cigarette hanging from his lips. “You… new?”

You sparked the flint with a practiced thumb, taking three tries to get it lit, and put your hand out. The man didn’t budge, eyebrows rising, “You really don’t recognize me?” He asked, motioning with his hand to come closer. Your eyes glanced down the alley, cars slowly moving past the street. When you looked back, the man took your wrist in his hand. He held you so tightly that the muscles in your palm locked and you dropped the lighter.

“What the fu-,” his hand came across your face, halting your sentence.

“I’m your best customer. Every show. I’m the one who brings flowers.”

Dozens of men bring flowers, especially on the weekend shows. You held your cheek, skin burning. Your hand pulled back, the corner of your lip bleeding from his rings. Scrambling, your mind was searching for the right words.

With a forced smiled, your shaky voice finally piped up, “Oh! Yeah! Oh geez. I am so sorry, doll. I’m just so tired, and the alley is so dark. Here, let’s go inside so I can get a better look at you.” You tried to take your wrist from him but he didn’t loosen up.

“Nah, you ain’t tricking me. You owe me.” He pulled you into him, large hand gripping your face with ease, “You can’t lead on men like this and think you don’t gotta answer for it.” He kissed you, forcing your face into his. “Bitch! Did you fucking bite me?” He threw you into the tin trash cans beside the wall, knocking the wind out of you.

No purse, no sharp object, not even a heeled shoe to defend yourself with. You cursed, so preoccupied with Smiles you forgot your wits.

You spit out the copper saliva, his blood and yours. “I’ll keep biting, too.”

Why scream? The sounds of the next act were bouncing off the brick walls. Upbeat jazz and applause echoing around you. No one would hear you. Men can break your body but you never had to give them your dignity. Never give them the satisfaction of a response.

No. No screaming. You instead spent your energy trying to get to your feet. He took hold of your neck now, throttling you. It wasn’t what you had expected, but as he lifted you off the ground and your little dressing room slippers fell off, you thought this was actually better.

“Well I think that’s quite enough.”

You felt warmth, then registered wetness. Your shin scraped on the asphalt as you were dropped without warning. Trying to open your eyes, you found you couldn’t see. Wiping and blinking away the foreign liquid, you watched your attacker fall to his knees.

Blood was shooting from between his fingers around his own neck, each pulse becoming weaker and weaker, evident through the stream.

When he finally fell over, drained, you were startled to see another man with you. The light reflected off his glasses as he adjusted them, the knife still in his right hand as he did so.

“My, my. What a mess he’s made.” The man smiled down at you, offering a hand. When you didn’t immediately react, he cocked his head to the left, “Is that anyway to treat your rescuer?”

Is that was this was? A rescue? You took his hand with both of yours, pulling yourself up.

Smiles? You blinked away the shock, time to shift into your next part. Damsel. You weren’t out the woods yet.

“You saved my life!” As you pressed yourself into his chest, you tucked your head beneath his chin. You tried to make yourself small. “I owe you! Please let’s go inside, drinks on me!” You looked up, batting your lashes.

“I don’t think that’s wise, dear.” His gaze panned down your dress, soaked through. He could see the thinking behind your eyes.

“No, right….,” You gripped his vest, “We gotta get outta here, fast. There’s a hotel just behind the threatre.” You started to pull his suit jacket off, slipping it over yourself. “No cops, the theatre will get raided. Just— take me somewhere safe?”

You watched him look you over, arm finally extending to let you hook yours with his.

As soon as the hotel door closed behind you, you slipped off his jacket and ran to the dressing table mirror.

Your face was painted red, navy dress now black and sticky. It was good you stayed from view of the reception staff. “I didn’t get my rescuer’s name,” you licked your thumb and rubbed at the blood around your cheeks.

“Alastor. It’s a pleasure.”

You laughed, “Is that what you call a pleasure?” Turning, you pulled the mostly still dry handkerchief from your pocket and dabbed the corner on your tongue. You brought it up to the frame of his glasses and wiped the blood from the metal. “I’d hate to see what you call a bad time.”

Your hand slowed, noticing the way he was looking at you. Typically men’s pupils were blown when they fell on you, but his were constricted. They flitted around your face. His hand took hold of yours, fingers separating the thumb from the handkerchief. He pulled the little square of yellow fabric free with his other hand, allowing him to hold your thumb now by itself.

His lips opened, tongue licking the blood stained finger before placing it directly into his mouth.

Your stared, horrified, as he sucked the digit clean.

His eyes fluttered close, finger popping out of his mouth with a debauched sound. You made no attempt to take back your hand. The realization you may have hopped out of the frying pan and into the fire set in.

“You are a funny one, aren’t you?” You tried to sound as in control as possible. Calm. Unwavered. Offered a timid smile.

He chuckled, “You could say that. May I?” His fingers lifted your chin. You didn’t know what he was asking. His soft smile looked downright loving. He smelled so good, notes of something earthy rising above the copper.

You nodded, because part of you wanted to see where it would go. And part of you thought you didn’t have a choice.

As his face came to yours, you instinctually closed your eyes expecting a kiss. But no, instead you felt his tongue wipe across the cut at the corner of your mouth. His breath blanketed your cheek. Then his hand left your chin, the warmth of his body gone entirely.

You opened your eyes to see him at the door, slipping back into his jacket, “I’ll pay for the night.” He tipped his head to you and exited the room back first, eyes locked with yours until the door closed.

You just stood there in the silence left behind. But as if on cue, the adrenaline waned and your knees buckled under you. You were moments from death, now somehow spared. But what had he— Alastor, been doing there? Did he follow you, too? The cat and mouse had been flipped, or perhaps now this was a fox and hound?

Gripping the dressing table, you pulled yourself up and into the view of the mirror again. Face streaked in dried blood save for the one clean spot where your lips met cheek.

You felt like a ghost the next day. It would be nice to tell someone about what happened but, “Hey a man tried to kill me and then another man killed him! Then he licked blood off my face and I let him. It was the most disturbingly erotic thing to happen to me in months!” would get you tossed into a wagon.

“Are you rude or just stupid?” The theatre manager pulled you aside by the arm when you came into rehearsal. “You can’t just disappear like that, people were waiting.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Was… my absence really the most exciting part of the evening? Not the John in the gutter?”

He huffed, “So that’s it? Got a beau?”

“Wait— nothing else happened last night? After I left?”

“This show doesn’t revolve around you. Plenty happened.”

“Excuse me,” you hurried into the back, “And sorry!”

You opened the street access door and looked into the alley. Trash cans neat and tidy, no dead man, nothing strange or telltale.

You ducked back inside. Had Smiles done this? Obviously, actually. No stranger just cleaned up the dead body. If the flatfeet had found him, the club would have been under scrutiny.

Good, you thought, and went about your work.

Rehearsal dragged on. Little details summoning you back to the night before.

“You okay?” Another performer asked, grabbing your hand and inspecting the blood around your cuticles.

“Oh it’s not mine!” You laughed, she laughed, you walked off before she could clarify.

When applying your makeup, you remembered his hands on your face. They were so soft. Definitely a man of means. A brief intrusive thought, the other hands on your face last night.

You pranced on stage, going through the motions of your routine. Even in the empty hall, your eyes wandered to the booth he’d been in. And as you took the stage in earnest later that night you searched the crowd for the glint of his glasses and found nothing shiny nor promising.

Back in the dressing room you took a moment to wonder what the actual fuck you we’re doing. He murdered a man in front of you, why were you hoping to see him again? He had half a mind to kill you next.

But would that really be so bad? Your life was routine, boring even. The only thing keeping your lungs expanding was the applause. Maybe the headlines of your death would cause such an uproar, dancer struck down in her prime, that you could bask in the loving glow all the way from hell.

One way to remain famous, you considered. A dramatic death.

Not that you were famous. You weren’t part of the national circuits. Just your local theatres, a common face and body to the sinners of Louisiana’s most infamous city. But, well, fame is relative. For the scene you were in, you were your own little star.

A shining light. Shimmering. The faint light reflecting off— Blood. For a second you could only remember looking through bloodied, heavy lashes.

“You’ve been so out of it. Trouble in paradise?” Ruth, the curviest of your coworkers and arguably the favorite of the crew, rested her chin on your head. Looking at each other in the mirror, you offered a soft smile.

“I’ll letcha know when I get there.”

She pinched your cheek, “Tommy said you had a new guy. I just figured-,”

“That isn’t,” you clenched your eyes shut, “no, no guy. I just got locked out last night in the alley. The sticky-,” sticky and viscous blood, “back door wouldn’t open up. I didn’t want to come in the front in my slippers so I just hoofed it home.”

She patted your head, “if you say so! Be careful out there though. Dangerous these days.”

An understatement.

You enjoyed the spotlight, but more than that you craved the attention doted on you after. You’d walk through the hall to the bar to adoring looks and free drinks. It bothered you that Tommy was telling the girls you had a man. You didn’t want to appear too closed off, or for word to spread to the customers.

Last thing you needed was men passing you by for more available options. Not that the pay wasn’t fine. Ends were being met, but grifting added an element of thrill. You really did love the chase. Finding someone and deciding he would be yours, he would fall under your spell and be at your feminine mercy. It made you feel powerful, almost mythical. And the money was nice. Sometimes you didn’t even need to steal, the men would just lavish you in gifts and you’d let it fizzle out naturally. Normally their wives would snatch them back or they’d just get tired of waiting for you to leave the stage and dance into their domestic dreams. A housewife? An adopted mother to a grown man during the day, a hungry nymph at night? For what, an allowance and a home you didn’t own? Pass. Where’s that handsome man with his knife? That was a much better steel to fall onto than what these men offered from their laps.

From your view at the bar you knew he wasn’t there. But with a nod you decided the chase was still on. You were going to get your victory. If anything, this would be easier. You had dirt on him. Blackmail would be simple enough. Bloody clothes and the perfect alibi; being a woman. No cop would think you took down that hulking man.

Ah, right. There was no body.

That would be an issue. He had to have taken it somewhere. Just find him and follow. Worst case scenario, you play the usual game and steal whatever cash was in his wallet.

Well, worst case you die.

You slept sitting up to keep your hair set, during the day your makeup barely was there but a red lip always the star. You had three nice dresses (well, you had had four) so you figured three nights to find him before moving on.

You slinked through the crowds of the hot and sweaty dance club Moxie. Swinging music kept bodies moving, and though you kept your eyes open you didn’t catch sight of this Alastor fellow. Which was fine! You enjoyed a few dances, swing always making you feel energized. Not a waste of a Friday night.

Saturday was easy, the lounge on fifth. Smooth jazz, plush chairs, rich men. Definitely a place you could imagine Smiles to frequent. The whisky was all top shelf, and many gentlemen offered you a lap to sit. Sure, no Alastor, but you didn’t go home empty handed.

You weren’t a particularly great singer, but if the room was small enough and the piano loud enough, you could please a crowd. Your friend had you on a semi-set schedule most Sundays at her little dive too many blocks from Main Street. Her darling played piano, you sat and sang to the couple dozen patrons stuffed into the one room bar. When you finished your set, you took your bows and looked for your friend. You needed to tell her you wouldn’t be staying.

Your polite nods and gracious thank yous were abruptly ended by a tap on your shoulder, “You dropped this, miss.” You did a mental check of your purse before turning around.

“Oh, a sight for sore eyes. Mr. Alastor.” Your face lit up, you could see it in his glasses.

“You’re too kind. Here, I apologize for the delay. I wanted to return them clean.” In his hand was your yellow handkerchief, folded neatly. You took it and found it uncharacteristically heavy.

When you unfurled it, your brass lighter fell into your waiting palm. Your thumb caressed the engraving.

Alastor watched your face as the lighter tumbled out. “I figured it was important, given the condition and detailing.”

You tested the weight in your hand, “Did you fill it?” You looked to him incredulously. He nodded.

It was a surprisingly kind act, and you needed a second to regain your composure. “I don’t know how to thank you.” Your quick wit failed for a moment, but rebounded fast. “Except with a drink. My treat. To my rescuer.”

He mulled the idea, your reaction to him was interesting. Alastor had thought if he approached you first you’d show a little more fear, or shock. But you looked downright chipper to see him there.

“Unfortunately I don’t have much time tonight. I had just wanted to return your items.”

Your smile dropped. How did he know you were here? Had he been carrying— no, he said he had them cleaned. Had he seen you here before, before the incident? A chuckle, smile brought back, “My luck is terrible. You always flee me. I hope you don’t see my company as deadweight.”

Alastor’s smile twitched, eyes hidden behind the glare of his glasses, “Not at all! I think you’d find I’m quite comfortable with-.”

“Lugging people around?” You said. That constricted pupil again, eyes wild. A chill ran down your spine. Alarms were going off. Wrong answer. You straightened your back, popping the items into your purse, “Next time.”

Alastor nodded, “Yes. Next time, then.”

You fucked it up. You knew you had, but suddenly his words felt like a thinly veiled threat.

You turned to leave and hadn’t seen his smile sour.

It hadn’t been a threat. He hadn’t anticipated you to notice the implication. Most people would have been so blinded by his charm they would fail to notice the glaring red flags. He was mildly impressed. You would be more trouble than he had expected.

Alastor knew he needed to do something about the clearly clever woman who was seemingly expecting him. He had followed you for several days, surprised to find you not spreading word about the murder. You hadn’t spoken to anyone, really. Even the man you left the lounge with, you just smiled and nodded nearly all evening while the man dominated the conversation. So, your sharp wit took him off guard. Who were you pretending to be? And why?

All of your cleverness fell apart when you tried to follow him. It was almost comical. He felt bad. This was going to be embarrassing for you.

He took several right turns and stepped into the park just outside of the bar. You thought perhaps he had gotten lost and considered turning around after you realized you’d lost sight of him. As you passed a large weeping willow, you were pulled under the curtains of hanging moss by your waist.

Back against the large tree, you could only pout.

“What are you after, stalking a man in the dead of night?” Alastor had you pinned, both hands on either side of your head. His body boxed you in, not that there was much more to see than moss and darkness.

You blinked several times. What a question. You answered honestly, “You.” He cocked a brow. Then you lied, “Your affection. Your time.”

Something akin to a giggle bubbled from his chest. “I don’t have much affection, but I have even less time.” Your eyes darted around, looking for your next move. “I-,” you grabbed him by the face and kissed him. When you broke the kiss he was staring wide eyed, glasses askew. He opened his mouth to speak and you kissed him again, longer, harder.

He seemed frozen under your mouth, lips taut. Your hands roamed his face, messing up his hair and glasses. Mind reeling. Play the nymph. Be the whore the men always said they hated. Be too strong, too forward, too much and he’ll run off like men do. You could try again another day.

Your hand reached for his lap, his hips instinctively jerking away. Perfect. Men these days can’t get it up for a woman who takes the lead.

Alastor was entirely unsure what the fuck was happening. You were wildly unpredictable. When you grabbed at his dick, he thought his eyes would cross from the shock. Is this what ‘affection’ meant to you? He couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t understand you. Were you really just lustful? Even after what you’d seen him—

You bit at his bottom lip, pulling slightly. Big eyes looking back at him. Your breath was already running away from you, adrenaline seemingly synonymous with Alastor. Staring up at him, you waited. His move.

It was his turn to blink. He looked off to his left, eyes swinging back to you. With a shrug, he leaned his body back towards yours. His hand slid down the front of your dress; red silk. A deer in the headlights, you tensed. The rare third option; fight, flight, freeze. Soon his fingers were tracing the lace of your stockings, climbing up the garter straps.

His eyes were studying your face. You didn’t want to give the wrong answer again, but at this point you weren’t sure any answer was right. This was taking a sudden turn and your foot was off the brake. You closed your eyes, opting out of the scrutiny of his stare. His hand met your stomach and began to slip down again. He rested it between your thighs, longer fingers and palm cupping the entirety of your sex.

Alastor struggled to decipher your expression. It was almost like a pout, but more subtle. You hadn’t said stop or pushed him away yet. Was he right? You were just… horny? As his hand slid back up and pried their way into your panties, you trembled.

It had been so long since someone else’s hand was on you. Someone whose hands you genuinely enjoyed, who you wanted to be on you.

Is that right? You wanted him to touch you?

Maybe it was the stare, or the smile. Probably just the adrenaline.

His hand found its place again, middle finger bending to part your folds and feel your wetness. You whimpered, hand coming to cover your own mouth.

“Is this what you wanted?” He said it low, a husky tone he didn’t have before.

No. Maybe. You nodded yes.

“Will you be satisfied now? No more tailing me?”

No. Probably not. Another nod.

His finger pushed in, and with a kind of greed you didn't recognize your hips ground down into his palm. He slipped in and out of you with ease. You had no idea when or why you got so wet.

“I always end up dripping around you, Alastor,” you whispered through your fingers. His ring finger joined. Why couldn’t you shut up? Why did you have to bring up, well, the murder?

“A common problem for those I take an interest in.”

Oh no. You moaned softly into your hand. Sharp mind made dull by his fingers so you didn’t, couldn’t, process his double meaning.

Oh no. The sounds of footsteps, a pair of lovers sneaking into the park for privacy. You heard their giggles, the sounds of kisses interrupting their walking.

“Shhh”, he breathed into your ear as he worked a third finger into your heat. One knuckle, two knuckles. A whimper. His hand came to press down over your own on your mouth, a second barrier for your mewling. You groaned, the sound coming from your throat.

Whispers. The silhouette of the two interlopers was visible through the willow’s curtains. You watched from over his shoulder, pussy clenching around him. Three knuckles deep, bottoming out.

Fuck it. You moaned freely into your hand, wiggling down onto his hand. Hips rolling, you let your little sounds of praise flow.

The couple laughed, “That’s the spirit!” A man said, a woman hushing him and pulling him away.

Alastor grinned into your neck, immensely amused. He would have better luck predicting a dice roll than your next move.

You hadn’t realized how hollow you’d been until now, feeling so full. When alone, you focused on just cumming, fingers on your clit and mind on memories. You never bothered much with anything else.

Your hunger intensified. You wanted more. Both hands reached for his crotch again, finding nothing there for you. You could have cried. How were you a wet mess pressed against a tree and he was soft as a newspaper in a rainstorm?

Your pride stung. Men usually stood at attention around you. A half sob into the air earned you a chuckle from Alastor. “It’s no reflection of you, darling.” His nose nudged your ear lobe, “I need a little different stimulation than most.”

“Do you play for the other team?” You considered how you could momentarily switch.

A louder laugh, “I don’t have a team.” He leaned back now to look at you. His freehand came to press on your lower stomach, gently pushing your womb down. Your brows knit, why did that feel so good? Hands going to the tree behind you for stability.

“Sure feels like you know how to play. This is-,” his hand switched from thrusting slowly in and out to moving front and back. It sent vibrations up into you. Your eyes rolled close. Shut up. Stop talking. Focus. Close.

He kissed around your open mouth, “Well, it’d be unamerican to not dabble. When necessary, or when the conditions are right.”

Double speak over, “Just tell me what to do to get you to fuck me.”

Alastor’s head fell back as he laughed earnestly, most likely alerting anyone in the immediate area. “Ha! No, this is more fun.”

“Oh fuck you,” you brought a hand around to your throbbing clit to quicken your release.

“Maybe next time, dear.” He took a second, fingers in you sliding around your walls in search of something before finding his place and continuing. Your breath noticeably changed, instead of panting you were practically holding it in. You needed the pressure, you needed something to squeeze that spring of pleasure down so it could snap back. As your face went flush, he kissed at your temple, “You look so pretty in red.”

“Oh god-,” Your head fell onto his chest, your joint effort bringing you to orgasm.

“A little late on Sunday for prayers, don't you think?”

A tiny scream into his suit pocket, his hand not stopping until your thighs finished twitching around him. Even after his hand stopped moving you gripped him by the wrist and rolled onto his fingers a few more times. The pleasure ebbing but still spiking every time he moved against you.

Ah, greed. That was it. He understood a little better. This wasn’t lust, not alone. You were definitely a mix of the two. With a sigh, you released your hold and let him slide out of you. Already you felt lonelier. Already you wished to start over.

With his dry hand he smoothed out your dress. You weren’t ashamed but you suddenly felt too embarrassed to look him the eye. But you did, hearing him hum as he sucked his fingers clean.

Why were you only ever in his mouth in the strangest ways?

“You always taste so sweet, dear. Now!” You wanted to say something clever and salacious like, ‘there’s more where that came from’ but he didn’t afford you the opportunity. He offered you his hooked arm, “It’s dangerous in the park at night. Let’s get you to a cab and on your way home.”

“Is this a hobby of yours?” Your legs were wobbly but otherwise fine. “Illegal activities in public?”

“Funny, I was just wondering the same of you. Stalking is a crime, dear.”

You bit your lip. “Touché.”

He flagged down a taxi, “Tell him where to go.” You slid into the back seat and half-whispered to the driver. Alastor leaned into the passenger side front window and after paying the man, went to close your door, “You’ve been an entertaining sparring partner. Goodbye, sweetheart.”

With a thud of the door and a growl of the engine, you were driving away from him. You could see him in the rear window. He didn’t dare to move, he didn’t need you following another step of his.

Which was unfortunate for him, as you were already scheming how to find him again.

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @angelicwillows

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 5 months ago

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last set of tsumsitter ssr groovies 👀

THE TIME HAS COME

First is Pomefiore!! (Edit: The initial version of this Groovy is on the left; Rook is missing the golden Pomefiore markings on his robes. There was an update to fix this. The updated version is on the right.)

The trio is framed by a border of colorful lights, which reminds me a lot of old-fashioned movie theater signs (though not as colorful). If you look closely at the top and bottom, it seems they are posed for a candid photograph and it’s being posted to Magicam or something?? Rook and Epel look super crisp here, which I love!! I think Epel is posing with his hands held behind his back. This paired with his smile and the slight bird’s eye view of his face makes him look super cute please don’t beat me up for saying that, Epel. And Rook is being showy and familiar as usual, even putting one hand on Vil’s shoulder. Vil isn’t cringing or uncomfortable with it, which goes to show that he and Rook are truly good friends.

As for Vil, it’s rare to see him posed casually like this. Most of his cards feature him posed in very “model”-like and mature ways, so to have just one hand on hip, leaning forward slightly, and gripping his grimoire is unique for him (I mostly associate this pose with Ace, lol). His smile is quite casual too—it’s not quite the full catty smirk he has in his live2D model, it’s a lot more subtle and playful.

BahacTeHWWRVwkkwwm YHE VIL TSUM STeALS THE SHOW ThoUGH 😭 (You can tell it’s smiling despite the lack of a visible mouth) from how its eyes!! The placement of the Tsum is also funny. With Pomefiore’s peacock throne in the background, it forms sort of an angelic halo around… the sentient stuffed toy… Proof that Tsum Vil is a heavenly being/j

Next is Ignihyde!!

The Shroud brothers return to Cyberspace, that blue void with tons of ethereal floating screens, particle effects, and code www I don’t know what those three pink balls of flame are in the background, but there being three of them is a consistent theme for Ignihyde. Three pink fireballs, three Shroud brothers, three heads of Cerberus! I wish I could say more here, but I’m basically a Malleus when it comes to tech��

Idia’s pose isn’t anything we haven’t seen before (just at different angles of it, I suppose). But!! It feels different here and adding Ortho definitely adds to it. The Pokémon trainer energy of the initial art carries over to the Groovy. Idia looks like a smug, tough trainer looking down on you with a cocky grin and his face half-shadowed.

Ortho floats almost menacingly next to his big brother, his face entirely shadowed. His aura is like a phantom (fitting) or even like a Pokémon on standby waiting for the chance to fire off a Hyper Beam. This might be me overthinking things, but I wonder if the amount of light on the brothers’ faces references the original Ortho. Robo!Ortho’s face is entirely darkened because his parallel has passed on. Idia’s face is only partially shadowed because while he was close to stepping over to the “other side”, he ultimately found hope and was able to continue living, this time for himself and on his own terms.

I LIKE HoW TSUM IDIA HAS ITS OWN sCREEN TO WORK OFF OF TOO 😭 IBRO IS MAkING A sUS FACE TOO, IT’S GLEEfUL AbOUT WhAtEVRr it’S UP TO… That makes me think that it’s hard at work… I dunno, hacking something systems fnksgwiwozlapaeb Watch out, a Tsum near you might infect your computer and then bounce away happily after ruining all your programs and files.

Last but not least… Diasomnia!! THIS ONE’S MY fAVORITE OF THE SSR TSUMSITTER GROUP, WHICH I WAs NOT EXPecTING AT ALL 🤡

The violet backlight is fantastic—it adds an interesting lighting to the illustration and highlights the green flames and Silver and Sebek’s bright eyes. And speaking of Sebek and Silver, LOOK AT THEM JUST LOOK AT THEM???????? More specifically, Sebek’s arms (they look ultra meaty somehow) and Silver’s whole face(that lopsided smile??? HELLO?????)!! On either side of Malleus like that… Peak bodyguard, I REPEAT, PEAK BODYGUARD

With Lilia bringing up the rear, the three form a perfect squad to surround and to protect their liege. cbsjsbevejwlw I like that Lilia is different than Silver and Sebek; he’s hanging out upside down (as he usually does) and bears a huuuge grin, completely having fun in the moment. (… How does his hat stay on like that when he’s fighting gravity though?)

Up front and center is Malleus of course! He’s wielding his spindle staff like a king might a scepter. This with his fierce face gives the impression of a leader marching into battle with his retainers. You get a real good shot of his teeth and reptilian eyes here which I’m sure the Malleus stans are going feral for right now—and with the limelight shining down on him, he looks almost hopeful for once instead of downtrodden or gloomy.

THE TSUM MALLEUS LOOKS SO FUNKY PLACED tHERE cnsnwveuxvDFsFjqk Just. Cheekily There on Malleus’s shoulder… Because Maleficent and Diablo is a known combination, the image of those two as master and minion comes to mind. Imagine Malleus blasting you with lightning, pausing to listen to his Tsum whispering a suggestion into his ear, and then telling you the Tsum has advised that he blast you with a second strike 💀

Aaaaaah, the Tsumsitter SSR Groovies are some of the best in this game 😭 So glad they’re finally over though, it’s stressful saving rolls for what you know would be a limited event with multiple SSR banners, lol

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hughiecampbelle · 3 months ago

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Supe Preference: Asking You Out

Requested: hi, idk if you write for the supes, but I will try request anyway :D how would the supes ( the boys series) ask a gn reader out? Ty - anon

A/N: I hope this is okay my love! I tried to stay true to character as much as possible, so I'm not sure how romantic some of them are. I tried writing for new Supes too, at least new for me, so apologies if it's not totally in character! Feedback is always appreciated! 💜💜💜

Homelander doesn't exactly ask you out. Rather, on live TV during an interview or event, he grabs your hand and proclaims that you're in love, that you're a couple. Whether or not you're into him, it still comes as a shock. Afterwards he'll ask you on a date where the public and paparazzi can see and take pictures. It's not as intimate as you'd like, but the date goes well. He takes you to an expensive restaurant where you've gotten rid of your suit for something classy and elegant, but he sticks with his regular attire. It's definitely not how you were expecting to be asked out or how you thought your relationship would progress. Ashley thinks it's great! You are both insanely powerful and, for selfish reasons, she wants Homelander off her back. She appreciates that you'll take some of the attention off her.

The Deep probably makes more than a few inappropriate, crude, raunchy jokes about and around you before he properly introduces himself. It's almost compulsive the way his jokes come out. He just can't help himself. He later apologizes and asks to start fresh. Would you want to go out on a date with him? When you say yes, he instantly tells you about all his ideas. You could go to the aquarium or to dinner or to the amusement park or coffee or whatever you want to do. You stick to coffee. It's pretty cute how excited he is. He wasn't expecting you to say yes, so he really didn't have it planned all the way through. He was expecting, like everyone else in his life, for you to call him stupid and move on without answering.

A-Train and you have been dating forever, but you haven't been out on a date in ages. He's still shy trying to ask you out even now. Of course you say yes, excited you'll get some time alone. You might have to reschedule once or twice because Homelander is on the rampage, but when you do get together, he takes you rollerskating. Despite how fast he is in sneakers, he's awful on wheels. He holds your hand the entire time and definitely drags you down when he falls. He stays pretty casual in his clothes and tries to keep his hood up, but it just falls down. You guys find a roller-rink in the middle of nowhere, so you're pretty safe in being discovered. You make fun of his clumsiness and check him for bruises when he falls, especially hard. He makes the same joke over and over: that he "fell" for you. You think he's an idiot, but this is by far one of your most favorite dates.

Queen Maeve asks you out over text. When you say yes, she shows up in her civilian clothes. She makes sure she isn't followed and that Homelander is distracted the entire day. She takes you to the movies. It's dark and secluded, but she knows you love movie theater popcorn specifically with all the butter and the blue raspberry slushies, and you picked the only movie not funded by or produced by Vought. It's a really terrible comedy, but you two can laugh at it anyway. Maeve even holds your hand during the movie which makes her heart beat out of her chest. Afterwards she makes you stay after to kiss you and tell you she had a really great time. It's the first time in forever where she's felt like a real person whose allowed to do real person things. She wants to get your read on it, but you're both excited for a second date.

Firecracker would ask you on a date to some fast food restaurant where you can get the best greasy food and the thickest milkshakes. She'll definitely be sported because she doesn't go incognito and ends up spending a few minutes at least taking pictures and videos for everyone who wants one. She apologizes for them, but secretly, she loves it. You don't mind. You knew what you were getting into when you said yes to the date. She tells you about her life growing up and her past with Starlight. You tell her about your own life and how you came to New York to follow your dreams. She tells you about joining The Seven and what she really thinks of Vought. It isn't the most magical date, but you're glad you said yes. It made you feel like a teenager again, getting food with your old crush, trying to play it cool when you're actually freaking out.

Soldier Boy doesn't really ask you out on a date. You two *get busy* in bed and afterwards he asks if you'd want to go to a bar. You say yes and find yourself at a local hole in the wall, a place that definitely doesn't see new faces. Most of the patrons are as old as Ben would be if he'd aged. He looks so familiar to them, but they can't figure out where he's from. An old friend? An old co-worker? Regardless, they don't pay attention to the two of you. You and Ben start trying to out drink one another and though his tolerance is astronomically higher than yours, you keep up enough to impress him. You two probably go back to bed and keep drinking, sharing stories about your lives between sweaty sheets and shared sips of whatever booze he has lying around. It's not too official, but you both kind of think of it as a date.

Bonus! Annie asks you to go bowling with her. Like in the show, she plays it off like she's not very good until you point it out to her. That's when she starts kicking your ass. She's really embarrassed and worried that you'll think she's showing off or just trying to make you feel bad, but you love it. You love her strength. You love her showing off and almost breaking the pins with the ball. You get really awful bowling alley food and beers, and it's a really fun night despite all the drama that comes with being Starlight. It's the first time in a long time she's felt normal and safe and excited to be here, excited to be herself. You're not shy about asking for a second date, though you know you're risking a lot by wanting to be with her. She makes that known before anything else.

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sohnric · 11 months ago

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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.

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forzalando · 5 months ago

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what makes the sunset?

3k celebration blurb for @katsu28! you can find my celebration post here if you'd like to celebrate with me :) title inspired by the song what makes the sunset? - frank sinatra. if you’d like, give it a listen! that’s the vibe of lando x reader in this💛 word count: 845 summary: sappy sunset with lando. obvious they both love each other but no established relationship (i love idiots in love).

The time was nearing 8:00pm – you’d already cooked and cleaned up dinner, thrown a load of laundry in the washer, changed into comfy PJs, and vacuumed your entire living space.

The tick of your tv remote was beginning to drive you mad. Each time you scrolled to the next tv show or movie in your recommended, the sound grew louder and louder. After ten minutes of searching, you reached for your phone and went to the last text thread in your messages.

what should I watch? I literally can’t find anything that looks interesting and it’s driving me insane

The reply bubbles appeared on your screen almost immediately, but your (hopefully) saving grace decided to call instead of respond via text.

“What are you in the mood for?” Lando asked, his mouth clearly full of his dinner.

“Did you call me so that you wouldn’t have to take a break from eating to text me back?”

“Maybe, but I’m the one asking the questions here. What are you in the mood for?”

“Hmm,” you paused, “something beautiful, passionate, emotionally stirring. I want to feel something.”

“And you came to me for suggestions?” Lando’s laugh rang through the speaker, the sound filling you with warmth.

“Well, excuse me, Mr. ‘I’m a Scorpio and let me tell you all about it’! Aren’t you supposed to be passionate and emotional?”

“Alright, give me a minute to think!”

The silence was brief, not even 30 seconds had passed before Lando began speaking again.

“Be ready in 15 minutes, I’ve got the perfect idea.”

Before you had a chance to ask what he meant, the line went dead. You huffed out a breath and made your way to your room to change out of your pajamas – which, quite honestly, soured your mood a bit.

Exactly 15 minutes after your call ended, Lando Norris was furiously knocking at your door.

“Come on, come on, hurry up!!!” You could hear him yelling from outside your apartment – thank goodness it was early enough that your neighbors wouldn’t complain about a nighttime disturbance.

Swinging your door open, you came face to face with Lando, his arm raised to knock incessantly once again.

“You are insufferable,” you huffed. Those were the only words you could get out before Lando was practically dragging you towards the elevators.

“Where are we even going?”

“It’s a surprise,” he sang. You couldn’t help but laugh at his giddiness, following him blindly down to his car sitting outside your building, still running and somehow not stolen.

You tried to guess – ice cream, a friend’s place, a movie theater. With each guess, Lando shook his head and teased that he wasn’t going to tell you. Soon, Lando had parked his car in a familiar lot, one you’d driven to many times before when the weather was nice and he was miraculously home.

The sand was white and inviting – it squished underneath your toes as you stepped onto the beach, soft and still slightly warm from the sun beating down on it all day. You began to sit down when you heard Lando shouting behind you.

“NO sandy bottoms in my car, I brought a beach blanket you heathen!”

Sure enough, you turned around and there he was with the beach blanket you’d bought for him last summer. It had papayas on it, you simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

“So what are we doing here, Lan?”

He gestured towards the view in front of you. “You said you wanted to watch something beautiful and emotionally stirring.”

You looked at him quizzically, his hint completely lost on you. He rolled his eyes teasingly, scooting closer to you and bringing his arm up to look at his watch.

“The sun should start setting in about…five minutes? If I timed this correctly.”

“You brought me to the beach to watch the sunset?” A soft smile graced your lips, and it was your turn to scoot closer to Lando, only a few centimeters separating your legs.

“It just kind of popped into my head, but I should have asked you. I didn’t totally think this through, I’m sorry – ”

“Lando,” you interrupted him. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

He smiled at you and breathed a sigh of relief as he looked out towards the water, his shoulders visibly relaxing. It was silent for a few moments until he tensed again, turning to face you with wide eyes.

“Are you cold? The temperature is going to drop like twenty degrees, I have an extra hoodie in my car, let me go grab it.”

As he started to get up, you gently grabbed his arm and pulled him back down, finally closing the tiny gap of space between you.

“I’m fine, Lando,” you insisted, leaning your head on his shoulder and linking your arms. “You’re everything I need.”

He relaxed again and lowered his head slowly to meet yours, intertwining your fingers at the same time. As the two of you sat in silence, unspoken words and feelings swirled around in your minds.

Emotionally stirring was an understatement.

#lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris blurb #lando norris #ln4 #forzalando 3k

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fallinforgyu · 6 months ago

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ateez reaction to riling them up in public? like maybe with other ppl around n you tryna feel em up under the table or sumn or like, in a movie theater, that sort of thing...

anon i will kiss u on the forehead... bless u

hongjoong doesn't like pda. he wants to keep intimate moments intimate and would give you NO reaction if you tried to feel him up in public. he might even shoot you a look or directly tell you to stop. you'd think he's mad at you until the moment the door closes behind him and you're alone. "What exactly were you trying to do?" he'd ask, walking closer and closing in on you, "Start something you couldn't finish?" And then, just to remind you who's in charge, he'd tie you up. You're excited just to feel his hands on you, but don't get your hopes up - you're not gonna get to cum for at LEAST an hour. "How does it feel to be teased? It's not fun, huh baby?"

seonghwa... i actually think he would really love this. first of all i think he might be a bit of an exhibitionist so if you feel him up in front of one of the other members that's a HUGE plus. idk idk i have this very clear image in my head of seonghwa making eye contact with and smirking at the members while he's getting his neck kissed idk idk... anyway. as an aries mars this man probably LOVES quickies, so feeling him up in public would almost always lead to you bent over a sink in some sleazy public restroom, his hands all over you and his lips against your ear, saying shit like "This is what you wanted, hm? Pretty little slut." God and then he LOVES putting your panties back on and making you go about the rest of your day with his cum dripping out of you.

yunho plays along with it. the second he feels your hand brushing against his thigh at the movie theater, he leans over and presses his lips directly to your ear. "What are you doing, pretty girl?" He'd smirk, knowing damn well what you're doing. Well, two can play at that game. he'd put his arm around you, starting by stroking your hair and ear, then brushing the back of his fingertips down your neck. once you're nice and covered in chills, he'd gently grope the side of your breast, smirking and kissing the side of your head when you squirm. by the end of the movie, you're so worked up that you forgot the whole thing was your idea. but don't worry, yunho's gonna remind you of that every few minutes when he's overstimulating you at home later. "Come on, sweetie. You can cum one more time for me, can't you? You were so needy for me earlier."

i'm picturing a very specific scenario with yeosang. walk with me. you're at the mall with him and when you walk past a lingerie store, you think it's the perfect opportunity to tease him. you ask him to go to the store with you and he nods, trying to act as chill as possible about it. that is until you're holding up pretty sets against your body, asking yeosang if he thinks they'd look good on you. he'd be pretty quiet but he'd give you his honest opinion, blushing through the whole ordeal. your mall trip ends shortly after that because yeosang is suddenly in a huge rush to get home, begging you "Please put that red one on for me" as soon as you're home. have i mentioned i think yeosang loves lingerie? bc i do. "Drove me crazy to think about you wearing all of those pretty things for me," he'd breathe, biting your neck, "Just so I can make a mess of you in them."

god there's something so romantic about san. i really think teasing touches and stolen kisses are just things that come with loving him. even if you're just at a cafe having coffee and chatting, your fingertips brushing up and down his arm while you talk to him just feels so comfortable and right. he's the type to pull you into an empty alley and press you to the wall and kiss you with everything he has in his body just because he felt like it. i'm telling yall... post date sex with san goes CRAZY because you will have spent the entire date subconsciously working each other up. "You know just how i like it, baby. You know just how to make me feel good," he'd groan through slow, passionate strokes and deep kissing </3

mingi's first reaction is to get giggly. i think his body is so sensitive and he's a little bit ticklish, so feeling your hands on particularly sensitive parts of his body might make him a little squirmy. but just be patient, be gentle and keep going because in a few minutes he'll mellow out and really allow himself to feel your touches. his eyelids might get a little heavy, his eyes might glaze over a bit but he's in heaven allowing himself to be loved on. "Doing okay, handsome?" you'd ask and he'd snap out of it a bit. "That feels nice." he'd nod, a dopey smile on his face. ask him if he wants more and he'll be home and underneath you in a matter of minutes - a moaning, panting mess who loves nothing more than being the center of your attention.

we're kidding ourselves if we say that wooyoung is anything other than the one who would be teasing you. this man is THE teaser. was quite literally born to tease. he'd constantly be coming up with excuses to try to rile you up - sucking ice cream off your fingers after it dripped down the cone and onto your hand, running his hand up your thigh while you're trying to watch tv, slapping your ass when he walks past you, the list goes on. he wants to see just how far he can push you before you break. "What are you gonna do about it, huh? You gonna punish me? Or are you gonna admit to yourself that you liked it, hm?" yeah that's wooyoung.

jongho just wants to make sure your needs are taken care of </3 as soon as you start trying to feel him up it's "Hm? What's gotten into you, baby? Do you need me?" and best believe he will prioritize your needs over ANY function he's at. the minute you nod your head or give him that desperate look, he has you in the passenger seat of his car with his hand on your thigh. "I'm gonna turn you into a brat if I keep giving you whatever you want whenever you want it," he'd smirk, kissing you and sliding his hands up your skirt, "But how am I supposed to say no to you when you're this damn cute all the time?"

#i need all 8 of them in such different ways... potentially at the same time #ateez hard hours #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #bunny's mailbox 📬#mdni

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steddiealltheway · 1 year ago

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Steve cradles Eddie's face gently as he kisses him with a smile. "I missed you," he whispers between kisses.

"I missed you, too," Eddie says as he kisses a path across Steve's jaw.

Steve groans and thuds his head back against the wall of the Hawkins High School theater room. "Tell me again why we can't tell people yet."

Eddie laughs as he pulls away to look at him with a softness in his gaze. "You've already asked me this twice in the past five minutes."

"Because I want everyone to know about my amazing boyfriend. Robin's going to kill me when she finds out that I've been lying about my series of bad dates. And Dustin will kill both of us for keeping this a secret from him. You know how much he's been begging for us to hang out together."

Eddie sighs and hides his face in the crook of Steve's neck. "It's just not the right time yet." He lifts his head to meet Steves's gaze as he continues, "I just... I'm afraid Dustin or one of the guys will say something at school and accidentally out us. Plus, I want to tell everyone together. Not just you and not just me. Together, okay?"

Steve nods. He would do anything for Eddie. "Not even Robin? he asks.

"Not even Robin."

Steve sighs and nods. "Okay. I promise we'll tell everyone together."

Eddie smiles and leans in. "Seal it with a kiss?"

Steve laughs and wraps his arms around his shoulders. "One more then I have to drive Dustin home before he kills me."

One more kiss turns into two which turns into three until Steve finally breaks away with a big smile and says, "Okay, okay! I have to go!"

Eddie clings onto his hand as Steve tries to leave, and Steve can't help but linger a little longer. "When's your final campaign thing again?"

Eddie smiles. "Two weeks. Think you can make it that long without me?"

"No," Steve replies honestly and moves in closer to hug Eddie tightly. His heart thuds in his chest, and for some reason, he feels like this may be one of the last moments the two of them will get. He tries to shake away the feeling but Eddie must notice.

"You okay?" Eddie asks, concern heavy in his tone as he pulls Steve in closer.

Steve only squeezes him tighter.

"We'll tell them together eventually, okay? Not apart."

Steve nods and breaks the hug, kissing Eddie deeply before he steps back, fingers trailing down Eddie's arms to his hands until they slip away. "Together and not apart. Got it. And hey, two weeks."

"Two weeks," Eddie says with a big smile. "But you better call."

Steve scoffs, "You act like I wouldn't."

Eddie pulls his hair in front of his face, failing to hide the blush on his face. Steve finds it entirely adorable. He walks away and pushes the door slightly open, trying to ignore the sense of impending doom he feels. He pauses in the doorway and turns around. "You know I love you, right?"

Eddie freezes momentarily in confusion, only having heard the phrase a few times. He nods. "I love you, too," he replies a bit breathlessly.

Steve nods before walking out the door, waggling his fingers at Eddie in the way that always makes him laugh. "I'll call you later."

And he does call him later. In fact, Steve can't go a single night without hearing Eddie's voice before he goes to bed, which makes it worse when he doesn't hear from him two weeks later after Lucas's game and their brief fight about how Eddie should've changed the date of the final D&D session.

Only, Steve didn't realize there was more to Eddie missing his call other than their fight.

Things only continue to go downhill after that as the impending doom finally comes.

With the world coming to an end, Steve doesn't really get the chance to talk things through with Eddie, and they both know now is not the time to reveal their secret relationship.

Steve reluctantly agrees to the plan to face Vecna, separating him and Eddie temporarily, but it seems like the best choice to ensure Eddie will stay safe.

But when he hears Dustin's screams as they leave the Creel house, Steve knows that he thought wrong.

And as he drags Eddie's lifeless body out of the Upside Down, he tries as hard as he can to hold his tears back. Because his reaction wouldn't make sense to anyone. And he promised him. They would tell everyone about their relationship together, not apart.

So, Steve waits until everyone leaves him alone, none of them knowing that he's lost the love of his life, and he lets himself finally break. "Together and not apart," Steve sobs, "We were supposed to be together and never apart."

And Steve will never know that Eddie, with his dying breath, tried as hard as he could to tell Dustin that Steve could tell everyone, but he never got the words out.

#steddie #steddie angst #angst #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #I'm sorryyyyyy #school is stressful and this is the resulttttt #main character death

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chuusheartattck · 28 days ago

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THAT’S THAT ME ESPRESSO (TTME)

Chapter 40- 10 things i hate about you ☕️

It had been a few days since your boyfriend’s new movie came out. You weren’t excited with the idea of watching it in the theater, mostly because you wanted him to see your full reaction.

I mean, it’s not everyday where your boyfriend stars in the lead role of a rom com with his co star being the girl he almost led on.

That’s why with the modern age of streaming services, you waited for the movie to be put on Hulu.

It was your weekly movie night with Scaramouche and it was your turn to pick out the movie. With a shit eating grin, you typed in the name of the film.

“You’re not being serious are you?” Scaramouche looked at you deadpanned.

“Of course I am! I haven’t seen the movie yet and I need you to hear my thoughts as I watch it.”

“I really don’t need to.”

You gave him a glare before pressing play on the movie. He tried protesting but sighed and leaned back onto the couch once he realized he wasn’t going to win.

You scooted closer to him as he put his arm around you.

The movie began and his first scene is in the guidance counselor’s office. You didn’t really know what the movie was about beforehand, therefore the Australian accent caught you off guard.

“What the fuck? Since when was your character Australian?” You questioned him, almost like you were interrogating him on something serious.

“Umm since forever? Do you even know what this movie is about?”

“Not really but how much do I have to pay you to do that accent forever?”

“You can pay me by shutting the fuck up,” He replied in his Australian accent, smirking.

Humbled.

You didn’t know what to say in response and just turned back to watch the film silently.

In 30 minutes you’ll probably realize what you should’ve said in that moment.

It was now the scene where Scaramouche’s character, Patrick, is getting paid to go out with Haypasia’s character, Kat.

“Wow Patrick is an asshole just like the actor playing him,” You commented, a hint of amusement in your voice.

You could see Scaramouche rolling his eyes from your peripheral. He didn’t bother with engaging in your commentary. He knew if he opened his mouth, you two would just bicker the whole movie.

Plus, he was slightly curious on what you thought about his performance.

He would just never admit to it.

“Oh and he’s smoking during school. Whoever wrote this must’ve knew you-“

You couldn’t finish your sentence because Scaramouche took a handful of popcorn and shoved it in your mouth.

This was your cue to be quiet.

“You’re just too good to be true. Can’t take my eyes off of you,” Scaramouche’s voice could be heard through the tv.

You were watching intensely at the screen as he continues to sing the rest of the song with the marching band in the background.

The frantic running of the scene made you giggle due to how out of character it seemed for him.

“I didn’t know you could do all that,” You said in between snickers.

“I wasn’t very excited when I had to film it.”

“Aw but you look so cute!”

“Pay attention to the next scene.”

You didn’t know what he meant by that so you just looked back at the screen and waited.

Kat broke Patrick out of detention and now they’re on a date. They’re hitting each other with paint filled balloons.

You thought it was sweet, sure it was a bit weird to see, but you knew it was just acting.

It wasn’t until they kissed for the first time when Scaramouche finally spoke again, “This was filmed when me and her were having that thing. If you even want to call it that.”

Oh this bitch.

“Shit isn’t so funny now is it?” Scaramouche teased.

Before you could even scold him for saying something like that to you, he gave you a small peck on the lips.

“But I thought about you the entire time,” His words were quiet but you could tell he was being sincere.

You wanted to give him an earful, but decided against it.

He’ll hear it another time.

“I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate the way you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick and it even makes me rhyme. I hate the way you’re always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate when you make me laugh, even worst when you make me cry. I hate it when you’re not around and the fact that you didn’t call. But mostly I hate that I don’t hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.”

It was getting close to the end of the movie and you were surprised on how much you liked it. Despite your previous comments, it was an entertaining film and it wasn’t dragged out for too long. You thought it was cute and fun to see him star in a non action or horror movie for once.

“What did you think?” Scaramouche asked as soon as the ending credits rolled on the screen.

You hummed before responding, trying to think of the right words to say, “It was nice.” You had more to say, but you wanted to tease him for a bit.

“Is that all?”

“Mhm,” You got up from the couch, grabbing the empty popcorn bowl to put in the sink.

Scaramouche followed you to the kitchen, “Nothing else?”

“Nope,” You were standing by the sink, not sparing a glance in his direction, “Why do you want to know so bad? You didn’t seem too excited to hear my thoughts while we were watching. Now you’re so curious. I wonder.”

Luckily your back was faced towards him or else he would’ve seen you fighting back a smile.

“Oh so just fuck me I guess?” He scoffs.

He knew what you were trying to do, but he likes you so much that he’ll humor you for a while.

You turned around to look at him, “I mean I thought the actor that played Cameron was fine as fuck if that’s what you want to hear,” You replied nonchalantly as you tried to walk past him.

He stepped right in front of you with his arms crossed, “Is that so? Tell me more then.” His voice was more monotone than you expected but he couldn’t stop his smug expression.

You weren’t one to back down however, “Yeah I mean I just couldn’t stop staring at him. I feel like he carried the movie. He was easily the best character,” Your sarcastic tone didn’t go unnoticed.

Scaramouche leaned towards your face and while you thought he was going to kiss you, he only flicked your forehead. He let out a small chuckle before walking back to the living room.

“You’re such an asshole!” You shouted from the kitchen.

“And you’re a pain in the ass!” He shouted back.

“What a little bitch,” You mumbled to yourself before joining him again.

Even if others may view the relationship as a bit odd, you two knew you couldn’t be with any other. You two matched perfectly, some may call it soulmates or twin flames.

You guys never talked about those sort of things but it was pretty clear that you both know each other better than anyone ever could.

Scaramouche loved how you can put him in his place. Most people are too scared to do so or avoid him all together.

You don’t care. He doesn’t intimidate you. Which in turn, makes him fall more for you.

On the other hand, you love how Scaramouche is quick to bring you down to reality. He doesn’t sugarcoat things like how others might do. He isn’t one to cater towards someone’s feelings if he truly cares about them. If you’re being an unreasonable asshat, he’ll be the first to tell you.

All these things do lead to constant bickering. His quick mouth and your sarcasm was like watching an in person soap opera. Even if sometimes it does get tiring to listen to when people hang out with you guys.

No matter what, you both were content and blissful.

Sure things could’ve been handled way differently. It was never the most healthiest or smoothest ways of doing things. However, if you two had to relive the previous conflicts if it means being together in end.

You both would do it again in a heartbeat.

Masterlist II Previous

A/N: I was rewatching 10 things i hate about you while writing this so the scenes should be accurate. Please watch the movie if you haven’t!! BUTT OMGGG last chapter of ttme finally done!! Tysm to everyone who has read this shit show from when it started till now it means the world to me! I originally didn’t think i’d stick by with it for so long but here we are. Your patience and support truly kept me motivated throughout the entire thing so thank you once again 😭 I’ll start my next smau soon so be ready! I’ll also put out a bonus chapter with how things would’ve been different if y/n went with xiao so be on the lookout!

Synopsis: You’re a new idol that just debuted under ‘Fontaine Entertainment’ with your new single ‘Espresso.’ You just graduated high school which means all your classmates are shocked to see you into stardom. Including your old situationship, who happens to be an actor.

Taglist: @skyoverkill1 @quacking-simp @lolmeowing @astro-stars @kaitfae @sl-vega @scarawiki @yuminako @samyayaya @skyvella @kur0kki @practicoi @kukikoooo @scaraenthusiast1 @shutingstar @lloovvv @moonjellyfishie @miy-svz @xionri @lalalaloveallmydays @hearts4lizzzz @kathiwis @state-of-grac3 @morgyyyyyyy @scaradooche @theyluvkatt @meigalaxy @noirechomps @crimxeorcremeexistspeacefully @vxcmx @ariesloves @cayl33n @animeobsessed56 @heartsforni-ki @feikyuu @ichcocat @strayharmony943 @chscklvr @kunikissr @jiminscarmex @sp1ng @bananasquash @aceakariii @thegalaxyisunfolding @ariilies @hisfuture @automaticpatroltragedy @sartrst @cheriswag @kokomiskiss @albedomestic-airline @lxkeeeee @sundays-prince @wvvyq @amurotoorudesu @ennsposts @illu-fu @vitanye @kuniz-darlingg @kiraisastay @yejiswifex

#genshin impact #genshin impact smau #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact x reader #y/n #genshin smau #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin x reader #scara smau #scaramouche smau #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #ttme #chuusheartattck

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sugurugetofavoritemonkey · 2 months ago

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Fons vitae caritas - Love is the fountain of life

Summary : What if Ethan Landry survived the theater attack at the shrine ? You didn’t know he was one of the Ghostfaces and when you found him all bloody and whimpering on the floor, of course you helped him. Or in other words, you tend to the wounds of Ethan Landry, a killer but also the boy you always loved… and maybe it wasn’t an unrequited love after all. In all honesty, Ethan was enamored with you and never wanted you to be involved in all of this…

Pairing : Ethan Landry x Gn! Reader.

Word Count : 3.900 words.

Warnings : Hurt/Comfort, fluff, mention of blood, wounds and stitches.

Author’s Note : This was entirely written based on this lovely anon’s request. Tell me if I’ve missed anything and please don’t hesitate to give me feedback, it’s always greatly appreciated to know if I did good ! I also had a blast with this request (and writing for my lovely Ethan) so if you have requests for him, I’ll be excited to hear about your ideas.

You had been separated from the group at the subway station. There were way too many people at this time in the subway and you had been stuck in the middle of people walking in and out of the subway. However, what disconcerted you was the fact that Ethan, your dearest « friend », if you could really call him that with how much the two of you were close, let go of your hand in the middle of running to the subway. Maybe it was just a coincidence, you thought, without really believing it. Ethan always held your hand when you were outside, always, and he never let go of you, especially when there were that many people around, and with a killer on the loose on top of that. Ethan knew that you could get a bit scared outdoors when he wasn’t there to hold your hand and reassure you that everything was okay. He always looked back to see exactly where you were to look after you, but strangely… this time, when Ethan let go of your hand, he didn’t even make an attempt to walk back to get you, as he continued walking straight ahead like nothing happened… and it definitely wasn’t like him to do something like that.

Everyone was ahead of you as you made your best to catch up on them after you had finally reached your stop. Luckily you knew the city by heart and it was easy for you to quickly arrive at the theater, where everyone had planned to trap the Ghostface killer inside his own shrine. Unfortunately, because you got to the theater way after the others, it was hard for you to find them as you walked inside the giant building. At some time, you heard screams of pain, you believed it was Chad as you started to walk faster in order to help him but when you thought you had finally reached him, you got further separated from your friends as not one but two Ghostfaces cornered you in a small room during the attack.

The hooded killers laughed as they closed the door behind them before removing their masks. You gasped in shock as you realized with widened eyes that the Ghostfaces were Detective Wayne Bailey and his - actually alive - daughter, Quinn. You tried to run past them but that was just futile as they laughed even louder at you, mocking you as Wayne didn’t even bother to make useless moves, barely lifting his arm up to shoot you in the right shoulder as he ordered his daughter to finish you off. Quinn stabbed you in the stomach as you groaned in pain and coughed a bit of blood when she harshly removed the knife from you, making you almost instantly fall to the ground in a silent cry, your vision slowly becoming dark and blurry as they both thought they had you dead and closed the door behind them like nothing happened.

Honestly, you should have been dead with all the blood that you lost but it seemed that fate had been by your side this time. When you woke up from your loss of consciousness, you got up with excruciating pain in your right side and shoulder. When you clenched your hand over your wounds, you could feel the blood staining your clothes and decided to tear a part of your long skirt to make rudimentary bandages that you wrapped around your shoulder and waist in hope that it will stop the bleeding at least until you get home. When you started walking to find the exit where you came from, it almost seemed that everything was over with how silent the theater had become. Moving your body was making your head dizzy as you winced in pain but you kept walking while avoiding the debris that were now obstructing some part of the silent shrine. Among them, two bodies particularly caught your attention… Quinn and her father were laying on the ground with fresh blood surrounding them… they had what they deserved, you thought without remorse as you quickly averted your gaze from them. After a few minutes, you finally found the exit that wasn’t too far away from you, making a smile appear on your face with the promise of safety that you could almost grasp.

But when you were about to finally escape, you heard silent whimpers of pain coming from a corner. As you got closer, you could see Ethan laying on the ground on his stomach, almost covered in blood as a TV was crushing his right side : the edge of his face and a whole part of his shoulder. You gasped in shock and ran over to him, quickly removing the TV from him by pushing on it with your foot, gathering all the strength you could gather to rescue him. His safety being the only thing on your mind right now.

Once you could finally see Ethan better, the state he was in was more than alarming : the right side of his face was all bruised, both of his shoulders seemed to have bigger opened wounds as blood was gushing out and he had small cuts all around his mouth as Ethan coughed up blood, making you panic even more as you carefully lifted Ethan in your arms, making his head rest on your lap as you gently caressed his hair. Your eyes watered when you had to imagine the pain he was in at the moment as your heart started to pound violently against your chest, anxiety controlling you as it was almost impossible for you to breathe.

You always had a soft spot for Ethan… or even more than that if you were honest with yourself and it broke your heart to see your poor Ethan that way. You tried ever so gently to caress the left side of his face in a way to reassure Ethan with your presence, miraculously making him stir awake little by little. Ethan only succeeded in fluttering his eyes open as his breath was ragged. When his eyes spotted your face looking down at him as tears rolled down your cheeks just to fall on his eyelashes, Ethan almost thought he was in heaven. He immediately wanted to talk to you but because he was stabbed in the mouth, Ethan struggled to talk and articulate his words at first but after a moment he managed to whisper your name in a silent weep. It was hard for him to even look at you, let alone breathe properly as his eyes watered at the sight of you all bloody in front of him. But what made his heart really flutter was the way you were looking at him, with such gentle eyes as you were holding his broken body in your arms.

Ethan didn’t want all of this to happen that way as his eyes briefly noticed that you were wounded somewhere, anger and frustration submerging him as he realized that his plan didn’t work the way he expected.

Ethan had made sure you would not come here today. You couldn't be hurt in any way, he had repeated in his head a hundred times after his father had explained his plan to him a few days ago… the slaughter that will happen.

You had to stay stuck in the subway, Ethan had planned on his own… and that’s exactly what he did earlier as he had let go of your hand on purpose, exactly when a lot of people gathered around, to be sure that you had no chance to go with them, even though it broke his heart to imagine how anxious this situation would be for you. But Ethan had to make sure you were the only one safe, far away from all this violence. Yet, fate had played with him and you apparently were still able to get here anyway…

When you noticed the way Ethan’s eyes started to get foggy with tears, you were half happy to see that his body and mind were reacting, meaning that he had a chance to live. However, you also tried your best to contain your sobs at his distress… even though you actually didn’t know the real reason behind it… Ethan couldn’t care less about his own injuries, his mind was plagued with one thing only… you.

Ethan needed to get his hands on his father and sister to make them pay for what they did to you. They didn’t have the right to touch you, let alone harm you in any shape or form whatsoever, he had been very clear with them, but he also painfully knew that he could never make any decisions in his father’s plan.

When Ethan bit his bottom lip with a frown on his face, your hand drew more soothing circles on his unharmed cheek as you spoke to him with such a soft and gentle voice, smiling to Ethan to reassure him, though your voice betrayed your emotions.

« It’s a-alright Ethan… the Ghostfaces are all dead… all of them… you’re s-safe now… I promise, no one will ever h-hurt you again… I’m here, w-with y-you… »

When you remembered that Detective Bailey was Ghostface, you didn’t want to stay here any longer in case he had accomplices in the police when they would get here. Who knows ? Maybe they will finish the job he couldn’t and kill the both of you… you and Ethan are currently easy targets, you realize as your heart quickened in fear.

Hurriedly, you helped Ethan on his feet with difficulties as your own shoulder was starting to bleed again with the force you were applying on it. You maneuvered his left arm around your shoulder to support his weight. Ethan whimpered in pain as you helped him walk, due to the pressure applied on his stabbing wounds, even though he tried his hardest to stay strong for you. You blurt out excuses with an anxious voice as you quicken your pace to go back to your place.

« We c-can’t stay here Ethan… I’m sorry but we’ll have to be quick. I’ll take care of you when we're safe. »

Some tears escaped Ethan’s eyes in silence with all the emotions he was going through. He couldn’t care less that his father died. After all, the man never cared for him nor even loved him as a son. He was just a tool for him. Nevertheless, Ethan could not deny the thrill he always felt when he acted as Ghostface, it was more than true and he accepted it without feeling even an ounce of remorse at those he had killed… but not you. Ethan couldn’t even envision hurting you… never.

Ethan had tried at the last moment to avert the attention of his father and sister from you, almost begging them to kill someone else in your place… that you were the only one innocent in his eyes, but it didn’t work. Just like his plan to save you from any harm. And now you were the one helping him… a killer… He was right all along, Ethan thought with a smile, as the two of you were almost home… you were definitely an angel.

When you were finally both safe, you let out a sigh of relief as you made Ethan sit down on the floor of your room with his head resting against the edge of your bed to keep his back straight. You ran over to your bathroom where you had everything you needed to take care of Ethan : disinfectant, needle, thread, bandages…etc. Luckily, you had some notions in medicine and had the right equipment for today’s case. When you come back into your room, you notice how Ethan struggles to keep his eyes open, his mind dizzy from the blood loss as he rests his head on the side of your bed. You hurriedly sit on his lap without fully putting your weight on his legs and set down all your medical tools on the bed beside you. You worriedly look at Ethan’s face as you gently yet firmly hold his cheeks in your palms, rubbing both of your thumbs on his cheekbones as you call his name to make him regain consciousness.

« Hey, Hey, Ethan, look at me… Stay with me please… I’m gonna take care of you, don’t worry. »

When Ethan’s eyes flutter open to look at you, a sigh of relief comes out of your mouth, smiling at him as your fingers now move in a softer way over his cheekbones, soothing his senses with your loving gestures. After a small tender moment between the two of you where Ethan looked up at you with puppy eyes while your hands were holding his face with so much love, one of his hand coming to cover your right one as Ethan leaned into your touch, you reluctantly removed your hand from him in order to begin taking care of him. When Ethan took note of that, his hand immediately stopped yours by softly grabbing your wrist as his gaze locked with yours.

« No way you’re taking care of me first. », Ethan stated with difficulty.

Ethan almost fought against the fact that you would heal him before yourself, your wounds were also gushing too much blood for his liking, as he explained to you with a worried gaze, yet you refused to let Ethan wait for your care. He would be the first one to be treated and that was your final word, you affirmed to him with a kiss on his forehead.

Perhaps giving Ethan a kiss worked as a magic trick on him because it effectively hushed him, making Ethan’s cheeks turn slightly red at the gesture as he looked the other way and lightly bit the inside of his cheek nervously.

Still straddling Ethan’s lap, you started taking care of him by firstly removing the black robe that Ethan was wearing, it was easy enough with how loose it had gotten. When you put the black material aside, letting your eyes linger on it for a bit, all the thoughts that you kept buried since you discovered Ethan at the theater came rushing back to you. You had to ignore these thoughts once again as you didn’t have time to think about such things nor didn’t you want to. Yes he was wearing this very particular costume but… Ethan couldn’t be… No he’s not, you convinced yourself even when you perfectly knew that it wasn’t a coincidence. But still, you trusted Ethan more than anyone else and knew that he would never hurt you, ever. And that’s all that mattered to you right now, when taking care of his wounds was the only thing your whole mind was focused on, him and only him.

Afterwards, your hands came back on him as you held the hem of his shirt between your fingers, looking back at Ethan to silently ask for permission to also remove his shirt in order to give you better access to his wounds. Ethan shyly nodded before you slowly removed his shirt, being careful not to be too rough with your movements as to prevent aggravating his injuries.

Your cold hands started to search for any patch of skin that seemed wounded and needed care as you let your fingers gently slide along his body, making Ethan slightly tremble under your touch as he felt way too exposed in front of you. After checking his body, your gaze saddened when you realized that Ethan had way more injuries than you would have thought, it was even surprising that he was still alive at this point or that he wasn’t complaining about the excruciating pain that he was without a doubt experiencing right now.

Ethan must have been hit on the back of the head as a bit of blood was making his hair stick there, you also noticed that he was stabbed in the mouth and that’s why it was hard for him to talk even though he managed, as small cuts could also be seen around his mouth. But the worst injuries were on his shoulders. Ethan was stabbed in the front left shoulder 5 times as blood was still gushing a bit out of the open wounds, while the TV that you saw earlier had crushed a part of his right shoulder and side of his face, where you could see lots of bruises and cuts covering his poor skin.

You sigh shakily when you feel the stress you’re putting on yourself at the amount of stitches you’re gonna have to do on Ethan, surely more stitches than you ever did in your entire life combined. When Ethan noticed the way your hands started shaking a bit, he instinctively intertwined his fingers with yours, knowing full well how it always appeased your mind. And he’s right, Ethan always is when it’s about you, as your racing mind slows down at the feeling of Ethan’s hand, helping you decide to only treat his most urgent wounds first as you make priorities in your mind.

You’ll disinfect all his wounds but clean even more the cuts around his mouth to prevent any infections, do stitches on all of his open wounds of his left and right shoulder but also on the deeper cuts Ethan got on the right side of his face that worries you a little, and cover his shoulders with bandages to help them heal faster.

Ethan tried his best to be strong while you took care of him, he wanted to act tough in front of you, to make you feel proud of him that he wasn’t complaining, but he still couldn’t control everything as the little grunts and whimpers of pain Ethan let out were breaking your heart in little pieces. His jaw was tightly clenched as his eyes were filled with tears of pain that rolled over his face from time to time.

You were the only thing that was helping him get through this as Ethan noticed how gentle you were with him, while he tried his best to keep his eyes open in order to engrave all the little details in his memory. Like your face that was focusing on your task, a frown appearing on it when you were putting all your attention on a particular stitch. Or the way your hands controlled themselves from trembling even though it was hard for you at this moment, Ethan noticed with dreamy eyes. He also remarked the way your chest was heaving up and down at a fast pace, as Ethan’s hands were grabbing your thighs during the entire time. His fingers ever so gently danced across your skin as his thumbs occasionally rubbed over your thighs with soothing circles absentmindedly. His hands never left you as your position on his lap was making it easy for him to access your thighs, the comforting and loving caresses soothing you and Ethan at the same time.

When it was your turn to take care of your own wounds in front of Ethan, still in the same comfortable position, he was now the one to bring you the reassurance and love you desperately craved, in order to make this painful moment go by as quickly as he could. Ethan held your hand when he could and when it wasn’t possible with your movements, he gently let his hand rest on the unharmed side of your waist, drawing reassuring and affectionate caresses on your skin as Ethan looked at you with saddened but soft eyes, reminding you that he was here for you even though he couldn’t do much at the moment.

After you were both patched up, your hands naturally returned to cup Ethan’s face lovingly, caressing the bruised and stitched side of his skin softly as you covered his entire face in kisses. Ethan automatically did the exact same thing to you as his bigger hands went to cup your jaw protectively, his thumbs rubbing your cheeks tenderly as he made you bend down a little to press kisses on your nose, forehead, cheeks and corner of your mouth. You were both bringing the other one the reassuring presence you needed from each other and the love that you both should have fully shared much earlier if you two weren’t the most bashful people on earth.

Now fully sitting on Ethan’s lap as exhaustion took over you, Ethan caressed in a feather light touch your now stitched up wounds, a touch that you almost could not feel with how gentle and careful he was. Ethan looked at your injuries with anger, sadness and frustration that he wasn’t there to protect you and prevent them from happening.

Ethan quietly sobbed at that as he hid his face in the crook of your neck, careful not to touch your stitches as he hoarsely muttered excuses with a muffled and trembling voice, « I’m s-sorry… so s-sorry, baby… »

You didn’t understand why he would say that… well not completely. He didn’t have anything to do with your wounds and he would never hurt you in any shape or form. Seeing your sweet Ethan sob in your arms was shattering your soul as you just wanted to hold him closer to your heart, softly enough as to not aggravate his injuries.

You both hugged each other during a moment that felt out of time, Ethan firmly clinging to your body, as you calmly caressed his hair while massaging his scalp soothingly. Ethan’s figure being much larger than you, it was like you were hiding in a cocoon where nothing could harm you anymore, as you felt at peace in his protective arms.

Ethan broke the hug at one point to look at you and got closer to your face as he pressed a chaste kiss on your lips that you mirrored almost instantly. Ethan giggled between kisses as you were both eagerly pressing as many kisses as possible to the other’s mouth.

With your mouth still lingering on his, you reassured him with a beautiful smile that Ethan cherished, as he peacefully listened to the words that you whispered against his lips.

« Together, everything will be okay… I know I’ll be safe with you Ethan. And… you’ll always have me, b-because… I care for you more than you could ever imagine. »

Ethan’s gaze widened with affection at your honest declaration as his eyes looked down at your lips, pressing his mouth to yours as he deepened the kiss by cupping your cheeks, not wanting to let you go too far from him. After breaking the kiss, Ethan bashfully intertwined his fingers with yours as he looked down to observe with attention the way he was fidgeting with your hand.

« Can I say that I love you ? », he asked while looking back into your eyes. Ethan felt awkward while saying that, it was the first time for him after all. Though, the pretty boy quickly changed his mind when he felt your lips whisper close to his ear how much you loved him back, making Ethan smile in the most adorable way possible.

💗 Ethan Landry Masterlist 💗

#ethan landry x reader #scream x reader #jack champion #ethan landry #ghostface x reader #ghostface #my own stardust #ethan kirsch x reader #scream 6

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chrissvalentine · 2 months ago

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✧˖*° ࿐ on cam , part three ⋆· ˚ ༘*

read parts one & two.

pairings: dom!matt sturniolo & dom!chris sturniolo x reader

summary: matt watched the video chris had unexpectedly sent him. then, took you home instantly. the one thing that you weren’t expecting, happened.

warnings: threesome, oral male!receiving, overstimulation, unprotected, slapping, camera/recording, degrading names

notes: thank you all for sm love on part 1 & 2 🥹

matt decides he should excuse himself to the bathroom before opening the video from chris, so that’s exactly what he does.

“i’ll be right back,” he whispered to you while standing up, then heading outside the theater and to the bathroom.

he can practically feel his heart beating out of his chest in anticipation as he strides to the bathroom, his hands fidgeting with the zipper on his hoodie.

once reaching the bathroom, he enters a stall for some extra privacy. it’s almost like he already knew what the video could contain.

as he opened the video and pressed play, the moans that he knew all too well blared through his phones speakers.

"you.. fuck, you fuck me better chris," you panted

as the video continued, so did his confusion. why were you fucking his brother? did he really fuck you better than him? why was it turning him on?

he quickly shook away the thoughts swarming his mind, leaving chris on read, he walked swiftly back to the theater you were still in.

when he approached you, he looked off.

he wasn’t angry at you, but he was. you fucked his brother, and he could only imagine what else you two had done besides the video.

you looked up at him as he just stood there, looking at you.

“hi matt, what are yo-“ you started.

he cut you off with a firm grasp of your wrist, “we’re going home.” he stated firmly as he yanked you to the exit of the theater.

he dragged you by your wrist all the way out to his car. you pleaded with him the whole way, “matt- what’s going on?”

once he placed you in the passenger seat, he walked swiftly around to the drivers side, instantly putting the car in drive.

you tried to speak, but he didn’t let you.

“matt, tell me what’s going o-“ he cut you off by placing a firm hand over your mouth as he was stopped at a red light.

“i don’t want to hear it from you,” he said quietly, then slowly releasing his grip over your mouth.

you complied, not uttering another word the entire ride home.

the ride was silent, except for the occasional turn signal, and the hum of the engine. as you pulled onto the street connecting to the triplets’ apartment, your chest tightened in anticipation.

did matt know? no, he can’t know. how would he know? chris wouldn’t tell him.

the video.

you suddenly thought back to the first time you and chris hooked up, just a few days ago. the camera.

wanting to explain yourself before the situation got out of hand, you spoke up. “matt— is this about chris..?”

he pauses before responding as he pulls into the driveway.

“you’re so fuckin’ stupid,” he stated, getting out of the car and slamming the car door behind him, headed for the front door.

through the front door, through the living room, and into his bedroom you followed with apologetic remarks, but he wasn’t buying it.

as you entered his bedroom behind him, he suddenly turned around and looked at you. his eyes full of desire.

“yeah? you’re sorry?” a voice spoke from somewhere else in the room.

you didn’t even notice the familiar figure standing near the closet, glancing over at you two, slowly approaching.

you looked over to the closet, seeing chris standing there, holding the same camera he had recorded you with a few days prior.

“couldn’t help yourself, huh? needed us both?” matt spoke dryly.

you just stood there in awe. you couldn’t believe that chris showed matt the video.

you tried to speak, to defend yourself. but it was worthless.

“matt i-“ he cut you off.

“you said chris fucks you better.”

“w- what?” you stuttered as he started coming closer.

“i heard it, i heard you say it.”

matt brushed his hand across your cheek, looking into your eyes as chris began filming and inched towards you.

“you’re so greedy, y’know that?” chris purred as he gripped your wrist, and pulled you closer, giving the camera to matt.

“let’s show matt who fucks you better,” he muttered, kissing you hungrily as he moved you to the bed.

as he deepened the kiss, he ran a hand under your shirt, ushering you to take it off. as you did, he snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

he let out a low groan against your lips as he pulls you closer, his hand sliding up your bare back, his touch sending shivers down your spine. he’s determined to show matt just how much he wants you.

he breaks the kiss only so he can move his lips to your neck, trailing a path of kisses down the length of it. he let his tongue and teeth graze your skin as he continues, his touch almost desperate.

he then hooks his fingers in the waistband of your pants, and panties, pulling them both down in one swift motion.

“c’mere, make sure you get this.” he mumbled to matt, referring to him still filming the whole scene unfold.

chris pulls down his own sweatpants, and then his boxers, revealing the length you took with pride not too long ago.

he grazed his fingers softly across your pussy, before rubbing slow circles against your clit, eliciting a whimper in response.

he then pumped himself with his free hand, before lining himself up with you, his tip threatening your aching core. matt continued recording, while chris motioned for him to take his sweatpants off aswell.

he can feel the heat between your thighs, tempting him. he lifts your hips closer to his as he whispers while nipping at your ear lobe.

“you just want us to make you feel good, huh?” you nod, desperately.

matt appeared by your head, looking down at you with a smirk before speaking quietly. “both of us, gonna fill you up so good.”

he smirked before running a hand along your cheek, then shoving his length in your mouth.

you whimpered at the sudden action, but that was quickly forgotten when chris slammed into you.

you tried to avoid squirming under their touches, but it was almost impossible.

as you squirmed, chris leaned down to warn you.

“stop moving.”

you really tried your best, but it didn’t work so well. he coaxed your legs further apart as a slap landed straight across your face.

matt mumbled in your ear after the slap, “listen to him, slut. or next time we won’t be so gentle.”

both of their actions continued, you began to gag on matt’s dick as you felt everything becoming too much.

your walls began to clench around chris as you whined out complaints. “t- too much! i can’t!”

“i know you can, you’ve had us both already, this is nothin’ different.” chris huffed, clearly still angry at the fact he had to share you. his movements sped up as you felt yourself almost tipping over the edge.

“i- ‘m gonna cum!” you whined, gripping a tight hold onto the arm matt wasn’t filming with.

“that’s it, come all over my dick baby.” chris groaned as he chased his own orgasm.

as you did, so did chris. shooting white ropes straight into you. they both removed themselves from you, matt flipped you over to his side, spreading your legs open as he lined himself up with you.

“n-no! i can’t, too much..” you pleaded desperately.

he didn’t listen, shoving himself inside of you, giving you no time to adjust to his size. “too much? c‘mon, i know you can give me one more,”

he handed the camera to chris, and he continued the intense recording as matt slammed into you.

you combined whimpers filled the room with nothing but the sound of pleasure.

you felt yourself getting close again, and you gripped on tighter to matts arm.

“i- ‘m close!” you cried, hoping he would slow down.

“yeah? i’m right behind you, almost there.” he added.

after a few more thrusts, you felt him release his hot ropes right into you, swirling with your own arousal as you came.

the noise of chris saving the video to the camera snapped you both out of your trance, coming back to reality.

he pulled out of you, leaving you on the bed as he stood up next to chris.

“so, who fucked you better?”

notes: erm guys.. is this the end perhaps..

taglist: @breesturns @pixxiies @submattenthusiast @miss-delicious @dominicfikeenthusiast @chrislittleslut @stellasturnzz @whoreformattsturniolo @cuntendipity @monroesturnns

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roseharpermaxwell · 3 months ago

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RWRB FirstPrince Roommates & Neighbors Recs - Part Two

Nothing like being Henry's roommate to send Alex on a bisexual awakening speedrun. Enjoy this selection below!

cross your thoughtless heart by kjbee81. G, 1k. It’s a normal, ordinary Tuesday when Alex finally has the realization. He isn’t really sure how it began or when it started, but one random Tuesday, when he’s at work, he finally notices. Henry has been packing him lunches.

each time we touch / i wanna take too much by @firenati0n. M, 1.3k. Alex puts his fingers in Henry's mouth.

did the light hit my blush (when i told you you could be enough?) by matherine. T, 1.4k. Henry wasn’t eavesdropping. Really, he wasn’t — he had just come home from work at the shelter early, toed off his shoes at the door, and began to settle in when he heard it.

“No, Nora,” Alex’s voice groans, floating out into the hall from where his bedroom door must be cracked open. “I can’t tell if he’s just not interested or oblivious. I’ve used my whole arsenal of flirting and Henry’s completely unresponsive.”

Or: Alex has been flirting for months. It’s not that Henry didn’t notice — it’s that he thought he couldn’t possibly mean it.

something new, something true by rizcriz. T, 1.7k. It’s Cassie in the library, Raul at the coffee shop, Emilio at the movie theater. It’s Nora and June at dinner on Thursday. It’s Ellen and Leo at brunch on Sunday. It’s knowing glances and furtive comments from bloody well everyone they know or come in contact with.

Everywhere Henry turns, it’s people looking between him and Alex like they know something they don’t. Like they’re seeing something that isn’t there. And he knows what it is. Knows what they’re thinking.

He didn’t, but he does now.

Everyone thinks Alex and Henry are dating.

It's hard to lie with water in my lungs by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf. M, 1.7k. Best friends Alex and Henry get caught in a storm on their way home, and once there, find themselves in an unexpected situation.

high expectations by rizcriz. T, 1.9k. Alex is lying in a bed, hooked up to a heart monitor, tubes sticking out of his arms. He looks like he’s gone through an entire ordeal, only, as soon as Henry walks through the door, his eyes go wide, and he’s grinning, a big, toothy smile, bits of cotton sticking out from the corners of his mouth, and sleepily slurring out something that sounds suspiciously like Henry’s name.

His gaze darts to the doctor.

Just as he’s about to ask, there’s a flutter of a movement, the racing sound of the heart monitor going crazy. He snaps his eyes over to look at the monitor—doesn’t understand anything other than the fact that Alex’s heart is going crazy enough to set off several alarms, the beeping quick and scary, and all the information Henry just forced upon himself comes racing to the forefront of his mind as he scurries further into the room, wide eyed and panicked. He looks between the doctor and the nurse, but they’re holding back smiles as they look at each other, barely paying any mind to the monitor.

I kissed a boy and I liked it by @gallifrey1sburning. T, 2k. Henry has no idea what the context would have even been to have spurred such a comment. He only heard it due to one of those mysterious moments that happen every so often in crowded rooms at the most inopportune times where the volume on all conversations inexplicably lowers simultaneously, allowing one statement that was most likely not intended for mass audiences to ring throughout a space. In this case, the somewhat offended sounding announcement of one Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry’s tragically heterosexual roommate and long unrequited crush:

“Of course I’ve kissed a guy before; I’m not homophobic. Jesus.”

Alex is a bit confused about the concept of allyship. Henry is possibly going to die.

kiss me once 'cause you know by @ninzied. T, 2.1k. Of all the things they’ve been to one another—sometimes-rivals, reluctant allies, tediously cordial seatmates at international events—Henry never thought that he and Alex would end up being something like friends.

(In which Alex sort of moves in and they don't talk about what it means.)

love don't by @smc-27. E, 2.4k. Alex calls the stupid advice podcast because he’s bored and out of ideas and he’s been trying his best, but Henry doesn’t seem to be feeling any better.

“My friend was seeing this guy for four months, and then just got straight up ghosted. What can I do to support him?”

The podcast host - a comedian most of the time - answers, “Oh, you’re gonna have to fuck him.”

you pull me in tight by @miss-minnelli. T, 2.5k. Tonight, they’re watching A New Hope, a compromise, since they spent half an hour bickering about episodes V and VI. Alex has his bare legs in Henry’s lap and Henry is gently rubbing his hand up and down Alex’s right shin.

It’s very possible Alex has died and gone to heaven, but he fucking hopes not, because this is actual bliss. Henry’s eyes are focused on the screen, smiling at something Luke is saying, but Alex hasn’t been watching the movie at all. He’s transfixed by Henry’s hand on his leg, ruffling his leg hair and stroking his ankle with each pass.

Or, Henry and Alex find each other after a bit of a detour.

until you're sick of me by rizcriz. T, 2.8k. Henry hasn't seen his roommate in nearly two months. Alex left for Austin shortly before Thanksgiving for two weeks, and Henry left for London the day before he was set to return. They’ve had the odd facetime call, and several hundred text messages to help them tide their time apart—but that didn’t take away from the fact that Henry fucking missed him.

And after three delayed flights, he’s finally standing outside their apartment door, and he’s resigned himself to the fact that it’ll still be several hours before he can finally see Alex again. He sighs and sets down his bag to dig out his keys, carefully tucks the key into the lock, and quietly opens the door, turning his back to it to pick up his carryon and grab his roller bag. As quietly as he can, he scoots backwards into the apartment, flinching as the roller bag bounces off the door frame.

bandage up your body and your bones and your bad days by @spiritsontheroof G, 2.9k. It’s been years, really, since he got that tell-tale pressure behind his eyes and ball of tension at the top of his spine. He pinches the bridge of his nose and when that doesn’t work, he reaches around to the back of his neck and presses right at his hairline, desperate for some kind of relief.

forehead kisses. by dreakawa. M, 3.2. Movie nights had become a weekly tradition for Alex and Henry.

As per usual, the movie Henry had chosen had Alex slowly dozing off next to him, his body relaxing onto the couch. He feels Henry grab the blanket and place it over him, and then-

Well, then, Henry’s fingers begin carding through his hair, and Alex doesn’t know what the fuck to do. It’s evident Henry doesn’t know he’s awake, but the touch feels… nice. Safe. Comforting in a way he didn’t realize he needed.

And then… well. And then.

Henry leans down and kisses his forehead, and his entire fucking world tips on its axis.

There’ll be time enough for countin’ when the dealin’s done by earth_to_alex16. T, 3.3k. Henry has a bad date.

Alex makes him a bet he can't refuse.

three seconds until the world ends by rizcriz. T, 3.3k. When Henry agreed to come with Alex to June and Nora’s for a party, he’d considered a million possibilities. Alex wandering off with someone and leaving Henry to fend for himself; June bringing out vodka jello shots (again) to try and get Henry to open up. Karaoke. A house full of strangers celebrating the New Year. Basically, the norm.

What he did not expect, however, was for June and Nora to decide that it was far too late, and Alex and Henry were far too drunk to go home when everyone else left at 3am.

Henry did not account for the singular guest room.

all i know since yesterday (is everything has changed) by saintsnames. G, 3.3k. henry and alex have been roommates for three and a half years when alex's girlfriend washes his sweatshirt in tide detergent and a realization unravels.

Red-Bull Lattes FTW by ItsMayBiTheWay. T, 3.4k. It was inadvisable. Alex knew it was inadvisable the first time he did it, and he knew it the second time he did it. By the third time he was so high on caffeine, his hands were shaking, but one might argue attending law school was inadvisable as well. So Red-Bull lattes it is.

After mainlining three Red-Bull lattes to survive the last of his law school final of the semester, Alex finds himself in the hospital, his asshole of a roommate by his side. Why the fuck is Henry there? And why things he’s hearing throwing his world off its axis.

It leads you here, despite your destination by @dreamsinthewitchouse. M, 3.5k. “So.” Alex unwinds his scarf and drapes it over the back of the couch, turning to Henry. “Welcome home.”

Home.

The word coils in Henry’s gut, a sugar-sweet spiral. “Thank you,” he says, not trusting his voice for more.

i need that charles dickens by @whimsymanaged. E, 3.6k. Henry’s flatmate (and crush) Alex is suddenly obsessed with Charles Dickens. But when Henry asks to borrow Alex’s Dickens, he quickly learns that Alex hasn’t, in fact, been talking about a book.

Every Time I Fold A Paper Crane by earth_to_alex16. T, 3.6k. The story of Alex and Henry's relationship as roommates, and the birthday card that changes it all.

love drunk, waiting on a miracle by gallifreyandglowclouds. E, 3.6k. Henry wears grey sweatpants. Alex reacts (in)appropriately.

there's one prize i'd cheat to win by @coffeecatsme. T, 3.6k. They’ve been roommates for eight years now, through Georgetown to New York, law school and grad school and ultimately their jobs, and Alex can’t imagine his life without Henry. Can’t imagine a world where he’s not in love with his best-friend-slash-roommate.

Too bad Henry has a boyfriend already.

Or, 5 times Alex is jealous over Henry's "boyfriend" and 1 time he realizes he doesn't have to be.

ocean blue eyes looking in mine (i feel like i might sink and drown and die) by coffeecatsme. T, 3.9k. It feels good. Henry’s touch feels good against his skin, and it’s not like when June hugs him so tight after not seeing him for days, not like when Nora bumps his shoulder or ruffles his hair and he wants her to get the fuck away. Not like when Henry has touched him a million times before, hands brushing as they walked, platonic cuddles during movie nights, hands on his elbow and his wrist and his chin whenever there’s a bit of chocolate on the corner of his lips or he needs someone to steady him. It’s too warm, too solid, peeling off layers of his skin until Alex kind of wants to check if somehow his internal organs are exposed, except he doesn’t because he’s worried Henry will stop if he moves and he…

Fucking hell, he doesn’t want Henry to stop, does he?

Alex finds himself in Henry's arms after a night of drinking and realizes some things.

In the teeth of strong opposition by @clottedcreamfudge. E, 4k. "You know what?" Henry says loudly, annoyed beyond belief that he has to hear for the millionth time how fucking cool Alex is with Henry's sexuality. "If you're such a good ally, why don't you suck me off? Since you're so insistent, why not get on your knees, Alex?"

He regrets the words as soon as he says them, but it's not like he can shove them back into his mouth; he can't take them back. He closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see the shocked expression on Alex's face and takes a few deep breaths.

"Sorry," he says tightly a moment later, eyes still closed. "That was uncalled for."

"Do you want me to?"

in the dip of your collarbone (baby that's called home) by rizcriz. T, 4.2k. Alex has had too much to drink.

Alex has had too much to drink and he’s practically horizontal, held up only by the strength of his roommates singular arm while said roommate is dribbling fucking Patron into the dip between his clavicle so he can lap it up with his tongue.

or two idiots are in love.

it hits different 'cause it's you by coffeecatsme. E, 4.3k. “Fuck, I need someone to like, rail me to next week so I stop worrying about this class.”

Henry chokes on his tea in an attempt not to spurt it all over his computer. He turns to his roommate. “Alex?” he says carefully. “Could you…repeat that, please?”

Or, Alex needs to get railed. Henry provides.

you taste like home by whitescarves. T, 4.4k. “I lied to you,” he says.

He doesn’t clarify. He doesn’t have to.

Alex toys with his fingers. Quiet settles over them, offset by the pattering rain.

“I know.”

Or, the rizcriz prompt where Alex and Henry are roommates and Henry lies when Alex confesses his feelings in order to protect their dynamic.

Riding slow 'cause you know the world's moving too fast by earth_to_alex16. T, 4.9k. Maybe he should be reaching for the stars, like his parents told him. Moving mountains. Changing the world.

But all he wants to do is tackle one small hurdle at a time, Henry right by his side.

Forever.

So what does that say about him?

Four times Alex and Henry face collisions, and the one time a collision yields stars.

all this bitching and moaning. by @chaa-kiao. M, 5k. His door creaks. “Alex.”

Henry. Fresh tears splash over his cheeks. “Since when do you ignore my boundaries?”

“Since you—” Henry sputters. “For Christ’s sake, I haven’t allowed myself a single shred of hope in four years, can you blame me for not being able to stand it?”

Alex’s sexuality—straight—is the punchline of most Super Six jokes. He starts figuring out why that bothers him so much.

be with you day and night (all i need is time) by chanmosphere. T, 5.2k. Five times Henry is about to confess and one time Alex does it first.

None of my love will go to waste by @kiwiana-writes. E, 5.3k. Henry has made peace with the fact that he's in love with his straight roommate. When he walks in on said "straight" roommate with a man, though, he may need to re-evaluate.

coming clean by ninzied. E, 5.8k. Objectively, Henry knows it’s not so big a deal. They’ve seen each other naked before, in a strictly gym locker sort of way. Here should be no different, really. Either way, it's no place for deeply guarded fantasies about his housemate—his best mate—to go. Either way, Alex is straight. Either way, Alex is not even looking.

Or, 3 times Alex wants to talk about his day while Henry's in the shower + 1 time he wants other things.

it's all fun and games (til somebody loses their mind) by @theprinceandagcd. T, 6k. He’s left standing there, listening to the thudding of his pulse in his ears, trying to swallow the sudden nausea twisting in his belly. Alex is long gone, like he flipped Henry’s world upside down without a single care and walked away from him similarly, with no concern for the destruction left behind in the wake.

Alex had kissed him.

He’d done so for several moments, a full stretch of countable time, like he’d meant it, and then disappeared in a split second once he’d achieved his victory, the apparent purpose of his kiss.

As if it had meant nothing.

---

Alex kisses Henry during a game of laser tag, and then pretends it was just a distraction, only he can't stop thinking about it, either.

Let Me inside (I Want to Get to Know You) by affectionatelyrs, @happiness-of-the-pursuit. T, 6.1k.

A sticky note, placed between the knobs on the kitchen sink:

Tap not working. Called plumber 5th Oct.

A new sticky note, placed between the knobs on the kitchen sink:

fixed. told plumber not to bother.

A new sticky note, placed to the right of the sink:

Did you wear the uniform and everything?

A new sticky note, placed below the previous sticky note:

wouldn’t you like to know?

Or, Alex and Henry fall in love one note at a time

Run the Risk by etherealdimini. NR, 6.1k. Henry smiles at him. Then, he shakes his head, like he’s trying to shake out a thought. “Well, thank you for having David. I should, um, get going. I wouldn’t want to bother you even further on a Sunday morning. I suppose I’ll see you—”

“I could have you, too,” Alex blurts out. Henry’s mouth drops open slightly.

Henry moves in beside Alex. Alex is enamoured. He does something about it.

Uncut not Uncultured by @inexplicablymine. E, 6.4k. “Excuse me? Have I dealt with Uncircumcised Dick? Are you at a hookup or something right now and a little lost?”

“Yes, have you dealt with uncircumcised dick, no I’m not at a hookup, I am having an existential crisis and I need support okay Liam!” Alex’s voice pitches up at the end showing that he really is worried about something to do with foreskin.

__________________

One Trader Joe’s Pride themed phallic treat, one existential crisis with your ex and his current lover, one hot and steamy night to work it all out.

YourMusicSucksAndYouLookLikeADickhead by cloudymilk. E, 6.7k. In which Alex gets a new neighbour who immediately pisses him off, and they begin blaring their music to communicate with each other.

oh shit...are we in love? by sunnysideprince. T, 6.8k. They are practically polar opposites. Henry is quiet and introverted where Alex is definitely not, but it works for them just fine. It’s just like what Ms. Benson taught them about magnets. Opposites attract, and Henry wouldn’t have it any other way.

down the hall, through the door by kwrites. E, 7k. Alex had found his door opening at least once a week, Henry’s tall frame filling the space looking for something or other. The thing is, Henry seemed so well put together all of the time, that him constantly running out of common household supplies or food is so outside the walls of what Alex expects from him.

or, Henry and Alex are neighbors and Henry has a habit of stopping by unannounced.

peekaboo, baby by celeritas2997. E, 7k. Henry might die.

“You good?”

“I—er—fine,” Henry stammers. His blasted, traitorous eyes lock onto where Alex is hanging out.

Alex follows Henry’s gaze. His surprise is short-lived before he cocks an eyebrow and smirks. “Like what you see, sweetheart?”

Henry is definitely going to die.

Can You See Me? (I'm Waiting for the Right Time) by @affectionatelyrs. T, 7.2k. “Whose turn was it?” Henry asks while Alex is busy pondering the merits of throwing himself out their fifth-story window and hoping his boner doesn’t take anyone’s eye out on his way down. “Forgive me, but I am a bit tired. Do you think you could take it?”

There’s no way that Henry’s not doing this on purpose. He makes words mean things when put in a certain order for a living, for fucks sake. Alex almost quips back depends on how big it is just to see how—or if—Henry would react.

“Yeah, um, no problem.” There. Much more normal. He could steal Henry’s job at this rate. “Truth or dare?”

Or, Alex’s world gets flipped on its axis during a game of truth or dare

deep in the dreaming of you by ninzied. E, 7.4k. Alex isn’t sleeping after a recent breakup. Henry tries to be the supportive best friend, because he knows all too well what it’s like to lose sleep over pining for someone.

Or, Alex is pining. Henry is just very wrong about whom.

(looked to the sky and said) please, I've been on my knees by theprinceandagcd. M, 7.5k. But Henry is not Alex’s.

He won’t ever be Alex’s to hold and cherish and love.

Because Henry chose someone else.

That searing pain is why Alex has folded his limbs into a patio bench on their balcony, feeling petulant and hating himself for it. It’s the reason that he’s a quarter of the way into the bottle he’s holding and pouting up at the sky, looking for stars that he knows are there but aren’t showing themselves to him, like maybe they’ve abandoned him, too.

He feels like he’s staring up at an endless expanse of darkness and wishing on fucking nothing, his prayers falling on deaf ears and getting forever lost in that infinite abyss.

----

or, Alex gets drunk because Henry is on a date & drunken confessions ensue

in your arms (the happiest place on earth) by rizcriz. T, 7.6k. Alex stares at the text, his heartbeat thrumming wild and free in his veins, because what the fuck. Not because of the content of the text, as mundane and normal as it is; not Henry thinking about him when he’s several states away without him; not the fact he’s even texted while Alex is in the middle of the busiest damn park at Disney World.

It’s the words that pop into his head as soon as he reads the text:

Fuck, I love him.

What. The. Fuck.

Or, the happiest place on earth isn't where you'd expect it to be.

Sprinkler Splashes To Fireplace Ashes by @iboatedhere. T, 7.7k. "So, tell me everything."

"There's not much to tell, really," Henry says, smiling into the phone when Pez sighs dramatically.

"Henry. You are young, beautiful, living in an exciting city half a world away, and you say there's nothing to tell?"

"I'm over thirty," Henry counters as he strains his tea into his mug. "I found a gray hair three days ago, and I'm in Georgetown—the most exciting thing I've seen is the neighbor from three houses down trying to fight a ticket for double parking."

"Was he successful?"

"No."

Pez hums. "You should get out more."

coming on fast like good dreams do by @cricketnationrise. E, 7.5k. When Henry recovers from his unexpected factory reset, he still can’t really breathe properly and somehow Alex is still standing in front of him with a hopeful and excited expression on his face.

“Run that by me again?” he asks faintly.

“I need your help.”

“Right…”

“I need you to edge me. Like a lot,” Alex says with a shrug.

Nope, it’s not any clearer a second time around.

One More Weekend by @underthefigtree777. E, 7.7k. “Are you going to miss me?” Henry’s arms wrap around Alex’s waist from behind. His chin rests gently on Alex’s shoulder.

Alex doesn’t know how to answer the question. He already misses Henry.

The unspoken rules they made for whatever they’ve been doing over the past year have slowly started to deteriorate. Now that there is an end in sight, there isn’t much point in minimizing the small talk. There’s no need to sneak back to their respective apartments in the middle of the night to avoid waking up next to each other in the morning.

Or, Alex and Henry have been neighbors and fuck buddies for the past year. Alex realizes his feelings for Henry might be more than casual when he learns that Henry is moving back to London.

(how's one to know?) I'd live and die for moments that we stole. by untoward. G, 8k. He kissed Henry.

But it wasn’t a long or deep kiss, it was a peck. He did that to a lot of people; Nora, his old friends from back home, hell, even strangers at parties. He knows he’s an affectionate person and this is just an extension of that. Plus, he’s really comfortable in his sexuality to know it doesn’t actually mean anything.

Right?

5+1 Things where Alex keeps giving Henry kisses and claiming he's just being his affectionate, straight self.

we broke all the pieces (still wanna play the game) by theprinceandagcd. E, 8.5k. “Henry.” Alex crawls over and braces his hands on Henry's thighs, sitting up on his knees so that he can meet Henry's gaze. His own lips curl automatically when he sees that Henry is already smiling, but he schools his features into a more serious expression. “Do you want to play?”

“Do you?” Henry reaches out to push a curl away from Alex's forehead, trailing a finger down the side of his face and making Alex shiver. He leans down until his mouth is beside Alex's ear, and Alex feels lightheaded all of a sudden, his breath held hostage in his lungs. “Because you're going to lose.”

Alex shoves him away, shaking his head as that challenge reverberates in his brain and sparks fire in his veins, accelerating his heart rate as he grins. “You're fucking on, Fox.”

----

or, Alex and Henry are best friends who are *definitely* not into each other, so they get a little tipsy and play gay chicken that neither of them are willing to lose.

Number Neighbour by aforgottennymph. E, 9.2k. Henry likes his new neighbours well enough - There’s Mrs Bennett in 6D, who always pinches his cheek when she passes him in the hall. Mr Ewing in 3B, that Henry always helps carry his groceries up the stairs as he doesn’t trust the lifts. There’s Emily from 4A, who always stops Henry in the halls to show him photos of her baby, who has recently learned how to put square shaped blocks into square shaped holes.

And then there's Alexander Claremont Diaz in 2E that he has been steadily falling in love with via text message, despite never meeting the man.

He's bloody screwed.

I Get On My Knees by quill_and_ink. E, 9.5k. What the fuck is Henry Fox doing in his bed? His best friend, his roommate, the person who knows him better than anyone else in the world - why in the everloving fuck is Henry in his bed?

Better question - why the fuck is Henry naked in his bed?

bacterial? fungal? nah, baby, we're going viral by @benwvatt. T, 10k. It’s okay, Henry thinks. This is who he is on Eureka Boys, magnanimous, gracious, intelligent. Perhaps it’s a role he embodies. Perhaps it’s his actual personality.

It takes time to figure out.

Alex gulps just then, and Henry follows the languid dip of his Adam’s apple down, down the exquisite column of his throat; Henry follows the hand that scratches at his starchy collar. Henry stares into the middle distance and wants him.

In which Alex and Henry run a science comedy podcast while in college, and Henry spends every episode pining madly after his (seemingly) straight best friend. Yes, they do flirt while talking about animal sex.

Through His Stomach by KiwianaPods (kiwiana), lovecommahannah. E, 13k. “Do you think we can save the pot?” Henry asks, moving to run it under water in the sink.

“Not a chance,” Alex says with a laugh. “But here. Go sit down. I know my way around a kitchen pretty well, so you don’t have to worry. I’ve got this."

Or: How to get your roommate to fall in love with you, in 5+1 beginner friendly(ish) recipes.

It's a Strange Way of Saying that I Know, I'm Supposed to Love You by sunflowerjpg. T, 13k. “So… Alex is bi.”

“Y-yes, I heard,” he responds through a gulp.

“When do you plan on making your move?” June asks, straight forward as always.

“June! I can’t! He just came out, how can I take advantage of that? I can’t just say, “Hey Alex! Now that you’re into men, do you fancy sucking my cock?” He would have me committed! Jailed! Deported! And what if he came to his sexuality because he met someone? Oh, god.”

“Okay, ew, I’d expect more romance.” June protests just as Bea scoffs.

---

Moving 3,399 miles across the ocean with just his dog and whatever clothing he could fit in his travel bag to attend NYU behind his grandmother’s back was not one of Henry’s most sane ideas. Thankfully he meets his roommate on move-in day—one charming, inevitable, Alex Claremont-Diaz—and they slowly fall in love during their first year living together. Henry thinks it's completely unrequited, Alex thinks they’re dating the whole time.

Lovefool by aforgottennymph. E, 18k. Henry has been in love with his roommate and best friend since the moment they met, caught in the rain outside their college apartment. Over the next four years he learns everything there is to know about Alex Claremont Diaz, what makes him tick.

He knows his coffee order, the meaning behind how he narrows his eyes one way versus a slightly different way. He knows how to make him finish in under thirty seconds (“That was one fucking time, sweetheart!”).

If only he could have him, wholeheartedly, not just the friends with benefits arrangement they have stumbled into.

The Flatshare, or Two Boys One Bed by momsgoldteeth. G, 18k. The Craigslist ad reads, 'I work nights and only require the apartment between the hours of 9am to 4:30pm Monday through Friday. The flat would be yours 4:30pm to 9am Monday through Friday as well as all day and night on Saturday and Sunday.' Henry and Alex share a bed. Henry and Alex have never met. (Based on Beth O'Leary's 'The Flatshare'.)

Room For Rent (Sex Dungeon Not Included) by @everwitch-magiks. E, 19k. When Alex comes, he only knows two things: that he’s good, and that he’s Henry’s. And that’s all he needs to know.

Alex’s housemate has a sex dungeon. It’s pretty much exactly what you’d expect; whips and bondage gear and a chair that looks like something a gynecologist would have use for. Alex, being the chill, sex-positive guy he is, is of course extremely cool with this. Totally normal about it. Enthusiastically supportive, even.

But as Alex watches Henry invite a steady stream of men into his dungeon, he develops one tiny little issue with the arrangement: he desperately wants to take their place.

Murphy’s Law (aka, A series of most (un)fortunate events) by Djokodal_Fan. M, 22k. If something can go wrong, it will.

The somewhat cynical statement of the Murphy's law has never really appealed to Henry - but he can't help start believing in it more and more, after the magnificently gorgeous, witty and compassionate Alex Claremont-Diaz moves in to the house next door to his. Basically, the man of Henry's most fervent dreams and deepest desires. They quickly become good friends, but somehow, every so often, Murphy's Law strikes when he's in Alex's company and leaves Henry feeling either flustered and tongue-tied, or completely mortified, or utterly distressed. It's not long before he starts disconsolately wondering if the very Universe is conspiring to keep him away from the man of his dreams. If he is Thisbe to Alex's Pyramus, and Henry's destiny is to always keep pining from across the picket fence separating their homes.

Alex, of course, has radically different ideas. ☺️

Newton's Fourth Law by dilfpickles. E, 26k. In which Alex meets his new very attractive roommate through Reddit, downloads Grindr, and discovers some things about himself and his roommate in the process.

You Make my Head Spin by starry_pisces. E, 26k. Henry and Alex become roommates while both attending classes at NYU. Alex learns what it's like to live with (and love) someone with an invisible disability. Feelings abound.

thinking out loud by later2dae. T, 27k. Alex has a new neighbor. The walls are quite thin. One night, he hears a voice, but it's not what he expects.

OR the one where Henry berates himself and Alex thinks that it's Henry's horrible boyfriend.

wrung out by arcticmaggie. M, 35k. So excuse him if he passes by Henry one night, both in pajamas and on their way to their respective rooms, both about to end their day at the same time, and his pinky slightly grazes against Henry’s right hip, immediately making him stop, whip around and stutter out, “H-Hey.”

It startles Henry—it startles Alex as well, Jesus—as he stumbles with his steps and turns around, eyebrows raised in surprise at the sudden break in peaceful silence in their apartment.

“Hey?” he replies.

Law student Alex is incredibly touch-starved and his English Lit PhD roommate Henry is right there.

If you know a firstprince author handle I may have missed tagging or find a broken link, please give me a heads up! Happy reading.

RWRB FirstPrince Roommates & Neighbors Part One

Master List of RWRB FirstPrince Recs

Master List of Recommendations

#firstprince #rwrb fic recs #rwrb #alex x henry #red white & royal blue

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pinkrelish · 2 years ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶Surely, when two friends set up their two friends on a blind date in the very small town of Hawkins, they make sure those two people don't know each other beforehand, right? And, more importantly, aren't coworkers, right?✶

NSFW — slow burn, fluff, flirting, mutual pining, angst towards the end, drug/alcohol mention/use, 18+ overall for eventual smut

chapter: 3/20 [wc: 6.1k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 3: The Accidental First Date

“Is this too much?” you asked, yanking down the visor and checking yourself in the small mirror.

Sitting in the back parking lot of the movie theater, you went through your purse for the finishing touches on your look. Doing your last paranoia check for anything in your teeth, turning your head this way and that to zhuzh your hair, and most importantly, preening your oxymoron of a sweater to show a decent amount of cleavage without flashing the cups of your push-up bra.

Truly a walking contradiction of a top. Cable knit and warm, but with a plunging neckline, to where the top button started at your sternum.

“No, you look hot,” Robin assured with her goofy smile. “New York modest is Hawkins slutty. He’s gonna love you.”

You shrank into your girlish giggle. “Good, I want my dating debut in this little town to be a statement. Set the stage for future escapades.. Until I run out of men, I guess. Seriously, how many bachelors live here and aren’t total hicks? Four?” Robin laughed.

“Could be worse. You could be a lesbian.”

“True,” you concurred. “Good thing you have Vickie. Sucks she couldn’t come tonight.” Robin made a sad huff of agreement, working a mascara wand through her lashes. “Hey, I know I said ‘yes’ without asking, but is this guy you set me up with even my type? Not that I care, obviously; a good story is a good story, but I’m just trying to set my expectations here.”

She furrowed her eyebrows dramatically, and paused unscrewing her lip gloss to rock her entire body into a positive affirmation–almost bumping her forehead on the steering wheel from the force of her nodding. “Oh, absolutely,” she said emphatically. “Looks scary on the outside, but is a total sweetheart on the inside. Overconfident, and obnoxious, but in that charming, swoony way.”

“Perfect!” You clasped your hands together.

Stepping out of the car, she waited for you so you could walk with your arms linked together, and she continued, “I haven’t seen him in years, but Steve was telling me over the phone that he’s been going through a tough time, and hasn’t been on a date in a while.”

“Aw, poor guy.”

There was a beat of silence where both of your faces twisted into knowing smiles.

“I know what that look means..” Robin led, canting her head to you.

Innocent, you lifted your shoulder in a coy shrug, bringing a collection of her soft hair up to your chin. “No idea what you’re talking about. I was just thinking, if he hasn’t been on a date in a while.. Why not make it memorable for him?”

You laughed together, rounding the sidewalk to the front entrance of the theater where the glamorous marquee shined gentle daylight upon the darkened street. Romantic and intimate, with a crowd of people standing in vague suggestions of lines; some broken off, gossiping, smoking.

“There they are,” Robin whispered, letting go of your upper arm to wave at Nancy–who you had met at the grocery store last week. She saw you approaching, and tapped her hand on the chest of the man beside her.

Still a considerable distance away, you peered at him, and placed his luscious hair in your memory. “Oh, that’s the guy who came to the shop today.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah, he was talking to the annoying mechanic I’m always telling you about.”

“The one you have a crush on?”

“Shush,” you bristled at the mention of your not-so-secret. “I do not have a crush on Eddie. Anyway! Did I tell you what he did this morning? He fuckin’ stood outside the window next to my desk, just out of my view for like, full on minutes, waiting for me to look at him. Like Michael Myers or some shit. Scared me half to death.”

Robin, still caught on one detail you had somehow failed to mention in the month you worked at the auto body shop, quietly asked, “..Eddie?”

“Yeah, my coworker,” you answered, not looking at her when she fell a step behind, since you were too focused on greeting Nancy, and introducing yourself to Steve to notice her sudden jog up behind you. Too fixated on complimenting Nancy’s skirt to witness the way Steve aimed his confused frown just past your shoulder. Missed his dismissive hand gestures, and Robin’s panic as she tried to wordlessly communicate something dire to him.

You were too busy listening to the cars cruise by on the street, and chatting casually, and savoring the warmth of a new friendship to scrutinize the sound of quick footsteps from the other direction, or the jangle of metal chains attached to their presence, or Robin’s damning groan.

“Sorry, I’m–” a familiar voice said. A bit nasally and on the higher side. Mirthful, awake with youth, and excited to make a good first impression.

You turned to them. Your date.

“..Late,” they trailed off.

Deer in headlights. Big, brown doe-eyes wide with surprise, framed by beautiful black lashes.

He stared at you.

His stomach sank.

You stared at him.

Your heart raced.

Eddie had stopped mid-step with his hand raised in greeting. The chains on his leather jacket tinkered until they stilled. Kind smile frozen from a better time. Chest filled with a held breath. Presenting himself with his best foot forward, and now his ears were tinted with the embarrassment of trying too hard to impress.

Oh, God.

You blinked away, and were intentional to accept the situation for what it was without showing your surprise, opting for a simple, timid, awkward, shaky, exhaled, “Hey, Eddie.”

He wasn’t so poised.

Shutting his eyes, he allowed the realization to wash over him, scrunching his face in a pained expression as the puzzle pieces slotted into place. He hung his head, and released his breath through his nose. “Your roommate is Robin,” he stated, pointing at her to punctuate his sentence. “And you call her Bobbie.”

“Yeah..” It was an apology as much as it was a confirmation.

“You still call me Bobbie?” Robin asked, tugging on your sleeve, forgetting the tense air surrounding the group for the moment. “I haven’t used that stage name in years.”

“Guess it stuck with me..”

Thankfully, someone else added to the conversation. Unfortunately, that person was Steve addressing the elephant outside the ticket booth.

“So, I take it you two know each other,” he deduced, looking from Eddie’s dejected gaze at the ground, to you wringing your purse strap over your chest.

Eddie enlightened him in a solemn tone, sparing a single glance at his friend, “She’s the receptionist at work.”

“Ah.” He turned his attention to Robin. “You set up two people who work together.”

She threw her hands up and blamed him, “Uh! No way, dunce, don’t put this on me. This whole thing was your idea, and at no point in the conversation did you tell me Eddie was a mechanic! If you had told me he was a mechanic I probably could’ve put two-and-two together myself, and avoided setting up people who see each other every day.”

Increasingly red-faced, Steve very pointedly avoided Eddie’s suspicious squint after being outed as the one who set up the date, not Nancy. “You’re the one who lives with her, how could you not–?”

“Okay!” You clapped once to end their bickering. “Then it’s not a date.”

Nancy, bless her, picked up her improv skills fast. “Yeah! Not a date. Just a casual outing between friends. Steve, get the tickets ready so we can get popcorn before the line gets too long.” There was a ripple of unanimous murmurs, followed by shuffling to the entrance.

“Silver lining,” Nancy muttered out the side of her mouth to Steve, “It’s a movie date, so it’s not like they have to talk to, or look at each other.”

Steve tempered his laugh to a hiss and held the door for Robin, who in turn kept the it ajar behind her for you, but as you went to catch it, it was opened for you.

Clack- clack- clack. You’d heard the sound every morning; his distinct rings on the metal frame of the glass door beside your desk, followed by his soft grunt when pulling it open. But whereas his whispered ‘morning’ normally echoed in the tiled lobby, it was now on the back of your neck, fanning your skin, and it wasn’t a sweet greeting, but a reserved, solemn, regretful, sad, “Sorry for.. yeah.” That’s how he started your date that wasn’t a date. With an apology. And still, as the crisp autumn air was replaced by the humid waft of buttery popcorn, your brain was stuck at the garage, filling in the drag of his heavy work boots on the way to the breakroom for coffee, and the lingering scent of cigarette smoke trailing his stride.

Except, as you were jolted back to reality, you came to know he didn’t present himself so generically outside the context of motor oil. Due to the traffic clogging around the ticket ripper, Eddie ran into you and you discovered the nuances of what he smelled like when not at work, with the added intimacy of his chest pressed to your back.

Worn leather enveloped by notes of vanilla musk cologne. Spicy deodorant carried by the sweet earthy tang of tobacco. Dove White on his heated skin, and Dawn on his hands.

A symphony you could immerse yourself in learning for hours if it wasn’t for the crime of your group moving forward.

“Did you want anything?” Eddie asked you, pointing at the concessions.

“Oh, no, I’m good.” You made a clawing gesture at your mouth. “Eating popcorn before the movie even starts because I have no self control and then being forced to sit there with kernels in my teeth drives me nuts.”

Not finding you as endearing as you intended, he slipped his hands into his pockets, and motioned for both of you to stand off to the side, out of the way while you waited for the others to get their snacks. And he just stood there. Not saying anything. You were turned to him as if to carry a conversation, but his gaze was set ahead; not on anything in particular, just away from you.

Rarely had his face been this slack, this devoid of emotion. Even when doing menial work like filling out invoices for parts you would need to order, there was activity. Liveliness in the tic of his eyes reading lines on the paper. Movement of his tongue sliding across his top lip. A subtle crease between his brows. Something. Anything.

You spoke above the giggly teenagers sneaking into the film next door, “For a stick in the mud, you look nice.” He really did, in his well-loved jacket draping his frame after years of being broken in to perfection. Tight black jeans. Sensible boots. More accessories than just his rings.

Try as he might to cut you an unamused look, his freshly washed hair bounced in immaculate waves around his face, catching the low mood lighting like a messy halo.

“Thanks,” he said, not meaning it.

“I can see why you don’t get many dates if you always look this miserable.”

“I’m not miserable.”

“Glum, then? Woebegone? Hapless? Crestfallen?” When he seemed hellbent on wishing he were anywhere else, you eased up on your act. Harboring the pit of rejection eating away at your stomach, you pried, “Disappointed?”

The glimpse of vulnerability in your words was not lost on him.

He snapped to, shaking himself out of his funk to reassure you in his gentle timbre amongst the chaos of someone beating the top score on the pinball machine, “I’m not disappointed to be here with you.”

“Then what are you?”

“Sorry,” he guessed, shrugging. He was the type to speak with his hands, moving them despite being confined to his pockets. “I’m sorry our friends suck at communicating and this is how your night turned out; you being here with me when you were clearly expecting someone else.” His gaze didn’t dare dip lower than your nose, but the effort you put into your appearance did not go unnoticed. It wasn't the first time he stared a little too directly into your eyes after you decided to stop covering yourself up.

“I don’t go on dates intending to find my one true love or anything lame like that,” you said, honestly. “I go on them to have fun, and I think we can still have fun, even if we have to share the same tiny lunch table come Monday, and we side-eye Carl for bringing tuna again.” He almost smiled at that.

Sensing he needed another boost of confidence, you kept going, “Before I knew it was you, Robin was talking you up in the car. Going on about how my date was some sweet guy, super handsome, and with a heart of gold. You know, the Prince Charming type. Oh, and totally obnoxious too. Real loudmouth who never shuts up.”

Okay, maybe some of that was ad libbed, but you wanted to know how much of it was true.

Eddie shifted from foot to foot, subduing his grin by biting his tongue, literally. “That’s a pretty apt way to describe me back in high school, yeah, especially with how I’m dressed.”

“What changed?”

“Uh, I had a kid,” he laughed. “She stole all my charm. I swear Adrie can talk me into anything.”

“I think you’re just a pushover.”

“Probably,” he surrendered. Raising his brows, he mused aloud one of the many things on his mind, “Do you not agree that she described me accurately? Sweet Prince Charming guy, all that?”

There was no way in hell you were going to speak your truth. Instead, you smirked. “I don’t think you want to know what adjectives I’d use to describe you.” They were far too vulgar to utter in a crowded room. Hot in the most annoying way. Absolute pain in my ass. Just the worst, especially when I don’t hear you sneak up behind me in the kitchen, and you think it’s funny to scare me right as I open my drink from the Coke machine, and you laugh your stupid laugh when I drop it. An absolute eye-sore when you look up at me while you're on your hands and knees cleaning up the mess you created. Irritatingly handsome when you grin and buy me another one.

Ignorant to your private thoughts, he swung his elbow out to push you, and smiled.

Relaxing into the natural lull in conversation, you both watched your friends make it to the front of the line and order their food. They waited at the counter, starting the clock on when they would inevitably make it back to the two of you, and cease your alone time with Eddie. (Although, first, they’d have to traverse an entire bucket of dropped popcorn, and navigate around more than one group of children reenacting a fight scene they just watched on the big screen.)

“Were you disappointed I was your date?” you asked.

Robin was right. Eddie was a sweetheart. As soon as he detected an inkling of insecurity–whether it be in your strained voice, or etched into your face, or imbued in the question itself–he was quick to absolve your worry.

“No, no,” he said. “Relieved, if I’m being honest.”

“Relieved?” You weren’t expecting that.

“There’s a reason I haven’t dated since having Adrie. It didn’t sound like Steve made it clear to.. you, well, my anonymous date which happened to be you. Jesus, this is confusing. Whatever, you know what I mean, he didn’t say if he told my would-be date that I’m a dad, and I was afraid of coming here and having to tell them myself. Even if we hit it off, it’s a deal breaker for some people, y’know? Not that I blame them. I would’ve said the same thing five years ago.”

You nodded as you listened to him. “Never thought about it from that perspective. All my dates have been one-and-dones. Super casual. Kids were never really brought up.”

“Yeah, the dating world isn’t always so gracious. I’m kinda glad I’m here with you–someone who knows me, at least.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you spied Steve raising his sodas above his head as two boys ran past him, pretending they were in a shootout.

Knowing he wouldn’t have time to respond, you informed Eddie, “You’re worrying about the wrong thing. Adrie’s an angel. You should be more concerned about your curmudgeonly attitude being a deal breaker.” His narrowed-eye glare had never felt so sweet.

Robin’s giddy presence became known. She dropped her chin to your shoulder with a satisfied hum, and wrapped her arm around your waist to hug you snug to her body. You laid your head on top of hers, swaying with her.

She must’ve made a face at Eddie, because a different emotion flinched across his features, and he was back to avoiding making eye contact.

You, however, were more enticed by the drink in her hand than analyzing his change in demeanor. “Shit, now I want an Icee.”

“Yeah, I got cherry,” she said, angling the straw towards you. “They have Coke too–Okay, bye, dork,” she giggled after you.

“Go ahead and sit without me! I want an Icee.” Nancy clutched the largest size of popcorn to her chest to avoid spilling it as you stumbled out of Robin’s hold and darted for the concession stand.

Eddie raised his voice, “You couldn’t have decided that five minutes ago when I asked?”

“Nope!”

————

The theater for the low budget horror flick reflected the town’s perception of it. As soon as the heavy door closed behind you, your footsteps on the dense carpet echoed around the empty room. Your group was sitting in the back row, and their murmurs could be heard from the bottom.

You climbed up to them and flumped into the seat next to Eddie. “We can share,” you said excitedly, shaking the drink at him before placing it in the cupholder at the end of the single armrest.

When the subtle pinch of concern around his eyes remained, you promised him you didn’t have cooties.

He played with his rings, pulling them down the length of his fingers and spinning them while he worked through his confusion. “You don’t have to sit next to me.. You can sit next to Robin.” He motioned beside him, to Steve munching on his popcorn while Nancy held it, and Robin whispering on the end, rolling her eyes at something Nancy said.

“Why wouldn’t I sit next to you?”

Eddie’s mouth opened and closed, struggling to settle on what he wanted to say, and finishing with a submissive shrug, leather jacket groaning at the act. He bounced his foot quicker, shaking the aglets on his laces against his boot in a chaotic rhythm. “Dunno..”

“You’re silly. I’d pinch your cheek if I didn’t think you’d bite me.” He reeled at that, and you giggled. You didn’t mind making him balk at your weird quirks; whatever put him at ease. Rather, whatever made him stop rubbing his knee against yours, because you were certain the friction was about to cause a fire.

Digging through your purse, you took out a rectangular box and slid your finger under the flap, popping it open and dumping a handful of candy into your palm. You threw it back into your mouth. “Want sh-ome?” you chewed, offering the box to him.

“Who the hell eats Mike and Ikes?”

“Uh, me, jerk.” Right as the lights dimmed to pitch black, and the curtains drew back from the screen, you hit him with the most exaggerated pout. “I only eat them at the movies. They’re a ritual, and you’re rude.” The shadows lining his face twisted into a deeper grin. “Are you more of a chocolate guy?”

“Maybe,” he answered like he was suspicious of your motives.

And maybe he should be. Afterall, you committed the number one sin when it came to cinemas.

“Looks like I chose right,” you said, reaching into your purse and pulling out a Kit Kat. “I was hoping my date would be a chocolate sorta guy–” You went quiet seeing his eyes widen a touch. “I mean, not date. Begrudging coworker? Tentative acquaintance?”

“Reluctant friend,” he answered smoothly, taking the package from you and ripping it open with his teeth.

~~~

Trailers for other films played, bathing the room in flickers of light interrupting the darkness. The opening credits began. Your candy was half-eaten. His was devoured. You took a sip of your Icee, and from the vantage point of pressing your back into the cheap theater seat, you observed him in your periphery.

His gaze hardly left the drink. Your offer to share it gnawed at him in a visible way. Scoping out the straw, the possible trace of spit you left behind, the possible trace of spit he’d leave behind. He peered at the screen to acknowledge the intro, and then back down it was, boring holes into the Icee.

You were no better, nibbling at your lips when he finally caved and took a sip–all too quick, and clumsy, almost missing the cup holder when he put it back down with lightning speed.

The edge of your thighs touched under the arm rest; worse so, when you folded one leg under you, and leaned into him. “Do you hate it when people talk during movies?”

“Not these kind.” He meant the genre in general, which made for great fodder for ripping apart in friend groups, but another popular trope among this realm of fiction became apparent. The first set of tits flashed on screen, and you both found yourselves lacking in the commentary department.

After a moment, you tilted your head. “That actress looks familiar..”

“She’s been in other cult classics. Always acts with her eyebrows.” He turned to you and nudged your shoulder, vying for your full attention. He emphasized the end of each word with an inflection as if it were a question, and raised his eyebrows in every way possible, mocking her slowly, “She’s the one who always talks like this–!” He looked crazy contorting his face to make his point.

“That’s it!” You snapped. “Her wearing glasses really threw me off.”

“Mhm.” His hum vibrated along your upper arm pressed to his, and he asked quietly under the screams of the first gorey death, “Do you like B movies?”

“Hell yeah. Back home they would play them at this rooftop drive in place. I rarely paid to watch them, though. The next building over had a good view of the projector screen.”

His banter dropped in favor of chewing on the corner of his thumb. If it wasn’t for the wild change in scenery cast across his face, you could’ve sworn his faint smile faltered into inscrutability.

Did you say something wrong?

————

“Damn, that was a cool practical effect,” Eddie complimented the purplish fizzing ooze that once was a person.

“I know, right? That’s why I love these bad movies. There’s no budget for good CGI, so they have to do creative stuff like that.”

It was inevitable. Bound to happen. A mere act of fate. Stars aligning in the close knit group leaning forward to exchange witty quips about the hare-brained plot holes in the movie, and not minding their surroundings except to receive everyone’s laughter, making jokes at the expense of the bad acting.

Steve was asking a question that was technically answered by the movie’s lore if he’d paid attention to the dialogue during the second gratuitous stripping scene. You or Eddie could have answered, but Robin took it upon herself to explain, and you two nodded along.

Absentminded, you reached for the Icee.

Distracted, Eddie reached for the Icee.

The waxed paper cup was cold under your fingers, but your hand was blanketed by warmth.

Slow to process, you both glanced down at the reason why neither of you were achieving your goal, and the overload of sensory inputs faded away to one: touch.

Your thumb was trapped under his palm, and his fingers stretched around the cup, meeting yours on the other side and housing them beneath his in a steady amount of pressure. They were almost interlocking. Holding. Wrist on top of wrist–his with the extra harshness of his leather and chain bracelet on your skin. The heaviness of his forearm resting on yours.

Truly, the accident lasted all of two pumps of your heart, but it felt like more when he stroked his calloused fingertips over your knuckles as he let go.

“Sorry!” he blurted.

“S-Sorry,” you laughed, jittery from the encounter.

Your cheeks were hot. His were flushed red. The lewd moaning of a woman feigning to orgasm just from the male lead removing her bra alone played in the background. Neither of you could decide which plan of escape was less embarrassing: continuing to stare like idiots at each other, or watch the actress’ ginormous boobs bounce as she faked riding a guy.

You blinked. His eyebrows ticced up.

Boobs it was.

He adjusted how he sat, tugging his jeans down his legs a little, and crossing his arms. Eyes laser focused on the woman’s face. The why was obvious, and you couldn’t help but tease him for pretending to be a gentleman in your company when you held no such modesty when it came to ogling her tits.

“Thinking about how much Aquanet she uses?”

“Shut up.”

————

Later into the film, after the plot circled back to the juicy gore, you leaned into Eddie to ask him a question.

What that question was, you couldn’t remember.

As soon as you placed your elbow on the armrest and used the back of your hand to tap his shoulder, he dipped his head to hear you. It was an automatic thing starting from the moment you slouched in your seat. That’s all. A shift in your sitting position and intake of breath, and he knew you were going to speak, and he wanted to listen. He cared about what you had to say. He leaned into you as well, because listening to you took priority over the movie.

“Eddie?” You sought any words. Any words at all. Any would do. Any question, even if you knew the answer. “Uhm. The music sounds really familiar. Do you recognize it?”

“It’s the same composer as Chopping Mall and Deathstalker II.”

“Ah.”

Ah. All you could muster when you were charmed by the silhouette of his lips moving. Watching them form letters, pout on the plosives, press into a line on his thick swallow.

Ah. All you could say when his hair brushed over your fingers. Dry, in need of a deep conditioning. Curling around your forefinger. Tickling your palm.

Ah. All you could respond with when you lifted your gaze, and caught him staring at you like you stared at him.

————

As predicted, the filmmakers padded the runtime with another topless scene, and the movie ended on a witty one liner that included not one, but two puns, and no resolution to the numerous plot threads left hanging.

“That was.. certainly something!” Robin summed up, holding the doors open to the subdued hours of the night.

Once outside in the fresh air, the dynamic reverted back to its original status.

Your friends made themselves scarce in the worst way; whistling, shuffling to the side as they found asinine things to comment on, leaving you and Eddie alone. Their intentions were pure, but reality was not so kind.

Eddie cemented his gaze on the sidewalk as he picked at his callouses, and apologized for the mistake of going out with you. Again. “Sorry about all this.”

Itchy sweat broke out across your back. It sucked he was so brazen about rejecting you. You had hoped some of the tender crush you had on him extended past the armrest you shared, the looks you shared, the touches you shared; but maybe you were just tricking yourself into finding things that weren’t there.

Wanting to end on a better note, you appealed to him in a last ditch effort to smooth over the situation, “I meant it when I said you looked good tonight. It’s nice to see you outside of your work clothes.”

“Thanks.”

That’s all. Thanks. A shy glance from beneath his curtain of messy hair, and a somber tone to maximize the awkwardness of the not-date with your coworker.

You needed to get the hell out of there. “See you Monday?”

“Yeah, see you Monday.”

The group winced in unison when they saw the way you two departed.

Robin was quick to link her arm with yours and gather you closer, bringing your heads together to gossip as you walked back to her car. “That bad, huh?”

Around the corner and out of sight, you gave her half a smile, trying to appear in better spirits. “Well, I don’t think he likes me. He didn’t return any of my compliments, and he apologized for being on a date with me no less than four times over the course of the evening.”

She cringed for you. “That’s worse than Balloon Guy, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, remembering what would go down in history as the shittiest date you’d been on. “Yeah, that’s more times than Balloon Guy.” Robin hugged you tighter, making your steps go clumsy. She apologized for Eddie’s weirdness, but you shrugged. Maybe you were supposed to find it weird, too. Maybe you were supposed to disapprove of the idea of romantic feelings for your coworker, too. Maybe you were supposed to have no expectations for it to lead anywhere, too.

Maybe you were supposed to reject him, too.

————

Still loitering outside the theater, Steve exchanged a look with Nancy, and jogged to catch up with Eddie before he made it too far in the opposite direction.

“Uh, hey buddy!” Steve clapped him on the shoulder to stop him. “It sounded like you two were hitting it off during the movie, what happened?”

Eddie sulked under the question. His chest fell with a surrendering sigh, and his boots scraped the concrete as he turned to him, not bothering to mask the dullness in his slack expression. Everything about him was tired, including his voice when he slipped into a lower, raspy octave. “She’s nice, but..”

“But what?” Nancy asked, searching his face.

Bottling his burdens, he clenched his teeth, and worked his jaw as he contemplated evading their insistent prying; but after ruminating on it, he explained the source of his problems, “She lives a very.. whimsy life.” He fluttered his hand like a bird flapping its wings, or a butterfly. “She does this thing where she says ‘yes’ to anything anyone asks her; it’s why she moved to Hawkins, and why she ended up on this date to begin with. Y’know, just doing whatever seems like fun. It’s cute, in a way, and obviously I.. feel a way towards her, but this place isn’t where she’s looking to lay down roots. New York is her home.”

Steve squeezed his shoulder, knowing what was about to come.

“I’ve already been left for someone better.. I can’t go through that again.” Eddie’s eyes begged them to understand. “I don’t want Adrie to get attached to someone who’s just gonna leave.”

Nancy started, “Eddie–You don’t know if she’d leave.”

He shook his head, and pulled away from Steve’s lingering grasp. Shushed his friend’s well-meaning words about him being valued, and to forget his insecurities about not being good enough.

“A girl like that doesn’t need me weighing her down,” Eddie said, imparting the wisdom he’d come to accept since you made a mark on his life weeks ago, when it became your mission to befriend him. “I’ll pick up Adrie in the morning. Thanks for watching her.”

The night got darker as he left.

Darker still, when Steve waved at his back, and Nancy played with the locket around her neck, and her goodbye went disregarded.

————

Silence.

It surrounded him. Blood pulsing in his ears, his heart beat, the refrigerator hum, the tink of glass bottles as he grabbed the full six pack and brought it to the couch, springs squeaking under his weight.

Utter emptiness welcomed him.

Not a sound in his home. Not a giggle from his daughter, or scrape of a skillet from Wayne’s makeshift breakfast-dinner before he went to work. Even the dogs around the trailer park were quiet.

Just.. nothing.

It was what he wanted, right? A night to himself; a break from the chores, the questions, the food making, the taking care of a tiny human being who made everything tougher than it needed to be.

He got his wish.

Two beers down in peace, he got his wish.

Eddie looked around his trailer lit by the single lamp beside him.

Quiet, empty, nothing.

Dark silence.

The jolt of his sob startled him. It erupted from his chest so suddenly. Ripped from the tightness of repressed emotions; the things he tried to deny, to feel and then lock away. To keep safe, buried down deep where he could manage them from progressing past the boundaries he created for his own good, and Adrie’s. He felt the agony of them all at once. The morning smiles, the afternoon laughs, the evenings of pretending you didn’t plan to bump into each other in the doorway to the lobby. The game of seeing how long he could watch you twirl the phone cord around your finger before you looked up from your desk. Your sweet way of comforting him after the hard nights of Adrie’s sleep regression by taking his tan work jacket and draping it over his shoulders while he slept at the lunch table in the break room. Your gentle method of fixing his collar when it was tucked on the inside of his coveralls.

The date was too good to be true.

In fact, the truth itself was far more painful.

The date was amazing. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he had more fun. More thrills, sure. But not more fun. There wasn’t a day in his youth where he experienced more of the flirty thrum in his veins than when he committed himself to learning the way your lips moved when saying his name in the darkened theater.

The date was perfect. He was happy. And he couldn’t have it again. Shouldn’t have it again. Wouldn’t have these feelings again.

Eddie doubled over and put his third beer on the floor before he spilled it. Nothing was discernible beyond the water invading his ability to see, to fathom his reflection in the old TV. Sad, miserable, and lonely. An idiot for finally getting attached to someone, and it was someone he wasn’t supposed to.

Tears slipped from between his lashes. He smeared them on his cheeks, covering his sweaty face from his possessions bearing witness to his stupidity.

It was in his best interest to reject you–reject your casual stance on dating, and relationships, and people with kids–but the face you made when your advances went underappreciated churned his stomach.

He needed to be stronger. But he was weak.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he sighed into the stale air. Opening another beer, he nursed it as he huddled into the corner of the couch, and searched for Adrie’s quilt to soothe him. But of course, he sent it with her when he dropped her off at Steve’s.

No baby blanket to hold onto. No Adrienne to sleep on his chest to ease the pain of loneliness. No reason to look forward to Monday after he royally screwed everything up.

“Goddamnit,” he groaned.

Maybe, if he apologized enough, there was a chance you wouldn’t hate him.

Maybe, if you forgave him, you’d go back to the morning smiles, and the afternoon laughs.

And maybe, if he was enough of a masochist, he’d let you gently ease past those boundaries meant to keep you, and your kindness out. If you wanted to trespass, that is. He didn’t know. He was an idiot.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #the yes policy

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