#yeah...the timer is annoying...sorry

[sohnric]

plot twist – k. sunwoo

pairing: kim sunwoo x gn! reader

genre: coworkers au, enemies to lovers au. fluff, a poor attempt at comedy. movie theatre! worker sunwoo and reader. bitch boy sunwoo. the reader has anger issues. owner's son! sunwoo being annoying about everything. winter themes, sunwoo is a little kid about stuff but mostly the snow.

wc: 21k

warnings: swearing, a heated make out session. y/n's inner monologue is just my own feelings about this man im sorry. i watched too much of the office when writing this can you tell. also i made sunwoo's sister underage for plot reasons deal with it.

working with kim sunwoo has so far been the worst experience of your whole entire life. just his existence alone is enough to make your day completely miserable– though, one would think that working with movies on the daily would prepare you for the biggest plot twist of your life.

a/n: this took me SO LONG to write woah. i have a humble playlist for this fic if any of yall wanna listen to it while you read <3 a huge thank you goes to my best friend @csenke for being my biggest motivator and hype man when it came to this fic. thank u for being my first ever beta reader hihi i couldn't have done this without you i am forever grateful ily. also im tagging @heemingyu because whe told me to

ho ho ho! this fic is a part of the secret santa event by @deoboyznet ! @kimsohn maya, i was your secret santa this year, i hope you enjoy the fic i prepared for you

TONIGHT'S PREMIERE – UGLY TRUTH (2009)

If anyone ever asked you about your job in the movie theater, you wouldn’t really know what to say. 

You see, what may had seemed like your dream job when you were little, acquiring the fairytale vision after going to the cinema for the first time to see the Horton movie when you were just 7, quickly turned into reality one ordinary day during your junior year of university. And it wasn’t even that hard; you just dropped off your CV at the movie theater on the corner of the town's square when you saw the sign that said ‘looking for part-timers’ in a messy, giant handwriting on the glass door– and soon enough, you found yourself in the depths of the vintage-looking cinema, wearing the red uniform the owner gave you, selling movie tickets to teenagers and taking out the trash. It’s hard to enjoy the job when you’re on bathroom cleaning duty, though, and the fact that this is what you once imagined to be the most exciting job in the whole entire world turns twice as boring when you realize just how mundane it really is. 

Still, you can’t bring yourself to quit, well, because you need the money.

Do you hate working in the cinema? No. Not really. Sure, it’s kind of boring– especially on the nights when you’re selling tickets at the front and nobody comes in for hours– but it’s not that difficult. It’s not physically or mentally demanding, so you’d say that you’re still on the better end when it comes to work environment. Your boss isn’t a dick and you get paid on time– so really, if anyone asked you if you hated it, your answer would be no. 

Until one fateful day, of course. 

You’re met with a person that’s going to efficiently change this opinion around in one swift bat of their eyelashes and a drag of their hand through their messy hair.

“So… you’re the new part-timer?” a tall boy asks you one day when you arrive at work. You’re already wearing your uniform when you come through the front door– since you don’t really feel like changing in the toilets that are not staff-exclusive here– and frankly, his voice startles you on your way in.

“Yeah,” you nod, furrowing your brows at the stranger. “And you are…?”

“Sunwoo,” the boy says, matter-of-factly, as if you’re supposed to know who exactly he is now that he’s introduced himself to you. The look on your face may show that you’re still clueless, and see, that’s something that must have played with the boy’s ego. “Kim Sunwoo,” he snickers, “the owner’s son..?”

Blinking a few times, trying to remember if Mr Kim’s ever told you about having a son– he hasn’t– you gasp like a fish on the dry, nodding. “Oh… Hello..?” you mumble, not really knowing what to do with the information.

“Hi,” he says, face stone cold and motionless. Something’s wrong, but you can’t quite put your finger on it…. 

Well, you’ll have to deal with that later. “My shift starts in 5 minutes, so I gotta find Mr- your dad, and ask him what’s on my to-do list today, but it was nice meeting you,” you try to force out a polite (maybe even warm) smile before you turn on your heel and march towards the staff room, where Mr Kim usually resigns unless he is helping you out with something at the front. See, on not busy days, working at the cinema requires only one person. On Fridays, though, it can get tough. That’s when the owner makes the popcorn while you both sell and scan the tickets at the same time– sometimes you wonder why he doesn’t hire another person to help out with the job.

“Wait– newbie–”

The nickname startles you, again, as you turn around and squint at him. You have a name– and although he has no way of knowing it (other than his father telling him, but seeming that you didn’t even know about his son, Mr Kim isn’t big on sharing information)– but still, you’d love to be called by it. “It’s Y/N, actually.”

“Oh, right…” he hums, “well, Y/N, dad’s not here tonight, so… I’m… kind of in charge,” he says, nodding as he gets the words out, trying to prove his point, “he had other things to take care of, so he sent me down instead,” he explains, watching as your face morphs into one of quick understatement.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he nods, sucking on his teeth.

Thick silence overtakes the atmosphere. You feel awkward and out of place.

“So…?” you hum, waiting for him to tell you what to do. 

Because a guy your age ordering you around at work is already embarrassing enough for a university student just trying to pay for their groceries. You’re not gonna ask for the orders yourself. You still have some dignity.

“So… I could take the ticket booth and you can clean the screening room, since there are no movies on tonight?” he suggests, rocking on his heels. The boy seems a bit shaken with the new sense of responsibility, but you figure that even his undoubtful awkwardness still doesn't put you above his position.

You mentally sigh. Cleaning is your least favorite part of the job. 

Still, you’re not gonna talk back to your boss’ son. You’d like to keep your job for a while longer. At least until you find something better.

“Alright,” you nod, turning on your heels once more and preparing to disappear into the depths of the cinema.

His voice stops you again, though, frustration flowing through your veins. “Don’t forget to mop the floors! Oh, and the bathroom could use a clean as well.”

“Alright,” you nod again, your back facing him.

“Also, you need to get the gum off the chairs, I know it’s kind of disgusting, but there’s a-”

“I know how to do my job, thank you,” you turn, smiling ironically over your shoulder.

You don’t know what it is about the man that makes you so, so incredibly irritated. Maybe it’s the fact that every bit of information coming out of his mouth sounds like he’s mansplaining everything to you. Maybe it’s the fact that you feel humiliated to be told what to do by a man that’s your age. Or maybe, it’s just the sheer fact that you hate cleaning– the one thing he just told you to do.

Still, you go and get the vacuum. You go and mop the floors, you go and take the gum off the chairs and scrape it into a bucket you keep in the pantry in the back. You go and clean the bathroom, even though it’s 10 minutes until the end of your shift (you only work 4 hours on Wednesdays) and you spent almost your whole day cleaning the whole screening room by yourself (the screening room that’s giant and Mr Kim helps you with on most days). You go and wipe the mirror in the bathroom, as well as the windows in the hall. 

You say that your work in the cinema is not physically demanding, but by the time you’re out, your back hurts and your knees are all bruised up from getting on the ground so often.

What really sets you off, though, is the sight of the owner’s son sitting in the booth, both legs up on the table and chewing on something, his phone in his hands as he watches, what you presume from the language resonating from the speaker, a silly anime. At least someone had fun during their shift, you think as you leave without saying goodbye to him, slamming the door behind you with a loud bang on your way out.

Quite frankly, you didn’t know what set you off so bad this time. Maybe you just had a bad day. Maybe it could've been fixed with your next shared shift with the guy– you never know.

Little did you know that it was only going to get worse from now on, though.

TONIGHT'S PREMIERE – PALM SPRINGS (2020)

If you knew your boss’s son would play the role of your supervisor from time to time, you probably wouldn't have taken the job when it was offered to you. 

Why?

The reason is quite simple– while you go to work to make money, Kim Sunwoo goes to work to make your whole life a living hell. Ranging from always giving you the more difficult task of the day to making unfunny jokes about your performance (he once asked if you ran a marathon after you mopped the whole hall, his grinning figure staring at you from inside of the ticket booth), you’re starting to think that Kim Sunwoo is mentally stuck with the brain of an 11-year old boy. 

More so with his recent endeavors. You don’t really know what he’s trying to achieve with all of this, but you’re starting to despise going to work even when you know he’s not on the schedule– somehow, you’re afraid his silly pranks and jokes will follow you and surprise you even when he’s not present. Is this his way of asserting dominance? You really don’t know.

It all starts one day before a movie premiere when Sunwoo walks up to you and introduces you to a new concession item to sell in the snack booth. While you don’t really know why one would even think of new combinations to sell at a cinema, since everyone’s just gonna get popcorn or nachos, you don’t really question the idea much further– Sunwoo’s father owns this place, so he must know the best marketing strategies for his business. The reality only downs on you when you’re forced to promote the “Ultimate movie mix” to every customer– which wouldn’t even be that strange, if the mix didn’t include the weird combination of pickles and candy. 

Running on two all nighters and half an energy drink, you didn’t realize the snack stand doesn’t even hold pickles. You were notified the day after by your boss, though, and that wasn’t your best experience.

The terror follows when Sunwoo’s father decides to run a Star Wars marathon one weekend. The flood of customers wouldn’t be as hard to manage when you run the snack stand, but it does get more difficult when your coworker running around with a lightsaber knocks over all the buckets of freshly-made popcorn you just put on the counter for the customers to take. 

He doesn’t even say sorry. Or help clean the spilled popcorn up from the floor. Or help you make a new batch. 

He just laughs.

Sunwoo just loves to laugh at you. Like that one time he made you wear a giant popcorn costume and stand in front of the cinema for the entirety of your 4 hour shift on Wednesday to promote the new movie airing on Friday. Hardly anyone took the fliers you were desperately trying to force into their hands and when you came back, you saw Sunwoo pointing his camera at you from the big glass window. 

The next shift, his dad asked you how Sunwoo did when promoting the movie. You didn’t have the heart to tell him he forced you to do the dirty business instead.

Another time, Sunwoo informs you via text in the middle of your shift that you should clean the bathrooms. The fact itself already makes you furious, but you follow the order nonetheless– because, well, what else can you do? You’re used to cleaning the toilets, since it’s a part of your job. It’s just the fact that a guy your age told you to that’s making you rethink all your career decisions.

The trip to the bathrooms quickly turns traumatizing when you step inside of the tiled room and have the door behind you close with a loud bang, followed by the light switching off. Screeching, you jump and try to escape the room with fear making your heart run faster than Usain Bolt, however, you find the door seemingly locked– the sound of Sunwoo’s snarky laugh coming from the other side making you recognise what just happened and how he’s pulling another one of his childish pranks on you again.

When the door finally opens, you throw the toilet brush into his chest and scream out a “I’m going to fucking quit if I see your face one more time!”. You’re over all formalities.

That doesn’t mean you’re not scared every time you enter a room in the cinema when you work with Sunwoo, though. Your reaction was strengthened very abruptly, you see.

Sitting in the ticket booth, door ajar to monitor your surroundings, you plop your head on your hand and glare at Sunwoo, chewing on your gum. If anyone saw you right now, they’d think you were trying to kill him with your stare, but the opposite would actually be the truth tonight– you were quite enjoying the sight of him wiping the sweat off his forehead and scowling at the neverending flow of customers.

The beauty of having ticket booth duty on premiere night is that everyone bought the tickets beforehand already, meaning that it wasn’t usually busy. Scanning the tickets and running the snack booth were the more difficult parts of the shift, and since Mr Kim decided to show up to work today, Sunwoo was graced with the snack booth duty– something that warmed you up from the inside and made you want to kiss your boss’s feet in gratefulness. 

There’s just something about seeing Kim Sunwoo in misery that makes your stomach turn and do cartwheels. You’re in love with his pathetic, tired face.

His eyes meet yours when he takes a moment to breathe– the look behind them is pleading, almost embarrassingly hopeless as he internally wishes he was in your place. You think this serves him right for the weeks of torture, and when he becomes you to come over with a motion of his hand, you just shrug at him and bat your eyelashes in faked innocence. 

It’s not your fault he’s on duty tonight. What does he want with you?

His lips mouth “Come here,” which makes you battle a satisfied smile. Poor Kim Sunwoo is helpless in his task. The rush just won’t stop and he’s asked of more than he can handle. You kind of feel sadistic when you truly think about your sentiments, but you think you’re only valid for feeding on his misery.

“Help!” he mouths again, and now you truly can’t battle the laughter anymore. His hair is tousled and sticking to his forehead. His uniform is dirty. The tie around his neck is loose. The sight makes you utterly satisfied.

As he mouths “Please,” accompanied by clasped hands and a pleading look that would work on most women, you finally decide to stand up from the uncomfortable chair in the ticket booth and shake your head in disbelief. You can’t even count how many times Sunwoo left you alone in the rush before a premiere, but you can’t really risk his father finding out you didn’t come to rescue his beloved son, since however you might hate this job, you still can’t lose it in your current living conditions.

Sighing and closing the door to the ticket booth after you, your legs take you to the snack stand. Eyes of enthusiastic customers looking almost high on coca cola and the smell of salted popcorn are on you when you finally reach Sunwoo’s side. 

“So I’m supposed to help you with your work whenever you ask, but when I’m left cleaning the whole theater completely alone, you can sit around and play on your phone?” you jab, annoyed with the turn of events. You find a spare apron and tie it around your waist, not really wanting to dirty your uniform as you pour caramel into some buckets of popcorn, hearing your companion chuckle next to you.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Okay, so I’ll be back in the ticket booth after serving this customer-”

“My dad’s watching.”

“This is blackmailing,” you snap back, smiling ironically at your coworker.

Sunwoo grins at you when he hands two cokes to the teenage girls behind the counter, shrugging to himself. “Not my problem.”

You learned long ago that fighting with Kim Sunwoo is a battle you can never win. Logically, you know you’re always right, but the boy always thinks he should have the last word in everything, which makes ending an argument with him pretty much impossible. That’s why you stopped trying to prove your truth. In your heart, you know how it is, and no amount of snarky remarks from the feisty boy will change your opinion.

You two work alongside each other in silence for some time. You’d even say it’s efficient– you make the popcorn and he makes the nachos, both of you taking turns behind the coca cola machine, and after a few minutes in his proximity when he’s not being the butt of the Earth, your brain starts to question why you two can’t operate like this on a daily basis.

Oh, how foolish of you.

You’re quickly brought back to reality when you walk over with the grande size bucket of popcorn towards the counter, meeting halfway with Kim Sunwoo’s chest.

It takes everything in you not to scream, but the restraint is deleted as soon as you feel something cold dripping down the front of your uniform, your white button-up suddenly sticking towards your chest in a big, dark-brown pool around your waist area. One sharp look into his eyes is everything it takes you two to come to a mutual understanding of what your next action is gonna be– Sunwoo quickly puts the now empty cup of coca cola onto the counter and puts a hand towards his head in self-disappointment.

“Kim Sunwoo, are you fucking incompetent?!” you scream out, the sensation of your cold shirt sticking to your already sweaty skin making you want to crawl out of yourself and scratch your coworker’s eyes out with the claws of the demon he wakes up in you.

“Look, you don’t have to-”

“I just washed this yesterday, there’s a line of people waiting for their snacks up to the fucking front door, you just ruined the popcorn I made so now I have to redo it, and you just decide to spill this onto me?!” you continue with your rampage, not really caring about the eyes of everyone on you, just letting out all your built-up frustration that creeps inside of you every time you see his face.

“As if I did this on purpose…” he grunts as he turns around in his place and reaches for napkins, not really putting much thought into his actions as he presses the material into the damp place sticking to your skin. 

The image startles you– Kim Sunwoo almost in physical contact with you, a paper napkin soaking up some of the coca cola flooding the surface of your skin– and as you watch his slender palms run over your front, your eyes falling to the fluffy hair at the crown of his head, you feel heat rushing to your insides, making you jump away from him.

“Sorry-” he mumbles out as you forcefully pry the napkin out of his hand, gritting your teeth.

“I’m starting to think you’re making me do everything just because you’re useless,” you spit at him.

Rolling his eyes, Sunwoo pokes his cheek with the tip of his tongue. “It was an accident.”

“Don’t care,” you grunt, walking away from the booth, “I’m going to change in the back, you better not burn the place down with the popcorn machine before I’m back,” you comment, sending him a sharp glare over your shoulder.

All that accompanies you to the staff room is Sunwoo’s loud sigh and a sugary-sweet tone he offers to one of the customers as he throws the ruined popcorn into the trash. “I’ll be right with you, miss!” 

If anyone asked you if you hated your job now, you think you’d say yes.

Who are you kidding?

You’d definitely say yes.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – THE HATING GAME (2021)

You were quite pleased on your way to work today. It’s Wednesday, which usually means it’s not as busy. The weather is cloudy– good enough to not make you gloomy, but not quite sunny enough to make you wish you were outside instead of being stuck in the cinema the whole afternoon– and you packed a home-made sandwich with you to eat on your lunch break. Which is whenever, since you’re on ticket booth duty today– another great news. 

The best thing about today, though? Kim Sunwoo isn’t working today. 

That alone is good enough to make your whole entire day better. The sun shines brighter, your breathing is lighter, the air is clearer and the birds chirp louder when you know you don’t have to interact with the hellspawn that day. It’s like his absence alone is enough to heal all your wounds and delete all your worries– who cares about the fact that you’re barely getting through your Biology class when you know you won’t have to stare at Sunwoo’s face as you contemplate dropping out of university during your shift? 

Maybe you should thank him, in a way.

And with all of this knowledge, a smile plastered on your face as you’re prepared to sit through your 5-hour shift in silence with an occasional swipe through your social media and a well deserved chicken-mayo sandwich towards the end of your shift, it’s quite natural for your smile to freeze and your spirit fall the moment you see the mop of dark brown hair walk through the doors of the cinema. 

“What the fuck is he doing here?” you mourn as he walks by, only realizing you said the sentence out loud when the boy looks at you with a scowled face, a scoff escaping his throat.

“Didn’t know we were speaking to each other in third person now,” he says as he stops in his tracks and plops his head into the door to your booth, infesting your calm abode with his presence.

Deep breaths. In and out, Y/N. In and out… 

“Hello to you too, Y/N,” he smiles, irony dripping off his tongue, “having a good day so far?”

“It was better without you here, thank you,” you snap back, rolling your eyes at him when his eyes flash with something akin to a victory– it seems you both take joy in making the other one absolutely miserable with your presence.

“Sweet,” he nods on his way out, grinning to himself. “Well, I won’t be long, so don’t let your mood drop too much.”

With that, he’s out of the ticket booth. All that’s left behind him is the smell of his cologne– the tingle of lemon and bergamot filling your nostrils in a way that makes the fine hair at the back of your neck stand up all alert– and silence. It makes you wonder about his whereabouts– you can never know… what if he’s setting up a trap for you somewhere? You wouldn’t be half surprised. You make a mental note to yourself to be twice as cautious when going to the bathroom next time. Just to make sure.

Before you’re able to think of any possible situations that Sunwoo could get himself caught in (while completely ignoring the fact that his father is somewhere in his office in the back– for all you know, he might just need to talk to your boss, like a son does sometimes), the woodworm of your thoughts appears in your view again, two rolled-up tubes under his shoulder as he walks over to the front door.

“Wait! What are those?” you ask, eyes zeroing on the very clear posters in his grip. The shiny white back of the big posters you have to sometimes put up in the front of the cinema are unmistakable to anything else.

“Posters,” Sunwoo replies, calling over his shoulder, already halfway out of the building. 

“I know what those are–”

“Then why are you asking?” he huffs, shaking his head in disbelief as he takes a few steps towards the ticket booth, eyes meeting yours. His figure fills the door frame as he towers over you, still sitting on the chair. His eyes have a different kind of twinkle in them– you think, no, you know it’s mischief– making the blood in your veins boil at deadly temperatures.

“Because– well,” you huff, already frustrated, “we’re not allowed to take these,” you say, pointing to the two posters under his shoulder like a kid in the candy store. You try to ignore just how embarrassing you must look right in this moment.

“Oh,” he pouts, taking the posters from below his shoulder, unraveling one of them and resting the other one against the doorframe, “so you’re telling me… I can’t take those two amazingly big, shiny, cool posters of the latest Spiderman movie home for me and my friend Juyeon?” 

You’re only half-aware of the fact that he’s teasing you right now, sighing at his innocent face. “No, Sunwoo. You can’t.”

“Hm,” he hums, looking at the poster from top to the bottom, seemingly sad about the news, “that’s terrible. Says who?”

“Your… your father, Sunwoo. He told me when I asked him the other day if I could take–”

“You wanted to take posters home from the cinema?” he gasps, looking at you with big eyes. He looks stupid. So, terribly stupid. Dumb. No thought behind his eyes. You want to smash his head against a concrete wall. 

…He’s teasing you. It finally dawns on you.

Now, you want to smash your head against a concrete wall.

Still, you admit defeat with a solemn tone in your voice. “Well, I really wanted the Enola Holmes poster to put up in my bedroom…” you mumble.

“And my dad said no?” he asks, eyebrows quirking up towards his hairline.

“Yes, Sunwoo. Your father said it’s prohibited to take posters home from the cinema, that’s exactly why I’m stopping you right now,” you say, tone filled with annoyance. You know he’s enjoying your face full of misery. But still, if there’s one thing you’re good at, it’s following the rules and orders– if Mr Kim says you can’t take the posters home, you’ll go in the back and tear them into pieces before throwing them into the bin like you’re told to. 

If things were going your way, you’d advise Sunwoo to do the same. 

A day with Kim Sunwoo in it never goes your way, though. You should’ve been prepared.

“So I can’t take those posters home because my dad said no?” he clarifies, looking like a dummy. Like one of those kids that ask the most obvious questions during exams. Like one of those kids you want to sucker punch in the face.

“Sunwoo–”

“Well, Y/N-ie,” he purrs, the nickname making your hands curl up in fists, “that’s too bad… because I am the owner’s son, so… the rules don’t really apply to me, you see.”

And with that, he sends another sickeningly sweet smile your way before he turns on his heel and marches towards the front door again– not responding to any of your annoyed, infuriated calls of his name. He doesn’t stop at your warnings. He doesn’t care.

And just like that, he disappears just as fast as he appeared. The interaction didn’t last more than 10 minutes, but you consider your whole day ruined.

Fucking Sunwoo and his fucking privileges. And his fucking annoying face. 

It’s not even that important. It’s just two posters that would get thrown out to the dumpster in the back at the end of your shift anyway. You don’t even care about those posters in particular– you just with equal rules applied to all workers in the workplace.

It’s not like Spiderman Homecoming is one of your favorite movies… not at all.

You could’ve had that poster. You deserved that poster. You sold tickets for it and served the snack booth when it premiered– not Kim Sunwoo and whatever his friend’s name was.

You kick the wall with your sneaker. It leaves a dirty mark.

You should’ve known the day felt too good to be true.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING (1993)

There’s a new thing Mr Kim is trying to lure more customers into the cinema. He calls it ‘Rewind Thursdays’, where he picks a movie from the past and airs it in the theater again to bring out nostalgia in the whole town. You think it’s a good idea– you remember when the Harry Potter movies had a rerun back when you were little, ecstatic that you finally got to see them in the cinema because you missed out on the experience when they were coming out for the first time. You went even though you saw them all before, and you had a blast. So in your books, this was the best thing that could happen to the little, old movie theater on the corner of the town’s square.

You were overbeared with joy when Mr Kim went up to you during one of your slow Wednesday shifts in the ticket booth with a paper and a pen, requesting you to write down your favorite movies. He informed you that he’d prefer it if they were older, to, quote, really get the nostalgia going, and you were happy to have some say in the list of movies to play for multiple reasons. One, because it meant he valued your opinion, and two, you don’t usually work on Thursdays, so if your favorite movie is on that day, you can go and relax in the cinema while watching it.

This all happened a few weeks ago. You gave the list back to your boss at the end of your shift, smiling brightly just thinking about it, and he told you he’ll get through it and see what he can incorporate. 

The plan gets to you on one uneventful Wednesday. You are stuck in the ticket booth again. Today is one of the Wednesdays where Sunwoo is in charge, because Mr Kim is out of town. You hate those days most of them all, but recently, he’s been giving you your freedom and letting you work in the ticket booth instead of cleaning the already clean cinema, saying he has stuff to do in the back. You suspect he just sits around in his father’s office with his legs on the table, chewing on his obnoxious strawberry mints. The image makes you furious only the tiniest bit, because the fact that he’s out of your sight and isn’t ordering you around is enough to calm your nerves. It could always be worse, you remind yourself. It could always be worse.

“I have the schedule of ‘Rerun Thursdays’ all done,” Sunwoo says as he walks up to the ticket booth close to the end of your shift. His eyes look a little tired when he holds up a thick card to you, the design of the poster making your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Did he do that?

“It’s ‘Rewind Thursdays’, actually,” you note, pointing towards the very obvious mistake on the top of the poster.

“Oh fuck– you know what, not anymore,” he scowls, taking the poster back from you and pointing glares at the title he mistyped, “I spent 3 hours on this, I’m not remaking it.”

“It looks like a kindergartener did it,” you note, eyes scanning the bubbly font and the orange-yellow combination used throughout the whole design when he offers the paper back to you. It looks like a Winnie the Pooh convention is taking place instead of an event full of nostalgic movies, and you would tell him that, but he beats you to it with a tired remark.

“Well, if my father wanted this to look professional, he should’ve hired someone to do it,” he mutters, obviously hurt by your harsh words, “I used Canva. I don’t know how Photoshop works and my dad can barely operate the computer, so this is what we’re going with, okay?” he says as he explains, big eyes suddenly bearing into yours. “Unless you wanna redo it yourself…?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then this is the final poster,” he says, “I’m gonna hang those outside when we close,” he notes, watching you scan the movie titles. The event will take place in 4 weeks from the middle of November to the middle of December (right in time for Christmas movies to air, since you’re certain Mr Kim has another Christmas-themed business tactic up his sleeve). 

“Did any of your movies make it?” Sunwoo asks, surprisingly friendly. You can’t remember a single casual conversation with the male– all you two do it either give each other the silent treatment or scream at each other (more like you scream at him, but he always deserves it…), so you’re kind of surprised at the change. Not pleasantly surprised. Just surprised.

Eyes falling to the second movie on the list, you feel yourself nodding as you smile. It’s like a dream come true– you can finally see your favorite movie in the cinema for the first time. You don’t know who to thank for this miracle, but something in your insides feels very grateful. 

“Yeah,” you say, trying to seem unaffected. You’d rather kill yourself than to show any signs of emotion in front of Kim Sunwoo. All he deserves to see is your stone cold face.

“Which one?” he asks, seemingly interested.

“National treasure,” you hum, pointing to the movie on the list, having Sunwoo nod to himself. You expect him to say something to you– perhaps engage in a conversation like a normal person would– but suddenly, he gasps and takes out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket, offering it to you and playing the role of the manager again.

“Oh, by the way,” he starts, watching as you unfold the paper, “I know we don’t usually work on Thursdays, but since my dad decided to do all of this, we kinda have to, since he wouldn’t be able to handle the premieres on his own, so… Here's your schedule for the next 4 weeks,” he says, clasping his hands together in front of him.

It takes everything in you to not correct the male and tell him that those are technically not premieres, but when your eyes land on the little Excel table Sunwoo printed out for you, the feeling is overpowered with one of deep disappointment.

“I work the second week?” you ask, as if the question might magically change the schedule.

“I mean, I think you can read…” Sunwoo hums, shrugging to himself.

A heartbeat passes by of you staring at the schedule, a pit opening in your stomach at the realization. You only work 2 Thursdays out of 4, noticing the fact that you rotate with Sunwoo (with him somehow taking the first week, much to your surprise), but for some reason, one of those days had to be the day when National treasure is on. 

And sure, you might think this is good– you can just watch the movie while you work! 

Wrong.

Working means either staying in the ticket booth the whole time in case a customer comes, working the snack booth the whole time in case a customer comes, or cleaning the bathrooms. Working means also standing in front of the screening room sometimes, making sure no one is going in without a ticket in the middle of the movie. 

There is no time for you to watch National treasure if you’re working. 

Sighing, you decide to do something you always prohibited yourself from doing– you ask Kim Sunwoo for a favor. “Listen… my favorite movie is airing the week I work, so I was… wondering if we could exchange shifts? So I could go and watch it?” you ask, looking at your coworker with what you presume are pleading eyes. You hope it works on the boy– he looks like the type to fold under a tender gaze.

“So you want to get out of work only to still come?” Sunwoo clarifies, snickering.

“Pretty much, yeah,” you nod, tapping your fingers on the table.

“Well, the schedule is set,” Sunwoo shrugs, “I can’t do anything about it.”

Eyes sending darts to the very middle of Kim Sunwoo’s forehead, you take a few calming breaths before you speak up again. You don’t want to blow up on him when you’re asking him for a favor– you don’t think this approach would help you much in the situation.

“Why?”

“Because,” he shrugs. 

“Because?” you repeat. “That’s the reason?” you say, a weak laugh dragging out of your throat.

“Pretty much, yeah,” he mirrors your previous response, the blood in your veins already growing hot from the confrontation.

“Sunwoo, you– come on,” you say, “just this once, please? I’ll take the first week. We can just switch, what’s the difference?” 

Sunwoo tongues the inside of his cheek, eyes pointing towards the paper. “Schedule is schedule, Y/N. You have to follow it,” he says, an innocent look glazing his big fuckass boba eyes. Oh how you despise that look. It’s the look that tells you he finds this all so, so amusing, but won’t laugh in your face in hopes of teasing you some more. 

“Oh, amazing,” you say, throwing the schedule to the table, “I knew I could always count on you ruining my day, Kim Sunwoo. And I bet you did the schedule as well! You knew it was my favorite movie, so you made me work that week. Very nice of you, you dumbass. Thank you very much,” you grunt, annoyance flowing through your brain and making you truly merciless– you have no proof of Sunwoo even knowing which movie of yours made it in, or proof of him making the schedule– you don’t care, though. All you want at this moment is to claw his eyes out and pop them in between your fingers to ease the anger on your insides.

You can’t do that, though, so a screaming match will have to do the job.

“Stop being so dramatic,” he scoffs, eyebrows furrowing. “I didn’t even know which one your favorite movie was, so how could I do this on purpose? Plus, I didn’t even make the schedule, my dad did–”

“As if I would believe that,” you roll your eyes, huffing. “You’re all owner’s son privileges this, owner’s son privileges that, but when I ask you for one thing, one! Single! Fucking! Thing! You can’t do it,” you bite, words dripping in spite.

“Look, I really can’t-”

“You can’t do this one thing for me?” you cut him off, the question sounding like an ultimatum.

“No,” he shakes his head, seemingly unaffected by the conversation.

“Because…?” you demand a valid reason.

“Because I just can’t,” he shrugs, casual and cool. 

The world stills for a moment. You calculate your next move. Blood rushes in your ears, you see red. Your eyes fall on the clock– it’s 4 minutes after your shift. That’s it.

You take your coat draped over the chair, stand up from the chair and dash towards the front door. You can’t stand being around this man any longer– all he does is bring misery into your otherwise, already boring life. 

Speedwalking out of the place, you yell out a harsh “Go fuck yourself!” over your shoulder, leaving Sunwoo to close the cinema by himself. You don’t even change out of your uniform before you go– your head is too clouded with anger to remember to do so. Cursing out your coworker isn’t the best thing you could do in this situation, more so when he’s the owner’s son, but suddenly, you don’t really care about losing your job at the cinema anymore.

Maybe you should quit yourself, actually.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS (2003)

In your books, there aren’t many things worse than working three days in a row. You can only think of so many even when you try hard enough: like going to school in your pajamas, getting sick on the day of an important event, ripping your pants on the metro, standing outside of the cinema in a popcorn costume for 4 hours… 

Yeah. Not too many.

So naturally, on the third day of your work week, putting one sweetened coffee into your stomach after another, barely keeping your head up from the lack of sleep you’re getting in between classes, work, and writing your essays until 3 in the morning, you beg god for a calm shift. It’s Wednesday, the first week of Mr Kim’s ‘Rewind Thursdays’ event, and it just so happened that you were set to work the first half of the week while Sunwoo got the other half. 

The only thing keeping you going is the fact that you and Sunwoo will now basically not see each other’s face for the next four weeks– with the exception of Fridays and Saturdays, the premiere days. You’re getting a lot of shifts this month, but hey… Christmas is coming. At least you’ll have plenty of money to buy gifts for everyone this year. (Or not. You’re very underpaid.)

Entertaining yourself by watching the world outside of your window and mentally betting on the race of raindrops falling down the glass surface– because your phone battery almost ran out during class this morning and you forgot to bring your charger with you– you hope you don’t fall asleep right in this moment. Your boss is somewhere inside and if he oh just happens to check up on you (which he never normally does, but you can never be too sure), you’re certain you’d lose your job after taking a nap in the ticket booth. Some things just can’t be accepted. 

Cat fights with his son? Perfectly acceptable. Sleeping on the clock? Not so much…

Eyes drooping when the third raindrop race doesn’t go the way you bet on in your head, you figure you can just rest for a second or two… Eyelids shielding your irises from the orange hues of the lights inside, your brain already turning off and preparing a happy dream for you, you think that taking a nap is not such a bad idea right now…

Wrong.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” the noise of a thunder– actually, no, that was just someone’s voice– wakes you up and makes you jump in your chair, your knee hitting the bottom of the table making you hiss in sharp pain.

“Fuck, man–”

“Didn’t know taking a nap was in the job description,” Sunwoo grins at you through the glass window of the booth. His eyes twinkle in amusement as you drag your hand through your hair, trying to smoothe it down after tousling it in your weird sleeping position.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” you mutter, not even meeting his eye. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah… just had… my eyes closed…” you hum, scratching the back of your neck. Clearing your throat, you look back up at him with an disinterested look on your face. “Anyways, what do you want? You’re off today.”

Scanning his figure, fully taking in his appearance– the fabric of his dark gray hoodie a little stained with raindrops (you bet he ran from his car into the building without an umbrella. He seems like the type to be embarrassed about umbrellas.), the fabric of the garment enveloping his head and shading his face a little from the ugly yellow lights. His face is a little flushed– you presume it’s from the running– and his hair is falling into his face. You can barely see his eyes behind the curtain of chocolate locks– he really needs a trim.

“Damn, didn’t know you hated me so much that you can’t stand seeing me on my off days,” he jokes, leaning on the counter as if to stick his face as close as he can into yours. Thank god for the glass shielding you two– you think you’d give him a fist to the nose if you ever felt his breathing on your skin.

“I do,” you agree, impatiently drumming your fingers on the top of the table, “so tell me what you want so you can disappear again,” you say.

“I just went to check up on whether you were sleeping or not so I can tell my dad to fire you–”

“Kim Sunwoo–”

He puts his arms up defensively, eyebrows raising at your threatening tone. “Okay, not really. I don’t actually care that much. Besides, you promised to quit yourself anyway, so,” he explains, shrugging to himself, “believe it or not, I’m here to buy tickets for a movie.”

You shoot him a stare, the look in your eyes dead, stone cold as you ponder on his words. It’s cold outside, it’s raining, and Kim Sunwoo just happens to decide to buy tickets for a movie today. In a cinema that he works at. In a cinema that he works at tomorrow.

“You work tomorrow…?” you mirror your inner monologue, kind of confused at the turn of events.

“You know my schedule? I’m flattered–”

The irritation is slowly creeping into your bones again. Actually, it has been since he arrived, but the more he talks, the more agitating the whole encounter feels. Maybe you should tape his mouth shut the next time you see him– you bet the day would be so much better if you don’t have to listen to him talk. 

“Why don’t you just buy the tickets tomorrow when you work? Didn’t have to walk here in the rain,” you explain, sighing to prove just how annoyed you are with his presence.

“Because I kinda need them today,” he says, clarifying to you with the tone you use when you explain mundane things to a child.

You don’t know what he did in his past life to get the ability to annoy you each and every time you meet him, but you’d like some of it to get back at him in your next life. Why you’re even thinking of past lives and the possibility of meeting Kim Sunwoo in your next one, you’re not really certain, but if it helps you to not smash the glass separating you two, you guess you can get behind the thought process.

“Okay,” you nod, painfully calm for the amount of screaming you’ve been doing internally, “what movie?” you ask, turning your body to the computer on your right and breaking eye contact with him. If he’s a customer, you’re going to treat him like one– no small talk and no arguments. You won’t ruin your day even more over a man that doesn’t know what chapstick is. (You don’t stare at his lips, just for the record. It’s just painfully obvious when he talks. Sometimes you want to reach over and pluck away the dead skin with your fingers– you won’t, though. That would be weird.)

Sunwoo straightens his back as he fishes for his wallet in the front pocket of his jeans. “National Treasure,” he smiles, making you break into cold sweat, “two tickets, please.”

Like a scene in a horror movie, your head turns without moving the rest of your body, eyes twitching when you see him standing at the other side of the booth, calm and collected. Suddenly, the scene makes sense– he bought the tickets to see your favorite movie on the day of your shift. Of course. He just has to rub it in your face. 

Not only are you working that day. You will also most likely serve popcorn to him as he goes inside with whoever he is buying the second ticket for. And you will try not to trip him on his way inside the screening room.

It was a smart move for him to not go inside the ticket booth with you, even though he has all the right to. You bet he knows you’d claw his eyes out if you had the chance.

“You have to be kidding me.”

“What? I can’t buy tickets for a movie?” he asks, innocence dripping off his tongue.

Breathing deeply– while trying to contain the demon that’s begging to crawl out of your insides and tear him into 25 different pieces– you smile ironically at the male, gulping before you speak. “That would be 12 dollars, please,” you say, your customer service voice turning kind of eerie.

Not even letting the male choose his seats– he lost the privilege when he decided to come and buy the tickets for your favorite movie– you print out two tickets with the worst possible view (the ones in the first row, far right. If Sunwoo loses his neck because he has to look up at the screen for the entirety of the movie, well, who are you to hate that) and offer them to your coworker.

Like a mind game, the male slips them into his pocket without even looking at them, not breaking eye contact with you sitting behind the booth. 

“Have a nice day,” he says as he takes two steps back before fully turning and escaping through the front door, figure dashing towards the old Prius parked in front of the building.

Bawling your hands into fists, you try the breathing exercises you found the other week. Calm your body and your mind, the title said. You knew you’d need those when you saved the post into one of your boards on Pinterest.

Still, you can’t help yourself. You simply cannot. You let it out– it’s not healthy to keep negativity inside. 

He can’t hear you, but you still mutter a spiteful “I hope you choke,” under your breath as you settle back into the uncomfortable surface of the chair.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – YOU’VE GOT MAIL (1998)

Remember the time you said you didn’t really mind having more shifts in November, because it meant a bigger paycheck? Yeah… that was true. For a few days.

Until you got a phone call one day from none other than Kim Sunwoo– whose number you didn’t even want to save into your contacts, but after his insisting that it’s for work purposes, did so under the name ‘dumpster raccoon’– telling you that you have to get to work immediately, that his dad said so, and that it’s an emergency. 

Do you believe him? No. Absolutely not. 

His tone of voice was too calm to be in an emergency. If his dad wanted you to come to work today, he could’ve called you himself instead of making his son do it. And also, you really don’t know what’s so important to take care of on a Wednesday, since it’s the slow day of the week, but still– you angrily took off the facemask from your face before the timer even went off, shut your laptop with a half-watched episode of The office in your Netflix window, changed out of your comfy clothes and marched towards the cinema. 

Because you never know. He might be saying the truth, after all. And if that was the case, you didn’t want to be caught disobeying your boss.

You get to the old movie theater on the corner of the town center at 4 in the afternoon. The sky is already getting dark and you feel the coldness of November seeping into your bones, and so you waste no time in getting inside and chasing the heat of the vintage-looking interior. Your boots make a thudding sound as you walk across the hall, seeing Sunwoo sitting in the ticket booth in his usual habitat: with his phone in his hands and his feet up on the table, chewing on his favorite strawberry mints. Now this sight screams emergency if you’ve ever seen one.

“What was so important for you to call me to work and then chill in the ticket booth all afternoon?” you ask, spite slipping off your tongue with every word you speak. 

Sunwoo looks up at you from under his eyelashes, hair still slightly shielding his eyes. He doesn’t even have his uniform on– there’s a gray hoodie enveloping his torso (you swear he lives in this garment. You wonder if he even washes it sometimes) and black jeans hanging off his hips– and the more you stare at him, the more you feel like punching him in the face.

“Oh,” he hums, stretching out his limbs from the hours of sitting on the chair unmoving, “dad said to tell you to clean the screening room. Since it’s Thursday tomorrow, and all.”

The look on his face is innocent. He looks like he just told you the most casual piece of information– and truth be told, he kind of did. The whole thing is just not making any sense right now. 

“I should clean the screening room today? You’re on the clock, though, why don’t you do it?” you ask, frustration clearly written all over your face. You were looking forward to having a self-care day today, so you can only imagine how tired of his endeavors you are right in this moment. 

“Yeah, but I am on ticket booth duty, so I can’t,” he shrugs, frowning a little to prove his nonexistent point.

“It’s Wednesday. It’s not busy. You know you can do both.”

“Look, it’s not me, it’s my dad–”

“Is it? Is it, Sunwoo?” you huff, arms flying into the air. “Or are you just using me to do the work you don’t feel like doing? Because it really does seem like that right now,” you bite, running your hand through your hair in exasperation. 

“Do you want me to call him?” Sunwoo asks, tone of voice suddenly threatening. 

A heartbeat passes. You continue to have a staring contest with him. The fury inside of you rages like a storm. Still, you nod to the feeling of authority coming from your actual boss, and so you wordlessly turn on your heel and march towards the screening room, ready to clean the place in the least amount of time so you can go home and back to your selfcare endeavors. (You’re adding printing out Sunwoo’s face and throwing darts at it to the list of activities. You think you really need that right now.)

The screening room is dark when you come inside, and as you reach towards the lightswitch, you almost fear something jumping at you. See, the traumatic response from being locked up in the toilet from your coworker is still very present in your bones. When you stop working here, you’re going to ask for financial compensation for all the damage this boy did on your mental health.

You walk down the aisle of seats and try to inspect the damage. No movies air on Wednesday and there was only one kids movie going on Tuesday, so you can either expect it to be almost clean, or full of snacks that fell off the hands of grabby children during the cartoon. The more you inspect the place, though, the more it seems like… somebody already cleaned it before?

The floor is clean. The laminated surface under the seats has no smudge of dirt on it, like someone already mopped the place. And when you think back, the bins were empty as well.

The screening room was definitely cleaned before.

Which means that Sunwoo brought you here for absolutely nothing.

Suddenly, the lights go out. The whole room falls into darkness, and the anger inside of your veins very quickly mixes with panic as you try to climb up the stairs on the side of the screening room and escape. Your throat gets dry as you yell for your coworker, not really caring if your next outburst is going to get you fired or not.

“Kim Fucking Sunwoo, why the fuck did you call me to clean an already cleaned screening room?!” you yell, not really knowing if he hears you or not. Doesn’t matter– it feels cathartic to do so anyway.

Your feet stumble on the awkwardly-long stairs, your figure almost falling to the ground. Managing to hold yourself up and steady your body before your head hits the sharp corner of one of the stairs and makes you die, you continue on with your small tangent. “You really think this is funny? You’re having fun pranking me all the time? I hate your guts, Kim Sunwoo, and I hope you burn in hell!”

A bright light suddenly illuminates the screening room, coming from somewhere behind you. When you look over your shoulder, the screen is white for a few moments before the opening credits of a Jerry Buckheimer film flash on the big surface, halting you in your movements. The sound is a little too loud in the speakers, but it gets adjusted the moment you almost lose your hearing. The moment you see Nicolas Cage appear, it’s clear as day.

There’s a movie playing. And the movie playing is National treasure. 

You think you’re hallucinating. This is surely a fata morgana.

Standing in the middle of the screening room, your mouth hangs agape and your eyes go wide as you watch the first few scenes of the movie. Ben Gates already learns about the hidden treasure passed down through American history when you feel a slight nudge to your shoulder, making you turn your head to see a tall figure staring you down with a bucket of popcorn in their hands.

You are confused. So utterly confused. The movie was on last week. You’d know– you worked the snack booth that day. The screening room is empty and it’s Wednesday– what’s going on? 

“Can you sit? Or are you just going to watch the movie standing in the aisle,” Sunwoo grunts, balancing the big bucket of popcorn and two drinks in his large hands, the sight comical and almost making you want to watch him suffer some more.

Caught off guard, though, you let him back you into the aisle of seats, your figure slouching into one of the red cushions like a rag doll. Sunwoo takes place next to you, placing the big bucket of popcorn into your lap, before he settles into a seat as well and focuses his eyes and attention on the movie.

“What… what is this?” you ask, frozen in the seat. 

“Hm?” Sunwoo frowns, looking at you. “National treasure,” he hums, “I thought you’d know, since you threw a scene about it that one time.”

“I- I know that, I just…” you trail off, still surprised at the turn of events, “what’s going on right now…?”

“We’re watching National treasure,” he notes, talking to you as if you were slow.

“What…?”

A sigh escapes Sunwoo’s lips at your utter confusion, his hand coming up to the bucket of popcorn in your lap and throwing a handful of the snack into his mouth before speaking. “Look, Y/N. You said you wanted to watch your favorite movie in the cinema, so that’s what you’re doing. Enjoy my owner’s son privileges for once,” he shrugs, watching as your face morphs into an unreadable expression.

That explanation satisfies you for a bit. The shock in your insides, though? Still present.

There’s something about the whole gesture that makes your stomach feel uneasy. Sunwoo did something nice for you– out of the kindness of his own heart– and you really don’t know why he would even think of something like this. You two aren’t on the best terms either, after all. Maybe he finally went crazy.

Or maybe you did and this was all the result of your imagination. Either or. 

Yeah, you must be the one that’s gone batshit insane. Surely. You’re certain of the fact when you reach for the popcorn and accidentally touch his hand, the two of you deciding to get some at the same time, and your stomach does a flip and your brain makes a sign for you to quickly retract your hand– but the feeling of his slightly cold hand against your fingertips is now engraved into your memory and won’t leave and let you focus on the movie no matter how hard you try.

“You wouldn’t have to do this if you just let me switch schedules with you that time,” you note, “just saying.”

“I couldn’t,” he shrugs.

“Huh? But you bought two tickets..?”

“Yeah, but those were for my friends. I had to drive my mum down to grandmas that day, so I couldn’t go or take your shift that day,” he hums, not once breaking eye contact with the screen.

“If you would’ve just said so, I wouldn’t have made a scene about it–”

“Yeah… but I enjoy watching you make a scene,” he grins, shifting his attention towards you for a second with that lazy smirk playing with his lips. His hair is falling into his eyes and you have the urge to get it out of his face with a motion of your hand while also scolding him like a mother to finally get a haircut, just so you could see the twinkle in his mischievous orbs.

“You need to get serious help, then,” you grunt, pointing your gaze back towards the screen, unable to look at his face for any longer. He’s being annoying again. You’re annoyed.

“Probably,” he admits.

You two sit in silence for a while, the only sound accompanying you being the movie playing out on the big screen in front of you. You think this is the calmest you two have ever been around each other, and you’re starting to think that if Sunwoo just didn’t talk, you two could even get along.

Something touches the side of your thigh in the darkness of the room. Eyes darting to the source, you notice Sunwoo’s thigh pressing against yours, the cause of his obnoxious man-spreading, and something about the closeness of his body and the smell of his citrusy cologne makes you feel like your chest is heaving in on itself. You can’t stand him around you. You two can’t share this close of a space.

“Are you not leaving?” you ask.

“No,” he hums, “should I be?”

“Well, you’re on the clock…”

The man snickers, shaking his head in disbelief. “Y/N, you and I both know that the possibility of someone coming to buy a ticket on a Wednesday afternoon is close to zero. Me being there makes no difference in today’s sales.”

His hand knocks into yours again as you reach for more popcorn. You gulp, nodding. “Right…”

“And I wanted to see the movie to see if it’s really that good to make a scene about it,” he teases, another playful look sent your way from the corner of his eye.

You grunt, rolling your eyes. Oh how you hate his guts…

And even though you love the movie, you pray for it to end quickly. The more time you spend with Sunwoo forced into your zone of comfort, the more uncomfortable you feel– even the slightest movement of his body affects you and makes your brain turn on overdrive. It’s strange and it’s weird, and you don’t understand how hatred for a person could manifest in such reactions. 

It’s better that you didn’t notice you two sitting in the love seat. God knows you wouldn’t handle that well. You’d rather die than to hold on to that knowledge.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – CLUELESS (1995)

They say that you only start realizing just how stupid people can be when you work in customer service. As one of the only three employees of the small, vintage cinema on the corner of the town’s square, you can only agree with the sentiment– you have a lot of stories to tell about the wonders of the human brain.

Like that one time you got screamed at because the movie tickets were ‘too expensive’ – because naturally, you should be able to change the price of them when asked. Or that one time you got screamed at because the movie tickets were sold out– because naturally, you should add more seats to the screening room just for the two middle-aged women to sit on during the premiere of the newest Orlando Bloom movie. Or when somebody yelled at you for the toilets being full after the movie– naturally, you are supposed to throw people out in the middle of them peeing. Or build new stalls. Either or.

They say that you only start realizing just how stupid people can be when you work in customer service, but truly, you also realize just how rude they can also be for no reason at all.

Much like today. It’s Friday, which means it’s premiere night. The tickets to all movies this week are sold out already, so no one is on ticket booth duty, and much to your relief, Mr Kim took the snack stand himself. Your responsibility for the day is scanning the tickets and then making sure no one is getting inside during the movie without a ticket. 

It’s not a hard job. Not at all– you would even say nothing about working in the cinema is hard, when you don’t have an annoying coworker trying to make your whole life a living hell– but you see, customers love to make your job harder just by being unreasonably rude about things that are clearly out of your control. 

“Sir, I really can’t let you in, I’m sorry,” you say, tone of voice polite despite screaming on the inside. In front of you is standing a tall man, maybe a few years older than you, the expression on his face full of anger and vexation. They say a customer is always right. You agree only when the customer looks like they could wait for you after work and beat you up in the bushes. Sadly, that still doesn’t mean you can let the man inside without a valid ticket.

“What do you mean? Little one, I’m telling you I bought the ticket here, so if you don’t let me in–”

“All tickets purchased for the screening should be able to scan through this, sir, and if it doesn’t work, I am not allowed to let you inside of the cinema,” you try to explain, getting kind of desperate. The line behind him was forming and the movie was supposed to play in a few minutes, so if you wanted to scan all the tickets in time, you had to be quick.

He wouldn’t budge, though. His eyebrows are furrowed and the guy behind him seems to be getting angry as well, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up alert, like a cat when it senses danger. You try your hardest to keep your tone firm, hands clasped politely behind your back. “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir, or maybe check in with the owner about the issue? I don’t have the competence to–”

“Listen, I won’t be talking to anyone, because you will let me in, okay?”

“Sir, I can’t-”

Your sentence is cut off by the man again, his fury making you take a step backwards in fear. “And if you don’t, you will see the consequences.”

Gulping, you try to think of a way to get out of this situation. Mr Kim is too far away for you to call, and he is also busy– the line is long and Sunwoo isn’t working today. It’s just the two of you today, so your options are getting slimmer. You can’t let that man in without a working ticket– it seems like the one he’s showing you is either a fake one, or bought in another cinema– but it seems like if you don’t, he’ll have you dead before the next morning. 

“So?”

Opening your mouth to answer (although your brain is still empty and you don’t even know what more to say), a low voice coming from behind you startles you in the middle of your crisis. “Is there a problem here?” 

Turning your head to the source of the voice, you’ve never been more relieved to see Kim Sunwoo in your close proximity. You watch as he puts a rolled-up poster to the ground behind you before he takes another step closer towards your figure, his expression stone cold and glaring at the man in front of you. 

“Your coworker here won’t let me in to watch the movie,” he complains, hand waving around in a threatening way. 

Just having Sunwoo around makes you more confident. Clearing your throat, your eyes dart to your coworker, seeing his face morph into irritation. “It won’t scan his ticket, so…”

“If it won’t scan your ticket, it means it’s invalid and we’re not allowed to let you in,” Sunwoo says, tone of voice way less polite than the one you were using before.

“That’s ridiculous-”

“You are ridiculous,” Sunwoo grunts, annoyance clearly written all over his face. “You were asked to leave, so maybe you should.” 

Truth be told, you’ve been in a couple of arguments with Sunwoo before. In none of them has he ever looked and sounded like this, though. You and Sunwoo argue with spite– sparks flying waiting to start a fire, curses and harsh words thrown around carelessly in moments of heated hatred. His tone is stern, but never threatening. Never mean. Not in the way he’s being right now.

It makes you stare at him wordlessly. He seems to be taking the lead in the situation, reacting territorially to the man in front of him. You can’t say you don’t feel safer with him around– you would be lying.

“Maybe you could just let me in and get this over with–” 

“And maybe you could fuck off,” Sunwoo says back, something in his tone making your stomach feel all light. He looks serious, standing his ground, and the man finally seems to get the memo that he’s not watching the premiere tonight, because he backs off and grits his teeth at the male.

“Your boss will hear about this,” he threatens, making Sunwoo chuckle.

“I’m sure he will.”

Sympathetic looks are thrown your way from the women in the line behind that can finally come up to you so you scan their tickets. You smile at each one and try to seem unaffected by the exchange, but the memory of it still lingers in your brain and doesn’t make you rest easy as you greet the rest of the customers. 

You didn’t even realize Sunwoo was still standing next to you, watching you work. He seems to recognise your shaken-up composure, tone of voice sympathetic and quiet as he asks: “You okay?”

“What?” you ask, surprised by the question, “oh. Yeah, I’m fine. He was just… being a bitch, the usual.”

“Yeah,” he snickers, “why didn’t you just scream at him like you do to me? I bet that would scare him away,” he notes, making you roll your eyes at the comment.

“Because he looked like he could beat me up, Sunwoo.”

“And I don’t?” he gasps, suddenly offended.

You scan the boy up and down, pretending to think it over for a few before you shake your head. “No,” you shrug, “I could beat you up.”

“Excuse you?” he gasps, crossing his arms at his chest in a defensive stance, the shock on his face mixing in with amusement. 

“Don’t believe me? Wanna try?” you test, the conversation suddenly flowing freely, without you even noticing. You don’t pay it much thought, but you guess getting along with Sunwoo is easier when he’s on your side. Most of the time, he’s not, though– and maybe that’s the problem.

“Okay,” he nods, “meet me in the back when you’re off. No weapons allowed, we’ll do it the street style. This is a battle of fists,” he points a finger at you, the sentence making you sigh dreamily and point your eyes towards the ceiling.

“You can’t even imagine how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

Sunwoo smiles at that– that dumb, boyish smile you usually so despise– and shakes his head at your antics. The conversation dies down a bit after the exchange– with you scanning the tickets and trying your hardest to make it through the line before the movie starts, when your coworker, dressed in none other than his signature gray hoodie and black jeans, nudges you with his elbow. “Want me to stay for a bit, or are you good now?”

“I can take care of myself, Sunwoo,” you sigh, “you can go about your day.”

“Well, it didn’t seem like it a few minutes ago–”

“I can take care of myself when I’m not confronted with a tall muscled man that is threatening me, Sunwoo,” you repeat, looking at the rest of the line, “so with him gone now, you can go about your day. What are you even doing here, by the way? I thought you were off today.”

“I am,” he nods, rocking a little in his place, shifting weight from his heels towards his toes, “I was just… here to drop off something for you,” he says, clearing his throat and pointing towards the poster he was holding when he first approached you, the shiny tube now resting against the nearest wall. 

You shoot the boy a curious look, eyebrows furrowed in question. You don’t get to ask for clarification about the character of the poster, because he abruptly cuts off your train of thought, speaking fast as if to avoid making any more conversation with you. “I’ll see you in the back after you’re done for that fist fight, then. Bye!”

And before you get a chance to say anything back, Sunwoo swiftly turns on his heel and awkwardly marches towards the front door. You don’t have much time to inspect the thing he dropped off for you, but after you’re done with scanning the tickets and have time to breathe when the movie starts, you allow yourself to peek inside– 

only to see a National treasure poster staring back at you, surface glossy and glimmering, as if you just opened a chest full of gold. 

As you take the poster to the staff room with you (while also wearing a huge, embarrassing grin on your face for someone staring at the face of Nicolas Cage), making sure it’s safe and sound until you can bring it home with you, you wonder why you haven’t been civil with Kim Sunwoo before.

It’s good to have a taste of his owner’s son privileges sometimes.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – ME BEFORE YOU (2016)

The day is Friday, the 1st of December. Mr Kim’s ‘Rewind Thursdays' event is over and while Fridays are always the premiere days, meaning you usually have to work the evenings either in the snack booth or in the ticket booth, your boss told you you can have the night off under one condition– you come in the morning (since you told him your classes are done for the semester, he’s been keen on making you work at random times of the day) and help Sunwoo with Christmas decorations in the cinema.

And, well, who are you to say no to a free evening? Maybe you can finally have that self-care time you’ve been needing before your exam season starts.

“Can you get the ladder from the back?” Sunwoo asks, tone of voice not at all interested. You don’t know what the reasoning behind his mood is, but you figure it’s either the fact that he had to get up before 12, or the fact that he doesn’t really seem like the type to like decorating.

“Why don’t you get it?” you huff, wiping your forehead off the sweat that’s cumulated on it over the time you spent bringing out all the boxes full of decorations out of the staff room. “I brought everything in, maybe you can do some work for once.”

One would think your dynamics with Kim Sunwoo would shift after he’s been nice to you on multiple occasions. And sure, you don’t really fight with him as often and he hasn’t pulled a prank on you in a while, but some days, his whole presence is still just as annoying to you as it’s been for the past couple of months. There’s not really much you can do about it– especially not when he’s bossing you around and not doing any actual work himself.

“I built the christmas tree,” he grunts, opening one of the boxes full of ornaments, squinting at the contains with disgust on his face. “And I put up all the other useless stuff before you got here too,” he says, pointing a glare at you. 

Looking around the theater, you notice various types of decorations all over the place. There’s some mistletoe hanging off the ceiling (which has you wondering how he even got it there in the first place) and garlands framing all the doorways– the greenery making the whole place decorated in a very vintage tone. It’s fitting to the theme of the cinema, though, and you can tell that Sunwoo really can’t be arsed to do any better, so you don’t mention it out loud in favor of avoiding another one of your petty cat fights.

Admitting your defeat, you storm back into the staff room and carry out the tall ladder, struggling to fit through the doorways and to cross the corners, praying to all higher forces that you don’t accidentally scratch off pieces of the wall on your way to Sunwoo.

You put down the metal construction with a loud thud, making the boy look up at you from beneath his bangs, the silent curse evident in his eyes. You don’t know what’s up with him, but again, you won’t ask. You try to tell yourself that you don’t really care either, but with every glance towards his direction, the question keeps bugging you and dancing around your brain. 

You force yourself not to care.

Watching as he tries to untangle the Christmas lights, struggle evident in the frustration written all over his face, you sigh and walk over to him, taking the bundle of wire out of his hands and threading your skilled fingers through the lengthy cable. You’re an expert in untangling– you don’t own bluetooth headphones, so you do this pretty much every day before listening to some music. Your headphones love to tangle in your pocket no matter how neatly you try to keep them in your pants– it’s a mystery. Almost like the Bermuda triangle. 

“I can do it myself,” Sunwoo huffs, eyebrows furrowing when he watches you work your magic.

“You seemed like it too,” you ironically note, letting the spiteful side of you win, enjoying yourself when you’re rewarded by the snarky roll of Sunwoo’s eyes– everything is back to normal. You two aren’t friends, you don’t like to be in each other’s presence, and no number of shiny stolen posters and private sessions in the screening room will ever change that.

“Hold this,” you say, thrusting the end of the cord into his hand, walking a few meters away from him as you detangle the lights, watching as he impatiently stomps the floor with his heel, reminding you of Snowball from The secret life of pets movie.

When you’re done and the Christmas lights are now a straight line of wire, you slowly walk over to the tall tree in the middle of the room, wrapping the lights around the fake forest-green needles. You’re glad that the lights are long enough to cover the whole thing and you don’t have to untangle another ones, and when you’re done, you watch your coworker plug them in, examining the small, colorful light bulbs. 

“Okay, now the ornaments,” you say, more to yourself than to anybody in the room, as you waltz over to the boxes and take out the decorations varying in shapes and sizes. You don’t really know what color scheme Mr Kim wants you to go for– and you doubt Sunwoo is aware either, so you just take out the ornaments you find the most pretty and hang them all over the tree, making sure each branch is covered.

Sunwoo stands around for a while, unmoving as he watches you, before he sighs to himself and finally decides to help. You leave him be, thinking that it’s for the best if you two don’t speak today when he’s in such a bad mood, but you break that promise almost immediately when you stare back at the tree after retrieving some more ornaments from the box to your right and notice the almost painful clash of colors.

You should’ve known you can’t trust a man with decorating. The beautiful contrast of the baby pink and brown ornaments you put on the tree is now ruined by the green ones you intentionally left on the bottom of the box. The colors don’t go together at all and you want to claw your eyes out every second you have to stare at it.

“Sunwoo, those colors don’t go together at all,” you say, point and blank– no sugarcoating, no offensive words, just straight facts.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that tree looks terrifying, and it’s all because you ruined it,” you say.

Okay, maybe you are overreacting just the slightest. But isn’t there fun in making your coworker completely out of his mind? Is this your roles being reversed for the first time? Are you finally winning this little game? 

Nevertheless, you are enjoying the outburst that follows from Sunwoo. Mainly because he looks like a child throwing a tantrum as he huffs and takes off the green ornaments he put on to the tree and throws the handful back into the cardboard box, not really caring if they break or not. You’ll be replaying this scene in your head forever before you go to sleep, for the absolute frustration and annoyance on his face is one of your biggest trophies. Right now, though, you’re battling the urge to laugh.

“Fine, do it yourself, then,” Sunwoo says as he walks away from the tree, choosing to sit on the floor cross-legged, taking out his phone and scrolling through social media.

Again, you don’t know what’s gotten into him today, but you force yourself not to care. You have a job to finish here so you can go home and enjoy your day, and that’s why exactly you just shrug and finish putting on the pretty ornaments, admiring your work every once in a while when you take a break and stare on the tall tree, kind of breathless from the beauty.

You’re not really big on Christmas, but you must admit that this is fun. 

The sound of Sunwoo swiping through Instagram reels is the only thing accompanying your actions, and as you look over your shoulder and see his almost sad face, you bite your lip just to not ask him what’s the matter. You’re not supposed to care. And you don’t.

“Can’t you put some festive music on?” you ask instead, your lips just begging to have a conversation with the male, despite your best judgment.

“No,” Sunwoo barks back, not even taking his eyes off the phone as the sound of the reel changes into another one, a swipe of his thumb across the screen showing him another video. 

Nodding to yourself, you carefully try to pick out your next words. Not really sure how to address the male, you choose to approach him with a hint of humor you’re not sure he’ll appreciate. “What’s up with you? You’re bitchier than usual,” you say, scanning the male with cautious eyes.

Sunwoo stops for a while– a millisecond of him halting his scrolling, an action you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t trying to see any shift in his composure– before he speaks up again. “Nothing,” he shrugs.

“Okay,” you say, a tone of voice full of doubt. 

When you conclude that you’re not getting more answers out of him, you nod to yourself and dart back towards the Christmas tree, making sure you make more eye contact with the glossy ornaments than with your coworker sitting behind you on the ground. Not much time passes by before he speaks up again, though, tone of voice quiet and hesitant.

“I’m just not in the mood today,” he sighs, “I have a final next week and it’s stressing me out, I haven’t slept well in quite a few days, my dad’s making me work more than usual and on top of that, I absolutely hate winter.”

“You hate winter?” you choose to focus on the least serious topic of the little rant, not really knowing when your boundaries lay in discussing the more serious ones.

“Yeah,” Sunwoo chuckles, “it’s like a shittier fall. It’s cold and dark all the time. It would be different if it snowed, though. I love it when it snows.”

Snickering at his sudden confession, you shake your head. “You’re like a little kid.”

“I remember you calling me a child once,” Sunwoo hums in agreement.

“That was different,” you say, hoping to cheer the male up at least a bit with your usual quarrel.

“I figured by the way you threw the toilet brush to my chest,” Sunwoo laughs, the memory of torturing you fond in his brain. The poster he gave you almost made you forget about the fact that he managed to make your life a living hell for quite some time– maybe you should consider this a wake-up call.

The conversation quiets down for a bit, even the sound of Sunwoo’s Instagram reels discontinued as you two marvel in the now much more comfortable silence. Testing the waters, you clear your throat before speaking up again. “Don’t worry about that exam, by the way. I’m sure you’ll do well.”

“How would you know?”

“You’re clever. You need to be clever to come up with all various ways to make my life more miserable,” you say, smiling when you hear him let out a breath of air through his nose, signaling a silent laugh.

“Any advice on the sleepless nights?” he asks, tone of voice light and humorous.

“Less things in your head,” you hum, putting the last ornament onto one of the branches, satisfied with your work. “Or melatonin.”

“Noted,” he nods, sharing a smile with you.

Walking over to the boxes stored a few feet away from the male, you open up the slim one thrown on the side, holding up the star. Your eyes meet his, a carefree twinkle in your orbs when you try to cheer up the boy’s inner child by doing a child's favorite activity. “Do you want to put the star on?”

He fails you, though. “No.”

“Why not?”

“You decorated it all yourself, so you can do the star,” he shrugs, not really into your idea.

“Oh come on–”

“I don’t feel like standing up,” Sunwoo grunts, the joy on your insides finally dying down when you get a taste of his usual composure– the one that really can’t be arsed with anything. 

Sighing to yourself, you waltz over to the tall ladder, and despite your biggest worries, you continue climbing up the metal construction even when it wobbles and makes you fear you’re gonna fall. The whole thing is kind of unsteady and makes your heart thump in your throat, but you choose to get it over with and finally climb to the very top, outstretching your arm and putting the star on top of the tree, the decoration process now done and freeing you off your today’s work responsibilities.

Something akin to satisfaction beams in your insides as you climb down the ladder, and now, you’ll write this off to you being a little too excited with the vision of a face mask and popcorn at home– but your leg slips on one of the steps and despite the ladder being now magically steady, your body comes crashing down to the floor.

A yelp fights out of your throat, hands go flying in a desperate need to steady yourself or hold on to something that would make you not fall hard against the marble floor, when a miracle straight down from heaven comes to rescue in a form of flesh holding you up and shielding you from the fall, a grunt landing in your ears when your body settles into soft fabric of dark gray.

Head snapping to the source of the arms around your waist, surprised at the person’s strength used to balance you two on your feet as you fell (well, your knees buckled, but still, they haven’t yet hit the ground), you notice a pair of chocolate orbs staring down at you through a curtain of dark hair, wide eyes scanning your face and breathing out a puff of air.

“Look where you’re stepping next time, for fuck’s sake,” Sunwoo huffs, watching as your brain tries to process the near-death experience.

Registering his arms firmly placed around your waist (now realizing the soft fabric was the hoodie he’s been living in for the past few months), the citrusy scent of his cologne makes your head spin, eyes scanning his face in quick motions, as if not aware of who was your savior. You wonder how he even got to you on time (not really noticing him walking over to the ladder as soon as he saw it wobbling under you, holding it down to keep you from toppling over), and when your eyes curiously gaze at his chapped, yet plush lips, the warmth in your stomach makes you finally snap out of it. 

Untangling yourself out of his limbs, much like you did with the Christmas lights a few minutes ago, you clear your throat and try to get your breathing back to normal. Your knees are a little weak, but you write that off to the shock of falling. 

“This wouldn’t have happened if you just agreed to put the star on,” you complain, straightening your clothes as you walk over to the empty boxes nearby, stacking them into one another and avoiding all possible eye contact with the male.

It’s working– at least that’s what you keep telling yourself– up until you hear him chuckle and see a pair of hands taking the tower of boxes out of your hold, a charming grin sent your way as he walks away from you to the staff room. “If you say so.”

Okay, so it’s not working.

You’re fucked.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – THE PROPOSAL (2009)

“So… I was thinking,” Sunwoo starts one day, a bundle of rolled-up posters stacked up in his arms like a pyramid, puffs of cold air making clouds appear in front of his face as he speaks, “would you want to go see a movie with me?” he asks, tone of voice casual, as if he was asking you about the weather.

The poster you’re currently putting up into one of the glass holders outside of the cinema almost slips out of your frozen fingers out of shock, your heart skipping a beat. “Huh?” you hum, taking out a container full of pins out of your coat pocket and securing the poster to its designated place. “You want to bring money to your father’s competitor?” you joke.

“What? No,” he quickly replies, furrowing his brows as he shakes his head. “I meant, like, here,” he says, nodding towards the building to prove his point, taking a step aside when you close the glass door of the poster holder and move towards the next one, 3 more movie banners left to put up outside of the cinema. 

The wires in your brain work on full force, trying to clear out any confusion caused by his sudden invitation. Sure, you two have gotten closer ever since you talked with him at the Christmas tree a week ago, but still, you didn’t know it was enough to hang out outside of work hours. 

Instead of focusing the conversation on this unpredictable development, you turn towards clearing out the logistics instead. “How would we even do that? We either work at the same time or you work when I don’t and the other way around,” you say, taking the next poster from him and putting it up.

All of the movies airing the next two weeks are Christmas movies. Some of them are old, some of them are premieres, but still– you can’t really imagine watching a festive movie with your coworker. Up until last week, you thought of him as the next reincarnation of Grinch.

“I could get my sister to switch with me on a day you don’t work,” he hums, sheepish about his preposition. There’s something bashful in his tone, something shy in his gaze as he watches you put up the movie poster, but you try your hardest to ignore it for the sake of your sanity. You’re already having a hard time dealing with the fact that he appeared in your dreams twice since he caught you in his arms last week. You don’t need to add the switch in dynamic to the mix.

“Isn’t she underage?” you ask, snickering.

“Yeah, and?” he shrugs. “It’s a family business, Y/N. Everyone has to be included, underage or not.”

A laugh erupts out of your throat at the comment, shaking your head at the boy in disbelief. 

“What would you even wanna see? Those are all Christmas movies,” you say, moving along and focusing your attention to the glossy material in your fingers.

“I don’t see how that’s a problem,” he says. 

“Oh, it is,” you mutter, “I don’t like Christmas movies.”

Sunwoo grunts. “Well, I don’t really care. I saw your favorite movie with you, so you can return the favor and see my favorite movie with me,” he speaks up, making you roll your eyes at his words.

“There’s no way any of those movies is your favorite,” you note, doubtful tone haunting the boy.

“You wouldn’t know,” he laughs, making your heart do cartwheels at the sound, his teasing making you feel warmth despite the cold breeze trying to make your bones freeze into blocks of ice. 

“I won’t go unless I believe you,” you say, grinning as you close the glass box and take the last poster out of Sunwoo’s hands, watching as the boy puts his frozen fingers into the comfort of his warm jacket, shielding them from the cold. 

“Not fair.”

“Very fair, actually.”

“Oh come on,” he sighs, shaking his head in disagreement, “I thought we could watch a Christmas movie as a celebration to the end of semester,” he says, tone of voice almost pleading.

Securing the last banner into its designated place, you turn towards Sunwoo with an examining look on your face. He seems to be completely serious, eyes big pools of honey as he watches your face morph as you think. Something in your stomach makes it feel like it’s flying, making you clear your throat as you avert your gaze towards the line of Christmas movie posters on the brick wall. “Fine,” you gulp, “so what do you wanna watch?”

“The Polar Express,” he says, pointing towards the A3 scale you put up last, showing one of the movies that were older, but Mr Kim decided to air anyway– as if he was aware.

Fuck, you think. That’s my favorite. 

“Absolutely not,” you cough, “I hate that movie.”

“Huh? How?” he sighs, face full of disappointment. 

“Just because. It’s too long.”

“It’s not even two hours?”

Eyes quickly darting towards the poster, pupils shaking as you look towards the airing dates at the very bottom, you chew on your bottom lip, trying to find a way out. “You’re working on the 18th.”

“Okay, then we can go on the 19th,” Sunwoo says, determined to make you watch the movie with him. Why? You don’t even want to know at this point.

“I go home for Christmas break on the 19th,” you say, shrugging. “See? It wasn’t meant to be.”

“Y/N, come on–”

“Listen, can’t we just go back to hating each other instead of you annoying me about this stupid movie?” you sigh. In the whirlpool of events, you forgot just how insistent Sunwoo could be– who knows, maybe this was the real reason why you were so irritated with him in the first place.

Slowly walking back towards your workplace, hearing Sunwoo’s sneakers hit the ground behind you as he trails after you like a lost puppy, a sense of momentarily victory flows through your veins when you recognise that you found your way out. There was no way Mr Kim would let his underage daughter work instead of Sunwoo, and you truly were leaving home the evening of 19th. You already had a train ticket– you’re not gonna change your plans because of a man you despised just a few days ago.

“I never really hated you, by the way. Besides, you’re only saying that because you hate the movie,” Sunwoo grunts, chiming in front of you– making you think he’s being petty and doesn’t want to talk to you anymore, surprising you when he opens the door for you and offers you a solemn gaze, waiting for you to walk through the entryway and go back to work. (For you, it’s sitting in the ticket booth in silence. For Sunwoo, it’s pretending to work in the back, since his dad is absent today again)

Reciprocating his gaze, noticing the disappointment behind your coworker’s eyes, you feel something in your stomach drop, the weight of it so heavy you quickly avert your look. 

“Maybe,” you shrug.

And maybe, the true reason is something completely else. 

The words resonate through your brain– ‘I never really hated you, by the way’. Funny. Then what were all those months of torture all about?

You decide you no longer want answers.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – WHEN HARRY MET SALLY (1989)

You can’t believe you’re doing something nice for Kim Sunwoo.

Shoes hitting the gravel, your scarf pulled up so it covers your nose from the ice cold air, a hat hugging your head in warmth and shielding you from the aggressive weather, you start to contemplate your choices and your next moves. A sigh escapes your throat when your eyes land on the marquee above the entrance of the movie theater, teeth chewing on the inside of your cheek as you shift your weight from one foot to another.

Pulling out your phone to check the time, a shiny 7:24PM stares back at you, pushing you to walk up to the door of your workplace on your day off, 24 minutes after the beginning of The polar express. 

You feel silly. You feel oh so stupid when you push the door open and your body is immediately engulfed in warmth, the yellow dim lights of the cinema making your eyes slowly adjust to the brightness contrasting the darkness of the outside world. You feel like you must have gone crazy, especially when your insides start to get all light and bubbly, hints of nerves tingling at the tips of your fingertips and the deepest corners of your stomach. There’s no turning back now, you tell yourself– and when your feet automatically take you to the ticket booth, gaze landing on the boy with his bangs in his eyes and an expression worthy of a kicked puppy on his face, you suddenly feel like your trip to the cinema was all worth it.

Clearing your throat, you notify your coworker of your presence, his big, doe eyes staring at you in surprise. Sunwoo’s mouth goes agape, shock overtaking his features when he takes in your appearance. (You bet he thinks you look laughable– your eyes teary from the cold and your figure stoic, numb limbs hanging by your side.)

“What are you doing here?” he asks, the question not as aggressive as it sounded out of your lips every time he paid a visit to the cinema on his days off for all these months.

“Uh… I forgot some things in the back and I wanted to take them home tomorrow, so I came back for them,” you hum, the practiced excuse slipping out of your lips with ease, “can you come help me?” 

Sunwoo looks even more surprised at your question– although there is now a hint of confusion in the mix. What could you possibly have in the back to need his help with? For as far as he knows, you only ever kept your work uniform in your locker. “What? Can’t you get it yourself…?” he asks, noticing as you shake your head in disapproval.

“It’s… it’s on the top of the lockers and I can’t reach it, so-”

“Grab a chair…?” 

You didn’t really expect to have Sunwoo question your half-assed excuse. Truly, you thought this was going to go smoothly– but knowing Kim Sunwoo, you should’ve known it was never going to go the way you planned. You’re determined to win, though. 

And so it’s the time to bring out the big guns– men never say no when you praise them and make yourself look incompetent.

“Please? I don’t feel like bringing a chair and you’re tall enough. It will only take a second…” you pout, watching as the male in front of you sighs and stands up from his seat, nodding at your humble request.

Sunwoo follows you as you walk down the corridor, your heart thumping with the start of your little plan. Your steps are calculated and your movements carefully programmed, the nervousness in your stomach making you even more giddy with every meter of distance you two cross. 

Before you two get a chance to make it to the back, you make a swift turn and open the doors to one of the rooms on the left of the hall, dragging Sunwoo by his hand and tugging him inside. His body stumbles against yours, but the door closes behind him faster than he can react to the impact. Steadying the boy back to his feet, you watch him with anticipation, awaiting his reaction.

The truth is, you haven’t thought the plan out this far. The depiction of it in your brain always ended with you sneaking him into the projecting room and his curious eyes peering into yours. Something about the image of the events always made you feel too overwhelmed– you never dared to imagine the situation further. (That would mean admitting some hidden desires to yourself, so you never even tried. That all makes this situation twice as nerve-wrecking, though.)

“What… are we doing here?” he asks, eyes darting around the darkness of the projection room, the only light illuminating his pretty features being the movie playing behind the glass of the small booth.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to watch The polar express with me?” you ask, voice a few octaves higher than usual. 

“I… did…” he mumbles, confusion making him stumble over his own words.

“Well, you are working and I leave tomorrow, so I figured I had to find a way…” you shrug, watching as Sunwoo looks at you a little frozen, big eyes staring you down, gears turning in his head. You can’t really read him– you don’t really know if he’s going to laugh at you or send you home for ruining his shift. You don’t know if he appreciates the gesture, or if he thinks you’re being embarrassing. You don’t know if he registers the slight tremble of your hands and the lightness of your breathing, you don’t know if he realizes how much his reaction could make your day or completely ruin it (just like always), and so, you panic– and when you panic, you ramble. “I know we are technically not supposed to be here– well, me, at least– but I think that being with the owner’s son could make my boss let me off even if he somehow finds out, which I doubt he will, but–”

Sunwoo’s face starts slowly morphing, the slightest of shifts slowly adding up to a change of expression, having the male break out into the biggest, happiest grin you’ve ever seen him sport. His eyes light up and glaze your features in the softest of touches, his head shaking in disbelief. “Oh, you’re adorable.”

“What?” you ask, your heart doing seven somersaults and five cartwheels, eyes a big pool of surprise.

“You did this for me?” he beams, his grin so big and pretty it takes your breath away. Butterfly wings tickle in your stomach at the sight, having you mentally curse yourself– hold it together, Y/N. 

“I- I mean, I didn’t really do anything, we just sneaked in–”

“This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me,” Sunwoo hums, the teasing tone making its comeback in his voice, “actually, this might be the first sweet thing you’ve ever done for me–”

“Well, okay,” you roll your eyes, an embarrassed laugh dragging out of your throat as you turn on your heel and walk closer to the little table in the opposite end of the room, needing to avert your gaze from the boy for at least a second. The air is suddenly too heavy and it’s hard for you to breathe, heat rushing to your cheeks. 

Eyes focusing on the screen in front of you, your brain tries hard to focus on your favorite Christmas movie. Failing, your head running thoughts full of conflicting emotions and erratic exclamation marks screaming the name of the boy behind you, you ask yourself how and when exactly you’ve gotten yourself into this mess.

Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten this job in the first place.

Ears painfully alert, listening to each sound heard in the small projecting room– the shuffling of Sunwoo’s feet as he nears your figure, the muffled noise of the movie playing in the screening room in front of you, the resonance of your own heartbeat in your ears as Sunwoo’s hands suddenly sneak around your middle, your jacket squeaking from the contact of his limbs as he hugs you.

“What–”

“Don’t fight me, Y/N. Just this once,” he hums, voice deep, but still a bit hesitant. It’s like he’s walking on unsteady land, cautious of his movements in fear of making you run away. He’s in a new territory, in your personal space– the scent of his cologne fills your nostrils again as his head settles itself on your shoulder, the two of you silently watching the movie for a few seconds, not really knowing how to proceed.

There’s something intimate in the way he holds you, in the way the movie is a mere background noise to the marathon of your thoughts, the blue light illuminating your faces as you both try your hardest to keep your cool. 

A flashing thought of just how much you from a few months ago would hate the position it’s  in right now passes by your brain, making you instantly feel foolish. Oh how much you’d love it if you stood here unaffected right now– there’s no way to battle the warmth flooding your insides right at this moment, though.

“This is nice,” he mumbles, voice barely louder than a whisper. “Thank you,” he says, your insides squeezing at the sincerity. It’s not often you get to see this side of Sunwoo– the sweet, patient one, the side of him that makes you feel safe in his arms and appreciated with the soft tone in his words. And while you realize you don’t hate the playful side of him just as much as you thought you did, you must admit the novelty of the situation makes you feel a bit more joyful than you’d like to admit.

The weight of his head disappears from your shoulder, making you feel momentarily disappointed by the action. You expect him to pull away and take a seat on the chair, to finally focus on the movie playing in front of your eyes, the thought alone making your spirit fall. The fire in your inside lights up like a match thrown into a pool of gasoline just as fast again, though, when you feel soft lips come in contact with your cheek.

They stay only for a second before they disappear, an airy laugh landing in your ear a second later. “Please don’t run away now,” he says, tone of voice uncertain, telling you that now the ball is in your court– your next actions could either make him the happiest man on Earth, or completely break him. 

The choice is yours.

Your head turns his way, eyes instantly locking with his brown orbs searching for any signs of discomfort in your face. Slowly, as if still processing the events of before, your eyes trail over his features– the awfully handsome way his face was sculpted, the softness of his eyes and the sharpness of his jaw, the slope of his nose and the plushness of his lips. They’re not as chapped today, making you wonder if he started wearing vaseline, and before you get a chance to stop yourself, you start wondering of the way his lips would feel on yours, imagination running wild. 

He heaves out a shaky breath, your eyes darting back into his– as if to ask for approval, see if he’s okay with it. There’s a dazy look in them, gaze pressed to your lips, then to your eyes, then your lips again– a look you take as an invitation as you act against all your best judgment and lean towards him, pressing your mouth against his.

As if testing the waters, you make the kiss short. It was long enough to engrave it into your brain, though– to remember the way his perfectly shaped lips pressed against yours, the way the world stopped just for a moment, the way he tasted of the strawberry mints he always eats at work whenever he has nothing to do. 

Sunwoo seems to find liking in the action– lips glazing yours again, pressing another peck to them before he deepens the kiss, the tingling in your fingertips intensifying and the excitement bubbling in your frame making you turn in your position, front facing him and pressing up against his chest. His hands quickly adjust, slipping under your opened jacket and settling on your clothed waist, the slightest contact making your knees weak and settle your bottom against the table behind you, hands grabbing the fabric of his sweatshirt. 

He pulls back to catch some air, a boyish grin breaking out on his face, forehead knocking against yours in a sweet, giddy manner. “I’ve wanted to do this for months,” he huffs.

The sentiment makes a thousand question marks appear in your head– why did he make your life a living hell, then? Why did he pull pranks on you and make you hate every second spent with him? Why did he make you so furious each time and argued with you about the smallest things? How could Sunwoo possibly have wanted this for months, when you just only started noticing his attractiveness a few weeks ago?

“Why–”

“I’ll tell you later,” he says, cutting you off as he presses his lips against yours again, your mouth automatically welcoming his presence. Brain erased of all previous questions, his kisses working like a spell, you focus all your senses on the man in front of you.

Having your hands feeling up his abdomen, Sunwoo hesitantly asks for entrance with his tongue, running it along your lower lip until you welcome him in. You like this type of power battle much more than the one you had going on until now, and with each new movement, you feel yourself falling apart under him. 

His fingers tug down on the sides of your jacket, pulling it down. You don’t need it anymore– with how heated you’ve gotten, you are actually kind of happy that it is gone. One of his cold hands sneaks under the hem of your jumper, fingertips trailing up and down your side, the other one tugs down the hat from your head, discarding it somewhere on the table behind you before it finds its place on the side of your jaw, angling your head in a way that allows him to deepen the kiss even more, the contact of your lips growing firmer as seconds go by. 

Your scarf is swiftly untangled off your neck, Sunwoo’s skilled lips blindly trailing down the side of your mouth towards your jaw, feathery kisses ticking you before he gets more bold and sucks on the side of your throat, a shaky breath shyly escaping your lips.

“Sunwoo…” you say, tone of voice not really present, no real intention behind the call of his name.

The boy hums against your neck, having you gasp again when he lightly bites the softness of your skin, your hands shooting up to tangle in his hair when he licks the spot to soothe it after. Threading your fingers through his locks to ground yourself, you can’t believe you ever hoped for him to get a trim.

His hands firmly hold the underside of your thighs before he hoists you up on the table, continuing his confident attack on your neck when you’re sitting comfortably on the hard surface. It’s not like you didn’t feel excited, the tiniest bit thrilled at the mental image of his possessive marks all over your throat, but you were glad it was freezing outside and you could wear a turtleneck to hide the bruises from your family tomorrow. He nuzzles his nose into the hot skin of your neck, the action making you grin in ecstasy and endearment.

Getting lost in the way he was handling you, his touches firm, yet delicate, acted out in a way that makes you feel safe and comfortable with his passionate ministrations, you almost don’t notice the door swinging open, the figure of your boss like striking like the lightning in the doorway of the screening room.

“Sunwoo!”

The boy jumps, his body quickly ungluing itself off yours, as he listens to his father scolding him. “I don’t care what you two have going on over here, but you’re on clock! There’s a line waiting for the tickets for tomorrow’s movie and someone has to sell them right now.”

The boy clears his throat, voice a little hoarse. “Coming,” he says, trying to keep his composure. His hair’s a little tousled, cheeks rosy and lips puffed– the image that will haunt you in your sweetest nightmares now– and before you get a chance to say anything or let your brain process the events of the last few minutes, your panic works faster, making you act.

Quickly scattering for your things, you run out of the projecting room without saying goodbye to either Sunwoo or your boss, never once looking back.

You think of what you’ve done on your way home, bones freezing now that they weren’t in his presence. You try hard to regret your actions, but you don’t find it in you to do so– it’s kind of hard with the feeling of his lips still playing with yours.

Even though you’d hate to admit it just a few weeks ago, you must do it now. 

Kim Sunwoo does make a really good kisser.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – PRIDE AND PREJUDICE (2005)

There are many thoughts swimming around your brain as you walk through the coldness of the town the next day, your duffel bag hanging off your shoulder. There’s a conflict between the actions of your body and your thoughts – feet on their journey to the train station, but head stuck in the small projection room of your workplace, your coworker’s kisses occupying your every sober thought.

It’s not surprising, but you haven't heard from Sunwoo since you left the cinema last night. Not a single text or a call– but you figure that this is just your dynamic. Sunwoo’s never been much of a texter when it came to you. He’s never had the reason to text or call you, unless it was work-related, and you think it will stay that way, even though you did make out with him just last night.

Maybe he regretted it. Maybe he just didn’t feel like pondering on the events any longer– maybe it was just a one-time thing for him and he didn’t put much significance to it. You wouldn’t know– it’s not like you’re suddenly an expert on the way he feels and operates. 

You, though? How do you feel about the turn of events? Despite not wanting to admit it to yourself, the answer came to you the second you tried to fall asleep last night, every soaring thought in your brain showing you the reflection of his dazed look, desires of wanting him to look at you that way all the time oh so skilfully infesting themselves into every crevice of your neocortex. You want Sunwoo to like you. You want Sunwoo to want you. You want Sunwoo to be so enchanted with your existence that he thinks about you before he goes to sleep at night– just like you have done for the past few weeks. 

The answer comes to you again when you feel something wet fall on the top of your cheek, making you turn your eyes towards the sky. Your breathing comes out in puffs of air as you watch the magic happen right in front of you– and as you watch the snowflakes scatter all around the place, you are in another inner argument. While the rational side of your brain is screaming at you to keep walking to the station so you don’t miss your train home, the delirious side is cooperating with your feet for once, your figure crossing to the other side of the street and walking over to the place you could get to even with your eyes closed at this point; all because you suddenly remember the conversation you had with Sunwoo when you were putting on ornaments to the Christmas tree.

It’s the first snow of the season. 

Kim Sunwoo loves it when it snows.

Speed-walking towards the vintage movie theater at the corner of the town’s square, you feel something akin to childish excitement bubbling in your insides, a hint of nervousness inviting itself into your insides when you push the door open and aim straight towards the ticket booth, where you know Sunwoo will be sitting, wasting another shift away.

He’s there– eyes pressed towards the window, gaze following the snowflakes kissing the cold ground. You expected more excitement in his character, more childlike joy in his figure– and after taking in his composure: shoulders slouching and fingers picking at the skin of his cuticles, you suddenly feel silly for coming.

Well, here goes nothing, you think.

“Sunwoo,” you call, making the boy snap his head towards you in surprise, big eyes meeting yours the moment he recognises your voice.

You don’t receive a verbal response for a while. The boy just stares at you, a bit hesitant and clueless. His face reminds you of a small puppy trying to take in the new situation in front of it. His lips are formed into a small pout, gears in his brain turning and trying to process the reality of having you standing there, face beaten from the cold.

Clearing your throat, you try to take charge of the situation. “It’s snowing outside,” you say, eyes peering out of the window, all thoughts suddenly escaping your brain, words blanking off your tongue, “and, well… you said you like the snow, so…”

The boy’s mouth hangs agape, a twinkle in his eyes slowly appearing once again when he stares at you, your nervousness doing wonders to your conversation skills. “I- I don’t even know what I wanted to say with that, it’s just- I don’t know… I saw it was snowing and I automatically came here, so-” you stutter, the sentence cutting off as Sunwoo jumps to his feet and grins, wordlessly taking your hand into his and dragging you outside.

The duffel bag falls off your shoulder somewhere in the middle of the hall, discarded to the floor, before Sunwoo sharply halts in his steps and runs back towards the ticket booth, still dragging you with him by the hand. The boy grabs something off the table, the item not visible in your rear point of view, and before you have a chance to register what’s happening, you’re outside of the building again, coldness instantly slapping you in the face.

It’s dark out, but the heaviness of the snow provides enough light in the silent evening for you to see where you’re going under the yellow lampposts on the street. Instantly noticing the lack of Sunwoo’s warm hand in yours when he suddenly lets go, you turn your head to look at the male.

Terror fills your veins when you notice him gathering snow from the ground and pressing it into a tight ball, a screech escaping your throat when you watch him swing it at you, a playful, boyish grin playing with his features. The male chases you around and most of the snowballs don't even hit your running figure (he does have an awful aim), but you still duck anyway and try your hardest to win your snowball fight.

Numb fingers creating snowballs and halting them at his tall frame, but missing most of the time due to his fast reflexes, you laugh and let go of all the worries and questions clouding your judgment. Sunwoo looks enthusiastic, so much more lively than when you found him in the ticket booth just a few minutes ago– but that’s still not enough for you to let him win.

Gathering the icy texture into your hands, you run towards him, taking advantage of his inattention as he’s bent over and taking more snow into his hold, and halt the whiteness into his face just as he straightens his back and wants to prepare for his attack.

More laughter bubbles out of your chest when you watch him drop his snowball to the ground, admitting defeat. The snow is all over his face– slowly running down his cheeks like teardrops, redness tinting his nose and the sides of his face. 

The male shudders from the cold, and you instantly start feeling bad. Only now you realize that he ran out without a coat, a gasp escaping your throat. “Oh god,” you mourn, hands flying towards his frozen face to wipe off the snow from his cheeks, fingers carefully tracing over his cold skin. His eyes open as he watches you, something in his gaze so tender you feel yourself melting even in the middle of the snowstorm.

The male shuffles his hands into the front pocket of his gray hoodie, taking out the item you now recognise to be the hat you accidentally forgot in the projecting room yesterday (and already mentally paid goodbye to), his frozen fingers tugging the fabric onto your head. 

“Why are you putting this on me? You’re the one that’s freezing over here!” you scold him, shaking your head at the male. 

He rewards you with an amused grin, watching your next moves. Acting on auto-pilot, not really putting much thought into your actions, you unzip your jacket and step impossibly near to the male. Holding the jacket open, you hug him around his middle, making sure you are sharing the warmth with him and keeping him as close as possible, shielding him from the cold with both the fabric of your puffer jacket and the heat radiating off your body.

Faces just inches away from each other, you peer at his face. He wears a warm expression, eyes peeking out from behind his dark bangs. Clouds of breath escape his mouth when he speaks, voice quiet, as if to not ruin the atmosphere. “I thought you would regret it,” he says, making you break out into a foolish smile.

“I thought so too,” you nod.

“And you don’t?”

Shrugging, you reply. “Not really.”

“Why?” he asks, suddenly doubtful. “You said you hated me. Which was odd to hear, honestly, since I did all this to get your attention anyway and I thought it was just how our dynamic works, but… I could see how it could be annoying to you…”

Chuckling, you roll your eyes at the sudden revelation. It’s sickeningly sweet how endearing he looks when he doubts himself, explaining himself to you in a nervous blabber. “I don’t hate you. At least not anymore.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” you shake your head, a tender gaze shared between the two of you, “I actually quite like you, I think…” you mumble, a little bashful to admit it out loud.

“You do?” he asks, the twinkle in his eye glimmering twice as much as ever before, tone of voice playful, yet laced with honest joy and surprise at your confession.

“I do,” you nod, voice barely louder than a whisper as you watch him lean closer towards your face, cold nose bumping into yours before he angles his head, breath mixing in with yours in the few seconds before he dares to kiss you again, capturing your lips with his.

The kiss is sweet. The kiss tastes of strawberry mints and the first snow, of unsaid confessions and longing looks sent your way every time you weren’t looking. The kiss makes your stomach fill with a thousand little butterflies, it melts away the ice around you, the two of you like a spark of a fire in the middle of a snowy land. 

His actions have your composure faltering, hands untangling from behind him and moving up to cradle his face. He melts under your touch, leaning into you as your fingers trail over his cheekbones. Holding on to him, thumbs padding his soft skin, you’re reminded of the cold only when he breaks off you and shudders again, teeth clattering from the freezing temperature.

“Let’s get you inside,” you say, planting a short peck to his lips, “before you turn into an icicle,” you giggle, watching as he scrunches up his face.

“I won’t,” he shakes his head, “love warms me up,” he grins, making you roll your eyes at his bold statement.

“You’re so cheesy.”

“But you quite like me anyways, no?”

Sighing, moving away from him and tugging him back inside the cinema, you shake your head at the boy. “I’ll think about it on my train home,” you bite back, opening the door to the theater and aiming towards the duffel bag you dropped on your way out.

Sunwoo watches you with a warm gaze, an adorable smile playing with his lips. His figure seems to be visibly taking in the heat again, his face adorning a flush, pink color. 

“So I take it as you’re not quitting anymore, then?” he teases as you walk back to the door, both of you ignoring the customers waiting for their tickets in the line in front of the forgotten booth.

“We’ll see,” you shrug.

“I’ll text you the schedule for January?”

“You better text me about something else too, Kim Sunwoo,” you bark back, opening the door towards the cold landscape, “or you’re gonna have a very uncomfortable return back to work in January!”

The boy laughs, the noise like a Christmas carol to your ears. “Noted.”

Slipping outside, you watch as he waves at you goodbye, your feet dragging through the snow towards the train station having more pep to their step now. You don’t even know if you can make it to the train on time, but you surprisingly have no regrets– you can always catch the next one, right?

Mentally wanting to slap yourself for the lovesick grin playing with your lips, you sigh. 

The male that once made your life a living hell is now the one you look forward to seeing the most once you come back after Christmas break. It’s kind of strange, really. 

One would think that working with movies on the daily would prepare you better for the biggest plot twist of your life.

[kenzlie]

just one more? c.s

𝗒𝗈𝗎 were a 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗁𝗋𝗂𝗌, 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇..

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: SMUTT, oral (male receiving), degrade kink, praise kink, inappropriate language, p n v, unprotected sex, hair pulling, slapping, probably more idk i’m ℱ𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓀𝓎..

A/N: This is like my 1st post on tumblr, btw this is short bc the first time i wrote it, it got deleted, anyways if you do not like what i write and say, you can leave!! (it’s free) anyways enjoy 😈.

Orange = chris speaking, pink = fem speaking

i was sitting on the couch watching a movie, i was waiting for my boyfriend chris to get back from dropping matt and nick off at a sleepover

me and chris have a good relationship we understand each other very well and get along good, well sometimes just not always, anytime we have sex it’s gentle sex and always protected

the movie ended a few minutes ago and i’m scrolling on my phone, i hear the front door knob rattle before being opened “i’m back baby” “hi chris” i say while putting me phone away and smiling at him as he sets his stuff down and plops next to me on the couch “sorry i took so long, matt and nick got hungry so we stopped to get them food” “don’t be sorry baby, wanna make some brownies?” “yeah sure”

we’re standing in the kitchen mixing the batter, well i was, chris was just standing and watching “are you gonna help or just stand there?” i say with a bit of a attitude “you can do it” “no come help chris” i say annoyed, he ignores me “oh so now you can’t hear?” “i can hear perfect but you wanted to make them” “i thought you’d be a good boyfriend and help, i mean come on it’s common sense chris.” “i’m okay you got it” i groan at his annoying comment

i was pouring the batter into the pan making sure it was just perfect and right “let me lick the spoon” chris says trying to grab it from my hand, i pull my hand back “no, you should’ve helped” i say licking the spoon while keeping eye contact, teasing him by the minute

i had put the brownies in the oven to cook about 15 minutes ago, they’d be done it 5 to 10 minutes, me and chris were sitting on the couch looking at our phones, chris wasn’t speaking to me over the spoon thing, typical childish chris

“your a brat do you know that?” he says breaking the silence “excuse me?” i say knowing i have but chris never minded it “you heard me, you’ve been a fucking brat.” “so? your point is?” “my point is you should your attitude before i fix it for you.” “ok bud..” i knew then i had got under his skin, he HATED when i called him bud,buddy,bro or any sort of name like that, he gives me a death stare and was about to say something before the oven timer went off, i get up walking over to the kitchen,i turn off the oven before bending down with my oven mits, grabbing the pan and placing it on the counter, i turn around about to go grab a knife to cut the brownies, but instead i turn around to chris death staring me "can i help you chris?" i ask, without a word chris picks me up putting me on the edge of the counter before smashing his lips against mine "chris.." i say muffled "i warned you, did you listen? no."

all of a sudden he’s carrying me up the stairs to the bedroom, chris has never been like this with me he’s always gentle and soft, he tosses me on the bed “you wanna act like a brat? i’ll fuck you like one.” he stands in front of me unbuttoning his jeans “come here slut” he says as he pulls his boxers down, his long hard length slapping against his lower stomach, i crawl over to him as he stands at the end of the bed “chris i’m not giving you head after you didn’t even try helping me in the kitchen” he pulls my face up to look at him “do you really think i care? now open.” he says slapping my cheek slighty, i open my mouth slightly as he shoves himself in without warning “mph!” i say muffled, i suck slowly since that’s usually how we always go, slow and gentle, “faster whore..” he breathes out grabbing my hair and fucking my mouth, i stroke what i can’t fit, “fuck..” he moans, almost whimpering, i speed up my pace with both my hands and mouth, all of a sudden he shoots warm white ropes to the back of my throat, i swallowed his load as i breathe out

before i can even speak im being pushed onto my back, chris wastes to time pulling off my shirt and pants, leaving me only in my underwear and bra, my underwear was soaked, i looked away embarrassed, chris grabs my face to look at him “how fucking pathetic..” he slips my underwear off my body before rubbing his tip around my folds “please don’t tease..” i beg letting out a whine that was quickly replaced with a gasp that was caused from chris shoving himself inside me, his thrust were fast and rough “c-chris!” i moan as i throw my head back, chris’s hand snakes behind my head grabbing a fist full of hair, pulling on it to make me look at him, his free hand was stabbing into my hip as he fucked me without mercy “g-gonna cum baby..” i warn “c’mon baby cum for me..” my orgasm hits me hard, i moan out grabbing onto whatever i can, chris doesn’t stop, “can’t take it!” i whine “c’mon ma, just one more?”, chris thrusts into me harshly a few more times before i cum again, i could tell he was close, clearly from his now sloppy thrusts “fuck fuck fuck..” he whispers before pulling out and spilling all over my stomach

after chris cleaned me up and helped me change, he simply threw on some plaid pants and a white tank top, he crawled in bed next to me cuddling up behind me “i love you baby..” he whispers into my ear “i love you too chris..” i whisper back.

A/N: this is my first smut in a while so ntm, anywho i hope you enjoyed this!!

@chrissslut

[traveler-at-heart]

The Thing

Summary: Natasha works the courage to ask you out.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Finally alone.

Natasha is very particular about her food. It took her exactly seven minutes to make the perfect sandwich. She smiles at it and as she’s about to take a bite, a voice interrupts her.

She’d be annoyed, except for the fact that it’s you.

“Hey, Natty” you say innocently, approaching from behind. You’re one of those people that is always hugging or touching your friends.

Natasha doesn’t mind. It would be easier if she didn’t have a big crush on you, though.

Closing the distance, you rest your chin on her shoulder and inspect her plate.

“That looks nice” you whisper, unaware that the redhead is struggling to keep her knees from buckling.

“Yeah…” she can feel your hands traveling around her waist. 

Nice is an understatement.

Finally reaching for a couple of chips, you giggle and step away from the other woman.

“Hey, that’s my lunch!” Natasha protests, but she’s not annoyed.

“Sorry, I’m being called for an urgent mission. Apparently, I’m the gal for the job. This will do while I get some food when I land. Thanks, gorgeous!”

That’s another thing. Gorgeous, babe, angel, darling. You always have a pet name for her. 

It’s really hard to tell if you’re flirting when you speak like that.

After all, you call Kate Bishop delicious muffin. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

No point in thinking about it now. There are more pressing matters at hand.

“Jeez, Steve, I still have 5 minutes!” You shout when someone knocks on your door. You open it and find Natasha on the other side. “Ah, sorry, love. Thought Grandpa America was timing me”

Love.

That’s new.

“Uh… here” she’s always struggling to speak whenever you’re around. You must think she’s a moron.

“For me?” You take the container that she’s presenting and open it. You gasp at the sight of a sandwich and your favorite chips. “Oh, my God!” You lean forward and kiss her on the cheek. “You’re my favorite widow”

“Yelena will be pissed when she finds out” Natasha tries to joke, looking down. Her face is burning, the touch of your lips lingering.

“She’ll survive” you put the sandwich in your bag pack as the timer in your wrist goes off. “Better find Steve before he goes nuts over a one minute delay. Thanks for the sandwich. You’re an angel” 

Another kiss on the cheek, this time closer to Natasha’s mouth. And she almost believes you know what you’re doing, based on that little smirk.

“Oh, shoot” you turn around and call for her when you’re walking towards the hangar. “When you see Yelena… tell her to remember about the thing”

“The thing?” Natasha repeats and you wink.

“She’ll know what I mean” you smile and wave goodbye. “See you in a couple of days, Natty” 

—

It doesn’t take long for Natasha to find her sister. Maybe the thing is something important and she wants to make sure Yelena remembers about it.

“Hey” Natasha says as she sits down next to the blonde.

“Hi” Yelena mumbles, sinking further in the couch, while she scrolls through cooking tutorials.

“Y/N left for a mission today”

“Oh, are you sad that your future girlfriend left?” 

“Shut up” Natasha says. Of course Yelena would know. “She wanted me to remind you about the thing”

“Mkay” Yelena answers, still looking at her phone.

“That’s it? I thought it could be important”

“She just wants me to get her tickets for a… uh…” Yelena finally looks up, drawing blank. “Crap!”

“You forgot the thing?”

“I forgot the thing” she confirms, looking around, as if the answer might be on the Compound’s walls. Kate enters, unaware of the tension in the room. Yelena runs to her. “You”

“What?” Kate barks out, looking ready to slap her. 

“You were with me when Y/N asked me to buy those tickets. Do you remember what they were for? A musical? The opera? Ballet?”

“It was a concert” Kate nods. “Don’t remember the name of the band, though. Sorry” Kate grimaces.

“Ok, let’s just say band names, see if it comes back to me” Yelena pleads and Kate stutters. Working under pressure isn’t her biggest strength.

“Uh, Rammstein” 

“She hates metal” Natasha says.

“The Phantom of the Opera”

“Not a band” Yelena shakes her head.

“The Beatles”

“Half dead” Natasha points out and Yelena groans.

“She’s gonna kill me. I have to run to Mexico. At least the food will be good there” 

“Hey, weren’t you in the room when Y/N asked Yelena for the favor?” Kate remembers all of the sudden, looking at Natasha. 

“Were you?” Yelena says, hopeful. “Please, tell me the name. I’ll do your laundry for a week”

“And wash my dishes” 

“That too” 

“And my mission reports”

“And… nu-uh, that’s too much, Tasha” 

The redhead rolls her eyes. 

“I’ll get the tickets myself. Can’t trust you with that either” 

“Do you want to give your crush a present?” Yelena pokes her tongue out and Natasha glares. Before Kate can stop them, they’re wrestling around the living room, throwing things at each other.

“Stop it!” Steve jumps in. “Hey, we just got new curtains. Damn it!” 

—

Natasha may have hacked the concert’s website to make sure you got the best tickets. She’s walking back to her room, being extra careful that they’re not folding in case you wanna keep them. She knows you have a box full of mementos from shows.

“Hey, Natty” a voice greets from the hallway. Natasha’s hands fly behind her back, because she wanted to surprise you. And she’s definitely not ready to ask you out right now. “Oh, scaredy cat. What are you hiding?” 

Your tone is playful, while you try to reach behind her. Only as your face comes close to her, she notices the bruise around your left eye and temple.

“What happened to you?” she puts the tickets on her back pocket and places her hands on your face. “Who did this to you?”

“H.Y.D.R.A. brute. Nothing new under the sun” you smile and take advantage of the distraction to reach for Nat’s pockets. The redhead is faster and takes your right wrist. The same thing happens with your left hand, and she holds both wrists close to her chest. “Nat! Come on” 

“I can’t show it to you, not now” she tries hard not to giggle, but you’re struggling to break free and the frown on your face makes you look adorable. 

“You are not playing fair, Natasha. I’m calling for backup. FRIDAY, call Yel..”

Natasha panics then, pulling you close and silencing you with her lips. You stand still for a couple of seconds, but then close your eyes, deepening the kiss.

She sighs against your mouth and lets go of your wrists, her hands going down to circle your waist. You bite her lip and the moan she lets out is reward enough.

"My, I'd say buy me dinner first but I wouldn't mind skipping straight to dessert" you joke and she smiles, her green eyes still closed.

But, you’re still curious, so you take advantage of her distraction and reach in her back pocket.

“Wait” Natasha says, her face flushed and lips swollen.

“You got me the tickets? That's better than dinner!”, you say, jumping into her arms once again. 

“Well, Yelena forgot the thing and I wanted to ask you out” she smiles against your shoulder and you pull back. Her eyes go back to the bruise, concerned once again. “Are you sure this doesn’t hurt?”

“I’m fine. Never been better” you lean forward and kiss her again. She smiles against your lips, thinking how happy she is that Yelena is always forgetting things.

[o-sachi]

Then There Was You ‧₊˚ ⋅ Drabble (Request)

ଳ he swore to only keep his eyes on ume and follow his good example, but then you just had to become a distraction ଳ character; sugishita kyotarou (wind breaker) ଳ tags; floof, tsundere sugi, short fight scene, afab reader, no y/n

"You've been staring at her a lot lately huh?"

Just like that, Sugishita was snapped out of his stupor. He rarely narrowed his eyes at Ume, but if someone teased him about her... then not even Ume-chan is an exception to his grumpiness.

"No," he grunts and looks away.

Ume pats his back with a reassuring smile on his face. He said something about how it's okay to like someone because it's totally normal.

Yeah, right. Normal.

But the thing is—Sugishita's an anomaly. He's different in a way that he had never loved anyone before, let alone "liked." Some people were just not made for it and he believes himself to be one of those people. His purpose—he says—is to become stronger so that he can be someone Ume can be proud of. Even better if he could become someone that the great Umemiya Hajime could rely on.

However, he was nowhere near to attaining that. The idea of love is then out of question. He just had no time for trivial things.

It's funny though—how his mind and body are doing completely different things. A part of him doesn't want to stray from the path that Ume has carved for him, but another fuels this urge in him to simply stare at you. Admire you from afar. Because you were the most delicate thing in his eyes.

Compared to the self-assured and confident Kotoha, the new part-timer at the cafe was a bit laidback. But she was the bubbliest and friendliest person that the Furin boys have come across.

Each time they would come and visit the cafe, she'd be standing at the counter with a warm smile on her face. And once everyone has their food in front of them, she would happily listen to Ume's tales about the day's fight or Nirei's rants about the people he "observes." She'd giggle at Sakura's bashfulness and be amused by Tsugeura's enthusiasm.

She had a special talent in that she could make anyone feel at ease.

And Sugishita was sure that it would be the same thing all over again. No matter how nice or kind someone is—they'll be too intimidated to even converse with him.

But that wasn't the case with you.

He could still vividly recall how his heart skipped a beat the day he first met you. The boys had come to the cafe to wind down after a major scuffle. They had cuts and bruises all over, but they laughed as if there was no pain at all. As the newbie, you didn't know better and acted with the utmost concern.

Much to everyone's surprise, you came to Sugishita first.

"Does it hurt?" you ask, pointing at a cut on his arm.

His brows furrow and his lips press into a thin line—an obvious indicator that he is in no need of your help. But he should've known that it wouldn't be enough to push you away.

"Here," you say as you offer a band-aid to him. "Sorry, it's a bit childish with all the elephants on it, but it's all I have."

In spite of his unwelcoming demeanor, you persisted. Even the other guys around him were stunned at your resolve. But they remained quiet, wanting to see how Sugishita would react.

Sugishita sheepishly took the cute band-aid from your fingers, shoving it immediately deep into his pocket.

You smile. "You should wash that up and plaster it on as soon as possible or it'll get infected."

When he finally spares you a glance, he sees the maddeningly bright smile on your face. It almost reminded him of Ume when he annoys him.

"Thanks," he whispered. It took all of his willpower to say one syllable because he knew that there would be consequences.

Sakura piped up. "Oh, so you do know what gratitude is?"

The consequence being—a certain two-toned boy would get on his nerves.

Of course, the usual back-and-forth ensued. Sugishita got too heated up that he nearly forgot the band-aid in his pocket. When he glanced over to you again and saw how you laughed at their bickering... he swore you had done something to his forsaken heart.

He often found himself daydreaming like a kid when recalling that day. It made him happy to an extent, though he'd never admit it. But he mostly repeated the events in his head because he was trying to figure out why his heart was thumping so loud then and why he felt so nervous around you.

It bothered him to no end because he was this big hulking guy and you were... just a girl who probably wouldn't hurt a fly. He had fought guys thrice your size. Yet, here he was; scared at the thought of you sitting next to him and talking to him.

Throughout his daydream, he failed to notice that you had disappeared and went out to buy some milk for the cafe. Kotoha was busy cleaning the kitchen, so the errand was left to you.

It left Sugishita bored. He wasn't really interested in whatever they were talking about and Ume was busy eating anyway. And you were... well, he didn't know where you were. He'd rather be kicked in the shins twice than ask where you had gone.

Everything comes to a halt as they heard commotion from outside. And by the sound of it... it was you. His question was answered in the worst way possible.

"Let go of me! Stop!" you cried out desperately, but to no avail.

"C'mon, lady. We were askin' ye for some change so nicely, weren't we? Don't be a bitch and show us some kindness, will ye?"

The shady group of guys who were outside the convenience store saw you and decided to follow. So here you were, getting mugged.

Everyone in the cafe knew the situation straight away. They were all ready to jump into action, but none of them would have expected what happened next.

To put it simply, Sugishita just shot out of his seat without another word or thought. Kotoha was sure that the cafe's door would fly off the hinges with how strongly he swung it open.

His fiery stare was zeroed in on the scumbags that had you surrounded. His mind was empty except for two things: to beat these fuckers up and to save you.

He stomped over to you, the shady men becoming aware of his approaching and menacing presence.

"Watcha want, punk? Walkin' over here like a—"

The guy's sentence was left unfinished as Sugishita's fist met his face. His punch snapped and didn't waste any time slugging the rest of the men. Though they tried to fight back, they were no match for an extra aggressive Sugishita.

His senses only came flooding back when he felt a pair of arms around him. He inspected the ground below him where the men had fallen unconscious... and then he realized that you were clinging on to him like a koala.

"THAT WAS SO SCARYYYY," you cried. As you did, you squeezed him tighter. You were probably pushing his boundaries, but the adrenaline and fear got the best of you. You could apologize later for the tears that had seeped through his navy blue cotton shirt.

And normally, he would push you away, but strangely—it felt... really good. His hands hovered in the air, unsure of what to do with them. He helplessly looked around. But as he turned his gaze back at the cafe, he saw the boys and Kotoha watching them from a distance.

They were smiling and snickering, flashing a thumbs up at Sugishita for saving the day.

When it finally sank in—he was in a state of catharsis. He still couldn't put a finger on what it was that he was feeling. But all he knew was that he liked your warmth and that you still made him insanely nervous.

To some extent, it was like his eyes were opened to a world never seen before. And you were the key to that hidden realm.

He gulped and slowly placed a hand on your head, gently stroking it albeit he was shaking. Was it from punching too hard or was it because of you? He wasn't sure.

Buuuut, maybe Ume was right about this being totally normal.

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[hwaslayer]

project: make you love me (jyh) | sixteen.

♣︎ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: yunho can’t stand how you’re so wrapped up in the notorious campus fuckboy, park seonghwa. he would gladly love you the way you deserve, despite being shy, awkward and the complete opposite of seonghwa. thus, when he finds himself spending more time with you over literature reviews and random study sessions, he decides to take on the challenge to win you over.

—pairing: jeong yunho x f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers/friends to lovers, college au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 3.6k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, seonghwa, physical fighting, mingi calling his friend out on his stupidity, crying, sorry if i missed anything.. quickly edited this lol, yunho is just mad and overwhelmed with his feelings rn 😭

yunho: baby

yunho: wait at the science building later, please? i'll come get you so we can walk to my car together

you: okee ☺️

yunho: ☺️ see you later? enjoy the rest of your classes

you: you too, my bighead!

Yunho smiles at his phone before tucking it away, slowly following Yeosang to their group study session.

"Should I even ask why you're smiling like that?" Yunho looks up at Yeosang and chuckles.

"Just Y/N."

"Of course. Is she in class?"

"Yup. She's in the back row being all distracted."

"Perfect way to pass time in my honest opinion." Yeo clears his throat. "I've been meaning to ask you out of curiosity."

"What's up?"

"Have you guys told each other 'I love you' and everything?" 

"Mm, no. Not yet at least."

"Not yet?" Yeosang smiles. "You feel that way for her, don't you?"

"I do. I just.. I don't know? I don't know if it's too soon. What if I scare her off?"

"Nah, doubt that. You can't put a timer on these things."

"True. Plus, it sounds cliché and like it's out of a movie, but I truly wanna wait 'till it feels right to say it to her."

"That makes sense."

"Trust me, I really do feel that way for her." He lets out a breath as they look towards the library building, the sun from behind slightly blinding them as they approach the doors. "She has literally become my bestfriend. It's crazy how life works."

"I know. I remember when you first told me you were helping her out for literature." Yeosang chuckles. "Or when you'd save her in the back lot."

"Still can't believe that was even real." Yunho does a tiny head tilt. "He's really something."

"What was up with Y/N's birthday thing? How did he even know?"

"I don't know. Word gets around fast. Why wouldn't Seonghwa know? Especially since it has to do with Y/N."

"Can't wait till the day he leaves you two alone. Must be fucking annoying to deal with."

"I try not to mind it. Though, I think he's been getting bolder lately and I can't put my finger on it."

"Has Y/N said anything?" He shakes his head.

"No. Maybe I'm just overthinking. She just seemed a little weird about him at her birthday party."

"Well, yeah. It's Seonghwa." Yeosang waves at their study group sitting at the far end of the library in the loud section.

"Yeah, but, I don't know. It was different. She seemed bothered about something but she hasn't told me anything. I assume it's not a big deal."

"Hm. Well, I'm sure it's not either. Just Seonghwa being himself, maybe."

"Mm, whatever though." Yunho greets the study group as they approach the table. "She's my girlfriend now, and that won't change." Yeosang gives him a small smile before they settle with the group and begin their long study session together.

"Remember, we have a test next class. Make sure you study everything I included in the study guide. Don't skip on anything just because you think it's a minor detail! Nothing is minor!" Your professor says before dismissing the class. You let out a sigh, already stressing over the next test. You didn't do bad on the first test, but you also didn't do the greatest. Thankfully, you're still at a good point in the semester, which gives you enough time to pull your grade up.

Once the initial rush of people leaving the classroom dies down, you pack up your things and head out the door. You hurry out of the classroom and down the steps, excited to see your boyfriend after yet another long day. For a split second, the building is crowded with other students leaving their classes and heading to their next destination— whether it be the next class, the library or to their cars. It's a sudden swarm of people that you don't even realize Seonghwa had stepped out of his own class, following you down the corridor.

"Y/N." You hear Seonghwa's voice behind you. You try to mind your own business, subtly rolling your eyes as you walk out of the science building to reunite with Yunho. 

Except, he isn't exactly there yet and Seonghwa grabs you by the wrist.

"Y/N." He repeats, turning you to face him.

"What are you doing?" You question him.

"Just a second." You let out a loud, heavy sigh. "Why are you being like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like you ignoring me. You haven't answered any of my texts or calls—"

"Why do I need to?" You raise a brow. "You're not actually serious, right? I have no reason to respond to you, Seonghwa. Don't you have places to be, people to see?" You pause. "Don't you realize you're a little too late? This was something I needed from you way before. I don't need it from you now."

"I know it's late, but I don't wanna give up on this."

"This? This has been done for a long time, you and I both know that. You're only worried about losing the only safety blanket you've ever had. Why can't you just move on and let me be happy?"

"Happy?" Seonghwa almost scoffs. "With him? Okay, baby." He shakes his head. "Listen. Enough of this for real. Can you please just hear me out, I'll explain and apologize properly—"

"Seonghwa, stop calling me that. What don't you understand about no?" You say almost at a whine, his hand still having a grip on the edge of your wrist. You truly don't want to entertain this, but Seonghwa almost gives you no way out, no way around his bullshit, and unfortunately, that'll be the root of everything that unfolds tonight. Yunho is happily [and eagerly] making his way down to you after the long, heavy study group session, while Yeosang decides he's gonna stay behind in order to hit the gym and get his workout in. Yunho is a few minutes late, but he knows you'll still flash him that beautiful, million-watt smile he adores so much before wrapping your arms around him.

He can't wait.

But, Yunho slows in his steps just as he's close to the front doors; familiar voices filling the surprisingly empty, quiet space.  It's you, and he already feels himself boiling with anger when he hears who else is occupying your time right now.

"Why haven't you even said anything about the flowers and the card I gave you? Did you even get them?" Yunho overhears Seonghwa ask you, and he furrows his brows. What flowers and card? You don't answer right away, and Seonghwa is quick to follow up. Yunho doesn't even get to hear your response about it and the most upsetting part of all this— is that this is how he finds out about everything.

Not from you, but from Seonghwa.

"You couldn't even send me a text? I was worried you didn't get it. I wanted to talk to you afterwards."

"What is there to talk about?"

"Yeah, what is there to talk about?" You and Seonghwa turn towards Yunho, who stands there with his hands dug deep into his pockets. His jaw is slightly clenched, head titled to the side while he waits for a response. Seonghwa lets out a pathetic chuckle, hand slipping down your wrist as he fully faces him.

"Loverboy sounds upset over a little talk."

"A little talk? Is that an add-on for the flowers and card you sent her?" Yunho sounds more stern, more angry. You can't even blame him, but at the same time, it's unusual for you to hear him this way. You're not sure what could come out of this and you don't necessarily want to find out.

"I'm sorry, should I have sent you some, too?" Seonghwa steps closer to him and the panic starts to settle in for you. You wish someone, anyone, was around to help. Because although you don't think Yunho will let this blow out of proportion, you aren't 100% about your answer. You're not sure how Yunho manages his anger in these situations and you're not sure what triggers him; what tips him over the edge and is the 'cherry on top.' Seonghwa has always rubbed him the wrong way and you don't think this could end remotely pretty. "I'll take note of that for next time so you don't have to sit there and stare at Y/N's."

How you wish Seonghwa had just gotten the point. Why couldn't he just let you be? Why was he out to ruin your happiness so badly?

"Seonghwa. This is done. Let it go." You warn him, but it doesn't clear anything. You aren't getting through to any of them.

"Back up. I'm not asking." Yunho clenches his jaw as he comes face to face with Seonghwa, making him give off a small scoff.

"Aw. Loverboy's mad—" And that's exactly the tipping point for Yunho. He's not sure why, he usually has a lot of patience. He usually brushes things off easily, doesn't hold a grudge or stay angry for long. But, Seonghwa? He was a different story, especially because of the history you have with him. Every little thing about Seonghwa pisses him off— down to the way he moves, breathes, acts like he can always get his way so easily, so quickly. Before he can even think about the consequences, or how you'd feel, Yunho swings at him, making Seonghwa stumble backwards. 

"Yunho!—" You gasp, Yunho's initial punch is pretty rough that it had Seonghwa in shock before being able to register what just happened.

"Fuck you—" Is all Seonghwa spits out before going at Yunho. The two continue to go at it, pushing and gripping at each other's shirts, rough attempts at landing punches;

They're almost successful with tearing each other's heads off until you step in between and get involved.

"Stop!" You step in between to try and prevent the fight from escalating even more. "Stop it!" You push Seonghwa back when he tries coming for Yunho, a campus security guard dashing towards all of you to completely break up the scuffle.

"Knock it off! The hell are you two doing acting like this on campus? I suggest you two part ways now before we call the cops over!"

"Yo, what the fuck?!" Mingi comes from around the corner, grabbing at Seonghwa's arm to pull him back. "The fuck are you doing, dude?" He looks at his bestfriend in disbelief.

"Why don't you ask your friend who fucking started it—"

"Me?" Yunho spits, while Seonghwa wipes the blood at the corner of his lip. "I wouldn't have had to if you just knew how to back the fuck off!" Yunho is angry, continuing to raise his voice. "Let me catch you sending shit to my girlfriend one more time and see what the fuck I'll do—" 

"Yunho." You say softly, tugging back at his arm.

"Are you serious?" Mingi looks at Seonghwa. "You don't go messing around with people's relationships, Hwa. You need to let this go, you look crazy!" 

"Oh, so all of a sudden you're sticking up for your friend?"

"Yeah, because he is my friend and it's just shit you don't do! What the fuck don't you understand about that?! You fucking deserved that shit!" Mingi shakes his head before pushing Hwa forward, pulling him off to the side to continue talking to him. 

"Babe." You turn to Yunho after Mingi and Seonghwa create good distance, hand coming up to cup Yunho's cheek. But, he turns, slightly shaking his head at you. You pull your hand back and feel your heart drop, the look in Yunho's eyes being one that you've never experienced before.

Sadness, hurt, anger. 

Mostly sadness, hurt.

"What flowers was he talking about, Y/N?" His chest is still rising at a somewhat uneven pace, doing his best to calm down after the adrenaline rush.

"H-he left them at my doorstep after we came back from the snow. I'm really sorry, Yunho, I didn't tell you because I tossed it out and—"

"But still, it's the fact that you didn't tell me after all this time." Yunho's brows are tightly knitted together, and the look causes your heart to sink even deeper. "Why did you have to let me find out this way? Were you going to tell me about this too if I hadn't come right away?"

"I just didn't get around to telling you because I didn't think it would matter— Seonghwa doesn't matter."

"If he didn't, then wouldn't you be able to tell me without questioning it so much?"

"Yunho, no. I'm sorry, no." You repeat, tears pricking your eye lids. "I didn't mean for it to seem like that. I really didn't mean to hide this from you."

"Did you think about keeping them?"

"I—I, no. I thought—" Yunho hears you stuttering and his throat suddenly feels dry. Why can't you just tell him? Even if Seonghwa didn't matter to you, why couldn't you trust him enough to tell him? 

Why couldn't you feel comfortable enough to tell him?

"Be honest with me, Y/N. That's all I've ever asked. Did you or did you not think about it keeping it?" Silence. And god, it is the most gut-wrenching silence Yunho has ever endured.

Yup. Got it. 

The answer is clear.

You did think about Seonghwa. You thought about accepting the flowers as his apology, you thought about the possibility— even if it was for a brief, splitting second. Seonghwa did matter for one fucking second, and that's what bothers him.

"Yunho, please. I just thought—" You can barely get through your sentences.

"Did you, or did you not?"

"I thought about keeping it, but it was so stupid. I was just blinded for a second, and I realized it didn't matter to me. He doesn't matter to me. At all. I promise. Everything just caught me off guard." You try to grab for his hand but he steps back. "Yunho, it was all stupid. I tossed it out so quickly. I wasn't going to do anything, I wasn't going to text, nothing."

"But, why does it feel like after everything he's put you through, you still believe he'd genuinely change? Why does it feel like a part of you is still actually holding onto that?" Well, when Yunho says it to your face like that, you feel dumb. Not once did you ever think about running back to Seonghwa and leaving this behind. But, you were blinded in that quick second from your history with Hwa, being close and sharing moments for months. Asking Seonghwa for little gestures like this, for more attention; even though it was a ride, you still had history.

And yes, maybe at one point you wanted to be the girl that changed him.

But today, you can't even imagine going back to that point. Not after being with Yunho, not after the happiness he's brought you.

Not after you realize how much you genuinely and truly love Yunho. 

You don't wanna lose him.

This is all so stupid, and a huge misunderstanding. But, you're the only person to blame here— if you hadn't given Seonghwa the time of day, if you had just told Yunho right away without second-guessing it, if you hadn't hesitated; you wouldn't be here right now.

"I'm not!" Your tone raises and it sounds like a whine at this point. "I'm not, Yunho. Please."

"Look, tonight was a lot." He sighs, running his hand through his hair before wincing and looking down at his knuckles. "I was excited to see you after a long day, Y/N. I was really looking forward to being with you. I wasn't expecting all of this and honestly, I don't know what's worse? Stumbling upon all of this the way I did, or not knowing at all."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. It was stupid and fucked up of me, and I'm sorry." You repeat, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Maybe you just need to think about what you really want." Yunho shrugs. "I thought you were over the whole thing with Seonghwa, but clearly not if you're still considering on giving him the time of day."

"No, no, Yunho. Please don't. It's not that." You try to lace your hand with his, but he gently brushes it off with a shaky sigh. He doesn't wanna leave you. He never wants to be without you. But, tonight was a lot for him to handle, and it is overwhelming. He hasn't really felt this protective over someone. Of course, it's only natural since you're his girlfriend. He'll always protect you. It's just that Seonghwa brings something out of him that he doesn't necessarily like, and he wants it to be gone for good. It feels unhealthy and icky;

The anger, the frustration, the anxiety.

He hates it. And he doesn't want this to be a thing in your relationship. Plus, he still feels himself fuming with anger and he just can't possibly talk to you while he feels that way.

So yes, he's overwhelmed and he needs to get over this.

"No, seriously. You really should think about it. I know where I stand but I'm not so sure you do." He lets out another disappointed sigh. "I'll take you home, but we should probably just be in our own places tonight."

"Okay." You say close to a whisper, sniffling as you wipe away at your face. You don't even try to fight it anymore simply because you know Yunho needs his space right now. He begins to walk off with you slowly trailing behind, head hung low after everything that happened tonight. Everything happened so fast you're also having to process it all on this walk over to the lot. Suddenly, you're pulled out of your thoughts when you hear footsteps picking up behind you, followed by a familiar, deep voice.

"Yo, wait up!" Mingi says. "You good? I'm sorry about him, he's actually losing it."

"You're sorry? Mingi, when the fuck is your friend gonna grow up so that you're not apologizing on his behalf?" Mingi lets out a breath as his eyes dart from you, back to Yunho's. "Seriously. I don't mean to throw that your way, but it's not even just about tonight. Your friend knows no boundaries and that's crazy to me."

"I know, he's got things to sort through but that's his own problem now. I already told him multiple times. Me and San did." Mingi shakes his head.

"Doesn't take much to grow the fuck up and take ownership of your own fuck-ups once in awhile."

"Let him keep learning the hard way. He will, eventually. He deserved that tonight."

"He can try all he wants, nothing's gonna change between me and her. Hope he understands I'm not going anywhere after tonight."

"Of course." Is all Mingi could respond with because of course Yunho wouldn't go anywhere— why the fuck would he let Seonghwa get in the way? He shouldn't. And Seonghwa needs to know that. "Anyway, just wanted to see if you two were okay. For real." Yunho sighs.

"Mmyeah. Thanks." He responds as Mingi daps it up. "We're just gonna head home."

"Drive safely. Text me if you need me." Mingi gives you a small smile before running off to tend to his friends, San now also getting dragged into all his mess. 

The walk over is quiet, but Yunho still opens the passenger door for you when you finally get to his car. You hate the silence that falls between you two, but you understand Yunho is upset and needs his own time away from everything, from you, even. You can't help but cry even more into your hands when he pulls into the apartment lot, Yunho letting out a breath as he puts the car in park. He looks over at you and his heart breaks because he truly hates to see you cry, and he never wants to be the reason behind you being sad or hurt.

"Hey. Don't." He says softly, hands coming up to pry your own hands away from your face. He gently wipes the tears away, making sure no drop is missed. 

"I'm sorry, Yuyu." You repeat.

"I know, it's okay."  He says, even though right now, it's not.

"Is it?"

"Let's get you home, okay?" He just looks at you with a soft expression before unbuckling his seatbelt. He comes over to open your door, locking his car when you step out and slowly make your way to your apartment. When you get to the steps, you turn towards him with a small pout. Yunho pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head, wiping any remaining stragglers from staining your cheeks. He's not happy, but he's trying to send you off on a calm note— hoping this could at least ease you for the night. "Get some rest."

"I'll see you tomorrow, right?" He doesn't say anything before he pulls away and takes a few steps backwards. "Yunho." You call for him in that tone of yours that always makes him so weak.

"Y/N, please. I just need to shake this off. That's all. Goodnight." All you can do is simply walk away before running up the steps and into your apartment. Chaery is the only one home, cleaning her dishes after cooking a good meal for all of you to share.

"My love is home! I cooked!" She says happily, but her smile dies when she sees you set your bags down and cry into your hands. She drops everything and rushes over, throwing her arms around you while guiding you to the couch. "Hey, what's wrong? What happened?" She brushes the hair away from your face while you continue to cry. You don't respond for a bit, signaling for Chaery to just hold you and let you be.

You cry, and you cry.

Because you already miss Yunho, and you feel so dumb for overthinking the entire thing, for not being honest with him. It was a stupid mistake, but you hope Yunho knows you truly weren't out to hurt him. 

You hope he can forgive you and move past this— with you, together.

Because today and so on, he's all you want. You love Yunho, and there's no one else that completes you the way that he does.

♣︎ taglist: @s-nsanshine @soupbinlily @tyongff-ff @jiminiscricket @g1g1l @staytinyinmybpack @woomyteez @gfksz @bitchwhytho @savluvsmingi @thisisntmyrightera @hyukssunflower @miriamxsworld @tmtxtf @kuromibabe04 @lmnhead @carrietwrites @tournesol155 @persphonesorchid @txt-yaomi @mxnsxngie @h-nji @mundayoonimnida @jalapeno-princess @nakiiko @asjkdk @kunikku @idkwgoh @kyeos4ng @agust-d2 @araknoid @bintificreads @primoppang @betray-the-light @aurorasjoongie @wineyoungie @yunhotteokkk @yungigiggles @jaerisdiction @ignoretheskies @luminouskalopsia @naeviscall @vixensss @choisansplushie @arya9111 @my-lightspirit @dazednconfusion @astro-doll-the-star @faesmingi @idfkeddieishot @startinystay @emily505 @mgdixon @mcsalterego @cheynalexilaiho @svintsandghosts @mismatchfluffysocks

[fandomwritingbit]

"Not so clever now , are you?"

Michael Afton x afab/smart mouth reader

Req: "Michael x fem reader where they are always going at it, reader has a smart mouth, but one day Mike just goes full dom on her and she goes completely sub."

Hi, @exverlysano I hope this is alright lmao, thank you so much for the request xx

Warnings: bad puns and smut

Morning: 

You watch your boyfriend turn his head to look out the rear window of his car whilst he reversed into a bay, noting that he looked good while he did it, his jaw sharp and shoulders broad. He clearly knew it too, because he hit you with a cocky smirk. When he was finished you open the door to check his positioning, laughing immediately. 

“You’re joking, Mikey, you can’t leave it like that. It’s wonky as.”

He mirrors you, cracking open the door, “What are you talking about? It’s fine.” He makes a point of closing the door again, loudly, looking at you as if you’re insane, becoming annoyed when you just match the stare.

Scoffing, you just shake your head. “Nah, it isn’t. It’s wonky. Won-key.” you tease, loving the crease between his brow. “But then again, it’s not the only thing that’s wonky is it?” you giggle, nudging him with your elbow.

He rolls his eyes at you, desperately trying not to give you a reaction because he knew how much it spurred you on. So you put your hand on his arm, using your best feigned apologetic face, “Sorry, Mikey… I know positioning has never been your strong suit.” you can’t make it through the sentence without grinning, and you don’t get it all out before he unclips his seatbelt and shoves the door open to step out. 

“Oh come on!” you laugh, “Come on, Mike - it’s funny!” he doesn’t think so, leaving you to grab your bag and rush out the car.

~

Afternoon:

You watch Michael playing fifa, it’s an online game, one that looks pretty intense too. So intense that even though he has a headset on you can hear the buzz of voices, no doubt swearing at each other in frustration. Seeing that the climax of the match isn’t far away, you sit down just inside his peripheral, watching the timer count down and the movement of his fingers becoming more frantic on the controller. 

You can see the crash from miles away, your lover talking loudly, “To me. To me, I’m open, come on. Yeah-” As the teammate obeys, Mike flummoxes, literally and metaphorically dropping the ball, screwing up the shot. The roar from his headset says it all. 

He turns to you, slowly pulling it from his head, the voices still buzzing, “Don’t.” His finger came up, trying to warn you, how cute. “Just don’t. I can’t believe-”

“You ballsed it up?” You say instantly, trying to stop your mouth from curling into your cheeky smile. When he doesn’t laugh, you double down. “Away, if you don’t think that’s a good joke then you’ve moved the goalpost.” 

“I’m serious, y/n. Don’t, I’m pissed off.” He starts to leave the room, but you catch his arm, looking up at him all innocent. 

“Yeah, I can see that…” You smile sympathetically, when his face softens your mind  practically vibrates with excitement. “As a treat why don’t I go and-” you crack, “score us some pizza.” He goes stiff under your grip and pulls himself away. 

“Absolutely fuck off. You don’t know when to quit, do you?” 

“Alright, Mike. No need to kick off.” 

~

Around 10pm it boiled over. 

Ever since you started dating Michael, you took the mick out of him 24-fucking-7, and you knew you could reasonably get away with it. He was too nice to you and given it was only poking fun he tried not to take it too seriously, and mostly he could just forget about the teasing in favour of the times when you’re soft and sweet. Like when you wake up and cuddle into him with no snarky remarks exchanged. When you make him a coffee and set it down beside him with no previous conversation. When you wrap your arms around his waist in public just to breathe his scent. 

But right now, he had enough. All day it had been non-stop, a quip here, some snarky criticism there, a joke at his expense. 

You’re minding your own business, sitting at a counter in the kitchen and scrolling on your phone, seeing him come in you flash him that cheeky grin, which perhaps normally would have made him smile back. But today he just looked past you to the dirty pots sitting at the side of the sink, instantly rolling his eyes. 

“Really? You can’t clean up after yourself?” he snaps, walking over to the sink and flipping the tap on full-whack out of anger, the water splashing you both. You jump back laughing, the cold seeping through your shirt, watching him turn it back off again, the pissed-off look not leaving his face. 

Standing on your tip-toes you wrap your arms around his neck from behind, devilish smirk still strong, “That’s not the way to go about making me wet, Mikey.” Your joke makes him tense under you, and even when you pressed a kiss against his cheek he didn’t soften. 

He let you slide around him and kiss him properly, your hands coming up to rub his chest. And it was tempting to let you take the lead and forgive you for all your teasing, especially when he felt himself twitch as your hands moved lower; then it occurred to him that he didn’t have to give in easily, he could make you work to earn his forgiveness.

His hand was suddenly rough in your hair, wrenching you against the counter where he again kissed you, his tongue pushing into your mouth. You moan against him, tugging at his shirt, this wasn’t like Michael at all, but you sort of liked it. You try to pull the fabric over his head and he grunts disapprovingly, shoving you against the counter harder, taking a handful of your tits. 

“Did I say you could do that?” he speaks against your lips before tilting his head to your neck, biting down on your flesh much harder than he usually would. 

“Ah-fuck.” you pant, struggling to keep up with him, as he pulls your trousers down around your ankles, “Since when did I have to ask?” you manage to bite back, before breaking into a moan as he sucked a mark on the underside of your jaw. 

Strong arms hook under you and lift you onto the kitchen counter, his foot prying the garments from around your ankles leaving them to fall to the floor. “Since now.” He says against your skin, so firmly that you giggle, this was a completely different look on him.

Your laughing provokes him to damn-near tear the shirt from your body, then force your bra high on your chest, leaving you all but completely nude in your kitchen, whilst the man in front of you stays fully clothed looking as close to menacing as he could. 

Michael drops down to the floor, surprisingly forceful hands spreading your legs for him and holding them firm. There he runs his fingers over your folds, eliciting a pitiful sound from you. “Look at you.” His tone is sharp and the words are spoken so close to your core it makes your stomach tense, “Only time you’re quiet is when I’m giving this pussy some attention. All you think about, huh?” You would have laughed again, if not for his tongue suddenly pressing against your nerves and sending a spark through your body. God, you wanted to complain and tell him he was moving too fast but your dripping heat was proof that you didn’t really mind it at all. 

Instinctively you grab his hair, a gasp escaping your lips as he sets a harsh pace of flicking between your clit and pressing into your hole. He takes hold of your wrist and pulls you from him, holding your hand against your thigh, looking up at you with a glare of warning that killed any thought of protest you had. 

“Yeah, nothing to say now.” He muttered, this idea of showing you who's boss now fully solidified in his head, the role coming to him easier than he would’ve thought. 

You only whine in response, feeling utterly pathetic but silently thrilled. This dominance was stirring you hardcore, making a frantic coil in your core form quick and desperate. His sucking of your clit is both not enough and too much at the same time. And without his hair to hold on to, you find yourself bruising your own skin with your grip, being shoved to your end by the now brutal movement of his tongue. It hits you like a tonne of bricks, non-existent purchase making your toes curl with the waves of pleasure he just wrought from you. He grunts when he feels you clench, the reminder of how tight you’d feel around him causing pre-cum to leak from his tip. 

With no time to get your bearings, he yanks you off the counter and you habitually wrap your legs around his waist, letting him carry you towards your bedroom, not really knowing what you were getting into. 

“Mikey, what’s come over you?” you gasp when he tosses you down onto the bed, looking big and scary over you. 

He looks down at you with an almost bored expression on his face, undoing his belt as he answers, “Just tired of your shit.” 

You blink, “You can’t be seri- Mike, I only joke like that because you usually take it so well-”

“Then, how about you take it well right now, huh?” 

You’re giggling again when he takes hold of your ankles to pull you closer to him. The sight of him slowly stroking his cock making your pussy flutter with the knowledge of his size, made worse by the harsh look of his face.  

Oddly, he takes his time, dragging the head of his dick through your slick, using it to stroke himself, before notching in your entrance slowly. He just loved how your breath hitched as he sunk in, he’d never tire of the feeling of you stretching for him and right now it tasted doubly sweet.

The familiar feeling of him inside you made you moan. But something about his calmness was stirring you, making you impatient for him to fully bury inside you, so you reach forward to grab his forearms, pulling at him. And it was like a switch flipped in his brain, why the hell do you still think this is your game? Has he not been clear enough? 

Without a word exchanged, he begins thrusting into you roughly, a grunt punctuating every time he fully sheathes, his cock shoving into the part of you that made you come undone so perfectly. He takes hold of your legs and pulls them upwards to see the view of your cunt taking him in, your greediness evident in your pooling slick and the pretty noises you’re making.  

You’re blinded by his near-ruthless pace, his hips snapping into yours with a force you’d never seen from him and it left you feeling fucking stupid. The mix of your squeaks and moans and the lewd sound of his action are close to chaos, so much so that you hardly register Michael talking.

“Ah-not so clever now, are you?” 

[babydollmarauders]

KISS ME — TREVOR ZEGRAS

trevor zegras x fem! drysdale! reader

FAITHLYNN’S 500 CELLY!

🌷: “forget it you’re a fucking asshole” & “that was kind of hot” & “please just kiss me already” with Trevor.

warnings: alcohol, heavy make out sesh

i wouldn’t necessarily describe Trevor and i as ‘friends’. we argue way too much for that. which isn’t great when you take into account how often i see him. as Jamie’s twin sister, i go nearly everywhere with him; i moved to California with him, i attend almost every game, and i’m at nearly every hang out with him. which is why tonight, i’m stuck at a party i don’t necessarily wanna be at. i tried telling Jamie that i would much rather stay at my apartment tonight, but he insisted that i must come to he and Trevor’s party for at least an hour. he stated it was my ‘obligation as his twin’, whatever that means.

so now i sit on his overcrowded sofa, a soda in my hand and a timer on my phone counting down from an hour. i’ve only been here for fifteen minutes and i’m already sick of Trevor’s obnoxious storytelling. i watch him as he stands barely five feet away from me, recounting an insane goal he made from behind the net to a group of girls in front of him. his hands gesture wildly as he speaks, and i can foresee an accident happening before it even does. and lo and behold, i’m correct. what i didn’t expect was that it would be on me. his drink flies out of his grip, splashing and landing straight on me, and i gasp at the feeling of cold beer hitting my face and chest.

“oh shit!” Trevor exclaims, chuckling at my misfortune. “sorry, y/n!

“are you kidding me, Trevor?!” i stand and wipe at my face with my hands, looking down at my brand new dress that’s now covered in alcohol. “you— ugh! are you seriously laughing right now?”

“i said i was sorry.” he rolls his eyes.

“yeah! as you laughed!” i argue.

“what do you want me to do?!” he chuckles.

“forget it, you’re a fucking asshole.” i state, looking around for my brother in hopes that he can lend me a change of clothes, but i don’t see him anywhere. i huff out a breath and start walking towards the exit. he’ll just have to deal with me leaving, he probably won’t even notice anyways.

“hold on!” Trevor shouts over the music, grabbing my arm. “c’mon, i’ll give you some sweats.”

he pulls on my arm, leading the way towards his bedroom, and i roll my eyes. i guess it’s the least he can do, after all, he is the one who spilled his drink on me. we step into his room and he immediately bee lines toward his dresser, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and an Anaheim Ducks t-shirt, holding them out for me. i take them from his grasp, muttering a sarcastic ‘thanks’ and pulling the sweatpants on under my dress, having to roll the legs up at the bottom. i pay no mind to the boy standing in front of me and pull my dress over my head, leaving me in a bralette before yanking the t-shirt on. i look back at Trevor, who stands wide eyed. he gulps before speaking.

“that was kind of hot.” he admits, and i let out a chuckle. “i mean, you- you’re always hot but…”

“you think i’m hot?” i ask.

“well, yeah.” he replies, but then his eyes get wide. “but Jamie would kill me if he knew that so please don’t tell him.”

“why would i tell Jamie?” i question.

“well, you guys are twins, so don’t you guys like, tell each other everything?”

“no?” i give him a weird look. “i don’t know about him, but, i don’t tell him everything.”

“really? Jamie seems to think you do.” Trevor glances toward the closed bedroom door as he speaks, as if he’s worried about being caught alone with me.

“well, i don’t.” i state. “i didn’t tell him i thought you were hot.”

“you think i’m hot?” Trevor exclaims.

“yeah. but you’re also pretty annoying, so sometimes those two things cancel each other out.” Trevor laughs at my joke for a moment before his expression turns serious.

“so, you think i’m hot, i think you’re stunning, what do we do with that information.” he raises an eyebrow, stepping closer to me so that our bodies nearly touch. i roll my eyes and speak.

“please just kiss me already.”

Trevor wastes no time in doing so. his hands grip my waist and he pulls me into him, his lips crashing down on mine with intensity. lust charged electricity flows between us and my hands come up to the nape of his neck, gripping the hair there and pushing his lips harder against mine. he sucks on my bottom lip, eliciting a moan from me that he swallows up. he pushes me backwards, my back coming into contact with the wall behind me, and my leg raises to settle on his hip. his head dips down as he leaves open mouthed kisses down my neck, and he rolls his body, his bulge pressing into my core. i let out a whimper at the contact and he repeats the movement, but before we can get any farther, a knock sounds at the door.

“y/n? you in there?” Jamie’s voice is muffled from the wood between us, and Trevor and i jump apart at the sound. i wipe at my lips and neck, fixing my clothes and flattening my hair as Trevor readjusts himself and runs a hand through his hair.

i walk over to the door, pulling it open to reveal my brother on the other side.

“heyyy.” he drags out, his eyes darting between Trevor and i suspiciously. his gaze goes down to my outfit and he raises an eyebrow.

“hey. Trevor spilled his beer on my dress, so he lent me some clothes.” i explain. Trevor hums in agreement, nodding his head.

“oh, okay.” Jamie nods before looking at Trevor. “wanna play beer pong?”

-

-

-

-

[d34dg1rl5]

Hi! New follower here!

I don’t really know what you write for but I thought I’d ‘shoot my shot’! 😂

Do you think you could write ✨something✨ for a dbd? Like the killers (or at least Ghostface because I love him lol) meeting a new member who completely dominates the maps?

Like he/she/they/we know our way around the maps, know how to get away and even mess with the killers before getting away to safety.

(I’m basing this idea like a former player of the game just spawning into a game in the entity’s realm and just enjoying the whole experience, even if the occasional ✨hit✨ is unavoidable)

If not I completely understand, keep up the good work!! ❤️

Hello! I am so sorry for not seeing this earlier! Of course I can do this, I added some other killers to it too, I hope you like it!

Danny Johnson (Ghostface)

💀 You think you dominate the maps? Yeah, you might. But he knows them the best.

💀 You navigate through the maps, knowing them better than your own house. But suddenly Danny jumps out from around the corner.

💀 "Did you really think I didn't study those maps all these years I've been here? How cute!" He aims for your chest but you manage to dodge his attack, earning a cut across your arm.

💀 "Shit-" You run as fast as you can knowing your way around the MacMillan Estate. Now someone just needs to open that stupid exit gate, so you all can escape! Danny hasn't even killed one yet, what is up with him today?

💀 The siren blares and the timer starts to run down. Quickly you make your way across the map and finally reach the opened exit gate, the way to freedom - for now.

💀 Just as you want to get to the sweet exit gate, Danny suddenly jumps out from behind a bush, tackling you down. You're now laying on your back, Danny is sitting on your stomach.

💀 You can't see it but he is grinning behind his mask. "Not so snarky now, are we?" He puts his knife to your cheek, slowly digging the sharp blade to it, drawing blood.

💀 "Goodbye, toots. You gotta study a little bit more if you want to handle me!" With that, he plunges his knife into your chest multiple times. Just before everything goes black he lifts his mask a little above his mouth, pressing a little kiss to your cheek. "See you!~"

Frank Morrison (Legion)

🎭 Frank gets tired after a few minutes of chasing you around the Yamaoka Estate. How the hell are you even that good?!

🎭 He gives up and just lets you run away. But this made you turn and look at him. "What? Are you tired?" You giggle waiting for his reaction.

🎭 Frank angrily turns towards you, gripping his knife tightly in his hand. "Shut the fuck up, you asshole! Just fucking get lost! You should be grateful that I'm not killing you on the spot!"

🎭 You shake your head. "I'm just too good at looping you. You're too slow."

🎭 Frank grunts and suddenly goes into frenzy mode. He lunges forward but you quickly loop him again, making him yell in frustration.

🎭 "I will fucking get you next time, twat!" He angrily walks off, not bother to chase you again for the remaining trial.

Max Thompson Jr. (Hillbilly)

⚒️ Max is angry. And sad. And frustrated. And doubts his abilities as a killer. Just because of you!

⚒️ As soon as he sees you're in a trial with him, he ignores you completely. He won't give in to the annoying clicking sounds of your flashlight or to you hopping in and out of a locker to make him come to you.

⚒️ You know your way around every map imaginable. Even when he's tunneling you it's a rare occasion when he actually lands a hit.

⚒️ Like I said, he starts to ignore you. He doesn't care if he displeases the Entity by not sacrificing you. He'd rather be punished than to put up with you looping him the whole time and dropping pallets on his head (his head already hurts!).

⚒️ If he sees you at the exit gates, he SOMETIMES tries a chainsaw attack but you dodge it as always.

⚒️ He's trying his best, but you're just way too good.

Me re-reading this realizing it's so bad because I didn't write a fanfiction in AGES:

Also. I am now part of the CoD community. Ghost and König got my heart. And Soap too. Oh my god, did y'all know how König is austrian?? It's so funny because I'm austrian too?? Like whaaaaaat. Anyways, feel free to send asks, inbox is open! Love youuuu ❤️✨

[knottedhearts]

Streaming Chratt: M.S & C.S

Matt and Chris are streaming, leaning close to each other as they read the flood of chat messages demanding they play a particular game. It’s one with a timer, where they have to slam down letters on a device and say something their brother, Nick, would say, starting with that letter. Chris smirks, nudging Matt.

"Let's do it," Chris says, already laughing.

Matt taps first, hitting the letter G. He dramatically flips his hand, waving it in the air. "Girrrlll," he says in the sassiest voice he can muster. The chat bursts into laughter, and Chris can barely keep it together.

Through his chuckles, Chris slams the letter S. "SHUT UP!" he yells, imitating Nick’s tone almost too well. Matt bursts out laughing, eyes twinkling with mischief.

It’s only a few minutes in when Matt taps O, flipping his head back with wide eyes. "OH MY GOD," he says, sounding exactly like Nick when he's annoyed. Chris is laughing so hard he’s nearly falling out of his chair.

They keep going, tapping the letters and mocking Nick’s various phrases, until suddenly Matt’s hand flies up, and the device swings toward Chris’s face, bonking him right in the lip.

“Ow!” Chris hisses, wincing and holding his lip, the chat instantly blowing up with messages.

“Oh shit, sorry, sorry, sorry!” Matt blurts, eyes wide with panic. “Are you good?”

Chris waves him off, rubbing his lip. “Oh my god—if we weren’t live right now, he’d be chasing me around the room, trying to knock my head off.”

The chat erupts with reactions: "Omg, is Chris okay??" "Matt, you idiot!" "Poor Chris, he didn’t deserve that!” and a surprising number of “Matt is so annoying!!!”

Chris grins, sitting up straighter and glancing at the chat. “Alright, alright, don’t roast Matt too much. It was an accident. Even though, yeah…he’s pretty annoying.”

Matt relaxes a little, relieved to see Chris taking it in stride. Chris nudges him, laughing. “Seriously, guys, I’m fine. Matt may be dumb sometimes, but he’s my dumb brother.”

The chat softens a little, and Matt cracks a smile. “You’re just lucky I don’t chase you around the room right now.”

[jen-with-a-pen]

ALL TIED UP - FOUR

Previous ⊹ Series

summary: A look into the House of Sigma Beta Theta (ΣBΘ). Annoyed with the vague hinting at the party on Friday, Steve confronts Clint and stands up for once– and it only slightly backfires.

pairings: Art Student!Frat Brother!Steve Rogers x Film Student!Sorority Sister!Reader

word count: 1386

warnings: cursing, food mention, meeting the rest of the brothers, dudebro Clint, fuckboy Tony, singling out/exclusion, power dynamics, Steve's just trying to make it through the day man

a/n: we get to meet the rest of the fraternity! so sorry it's been a while. the holidays, seasonal depression, and work happened and i didn't really have the motivation to write for steve again until recently. hope yall like it ❤ p.s. thank you all SO SO much again on the continuing love for filthy impetuous souls. it means the world ❤

This chapter was not beta'd by anyone else. All mistakes in this chapter are my own.

gif by @paliaphrodite | additional graphics + dividers by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist | all tied up masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥ Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Last Wednesday.

Dribbles of cereal milk splash onto the kitchen table as Steve switches between eating breakfast, drafting a perfect-but-also-not-too-perfect text to his barista, and reading the newspaper. The newspaper thing makes him feel like an old fucking geezer, but it reminds him of mornings with his Ma back home. He misses her.

He makes a mental note to call her this weekend. 

Munching on another spoonful, he nearly chokes at the sound of slow, calculated footsteps descending the stairs. Normally he’s the only one home on Wednesday mornings. Normally he can sit in comfortable silence in the kitchen without needing to sneak around the fucking house. However, this specific Wednesday morning was not normal– all the guys were hungover from the party the night before. Upon realization, Steve reluctantly swallows the half-chewed gob of Cheerios. It lands in his stomach like a rock as he frantically looks about the scene on the table; he can’t decide fast enough whether to hide the newspaper, or his phone– or himself– before whomever is around the corner sees him outside his bedroom, outside his element. 

Tony Stark is the first to stride into the kitchen. Jet-black hair slicked back with yesterday's pomade complimented by a face riddled with stubble. He’s a mismatched mess of a worn Yankees jersey, khakis, and the newest Nikes, all of which are covered by the stench of luxury cologne and seven types of vodka. Even with designer sunglasses on, he winces at the fluorescent kitchen lights while dragging his feet straight to the coffee pot. 

"’Sup, Rogers." 

As far as they are into the semester, it’s the first time Tony directly acknowledges Steve in a way that isn't sarcastic or followed by a snooty comment under his breath. Steve quietly tips his chin to Tony out of politeness. From his perch at the kitchen table, he watches Tony pour a mug of coffee before slyly taking a mini Fireball out of his shirt pocket, dumping it into the hot liquid. He stirs his concoction with a finger, tasting it with a faint grimace before sipping. 

To each their own, Steve thinks. 

"Are you really reading the fuckin' newspaper, old timer?" Tony remarks behind his mug. Last night’s party and lack of proper hydration makes his voice raspy, deeper than usual. Steve shrugs, nodding with a faint 'yeah' in response. Steve sips his protein shake.

Tony sniffs a laugh. "Soon enough, you'll be on it." 

Another slurp. 

"What?" Steve chokes, a chunk of unmixed protein powder lodging itself in his esophagus.

"Hm. Nothin'." 

“No, what did you–”

"Whoa! Sure is a party in here," Clint Barton jokes upon entering the kitchen, following in Tony's footsteps to the coffee maker. Compared to Tony, Clint takes his hangovers in full stride. It figures, too; the guy is a kinesiology-finance major with a nutritionist-business major of a girlfriend. Eyes full of light and mischief, hair already stylishly spiked even though he just rolled out of bed, he’s already in his usual workout shirt and sweatpants. Clint whistles to himself, taking a large tub of protein powder off the top of the fridge before fixing a shaker of protein coffee. Tony steps out of the way to the other side of the kitchen to lean against the stove, watching, lurking. 

"Not until you got here, Clint," Steve attempts. Clint doesn't turn around until he's shaking his protein shaker. Loudly. 

"You say sumn'?" He asks, smirking when Steve begins to shake his head and go back to his phone. 

"Steven, I kid, I kid.”

Steve gives a tight-lipped smile, looking down at his soggy Cheerios. The knot in his chest tightens. The milk smells sour.

“Hey, Steve.”

Steve looks up, locking eyes with Clint. He swallows, hands gripping the newspaper and crumpling the comics section– his favorite. 

“You have fun last night?” Clint asks, dropping more powdered supplements into his shaker. 

“Y-Yeah, it was fun.” 

“You see any cute honeys you like?” Clint waggles his brow. 

Steve’s face burns. His eyes dart to Tony, who’s hiding a knowing smirk behind his coffee mug. 

“I think, yeah,” he shrugs. 

Clint laughs, lips morphing into a knowing, dark grin. “Well if you think they were cute last night, just wait ‘til Friday. You’ll believe it, then.”

Another vague nod to Friday. Steve’s brow furrows, leaning forward in his chair. “What do you mean by that?” 

Clint blinks, surprised at the confrontation, and sets his shaker down on the counter before approaching the kitchen table, hands slamming into the wood. Steve’s cereal sloshes, splashing a bit onto the screen of his phone. 

“You wanna ask me that again, Steven?” Clint hisses with a challenging smirk. “Go ahead, y’know I can’t hear real well. I didn’t hear ya the first time.” He leans in with a hand cupped to his ear and a mocking face. “What’s that? Huh?”

“Nothin’,” Steve mumbles. 

“Sorry, what?”

“Nothing.” Steve’s knuckles are white.

“Sorry! Come again?” Clint’s smirk grows wider the further he leans in. 

Steve stands abruptly, slamming his own palms onto the table. “I said–!”

“You said what?”

Steve and Clint turn to the direction of Bucky’s voice as it drifts into the kitchen before he and Sam do. Hands pocketed, brow raised, ponytail bobbing, Bucky looks sternly between Steve and Clint. Sam mirrors him with the ghost of a smirk on his lips. Steve straightens instantly; Clint follows suit, stretching a hand out to Sam to exchange high fives. Steve’s eye twitches.

“Hm?” Bucky questions, stopping in the middle of the kitchen. He looks from Tony– who just nurses his coffee, checking stocks on his phone– to Clint– who lifts his hands in defense, acting confused– and finally to Steve– who sets his jaw, trying his best to level his breathing and frustration. 

Steve swallows, gritting his teeth. “I didn’t say anything.” He tries to keep his tone level, convincing. Bucky nods, gaze shifting to Clint. 

“Nothin’, boss, y’know me.” Clint’s lips twitch along with his brow. 

Bucky’s eyes dart between them before he turns back to Sam, who leans against the fridge with crossed arms. Steve locks eyes with him for a second longer before he turns to Bucky and shrugs. The moment hangs in the air, silent and tense, like every other time all five of them are alone in the same room. Steve’s always the one that feels the tension, though. 

“As you were,” Bucky concludes. The kitchen reverts back to normal as everyone resumes the start to their days. Steve stands idly by, looking down at his milk-coated paper and phone, his breakfast soggy and ruined. He sighs and begins to clean up. Before he leaves the kitchen, Bucky grabs his arm, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Forgot to ask. You inviting anyone?” 

Steve responds with a confused look.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “To the party, Stevie,” he clarifies, flashing a smile differing from his usual, knowing smirk. 

Steve hesitates, looking to Sam then back to Bucky. “Kinda, yeah,” he shrugs. All eyes are on him and the kitchen stills once again. Bucky’s brow rockets up his forehead.

“Yeah? Who?”

Steve’s Adam's apple bobs. “Uh, just–just a friend. From class.”

“But who?” Bucky’s grip on Steve’s arm tightens. 

“She’s just a–” Steve immediately bites his tongue. It's too late. 

“She? You have a she-friend?” Clint asks incredulously. Even Tony looks at Steve from behind his lowered sunglasses. All eyes are on the blond whose eyes dart around helplessly. 

“I–Wh–She’s just a friend from class, that’s it,” Steve defends, heat pooling in his cheeks as he stares pointedly into Bucky’s cool blues. Bucky holds him for a second more before releasing his arm, dusting off Steve’s shoulders, smiling. 

“We’ll make sure to give her a real warm welcome, then,” Bucky winks. 

Unnerved, Steve quickly makes his way out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his room while mixed conversations from the kitchen chase after him. He doesn’t bother listening. Once he enters his room, he triple checks the locks on the door before slouching into his secondhand office chair. Popping in earbuds, he hits play on the album he fell asleep to the night prior as his fingers fly over his phone’s keyboard, coming to a stop when the adrenaline does. 

He reads over the text, chewing his lip, and hits send.

Hey, it’s Steve

who?

Meathead.

oh i know just wanted to hear u say it

Don’t you mean see it?

damn. got me there

nice first attempt at texting btw. solid 8/10, good introduction

8/10??

What can a guy do to earn a 10/10?

hmm

come by the cafe later and try a new drink i made ;)

Deal.

[intermittent-showers]

Part 3: Postponed Games & Rainy Days

When the rain ruins the day's plan, Tommy and Evan still make the most of it.

Read below or on AO3

---

"So, that was Hen." Buck said, tossing his cellphone on the coffee table before taking a seat next to Tommy on the couch. "She said the game was postponed."

Tommy stretched out a bit. "Mm, not surprising. That field would be a mess if they played on it in this rain."

"Yeah, I was looking forward to going, though, and so was Denny and Mara."

"We can take them next weekend."

Buck sighed but nodded. He knew Tommy was right, but it still annoyed him that their plans had been canceled. Hen had been so relieved when Buck volunteered both him and Tommy to take the kids to the baseball game today. Karen had to work, and Hen was not a fan of the sport whatsoever.

Shaking off the disappointment, Buck got up off the couch and headed into Tommy's kitchen, deciding he'd use today to make that new recipe Maddie had told him about. He had picked up the ingredients yesterday anyway, so he might as well do something productive with his day.

Reaching up into the cabinet above the stove, Buck felt two strong arms snake around his waist. With a kiss to the side of his neck and a tender squeeze, he heard. "You okay?"

The item he was searching for was completely forgotten in that moment. "Yeah. I'm... I'm fine."

"Evan."

Sighing, Buck turned to face Tommy. "It's stupid."

"I highly doubt anything going on in that head of yours is stupid. Odd, maybe... interesting, always... but never stupid."

"Promise you won't laugh?"

"Scouts honor."

"When I was young, my parents were... uhm... distant, I guess you could say? They'd make a promise to take me and Maddie somewhere and then when the day came... well, we never went."

Tommy leaned back, taking in the almost hidden pain on his boyfriend's face. "And you think that because the baseball game was canceled, you let Denny and Mara down."

It wasn't a question, but Buck still answered. "I guess? Maybe... I mean, yeah, I do."

"This situation is completely different. You didn't cancel the game, baby. The rain did."

Buck smiled at Tommy, suddenly feeling silly for allowing his mind to berate itself. "You're right. I know you're right. Sorry, my therapist says the same thing, but I still doubt myself sometimes."

"And that's okay. It means you're normal." Tommy chuckled when he got an eye roll from the younger man. "So, what are we making?"

"We? You don't trust me in your kitchen?"

"Key point there is that it 𝘪𝘴 my kitchen."

Buck shoved Tommy away playfully. "I'm making meatloaf."

"Can I observe the cook at least?"

"You mean, can you check out my ass while I zoom around 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 kitchen?" Buck looked back at his boyfriend, who was raising an eyebrow in his direction. "Always."

"You're a menace. You know that?"

----

Half an hour later, Buck slid the meatloaf into the oven and set the timer.

"Now, it has to cook for an hour. You wanna watch a movie or something?"

Without any acknowledgment of Buck's question, Tommy linked a finger through Buck's belt loop and pulled him close. "Or something." He said, hooking two fingers under his boyfriend's chin, making sure they made direct eye contact. "I really like you in my kitchen."

Buck grinned into the kiss, sighing happily when Tommy deepened it, all the while expertly untying the straps of Buck's apron.

The kiss broke abruptly, allowing Tommy to slip the apron over Buck's head, discarding it somewhere on the floor. Then, with a growl, Tommy lifted him onto the counter, eagerly taking up refuge between Buck's legs.

"Someone's eager."

"You said we only have an hour, right?"

Buck reached down, grabbing the bottom of Tommy's shirt before helping him remove it. "Probably closer to fifty-six minutes now."

Laughing, Tommy brought their lips together once more, one hand anchoring them both to the counter as the other cradled the back of Evan's head. He shivered, feeling the warmth of Evan's hand running up his bare chest, ghosting over his nipple before continuing its descent down to the hem of his pants.

Tommy pulled away slightly, both of them gasping for air, yet both still willing to drown in one another. "Think we can beat the clock?"

One nod was all it took for Tommy to grab Evan's wrist and lead him straight into the bedroom.

[iceclew]

They amount of times I redid this is ridiculous, srsly why am I always my biggest enemy when drawing..

ANYWAY - I totally thiefed the idea of this from the wonderful awestriking fanart of BNHA from @meru90 also a user called Noodles-and-tea (i guess), and Zowoe-Draws. They all did that kind of Behind-the-scenes of the Anime-Cast AU idea, and I love it so much, I had to redo this for Kaiju No8. ever more so since the Anime is quite freshly out now.

So big kudos to you guys for the inspiration, i love your work <3

ALSO THIS FANART by @viyojo- I LOVE IT and it inspired me a lot! <3 https://www.tumblr.com/viyojo/691671336807006208/popping-bottles-for-kn8-thank-you-kafka-for-the?source=share

I though up some ideas for AU interview contents, and thought I might share it with you

#######

Interviewer: thank's for your time guys, how're you feeling today? Kafka, Hoshina: Doing great, thank's! c: I: I'm so happy, you could make it! Also so refreshing to see you without gear and uniform for once! H: yeah, it's refreshing to actually SEE for once, you're right there :D I: *laughs* Seeing your eyes open so much is a first as well for me, haha. How's acting as Hoshina Soshiro for you like this everyday? H: ah, it's fine I guess. The look kinda suits me.. Also it is a big part of the characters personality. K: F'it wasn't for the migraine of yours all the time tho. You get that way too often. H: yeah, but it's fine, I'll manage. I: Oh my, sorry to hear that! H: No really, it's fine :3

########

I: I see you're quite different from the set as well, Kafka. I heard you're rather quiet and content off stage? K: *soft smile* yeah, I heard people say that about me too... H: He's such a dad tho, just like in the series :D K: *embarrassed tiny giggle* H: when the whole crew runs a havok, he's usually the one keeping everybody's sh*t together. :D

K: *annoyed grumble* and they run havok like.. a lot, I tell ya... -_- H: *giggle* remeber the time they crafted a whole cup of jell-o smoothie thingy and dared Mina to chuck it all in once? K: *traumatized war memories flashing* it was.... everywhere... If I could have just been a little faster with the bucket...before it all..came back... H: *cracks up* t'was hilarious! :D

#########

I: So let's talk about your roles for a bit, shall we? You're fairly famous in the role of Hoshina already for example. H: he, thanks :3 I: One of the many reasons to that is your authentic acting during fighting scenes. The entrance into your first "real" hit the audience like a blast. Regarding to that - i was told you do a lot more of your stunts by yourself than the rest of the cast, is that right? H: Yes :) I guess on of the reasons I got the role is cause I do Kendo IRL as well, so I'm not a first timer when it comes to whielding swords. And I like it a lot, so may as well go a little Jacky Chan on stuff, I thought :D As long as the directors let me do it of course.. K: and very cool to look, might I add. Whenever they let him to the fighting scenes, I always end up watching, while he beats the sh*t out of - um - my (other) selfs in front of the camera. Very cool to watch I say. H: *annoyes* well yeah, you could just go and practice your own lines tho, instead of hanging around you know... K:* slow sip from coffee cup* ...no. c:

[callmeagardengnome]

𐙚 ink my heart 𐙚 - chapter 3

w.c. - 3.9k

pairings - idol! lee dong-hyuck x tattoo artist! fem! reader x idol! mark lee

genre - romance, strangers to friends to ?

synopsis: being a tired university student with no interest in life was something you were satisfied with until you unexpectedly become friends with an idol.. but what if it becomes more?

not proofread!

previous / next masterlist

Compared to the vibrant night you had last month, your days have been pretty bland and dull. As per usual, you have been very busy with work and classes - which meant that you had no time to reach out to both Haechan and Mark.

With school break approaching, you find yourself being more excited than before. This could be the chance to catch up with the both of them. However, you find yourself worrying about whether they have time. Do they have a break too?

Haechan and Mark never mentioned what they did for a living. To be fair, you didn’t ask. You initially guessed they were university students because of their age, but their hectic and random schedules made you think otherwise. Either way, you were anxious that you might have to spend your second break alone.

You stared at the newly bought groceries on your kitchen counter. You finally got your pay-check from your boss, which allowed you to replenish your empty fridge and pantry.

As you put your fresh groceries into the fridge, your phone started to ring violently on the other side of the room. You reached over your couch to grab your phone before answering, “Hello?”

“Ahh.. ‘____’,” you heard your boss, Mr Park, sigh on the other side of the screen. “I’m going to need you to come in, I have a very important client that needs a tattoo right now.”

“Huh?” you blurted as you sunk slowly into your couch. “Right now? That’s so sudden and I can’t get there that fast..”

“I don’t care- just be there NOW,” he yelled before hanging up the phone.

The whole interaction was added to your list of reasons of why you hated your boss. Even though he paid you decently,(especially since you’re a part-timer), he seemed to take you for granted and called you in whenever he pleased. As annoying as it was, he did pay you extra money.

With that, you rushed to put your final groceries away and headed out the door.

The figure of a tall man leaning against your studio wall became clearer and clearer as you jogged towards your workplace. As you got closer, he quickly put out the cigarette that he was smoking.

“Hey uh- thanks for waiting, I wasn’t expecting a client today,” you panted as you fumbled with the keys of the studio.

“It’s okay, sorry for the short notice,” The man replied understandably.

You managed to open the door, letting the both of you inside the dark studio.

“You can sit over there,” you said, pointing towards the tattoo chair.

As he took a seat, you switched on the lights, illuminating the room with a soft glow. You glanced at him, noticing the tired and fatigued look in his eyes.

“So.. what are we doing today..?” you asked as you tried to shake off your exhaustion from the rushed morning.

He paused, “I’m not too sure.. I saw what you did for my friend and I wanted something with a similar style..”

You nodded while preparing your sketchbook. “Who’s your friend?”

He muttered, “Taeyong.”

“Really? The one with the white hair?” you asked curiously.

He gave a small nod before you asked again, “Oh so do you know the guys he was with?”

“Yeah..” he mumbled as he scrolled through his phone for tattoo ideas.

The thought of Haechan and Mark being friends with this man made you want to ask more, but you resisted the urge as he seemed uninterested. The both of you started to discuss ideas for the tattoo. Once you were done sketching, you printed out the stencil for the design.

You wouldn’t describe the silence between the two of you as ‘comfortable’. It felt as though the both of you were carefully treading the conversation, trying to find a common ground.

You placed the stencil on his skin, “What’s your name, by the way?”

“Johnny,” he said as he grabbed his phone that was over on the table. “The guys were talking about you so I thought I should check the place out.”

They talked about you? You felt your cheeks getting warm at the thought of that. “Oh.. What did they say?” you asked, trying to sound casual as you adjusted the stencil.

Johnny chuckled, “Just that you were ‘crazyy’ talented and cool.”

You smiled, feeling a mix of pride and embarrassment, “I’m glad they think so. Ready to get started?”

He nodded, putting his phone away. “Let’s do it.”

The familiar buzz of the tattoo gun filled the room. As you worked, the both of you engaged in a light chat, breaking the silence.

“How did you get into tattooing?” Johnny asked, his voice steady despite the needle his skin.

“I kinda just needed a job,” you answered sheepishly. “I always liked art and I wanted to pay off my student loans. It just seemed like a good way to earn money.”

He winced slightly as you moved the needle to a more sensitive area. “That’s cool. Not a lot of people do what they like for a living.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m lucky…” you admitted. “What about you? What do you do?”

Johnny hesitated for a moment before shrugging, “I’m in the entertainment industry. It can get pretty hectic sometimes.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Entertainment industry? Like music or acting..?”

“Music,” he replied, keeping his tone modest.

“WOAH- that’s actually so cool,” you remarked, being genuinely impressed. “It must be really stressful though..”

“It is,” Johnny agreed. “But it’s worth it.”

As you continued working on his tattoo, the conversation flowed naturally as he asked more about your work. You heard his phone ringing just as you were about to start colouring the tattoo. Johnny muttered a ‘FaceTime…?’ before answering.

“Dude- where are you?” You heard Mark’s voice coming from the speaker.

“Didn’t I tell you guys I was gonna get a tattoo?” Johnny replied, confused. “I’m at that girl’s studio, the one you guys talked about..?”

There was a brief pause before he responded, “Wait, wha-“

“No way! Hyung, you’re with her right now?,” Haechan interjected, his face appearing on the screen beside Mark’s. “Can I say hi?”

“I mean you’re on speaker so..” Johnny mentioned as Haechan stole Mark’s phone.

“Hey ‘____’!” Haechan said excitedly while running. “Sorry I haven’t reached out in a while, I’ve been pretty busy.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been busy too,” you smiled at the screen, looking at the chaos unfolding in front of you. “How have you guys been?”

The call lagged slightly, before the sight of Haechan and Mark fighting for the phone appeared. “Dude- back off,” Mark said as he pushed Haechan aside. “We’ve been good, how about you?”

“I’m alright, just working you know?” you replied. “Actually, my school break starts soon..”

“Really?” Mark’s face lit up. “How long is your break?”

“About 3 months,” you replied while shrugging.

Haechan snatched the phone from Mark’s hands before adding on, “We should definitely hang out, it’s been too long.”

Mark nodded in agreement, “Yeah.. do you have any plans yet..?”

“Not really,” you chuckled. “It’d be cool to meet up again.”

“Why wouldn’t it be,” Haechan grinned playfully as Mark nudged him. “I’m pretty awesome.”

Mark rolled his eyes but smiled, “Shut up dude.”

“Guys, my battery is low,” Johnny interrupted as he checked his phone. “I need to end the call soon.”

Haechan’s face fell slightly, “Come on Johnny, charge your phone..”

Mark laughed, “It’s okay, we can plan something later.”

You nodded, feeling excited at the idea of seeing them again. “I’ll text you guys once I have my work schedule sorted out.”

“Sounds good,” Mark said, his voice warm. “I hope we can hangout soon.”

You felt a flutter in your chest. “Of course! See you guys soon..”

The call ended and the screen went dark. Johnny looked at you and gave a sly grin, “You must have made quite an impression.”

A blush crept up your neck, spreading to your face. “I guess so,” you replied. “They’re really nice..”

“Nice?” Johnny leaned back slightly. “They literally just fought.”

You laughed, “Yeah, it was kind of funny though.”

“Sure..” Johnny trailed off. “It’s good to see them excited though, they need more actual friends.”

Actual friends? You didn’t know what he meant by that but you brushed off the odd comment. You passed him a charger that you found in one of the drawers and continued to work on the tattoo - the conversation flowing with the initial awkwardness dissipating.

“All done,” you announced, bringing a mirror closer to Johnny.

Johnny looked at the reflection with amazement. “They were right, you are really good at this.”

“Thanks..” you said, appreciating his words. “Do you mind leaving a review? It would help us a lot.”

“Of course, don’t worry,” he replied as he started to take photos of the tattoo.

After settling the payment and exchanging a few words, he headed towards the door. He gave you a small wave before stepping out into the evening.

The studio’s bell chimed softly as the door closed behind him. With a sigh, you began cleaning and tidying up the studio. Once everything was in order, you turned off the lights and flipped the sign on the door to ‘CLOSED’.

You felt the bitter coffee go down your throat as you sat in the lecture hall. The white fluorescent lights acting as a harsh reminder of your mundane routine. It’s finally the last day of class and you felt your stomach bubbling with excitement just thinking about your break.

You didn’t want to get your hopes up - again the three of you are usually busy, but you couldn’t help yourself. The possibility of seeing Haechan and Mark again made it hard to focus on your lecture.

As the clocked ticked closer to the end of the class, you went over your plans for the break. Maybe you could go to new places or pick up a hobby..

When the lecture ended, you gathered your things with a burst of energy. You decided to send a text to Haechan:

@‘____’ hey! my class just ended.. school break is finally here !!

You slid your phone into your pocket before heading out the door.

As you sat on the familiar train, you sketched various figures and shapes into your notebook. The clatter of the tracks added to the noise of people chatting. Suddenly, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket.

You paused your drawing and reached for your phone, glancing at the screen.

@dong-hyukkkk OMG That’s really good timing cuz We wanted to go to our fave bar later.. Wanna join?

A smile spread across your face as you quickly typed back,

@‘____’ of course! i’m not a drinker :/ but i would love to hangout!

@dong-hyuckkkk Dont worry about it Plus they have some cool games so let’s do that :p

@‘____’ text me the address can’t wait to see you guys!

@dong-hyukkkk See you later :)

A wave of excitement washed over you as you returned back to your sketchbook. Maybe your break would actually be fun after all.

You’ve never been more stressed about what to wear in your life. It’s not that you wanted to ‘impress’ them (though that would be nice), you just didn’t want to come across as sloppy.

You’ve never been to a bar before. You have no idea what to expect or wear. Why did you even agree to this? The anxiety gnawed at you as you rummaged through your closet. Should you go casual? Comfortable? Formal?

You settled on cropped baggy shirt with jeans and a chunky belt. While it was comfortable, you hoped that it struck a balance between comfort and casual.

You started to apply your makeup, drawing a baby winged liner. You even applied your boldest lipstick shade - a muted red.

Taking a deep breath, you gave yourself one last look in the mirror. A knot of uneasiness twisted in your stomach. You shook off the nerves before grabbing your purse and headed out the door, into the fun night ahead.

Is this right? You looked at the address that Haechan sent you a while ago. It led you quaint bar, one that was not bustling with people. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but a bar with a quiet, almost cozy atmosphere wasn’t it.

The murmurs of conversation and the low hum of music that greeted you felt strangely intimate, contrasting the loud and rowdy image you had of a bar. You scanned the room as you tried to look for familiar faces in the dim lighting.

“Over here!” You saw Haechan wave at you vigorously as he stood up. You weaved through the scattered tables and settled into the booth where Haechan and Mark were sitting in.

“You made it!” Heachan said, pulling you into a quick hug. “We were wondering if you got lost.”

“Almost did,” you laughed, trying to shake off your anxiety. “I’ve never been to a bar before.. so this is all new to me.”

“Really?” Mark exclaimed, sounding genuinely surprised. “I don’t know why- but I always thought uni students went to bars.”

“Maybe they do,” you replied while shrugging. “I don’t really have the time though.”

Mark said reassuringly, “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you have fun.”

You nodded, feeling a bit more at ease as you glanced around the bar. “What are you guys going to get?”

They looked at each other briefly before Mark answered, “He’s getting Soju.. but I’ll probably take Sprite since I’m driving.”

“Oh yeah, you don’t drink right?” Haechan asked as he turned to you.

“Yeah.. I’m not a fan of the taste,” you replied, smiling nervously. “I think I’ll just get water or somethi-“

“Wait- this place has the best milkshakes, you should get those,” Haechan intercepted.

“Milkshakes..?” you echoed.

“Yeah, it’s one of their specialties,” Mark added on. Haechan stood up, starting to lead you over to the bar, “Come on, let’s pick one.”

As the both of you approached the bar, you looked at the menu overhead. A variety of drink types and milkshake flavours displayed proudly on it.

“What’s your favourite flavour?” Haechan asked, his voice filled with curiosity.

“Um.. chocolate is nice..?” you admitted, feeling slightly embarrassed at your ‘basic’ choice.

“Ooo.. they do have that,” he said as he pointed to the menu. “I recommend trying the chocolate peanut butter shake though, it’s like dessert in a glass.”

“That does sound really good,” you said, feeling excited about the drink.

Haechan grinned, signalling the bartender. “One chocolate peanut butter milkshake, one Sprite and one bottle of Soju please.” The bartender nodded and began preparing the drinks.

“You’re going to love this,” Haechan stated confidently. “Our friends found this place a few years back and it’s been our go-to.”

“I see why..” you said as you looked around.

There was a small pause before Haechan commented, “I know I keep saying this, but I can’t get over your tattoos.. they look really cool on you.”

Your cheeks flushed suddenly as you heard his words. Your tried to find a way to respond without sounding too eager.

“You think so?” A nervous laugh escaped you, betraying your flustered state.

“Yeah I’m not blind,” he smirked with a playful glint.

“Thanks..” you looked away and fiddled with the edge of your sleeve.

When the drinks were done, you pulled out the cash you had in your purse and tried to give it to the bartender.

“Woah- what’s this for?” he asked, confused.

“I wanted to pay for the drinks..?” you explained, being as confused as him.

Haechan gently pushed your hand back, “Nonono, it’s my treat.”

“But-“

“I invited you out remember? Let me pay for it,” he said firmly, pulling out his wallet and handed his card over.

“Oh, thank you so much..” you stammered, your voice tinged with nervousness. You collected the drinks and started to walk towards the booth, trying to avoid Haechan’s eyes.

The night was filled with laughter and chatter, something you haven’t had in a while.

“I can’t get over how good this tastes,” you said before taking another sip of the milkshake.

“Told you,” Haechan said with a smug grin.

Mark took a sip of his drink, then asked, “How have you been so far?”

You sighed as the weight of the past few weeks dawned on you. “Stressed… finals just ended a while back and I’m getting my results soon.”

Haechan leaned back, looking sympathetic. “Yikes.. that’s rough. At least you have a break now..?”

“True..” you said. “What have you guys been up to?”

There was a slight hesitation as Mark answered, “Well, we’ve been pretty busy with work stuff.. our schedule is kind of a mess.”

Haechan made a sound of agreement, “Yeah it’s been really hectic.”

“Wait, you guys work together?” you asked, your interest piquing. “What do you guys do?”

As they were about to answer, a worker approached the three of you, “Hey guys, the kitchen is about to close soon. Do you have any final orders?”

You looked over at the two guys, “Do you guys want food..?”

Their eyes lit up with excitement at the mention of food. “Uhuh.. the wings here are genuinely so good,” Haechan exclaimed, almost jumping out of his seat.

Mark nodded enthusiastically, “Dude- and the cheese fries?”

You chuckled, their excitement was infectious, “Alright, let’s order those.”

The soft music played in the background and the quiet conversations filled the air. As you finished your food, Haechan glanced around and then nudged Mark.

“Should we play some darts or pool?” Haechan suggested as his eyes lit up with excitement.

Mark grinned. “Yeah, both sounds fun. What do you think?” he asked, turning towards you.

You looked over to the corner of the bar where the pool table and dartboard had been set up. “I’ve never played either before..” you admitted.

“Perfect! We’ll teach you,” Mark said as he stood up and motioned you to follow him.

You grabbed your things and followed the guys to the corner of the bar. Haechan grabbed some darts and carefully handed them over to you and Mark. Haechan explained, “It’s pretty simple, just aim for the bullseye and throw.”

You stood infront of the dartboard with the dart feeling unfamiliar in your hand. Mark noticed your hesitation and stepped closer to you.

“Here- let me help you,” Mark said, moving behind you. “First you need to hold it like this,” he placed his hand over yours, guiding your fingers to the right position. Your heart skipped a beat when you felt the warmth of his touch.

“Focus on the bullseye,” Mark continued with his smooth voice close to your ear. “Then take a deep breath and throw.”

You drew your arm back and released the dart. It flew through the air and landed on the outermost ring of the dartboard.

“Woah.. you really suck,” Haechan remarked with a teasing grin.

Mark laughed, “You can’t aim either dude.”

“At least I’m better than you in pool,” Haechan replied, rolling his eyes playfully.

The three of you continued to play and you slowly began to improve with each throw.

“See? You’re getting the hang of it,” Mark said while smiling.

You moved a some hair in front of your face, hoping to hide your blush. “I guess.. should we do pool next?”

The both of them played a demo game of pool to show you how it’s played. Haechan wasn’t lying when he said that he was good. Once their ‘match’ ended, Mark handed the cue stick to you. “Wanna try?”

You nodded and tried to mimic the way the guys held the cue stick, but it felt awkward in your hands.

Mark chuckled, “Want me to help again?” He adjusted your grip on the cue stick and his hand rested on top of yours. “Aim for that ball,” he directed. “Make sure to hit in the middle.”

You leaned over the table, trying to focus but your mind kept drifting to how close Mark was. His breath brushed against your ear as he explained, which left you feeling flustered and self-conscious the entire time.

With his hand guiding yours, you took the shot. The cue ball rolled forward and tapped the target ball, sending it into the pocket.

“Nice!” Mark exclaimed as he gave you a high-five.

Haechan clapped from the other side of the table, “Okay okay you’re alright.. are you ready to lose?”

You smirked, still not over the contact you had with Mark. “You wish. Watch me actually obliterate you.”

You probably shouldn’t have trashed-talked Haechan, his skills were unmatched. You (naturally) lost the game, but you still had fun despite it.

The night grew and the bar started to empty. Haechan excused himself briefly and Mark took the opportunity to reposition himself in front of you.

“Did you have fun?” he asked softly.

You nodded, “You guys are really fun to be around..”

“Good,” Mark chuckled. “It’s been a while since Haechan and I properly went out.. I’m glad you’re here.”

His words caught you off guard and you felt a blush creep up your cheeks. “Yeah- I’m glad I’m here too.”

Mark’s eyes softened and leaned back into the chair. “Do you like the place?” he asked as he gestured around the now quieter bar.

“Mhm, I see why this is your favourite bar,” you replied. “It’s so cozy that I might start coming here.”

He smiled warmly at your response, “Yeah it has a charm to it.”

As the both of you continued talking, Haechan returned with a bowl of dessert.

“Chocolate ice cream,” Haechan said with a playful grin, placing the bowl in front of you.

You laughed, feeling genuinely touched by the gesture. “You didn’t have to.. but thank you.”

Haechan shrugged nonchalantly, “It’s the least I could do after defeating you at pool.”

You rolled your eyes but your heart fluttered at his thoughtfulness. You took a bite of the ice cream and it tasted heavenly.

“Hey- I lost too so where’s my ice cream?” Mark asked teasingly.

Haechan laughed as be nudged Mark with his elbow, “It’s only for pretty people.”

Haechan's playful remark brought a smile to your lips. Mark feigned offence but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Dude- are you calling me ugly?" he asked before turning back to you with a smile.

As you stepped out of the bar, the chilly air hit you, making you shiver slightly. The both of them exchanged a glance before Mark spoke up, “Do you need a ride home again?”

You sighed, “I promise you guys that I can take the train home and be safe.”

Haechan grinned cheekily, “You said that last time too and we ended up sending you back.”

You paused for a moment, “Yeah.. are you sure? Are you guys not tired of sending me home?”

Mark shook his head. “Nah, it’s honestly no trouble. Plus we feel better knowing that you made it back safely with us.”

You nodded reluctantly and accepted their offer. As you settled into the car, you couldn’t help but have a butterfly feeling in your chest at their kindness.

As they pulled up to the train station, the all-familiar feeling of disappointment sets in. You turned to thank them, your heart feeling strangely full. “Thanks again for the ride guys.. I had a really great time.”

Mark flashed you a smile, “Anytime.”

Haechan nodded enthusiastically before adding on, “Yeah seriously. Text me when you want to hangout again.”

You stepped out of the car and watched them drive away. Despite the slight sadness of your parting, you knew that this wouldn’t be the last time you saw them.

author's note: sorry for the late updates! i had an exam recently and rn im studying for another one.. hopefully i will be more consistent in the future! make sure to like and repost.. all and any feedback is appreciated <3

[hyugaruma]

H&L: Drunk Texting HCs

☆

re: in which they’re drunk texting you…

“woman” used

☆

Masaki

• Alright, so he’s about what you’d expect him to be… If you’re thinking cheery and flirtatious, you’re right. Almost obnoxiously so. If you don’t respond quick enough, he’ll be blowing your phone up with every little thought that he has. “Do yuo remmember when we first met? Did yup think I was cool?” “Doyou think birds get sad?” “Wish food was opne…hungry.”

• His texting isn’t atrocious, but there’s definitely some word-deciphering to be done here and there. Seems to consistently type “you” wrong.

• Sends a blurry selfie or two. You save them, obviously, because his adorable smile is to die for. Yeah, go ahead and make that his contact picture too. Oh, but he expects a selfie in return, obviously. “Let me see yup beaotiful, send yuor beautful face.”

Hyuga

• This guy doesn’t text. He just doesn’t. What’s an emoji? He has no idea. However, on the occasion when drinking, if you aren’t around, he may whip his phone out and start texting you. Though, it’s mostly just him telling you to come to wherever he is. “Come over” “It’s 1 in the morning…” “Fine I’m coming to you” And don’t doubt him, because he will. Because he’d much rather actually be with you than just texting you.

• If he can’t see you, he’ll probably opt to calling you at some point as his vision grows blurry and texting becomes increasingly more difficult. Will accidentally call someone else though, because he can’t figure that damn phone out. Old man Hyuga. “Hah? Who’s this? Why’re you with my woman? …Ah, sorry Ukyo, wrong number.”

• Will most definitely pass out at some point, but not without saying goodnight first. He’s a gentleman, after all. Rolls eyes. “Night see you tomorrow” “Wait, Nori, did we have plans tomorrow? Nori?” Aaaand he’s out.

Hirai

• One word: needy. Something akin to a puppy, but maybe even worse than that. At least puppies eventually wear themselves out, but Hirai seems to be on an endless timer when drunk. Remind him that you love him, he’s begging you. Call him cute, that’d make him really happy. “You still love me, right? You seemed like you were mad at me the other day and I just wanted to say that—“ cue very long paragraph with a bunch of nonsense. Sigh.

• Lots of heart emojis. Like, almost at the end of every text. Always pink hearts too, like the one he has next to your contact name. “Just watching some show, what’re you up to ♡”

• Really just wants to remind you how much you mean to him, how cute you are, how much he needs you… Please don’t leave him on read, even if he gets a tad annoying. He gets his feelings hurt really easily when drunk, especially if it’s by his beloved. Also, he’s a bit embarrassed by it all the next day… Don’t use it against him, he really can’t bare it.

Dan

• Incoherent. That’s it. Like, you have to wonder if he’s typing with his eyes closed. “Covet said smthhg I can remembrance” “Covet” “COBRA DAMSIT” “Want smoe chzzy Roman” …Yeah, good luck figuring that all out.

• At some point he’s practically typing while asleep, but is still so adamant about texting you that his fingers seem to have a mind of their own. You can ignore his illegible texts, he really won’t blame you. In fact, it’s probably for the better. That way he can eventually forget about his phone and actually go to sleep.

• If out in public, will probably end up losing his phone somewhere throughout the night. It wouldn’t be the first time. He also dropped it in a toilet once. Yeah, maybe he needs to stop drunk texting you…

Brown

• If one thing is consistent about his phone drunk self and his real life drunk self, it’s how flirty is. Like, borderline inappropriate. If the two of you weren’t already dating, you definitely would have blocked him. He really can’t help himself though, he just thinks you’re so sexy. What’s a man to do? “Send some pics, doll” “Pics of what?” “Everything” Unfortunately, (or maybe fortunately?) you can probably expect him to send a few pictures himself… I’ll leave that up to your imagination.

• Pretty sporadic and inconsistent texts, especially if he’s out drinking instead of at home. Sometimes it’ll be seconds between replies, and sometimes hours. There’s really no telling, so don’t bother trying to have some sort of consistent conversation with him. “Miss you, doll” “I just saw you earlier this afternoon” [2 hours later] “Sorry, was trying to find your point” “-_-“

• This man has no shame. He will not feel any regrets for anything he says or does the following sober morning. In fact, expect this sort of drunk behavior pretty often. No matter what choice of scenery he’s chosen to drink in, he’ll always end up texting you. Well, at least you know his focus is always on you.

[the-owl-tree]

this might be the aromantic love anarchist "i don't care as long as both me and my partner is happy" non-monogamist side of me but i still don't get why people get so mad abt cheating when it comes to appledusk because like

A. Mapleshade is an evil freak (affectionate on my part cause i like her that way) who is characterized as being an abrasive person who's not fun to be around and also very dangerous and scary, i would not feel safe to break up with her if i was no longer ionterested

B. He had no reason to put his own life in danger for Maple (considering maple got exiled herself for her half clan relationship in the same book, he wouldve been in danger)

C. He still cared about his kids and was still concerned for their safety, even more so than Mapleshade was

D. Murder and all sorts of debauchery are happpneing from literally everyone else in this story and ur hung up on a two-timer?

I mean cheating is bad, it's a big breach of consent between two individuals and it hurts a lot! Obviously, no, cheating is not worthy of the death penalty before the bad faith readers out there get me lol but cheating is still a very painful thing to do to someone else, it can shake your faith in others, hurt your self-worth, and so on and so on. Shitty thing to do! Don't do it! (Not directed at you but-) cheating gets thrown around as this nonplussed thing that isn't that bad but no!!! it hurts people!!

As for your other points:

A) I don't think there's enough points in the book that Appledusk felt uncomfortable voicing his opinions around Maple. You could make the interpretation, sure, but he seems pretty comfortable telling her what and what not to do as well as challenging her when she speaks. I personally don't read his interactions with her as who's scared to speak up. I could even argue the way he expresses joy for having children is leading her on that they are a serious relationship.

B) I mean yeah sure, no one has the obligation to help anyone lol but it's still a generally good thing to do. You can argue what he's saying is reasonable, that it's understandable that he's looking out for himself....but that still doesn't erase the hurt he's causing. Like, she just lost three children then got hit with the fact the father of said children has been cheating on her, gets called a mistake, and then has said mate tell her to "be grateful she was shown mercy".

It's an awful way to treat someone and even when he has the chance to show her kindness, he chooses to berate and growl at her! Yeah, once again, you can argue it's understandable but logical actions do not negate the harm done to others.

C. Too low of a bar, I'm sorry lol not hating your kids and being concerned about them is like. the bar is on the ground sort of things for me

D. Murder is fine because it's fun to read but characters that annoy me should die. I've just got a general disdain for him after the Frecklewish Debacle.

[chaoticstrata]

I need to rant...

...about group content in MMOs. This pretty much is the same for any MMO nowadays.

I HATE how the mindset for dungeons (or whatever the name of the small party content is for a particular game) is 'GO GO GO PULL FASTER! MUST GET DONE FAST!' Who cares if there's someone new struggling to keep up. Or there's a new tank that leveled up in non-group content. Or someone trying to just appreciate the dungeon layout. "You need to go FAST! You didn't pay my sub, so you can't waste my time! (proceeds to kick whoever doesn't conform)." I seriously hate it, and it makes me want to avoid group stuff for the most part. I've seen it in so many games now.

Thankfully, in games like FF14 with Trusts and now WoW with Follower Dungeons, people can experience the content without feeling like they're struggling or getting left behind. But that kind of sucks that they have to put those in because this is a problem.

I've been kicked out of an FF14 dungeon (yeah, you read that right—the game known for its friendly community) as a tank because I didn't wall-to-wall pull. Tell me where in the TOS it says I have to wall-to-wall pull. Sorry that I'm not used to tanking and get super nervous when queueing for a role like that. I now refuse to play tank, especially when I was kicked for doing my job--keeping aggro and using my CDs when needed.

Today in WoW, I saw a Demon Hunter DPS pulling everything while the poor Death Knight tank tried to keep up. It didn't help that DKs are one of the slowest classes, and DHs are the most mobile. I really wanted to kick that DH, not going to lie. Hell, he was doing less damage than the tank, most of the time.... >.>

Don't get me started on SWTOR's veteran flashpoints...

I don't know when this became the new norm...but I it really annoys the shit out of me. And I sometimes feel like I'm the only one.

ARRRGH!

Sorry. Rants over. Just needed to get that off my chest.

Side Note: Mythic+ in WoW is the exception, but those were designed to be done fast... especially with the timer.