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sillymercury · 6 months

Text

“What Are You Doing?”

“I… Was Told There Was an Emergency...”

AzrielxReader

Warnings: none other than the lack of proof reading :p

Word count: 5.5k

(meant to be a blurb lol ig idk how to do that)

Summary: Azriel’s shadows have decided that they found someone far more interesting to listen to.

Thank you @kayjayjwrites for this ask, I’ve had a lot of fun writing it. Sorry it came a little later than I said it would but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

A yawn escaped Azriel as he stared down the papers on his desk. He was behind, three missions he put off documenting. He honestly wouldn’t have done it if Rhys wasn’t hounding him saying he wasn’t getting another job until he was caught up.

He didn’t hate his job, he didn’t particularly love it but he took pride in what he did for his court. What he did hate was the bureaucratic end of things, logging his missions in excruciating detail so they can be stored away on the off chance it might need revisited.

He had caught himself nodding off multiple times. The words would blur and his blinks would get slower and slower until his head hit the desk. His shadows, the pestering presence they were, were quick to wake him up.

Finish, finish this,

Keep working,

Sleep after.

At this point it was sheer frustration keeping him awake, weren’t his shadows meant to bend towards his will? The thought of snuffing out the fae light and climbing into bed with his hands over his ears was becoming more and more enticing as the night droned on. Azriels eyes began to close for the umpteenth time and just when he thought his shadows would give up they began swirling around him frantically. He almost groaned at their dramatics until their whispering bordered screaming.

Get up,

Quickly,

Y/n needs you,

Hurry, hurry.

The shadows all spoke over each other and their urgency had Azriel standing up so quick his chair hit the floor. His heart moved as frantically as his shadows at the thought of you. The thought of you hurt, the thought of you in danger, the thought of you scared and alone and needing him.

His feet matched the frenzy as they carried him to the shelf that held the truth teller, his shaking hands sheathed it. Azriel was a composed man, only cracking under severity; and you… you were severe. You had a way of moving him out of his dark safe corner and into the blinding light of day.

Your eyes could move him to tears, your body would make his hands shake, your laugh kicked open every door he used to keep others out. You were a parasite; infecting every part of him and making it your own.

Azriel was ready to punch a hole through his wall and fly around Prythian raining hellfire until he found you and made you safe again. Where? He thought, where is she?

Her house, his shadows answered dutifully before enveloping him and carrying him there. He was ready, ready to fight off whoever-whatever- was hurting you. Whether the demons were mental or corporeal, he would fight to his last breath. You were everything, everything he wanted, needed, everything he prayed for. You just didn’t know it yet, it hadn’t snapped for you. He didn’t care though, he would spend the next 500 years proving his devotion even if you never felt it.

Within seconds his shadows had carried him through space, into your living room. The scent of you was everywhere, gentle overtaking his olfactory sense and filling him with fierce determination.

“Y/n!” The called out as he surveyed the room, everything looked normal, well, for you. Granted things were strewn about, out of order, and placed haphazardly; but not in a way that was alarming.

“Y/n,” he called again and was met with silence, he moved through your house swiftly and silently. He kept his eyes peeled for any sign of you.

Bedroom, his shadows told him. At the end of the hall he pushed open the lightly cracked door and slipped into your room. The room held no sight of you, just thick with your scent. The only noise was light shuffling from your adjourned bathroom. He took a silent step towards the door and in that moment you came out. He froze.

You were fine, you were more than fine. His wide eyes met yours and he tried his best to keep them there but they seemed to have a mind of their own. They trailed to your wet hair that was dripping onto your shoulders. His pesky eyes followed the water from your bare shoulder, to the contour of your breast, to your exposed tummy, around its pretty jewelry, down your hips, before disappearing behind your thighs. Your shocked expression matched his as you stood in only a bra and underwear, clearly fresh out of the shower. He felt the heat climb his face, he wanted to run, hide, avoid any implications. But for some unholy reason he stood, petrified, staring at you half naked-absolutely divine- body.

“What are you doing?” You asked once you finally got over the initial shock of seeing him in your room. Anyone else would’ve gotten a more visceral reaction but this was Az, the only one you wanted to see you like this. You also didn’t mind the way his eyes tracked every curve and dip of your body. You bit your lip to hide your smirk and that snapped his eyes back to your face.

“I… was told there was an emergency…” he shifted on his feet as his eyes darted back and forth from your body to your face.

You bit back your laugh, the feared shadowsinger, spymaster of the night was red faced and nervous. Definitely a sight to behold. “Who told you that?” You crossed your arms under your chest, lightly pushing up the twins. Something he didn’t miss, and you didn’t miss the deeper red his face took. His mouth opened and closed like a fish and he seemed to have lost whatever small grip was keeping his shadows in place. They slithered across the floor before circling up your legs, over your bum, around your hips and waist. You giggled at the sensation, seemingly exciting by the shadows as they made their way up, examining the lace that covered your breast. Their boldness elicited a gasp, one that snapped Azriel out of his trance.

“I am so sorry- I don’t- I should go,” his words were quick as he fumbled over himself. He dragged the shadows away and before you could speak, tell him to stay, he was gone and so were his shadows.

You couldn’t help but laugh, a full belly laugh as you walked towards your bed with a little extra pep. The only proof of the encounter being the goosebumps on your skin and the light smell of his arousal in your room.

Azriel materialized in his room and stood there for- he doesn’t know how long he stood there. Trying to come to terms with what he saw, what you saw he saw, and how horrible his shadows had behaved. “What… was that?” He whispered into the darkness of his room, still frozen in place. He was horrified, completely embarrassed, and confused. His shadows said you needed him, led him there for seemingly no reason. His shadows hadn’t defied him since he was a child, scared of his own power.

The shadows didn’t answer him, just danced around seemingly pleased with themselves. He wanted to go back and apologize but he was too mortified, convinced he wouldn’t be able to face you for a hundred years. He crawled under his covers and cursed his shadows, not even brave enough to deal with the tightness that grew in his pants.

It was hot, Velaris was seemingly boiling. That didn’t slow down the Illyrians, rain or shine they would train. Azriel had taken off his shirt and the sweat flowed through the contours of his muscles, covering his body in a sticky dew. He had just finished sparring with Cass and was wiping the sweat from his brow when his shadows spoke.

Emergency,

Something’s wrong at the south pond,

Get there quickly,

“Cass!” He hollered to his brother, as he grabbed a two swords. He threw one to Cass who caught it coolly. “We’re needed,”. Was all he offered before taking to the skies. Cass followed closely behind as they swooped from the house of wind towards the small forest that was on the south side of Velaris. The boys were already warmed up, ready to face whatever emergency faced them. They circled the sky around the pond and didn’t see any immediate threat, it just looked like some fae had met up for a swim.

Cass landed first and Azriel was right behind him. They surveyed the scene and just as they saw in the sky; nothing was wrong. The only thing they saw were females, everywhere.

“Alright brother,” Cass clapped Azriel on the back with a shit-eating grin. “Not what I expected but you’re right, they do need us.” He tossed his sword on the ground and started making his way to the bank, at least three females came to greet him; he engaged happily.

Azriel wasn’t yet convinced. Still dragging his eyes all across the domain, trying to spot what called his shadows here. His keen eyes took in everything, every person, until they landed on you.

Walking out of the water you looked like a fae from those raunchy magazines Cass used to steal as a boy. An all too small bikini clung to your wet body as you made your way out of the water, toward him. Three tiny pink triangles covered the important parts but the rest was just string, leaving nearly your whole body one display. He watched your hips sway, your wet hair clinging to your face and shoulders, the glittering belly ring, and the small smirk on your face as you too looked him up and down.

“You’re not going to use that are you?” You stopped in front of him, referencing to the sword he gripped with all his strength. He watched as you flipped your hair to one side and began ringing it out. The urge to kiss the sensitive spot between your neck was so intense his lips were quivering.

“No I…” he once again was at a loss for words, “I just brought it.” Lame. He was so lame he wanted to die.

You just giggled, the sound like a cool wave over his hot body. You reached over and gently wrapped your hands around his, pulling it from his hands and discarding it with Cassian’s. His eyes were trained on your face the entire time, you weren’t put off by his scars. Your face wasn’t marred with disgust or pity, just blissful normalcy.

You smiled up at him, “Are you going to join us?” He just nodded, not even considering no as an option. Cass already discarded his pants and boots and was loudly entertaining most of the ladies. But Azriels eyes were trained on your back… side, as he followed you to the water like a puppy. It wasn’t until his shoes were sopping wet at the bank that he realized he should probably strip as well.

When he was down to only his boxers and he tossed his pants and boots back to safety. The way you shamelessly admired him gave him his confidence back.

The two of you spent hours, swimming circles around each other, splashing, pushing the other under. He would lift you high out of the water so you could do flips back in. He would put you on his shoulders so you could take turns playing chicken with whatever female climbed onto his brother; he was proud to say you won every time. He followed you all the way to the deep end and despite his distaste for swimming he didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world as you clung to him, telling stories of your childhood in this exact watering hole. He could’ve stayed in the water forever, content to grow wrinkles all over if it meant you would stay close to him.

When the sun had threatened to leave the sky was when you had decided to get out. Your friends were going to a diner to finish of the night with milkshakes and gossip, you offered and invitation and despite being willing to follow you wherever you asked he had to decline. Rhys had tried to contact him multiple times, all of which he ignored. Based on the aggravated tone, Cass was doing the same. He knew staying away any longer would only cause an angry high lord scaling the streets in search of them.

Cass begrudgingly followed his lead, after kissing more than an appropriate amount of females on the cheek, bidding them all goodnight with the promise of seeing them again.

The boys flew home, landing in front of the town house. Before facing the wrath of their in the dark brother Cassian stopped in front of Azriel and grabbed both of his shoulders. With a wide smile he leaned in and placed a sloppy kiss on his cheek, before he could react Cass had kissed the other one.

“I love you brother,” he said with so much sincerity Az rolled his eyes. “I’ll handle business with you any day,” Cass pulled him into a bone crushing hug that Azriel had to use all of his force to get out of. He wiped the wet spots on his cheeks before shaking his head. He pushed past his babbling brother and made his way to the front door. Cass walked in with an arrogant swagger, one that stayed with him for the next week and a half.

The frustration didn’t show on Azriels face, nothing showed on Azriels face, as he trailed diligently behind Mor. Yet another shopping spree he was dragged into with the role of being ‘designated bag carrier.’ He never complained even though he’d rather be doing anything else right now, he didn’t show it. Even though he knew Mor knew that, and even though Mor knew that he knew that she knew that.

“Thank you again Azriel, I swear I’m almost done.” He nodded along, knowing that she was almost done 2 hours ago.

It seemed everyone in the city was out shopping, the streets of the retail sector were jam packed. It was likely that most people were, with a new season approaching all of the soon to be out-of-season styles were on sale. Something that motivated Mor, giving her a much needed excuse for retail therapy.

Azriel kept his wings tucked in tight as he shimmied through bodies crowding the cobble stone. “Okay so we’ll stop at Loraine’s, she has the best Jewelry. Then we’ll have to hit up that new little boutique, hopefully all of the good shoes aren’t gone already. Oh! And we absolutely have to visit Anderson on the end of the block, he’ll kill me if I don’t come check out his sun dresses. He always holds the red ones back for me. Honestly my closet…” Mor continued to ramble on about each and every store that demanded she visit but Azriel tuned it out. Leaving behind the notion of soon as the math of how long he would be out continued to produce a higher and higher number.

Without trying to think about it, he followed Mor into the little jewelry shop that she just spoke about. The shelves were covered in glittering jewels that sat on display behind glass. Nothing caught his interest, he didn’t care for flashy add ons, so he just made his way to one of the plush chairs in the corner. He set the plethora of bags down as he slunk back, enjoying a moment of rest as he knew Mor would be taking her time. His eyes closed but his reaction was short lived when his shadows began of informing him of a situation.

Across the street,

Someone’s not supposed to be here,

Go quickly.

He cracked an eye open and glanced out the window. The streets looked normal enough and he couldn’t hear any commotion over the bustling. Someone’s not supposed to be here? He would have been notified earlier if anyone got through the Velarian wards. He should’ve been notified earlier. He stood up slowly, assessing the street. Just because everything looked normal doesn’t mean it was.

He abandoned Mor’s bags and moved towards the door, when he pushed it open he never stepped out. Instead a shadow slipped across the ground, going unnoticed on the busy street.

He slid under the crack of the door and after clocking his surroundings he determined he was in a woman’s nightwear store. There were night gowns and matching pj’s covering mannequins and racks in the front.

Back,

Behind the curtain.

His shadows informed him of the intruders location and he slid in the corner where the wall met the floor, making his way to the back. The store was relatively empty, only a few patrons; a couple, an older fae, and a young male that looked at the stock like a critic.

Slipping behind the curtain that separated the front from the back he was faced with three small dressing rooms. He materialized and placed his hand on the truth teller that rested on his upper thigh. It was quiet back here, the only shuffling came from one of the dressing rooms. He heard a click and a voice; your voice.

“Mav!” You called out as you stepped out of one of the rooms. He moved, trying to run, trying to get out of there. Realization of the stunt his shadows had once again pulled, dawned on him but it was too late.

“Az?” You questioned. The nickname had him stopping before he could escape sight. His heart beat like a war dum against his chest and he felt his hand dampen on the curtain he was holding. For a moment he contemplated winnowing away, saving the embarrassment for another day.

His turn was slow and painful, when his back was against the curtain he looked down and regretted not running. You were clad in a lace nightgown that barley covered the curve of your bottom. The top was push up, covered in shined lace while the bottom was layers of baby pink sheer material. If he looked closely he could see the diamond jewelry on your belly button and your matching shiney underwear shining through. He attempted to swallow the lump that was sitting in the middle of his throat but it didn’t budge so all he managed was a straggled gasp.

A devilish smirk, the one that tempted his knees, took control of your lips. You leaned against the stall, popping your hip out with a hand resting lazily on top. You tilted your head and looked him up and down, “Don’t tell me there’s another emergency.”

His eyes almost jumped out of his head and pink brushed from his neck, to his ears, and all across his face. You knew, of course you knew, you were the one he was barging in on. He tried to speak but that was impossible, seeing you in something so intimate, something he’d only dreamed of seeing you in, he could only shake his head back and forth.

“Okay so I also found that in this pretty blue-oh!” The young male from earlier had pushed through the curtain and was standing rigid as he looked between you and Az. He was only stuck for a few seconds before a smile that matched yours in mischief graced his face. “What do you think shadowsinger?”

His sultry voice took Azriel back, and the heat in his face doubled, “I- it’s,” he cleared his throat as he looked at the tiny blue dress. Cobalt blue, it was the same hue of his siphons. The thought of seeing you in that…

“It’s beautiful,” you finished for him. You pushed off the stall and moseyed over, closer to Az’s still frozen stature. “I absolutely love this color!” You took the thin fabric in delicate hands, feeling the material. “I’ll put it on,” you took the small thing from your friend before looking Az directly in the eye. You just smiled before walking back into the changing closet.

Azriel let out a low breath before bringing his hands up to drag the course of his face. This had to stop happening.

A snicker came from next to him and he looked over to, Mav, who had his arms crossed over his chest and a knowing glint in his eye. Az briefly wondered if you had told your friend about his little appearing act. The way Mav was looking at him, he’s sure you did. “You gonna stay for the final result?”

Yes, yes, yes! His shadows chanted in his ear and he shook his head roughly to keep them out of his ear.

“No, I gotta- busy!” He practically ripped the curtain with the force he pulled it open. He cleared the store in a few long strides before pushing himself free. In his daze he ended up colliding with a smaller frame.

“Az!” Mor yelled, straightening the dress he rumpled. “What are you-“ he eyes narrowed before glancing behind him, Jaim’s Nightwear was painted in delicate cursive on the windows. “What the hell were you doing?”

Az glanced once back at the shop before at Mor, “Embarrassing myself apparently.”

Mor clocked his flush demeanor before looking back at the window. She squinted her eyes again, tilting her head. She pondered doing some shopping at Jaim’s and Azriel’s speedy ‘no!’ only intrigued her more. She moved to step around him but Azriel’s hands clapped on her shoulder, turning her around and directing her back to the jewelry store across the street.

A low hum left the shadowsinger as he climbed up the ramp of the library. He scanned the isles looking for ‘Fiction- Rac.’

He had attended Nesta’s monthly book club with the priestesses, a guilty pleasure only the attendees knew of. He had offered to carry the books back to their rightful spot, an offer he was now regretting. The isle that held the thick fiction books had evaded him, and he had been walking back and forth for a half an hour now. A few priestesses had offered their help but he insisted they return to their work, that he could do it himself.

He decided to try the ‘Rab’ isle, keeping his wings tucked as his presence filled the narrow space. He almost cursed, debating throwing the books on a rack and letting someone else deal with it. His eye had just caught the beginning of ‘Rac’ when his attention was diverted.

You are needed,

Go now,

He ignored the shadows, pushing on towards his destination. He wasn’t about to fall into their trap again, he didn’t think he could handle another awkward encounter.

She needs help,

She needs you.

They insisted but Az just shook his head, looking for the correct author. “I’m not doing this again,” he whispered back. His luck she’d probably be in that little blue get-up and she’d have to clean up the puddle he’d melt into.

Go now!

Or regret it!

She will get hurt!

He groaned as he leaned his forehead against the cool self. The thought of you being hurt, even though he doubted you were, trumped his need to protect his ego. With his shadows whispering in his ear he had to see you were safe, and when you inevitably were he would come back and finish his job.

“Fine, but if she’s in her underwear again-“ the shadows cut him of chanting go, go, go! “Okay,” he was defeated, a slave to the torture his shadows were hell bent on putting him through. “Where is she?”

Home,

Her house.

“Good gods- I’m winnowing outside and if she’s half naked I swear I’m never listening to-“ he was cut off again by his shadows. This time it wasn’t a whisper, the seemed to bellow, angry at his reluctance.

Now!

With the urgency from his shadows he dropped the books on the floor, leaving them for whichever poor priestess found them first. After moving through space in the blink of an eye he landed on your front porch. He lifted his hand to knock, he wasn’t going to barge in and show up in the middle of your room uninvited- again.

Before his fist could connect with the door the sound of you screaming had him stumbling back. “Get out!” Followed by breaking glass. Your voice was shrill and panicked and it lit a protective fire inside of him.

He blinked again and he was inside your living room. Shadows were let loose across the space, crawling from his body to every corner of the room. You were there and so was a clearly unwanted presence. You were pressed against your mantle, gripping a vase like a weapon while the male staggered a few feet in front of you. He didn’t need his shadows to inform him about the alcohol that reeked from the man. His blood boiled and metaphorical claws were bared, he was going to kill the male that intruded on your space.

“Crazy bitch! Where’d you go?” The man slurred out as he waved his hands wildly in front of him; desperate to clear the opaque mist and find his target.

The name you didn’t deserve to be called had snapped Azriel into action, like a tensed spring he shot in front of the man. “I’m right here,” he whispered, mere inches from the drunk. The man made a shocked sound, startled by the new voice and its proximity. The man threw a pathetic punch, a low chuckle left Az’s lips as he caught the fist.

With a skilled spin he was behind the man, pressing his wrist between his shoulder blades in an uncomfortable contortion.

A straggled scream left his throat and Azriel cleared his shadows, wanting a proper look at who he was dealing with. The male was nothing special, skinny and pale with dull brown hair. His blue eyes looked hollow and glassy and the stench of alcohol absolutely assaulted Azriel’s senses at the proximity.

“You’d be wise not to try that again,” Azriel’s dark voice met the shell of the man’s ear. His eyes flickered up to you, wide eyed watching the scene play out. “What are you doing here?”

“Let me go! I just want to talk to her!” Azriel pressed his wrist higher and the male made a noice between a grunt and a scream. “Please!”

Tightening the grip on his wrist Azriel let out a low growl, this male was already too close, Azriel was never going to give him a chance to get closer. “I don’t think she wants to speak to you,” his low voice was eerily calm, steady as he leaned down to speak in the stranger’s ear. “Do you, Y/n?” His eyes moved back to you and watched as you viciously shook your head back and forth. “Well,” the grin in his voice was audible, “that settles that.”

Azriel gave the man a hard shove to which his shadows caught him, they carried him off to somewhere Azriel could deal him later. His eyes scanned the room once more, checking for any lingering danger, any hint of another threat. His shadows scowered the rest of the house, closing and locking any window that could be used as an entry point.

“Az,” you breathed before dropping the vase. The tough glass didn’t shatter, instead it rolled away while you ran. Within seconds your arms were around his neck with your face buried in his chest. He relished in your closeness, arms circling your waist with his nose finding your shoulder. A greedy breath reminded him you were safe, in his arms where no bastard would touch or even talk to you unwarranted. “I’m so glad that worked, I was worried that it wouldn’t, that I pushed to hard with it when you took awhile to get here but-“

“Wait what? What’re you talking about?” He pulled back to look down at you. Confusion had knitted his brows together and pushed his head onto an axis.

“Oh- I well… nothing,” you pulled back and turned away, red dusting your cheeks as your eyes fought to hide from him. Usually he was the flustered one, looking like boy whose hand had been caught in a cookie jar. But the roles were now reversed, you looked like you were dodging trouble of your own creation.

Azriel grabbed your wrist, delicately, turning you around to face him. He caught your chin in his other hand and angled your head to face him, “What did you want to work?”

You turned your eyes down but he just lifted your chin higher, your pink cheeks turned positively rosey and you shook your head. “Fine,” you breathed before pulling away from him completely. He watched as you moved around the glass you had previously thrown and made your way to the couch. “Well,” you started, drawing lines in your the cushion to keep from looking at him, “remember when we met? At that monster exchange?”

He nodded, “Of course.” He would never forget, catching a dove in an underground tavern full of monsters and the beats they aimed to sell. He had been tracking the traveling convention all across the night court, attempting to find who was running the trade. It was a highly illegal exchange and when he’d found you, you had begged to not be arrested, claiming curiosity brought you there. He let you go, told you to run while he dealt with the others.

“Well when I got home I noticed I had a little friend,” she held her hand out and to Azriel’s surprise, a shadow fell into her hand. It had danced out of its hiding spot in your hair and looped around your fingers, stuck to you like it was your own to wield. He just stared, mouth agape, to caught in his own shock to respond. “I started talking to it, they’re great listeners.” A giggle fell from your lips as you wiggled your fingers and the shadow weaved and bobbed through your digits. “And for some reason whenever I spoke of you, of wanting to see you, you would show up.”

You looked up tentatively, worried to see an angry Azriel. Instead you were faced with pure shock, he looked so lost so you felt the need to go on.

“I didn’t know it would tell you to come, not originally. Then after that first night, your shadows told you it was an emergency and I started taking advantage of that. Telling it to fetch you so I could see you again.” You looked back down, clearly ashamed of your admission. You couldn’t see the smirk that was growing on Azriel’s lips. “I know you’re busy, and-and it’s unfair to pull you away from your work like that. I shouldn’t have used your own shadow against you- gods- I’m so sorry. I’ll never-“

Your words were caught off by a laugh, a loud belly laugh. Azriel was practically doubled over. The realization had his face crinkled and his hands gripping his stomach as he gasped for air. You laughed nervously, adding him, “Your not mad?”

He stood up, still laughing but controlling it. His dimples were on full display and you melted a little, feeling ease wash over you.

“No, no I’m not mad,” he moved for the couch, “I’m glad I finally found out why my shadows are so willing to lie to me. It’s because they’re in kahoots with you.” He sat down and took your hand, your full smile matched his, “Never apologize for wanting to see me, I’ll come whenever you call.”

You blushed and nodded, laughing some more yourself. You stuck out the hand that held his shadow, “Here. You can have this back.”

He just shook his head with a smile, pushing your hand back. “Keep it, you can use it to get ahold of me.”

You looked back to him, the look on his face was one of pure ease, happiness and bliss, you loved to see it. You two sat there smiling at each other like idiots when you felt a tug on your heart. The tug got stronger and stronger until it snapped. With a gasp you threw your hand over your heart, as if the bond was tangible, something you could grab with your hands.

“It’s you,” you whisper leaning in slightly.

“And it’s you,” he whispered back after following you in.

You felt a tug on the bond, like he was pulling you towards him, you tugged back with a smile. You had always wanted to find your mate and you wouldn’t admit it just yet but you had wanted it to be Azriel since you met him underground.

You threw your head back, it was your turn to belly laugh. “Good gods! No wonder you always came running!”

He narrowed his eyes and let out a playful growl before pulling you into his arms. You giggled and wrapped your arms around him, looking at him in his eyes. “I’m glad it’s you,” was all you said before offering him a peck on the lips.

He beamed back, “I’m also glad it’s you.” He pulled you down for another kiss which you returned passionately.

“Soo..” you drawled pulling back, “Would you like to see that little blue number?” He responded with a low growl and nip at your ear. You laughed at his answer before jumping off the couch, you grabbed his hand and he happily let you drag him to your room.

A/N: My first request🥰🥰🥰 this was so fun, literally send more I live live live for them. I rlly hope my requester enjoyed this 🥲

Also I’m still working on ‘I’m Not Crazy, She is!’ Pt. 2 but it’s gonna be a long one so give me some time with that🙏🏽

As always if you made it this far I LOVE YOUUU<3<3 thank you so much for reading yall I love doing these.

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Tag list: @gorlillaglue25

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nereidprinc3ss · 4 months

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andromeda | (dybmn? bonus)

a bonus vignette from spencer's POV. we find out how he really feels about reader. takes place the day before the argument at the bar.

note: this is not part six! takes place between parts four and five.

series masterlist

18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, semi-graphic descriptions of sexual fantasies, some angst, you're not actually present, mention of alcohol, very vague discussions of murdery stuff bc he's supposed to be working, sassy spencer makes an appearance a/n: for all my angels who said they wanted a snippet of spencer's POV! i'm sorry if i'm overdoing it with this story or clogging the spencer tags, i'm just having a lot of fun! i hope you enjoy or that this may be clears some things up for you, pls lmk your thoughts:) ily!!!

Spencer is incessantly drumming the particle board table underneath his fingers.

The polymer veneer is one of his least favorite textures—he hates the grain of it and if he were to accidentally scratch the table with his nails he knows it would make the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

But of all the things he’s worried about, that ranks very low on the list.

He’s got a lot of mental tabs open all the time—and the tabs, he can deal with. It’s when he starts trying to operate with multiple windows that he begins to struggle. His brain, while it is a very fine tuned sort of computer, only has one monitor. Unfortunately, no human (except for the ones who’ve had their brain hemispheres surgically split) is immune to the inevitable pitfalls of multitasking. By dividing his mental energy between you and his job, he’s really fucking up his job. But he also thinks he really fucked up with you on that phone call the other night and for being as logical as he is he can’t seem to make that feel unimportant—even though he’s disgusted with himself for it because there are literally people dying.

Someone knocks on the open conference room door—he looks up, skimming his lips over his fist.

“What’s up?” he says too quickly upon seeing Emily’s mildly concerned face peering in on him.

Her mouth bridges into a sort of nonchalant frown and her brows kick up.

“Just… checking in. Haven’t heard from you all morning.”

“Yeah, the, uh—the geo-profile. I’m still… I’m still working it out.”

It’s not like he’s ever been phenomenal with his syntax in a social sense, but Spencer is certainly aware he’s doing even worse than usual right now.

“Okay. Uh… is there anything in particular stumping you, or…?”

“Nope. Just not enough information. But I’m—I’m going to keep trying.”

“Alright. Got your phone handy?”

It’s an odd question—of course he has his phone handy. He’s been doing this job longer than Emily has. How else would he communicate with the rest of the team? He bristles.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

Emily shakes her head. She’s always been particularly good at reading his moods.

“You’re not under attack, Reid. I was just asking.”

Just as he’s about to say, why would you assume I’m not prepared for my job, he manages to swerve away and stifle the words with his fist. Instead he looks back down at his copy of the map and nods. In reality, he truly isn’t prepared for his job today. The reason he has his phone so close, fully charged and at top volume is because he’s worried he’ll miss a call from you.

Emily says something else, and he hums in response, and then she’s gone.

He shouldn’t be reading into your reticence this much. It’s not like you just sit by the phone all day, eagerly awaiting a call or text from him (like he does you). You have a life. You’re busy. And even if you are intentionally dodging his texts, he can’t entirely fault you for it. Spencer knows he’s clingy. He knows he’s overbearing. It’s part of why he panicked the other night and told you the whole humiliating story about Elle. Because he can’t ever just be cool and he felt the need to explain himself.

But the problem was, and is, that he doesn’t know how much longer he can go without saying those three words that fucked him over all those years ago.

So he’d danced around them. Applied them to someone else to try and avoid outright professing his all-consuming love for you over the phone. However you feel, Spencer has to assume he feels more. Spencer always has to assume he feels more because he usually does and it’s gotten him into trouble before. And now he’s pretty sure he was exactly right, as often is the case, because you didn’t tell him he was mistaken and you’d clammed up and you haven’t talked to him since and he’s not supposed to be reading into it this much.

Three victims killed and dumped within a 6 mile radius of the first victim plus one victim killed and dumped 23.8 miles away. That doesn’t make any fucking sense. Fuck this guy.

Spencer decides the problem is that he needs more caffeine.

Or possibly, if he were a different kind of man—copious amounts of alcohol.

So he stows his phone in a pocket and asks the first person he sees where the coffee machine is.

“Looks like you found it earlier,” the woman says, glancing pointedly down at his mostly empty mug. A playful smirk tugs at pinkish-brownish lips. She’s pretty, he realizes distantly. But he registers it the same way he’d take note of the model of a car, or the species of a bird, or the kind of shoes someone is wearing. It doesn’t actually interest him. It’s just part of processing his environment. “I can show you to it?”

He doesn’t have the heart or energy to explain that someone else brought him his cup earlier and he’s not flirting with her.

“If you could just point me in the right direction…?”

She laughs, short and dry, before she’s pointing down a hall.

“Kitchenette down there and to the left.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, already walking away without sparing her a second glance.

She’s the kind of woman he would have paid a lot more attention to before you came along. Not that he’d ever sleep with someone on the job (not since he was 25, anyway), but if he’d met her under any other circumstances he probably would have cared more about the way her pupils dilated and her eyes had widened slightly and she’d adjusted her posture and all the other small things people do when they’re attracted to someone else. 30 year old Spencer might have slept with her. 27 year old Spencer definitely would have slept with her. Current Spencer obsessively pines for a woman who is already his girlfriend and whom he has yet to sleep with at all far too much to think about other women like that.

But god, does he think about you like that.

His feet carry him down the dim, carpeted hallway but really it took barely a nudge and he’s thinking about you like that. At work. As he’s pouring himself coffee.

Spencer is confident in the fact that if anyone were to look at him right now, they’d never guess he’s running clips of you in his mind like a dirty supercut. Because he’s just pouring coffee. That’s one good thing about having all those tabs open all the time. He can toggle between them quickly. He has enough going on in the background that people look at him and all they can tell is that he’s thinking hard about lots of things. Some of them just happen to be the way you look when you’re naked on his bed, skin shining and glazed eyes sleepy, parted lips higher in color than usual and catching your breath. Some of them happen to be your hair brushing his stomach before he gathers it back for you. Some of them happen to be the way your thighs feel on either side of his face, or how you stretch around his fingers, or how you might feel when you stretch around his—

He hisses as hot coffee overflows from the mug and burns his hand.

Maybe he’s not as calm and collected as he thought.

But on top of all the other things he’s dealing with, having been so close to actually sleeping with you the other night is really fucking with his head. Even if he tells himself he wouldn't have done it, he knows himself better than that. He's too familiar with the effect you have on his judgement.

“Found it okay?”

Spencer looks down, surprised to see the woman from earlier sitting at her desk and watching him as he quickly passes by on his way back to the conference room. Her legs are crossed. She’s wearing a pencil skirt and a flouncy sort of blouse which seems impractical for working in an FBI field office. Maybe she notices his eye catching on her figure and misguidedly swivels her chair to give him a better look. But all he’s noticing is that it doesn’t look like yours. Now he’s picturing the curve of your hip dripping in silk after that first night at Rossi’s. How your waist and your stomach feel when he slides his hands over you. This woman—she might as well not even be here for all he’s actually seeing her.

“Yeah. Thanks again.”

Then he’s gone. Very briefly he acknowledges that he should feel sorry for so obviously brushing her off, but he doesn’t care even close to enough. He sets the coffee down on the table and rounds to the board where one of several maps is taped. On autopilot he draws lines between dump sites because one of the background tabs had deduced, while he was busy watching you like porn, that the distance between dump sites form the beginnings of the constellation Orion with some mathematical precision that’s too exacting to be coincidental. Orion’s Belt plus the most recent victim. Betelgeuse.

There are ten formally named stars that make up Orion. He marks all of them, but circles the transposed coordinates of Bellatrix, Saiph, Rigel and Meissa as the next most likely dump sites. Most probably it will be Orion’s head. They’re all in wooded areas. He calls Garcia. Garcia will call Emily, wherever she is. If the unsub sticks to pattern, which they always do, they have until midnight. It’s trite, really. Predictable, like people always are. Far too quickly he drinks half the cup of scalding coffee and retraces his steps through the office to find the bathroom.

It’s empty. The fluorescent lights hum. Spencer washes his hands with cold water and presses still wet fingers to his eyes. You’re waiting for him behind the black of his lids.

At first you would whine, and he would kiss you and you’d moan into his mouth and say his name when he opened you up as far as you would go. The air would be thick and warm with sex and vanilla perfume. Afterwards he’d take care of you and buy new sheets for his bed in your favorite color even if they didn’t match the walls and there would be nothing you’d want for that he couldn’t give to you ever again.

But.

That’s all contingent.

No matter how often he fantasizes about it, no matter in how much detail, and regardless of how often those details change wildly, one thing always stays the same.

The shape of your lips, swollen from kissing, bending around five or six vowels and only two consonants (it seems odd that there are only two consonants in I love you), sometimes before you start, sometimes in the middle or right at the peak—but always there, always moving in slow motion—and always silent.

In real life, they’d be aloud. It’s why his fantasies aren’t good enough. It’s why he can’t stop fantasizing about it. That’s the only part that really matters to him. The rest varies.

Not because having sex with you doesn’t matter—it matters so much he almost shatters his molars whenever he starts picturing it around other people. But because Spencer can’t have sex with you until you love him.

And he worries that you can’t love him until you have sex with him.

The last time he thought that about a person, it didn’t turn out well.

Maybe there is some magic number. Some amount of times you need to have sex with someone before they’ll love you back.

If there is, he knows for a fact it’s more than 32.

And he also knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he cannot have loveless sex with you thirty three times while he waits to find out.

Not again.

But he's going to hold out as long as he possibly can until you say it because he so badly wants you to love him back. He'll let the weight of every ignored text, every reminder that you don't feel that way about him, hang from his shoulders until he collapses. And then he'll probably try to get back up.

Recycled paper towels scratch against his skin. He dries his face and hands and throws them crumpled into the trash can.

Outside the restroom, he pulls out his phone. For safety reasons and paranoia disguised as professionalism, you’re not his lock screen. It’s a photo of the Andromeda Galaxy. Whatever distance lies between you and Spencer, it could always be greater. No matter where you are in the world, you will always be the same 2.537 million light years away from Andromeda that he is.

It makes Orion feel much closer. You, too.

He sends you a text—the third message in a row.

The distance between blue bubbles feels like light years.

I’ll be home tomorrow. I miss you.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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fxrmuladaydreams · 10 months

Text

don’t touch her (mv1)

max x reader , unnamed mclaren employee x reader

summary: max knows his feelings for you are wrong, you have a boyfriend. but all bets are off when that boyfriend gets aggressive with you

notes: this one’s angsty guys, also we’re gonna pretend that japan was later in the season just for timing purposes

warnings: physical fight, blood, a toxic relationship

He knew he shouldn’t be staring at you from across the paddock. He knew it was wrong on so many levels. You were a part of the Red Bull team, one of his coworkers. You were also dating someone from the McLaren team. Max had never wanted to hit Lando over the head as much as he did when the young Brit introduced you to your current boyfriend. But he couldn’t stop himself from searching for you in any room he went into, or at any media events or any meetings.

Max Verstappen could confidently say he was without a doubt in love with you.

He had grown attached to you quickly, being one of the only people he worked with that didn’t fawn over him just because he was good at his job. You treated him like a real person. When he was with you there was no Max Verstappen, there was only Max. You were a breath of fresh air, the calm in the storm that was his chaotic life. You were his quiet, safe space he could escape to when things became too much. He wanted nothing more than to wrap you in his arms and shield you away from all that was wrong in the world, but he’d settle for calling you his friend, his best friend.

Max liked to think of himself as a good person, the type of person that just wanted to see you happy, even if it meant seeing you with someone else. He promised himself he wouldn’t act upon his feelings, at least not while you were dating anyone. He wouldn’t dare destroy your happiness just because of his heart.

Max could also admit he was petty, so childishly petty. He didn’t like seeing you hanging around the McLaren garage during race weekends, weekends where you would usually be by his side, making sure he was ready to drive. Instead he had to watch your navy blue stand out against the bright orange at McLaren. It didn’t suit you, being surrounded by papaya, Max thought.

He knew he could complain about it to Christian. He could use his power to make you come back to him, but in doing that he may end up hurting you or your job. So he sat quietly and let his annoyance fester inside him.

He could tell when things started to shift with your boyfriend. When your long hugs and visits to the McLaren garage turned into brushing shoulders and arguments in an empty walkway outside.

Max tries to ask about, tries to help make you feel better, but you shrug him off, telling him that you’ll work it out, it’s nothing but a rough patch.

He asks if you’re okay, if there’s anything he can do to help. You give him a sad smile and shrug your shoulders.

“There’s nothing you can do Max.”

He’s never felt so helpless in his life. He hates that he has to see your face with tear stains over it, that your smile has dimmed in the garage. That you no longer search him out for comfort.

Part of him thinks he should have a conversation with your boyfriend. He thinks he should give him a talking to about how he’s ruining someone so special. But he knows he’d probably end up throwing punches if your boyfriend ticked him off anymore than he already has.

You don’t seem to get any better as the season comes closer to an end. Max tries to help you open up to him again, asking if you have any plans over the winter break. He even invites you to join him on his trip back home to the Netherlands. He tells you that his mother and sister would love to have you with them during the holidays.

You frown, telling him that you planned on staying near Milton Keynes to do some work at the factory.

He scoffs and shakes his head. “It’s winter break, I’m sure they can spare you for a little while.”

“I can’t take time off work just to hang out with you Max.” The words are much harsher than you mean for them to be, you can tell by the way Max takes a defensive step back.

He nods. “Right. Sorry.” Then he leaves you standing there to go to his driver’s room, or somewhere that just doesn’t have you.

Everything becomes clearer to Max at a party near the end of the season. It’s just after the Japan race, and Lando had insisted on celebrating the McLaren 2-3 as well as another tally to Max’s list of wins this season. The nightclub is filled with drivers as well as team members from each team hoping to let off some steam before the next race weekend.

Max doesn’t want to be there. He wants to go back to his hotel and sleep before he has to fly back home just to fly to Qatar a week later. But Lando and Charles keep putting new drinks in his hand, which promptly end up being left on random tables, and dragging him around to converse with everyone else that’s there.

He keeps an eye on you the whole time, watching as you wrap your arms around yourself, staring into the crowd on the dance floor. He can tell you aren’t really looking at them though, that you’re staring off into space. Your boyfriend comes up to sit on the stool next to you. He says something in your ear, to which you shake your head and leave, walking outside.

Max quickly pushes his latest drink into Charles’ hands and follows you outside.

You lean against the wall, attempting to get some fresh air after feeling a bit too claustrophobic in the club, but the heat doesn’t help as much as you hoped. You see Max as he steps outside and quickly walks to you.

“What’s wrong? And don’t say nothing, because I know you, I know when you’re upset and you can’t hide it from me. Is it me? Have I done something wrong?” He asks, his words spilling out quickly.

“Max, it’s not you, it’s just-”

“Y/n! Come on, we can talk this through!” Your words are cut off by your boyfriend who looks around for you, the smile falling off his face when he spots Max standing next to you. “Are you fucking serious Y/n?” He storms over to you, and grabs your forearm, yanking you away from Max. “Always running back to Max, huh?”

You yelp when he roughly pulls you to him.

Max is quick to put himself between the two of you, pushing your boyfriend with just enough force to make him let go of you.

“Don’t touch her.” He snarls.

You already know how this is going to end. Max stares at your boyfriend with fire in his eyes. While Max isn’t quite as tall as him, he makes up for the height difference in his strength. He’s got enough muscle to knock him to the ground in seconds if he wanted to.

Anyone with half a brain would know they’re in dangerous territory, being on the receiving end of Max’s intense stare, but your boyfriend refuses to back down.

“She’s mine Verstappen. I can do whatever the fuck I want.” He says quietly, taunting Max.

That’s all it takes for the first swing to fly. You think it’s Max, but your boyfriend is quick to throw up his own fists in defense.

It’s a mess of navy blue and orange as the two end up rolling on the ground, throwing punch after punch. Max ends up on top, straddling your boyfriend, lifting his fist to swing. You grab his arm and pull him off and away from the fight. You catch a glimpse of your boyfriend, well now ex-boyfriend’s bloody nose and black eye.

Max huffs, pulling his arm away from you and stalks towards his car. You follow him, practically jogging to keep up. You stop when you’re standing between him and the driver door. The lamplight illuminates his face. He’s got a bruise on his cheekbone, a split lip, his hair is a disheveled mess, and his fist is coated in blood, whose you aren’t sure. He’s avoiding eye contact with you, instead looking up at the sky.

“Max, why-”

“I’m fine.” He says when he finally looks at you. “Let me drive you back to the hotel.”

The drive back is quiet. You can’t help but keep looking over at Max, the streetlights passing by spread light over his face. He pulls a plain hoodie from the back of his car, pulling the hood up over his head. He keeps his down as he walks inside, attempting to avoid any interactions with fans that have decided to hang around the hotel.

He walks you to your door, then turns to leave, stopping only when he feels your fingers thread themselves through his. You gently pull him inside your room.

“Bathroom.” You tell him, steering him towards the small bathroom.

He sighs, knowing that there’s no use in trying to argue with you. He tugs the hoodie off and tosses it on your bed. He lifts himself up to sit on the counter of the bathroom, just next to the sink. There’s barely any room between where his legs hang off the counter and the wall opposite the sink, but you manage to squeeze between them with a small towel in your hand.

You run the towel under warm water, then bring it to his face, softly dabbing at his lip. He flinches slightly, pulling away. You apologize softly, then continue to wipe the blood from his lip.

You do the same with his hand, gently holding it in your hand and wiping away the red. It turns out to be mostly blood from your ex boyfriend, his skin only slightly bruised from the impact.

“You shouldn’t have hit him. You could’ve broken your hand. You wouldn’t have been able to drive.” You scold him quietly.

He gives you an incredulous look. “I should’ve done a lot more than hit him.”

You don’t answer, continuing to absentmindedly wipe at his hand. The blood is long gone, but he can tell you’re too lost in thought to notice.

He lifts your head up to look at him with his other hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks.

You shake your head. “You heard him. Always running back to you?”

“I like it when you come to me.” He shifts slightly. “I mean, I like feeling like you can come to me for, well for anything really. You should’ve felt like you could’ve talked to me.” He drops his head down now.

You can tell he’s starting to close in on himself, that he feels somehow at fault for this. It’s your turn to lift his head up this time. His eyes are welled up with unshed tears. He tries to blink his tears away putting on a brave face for you.

You gently swipe your thumb under his eyes, then hold his cheeks in your hands.

“This is not your fault Max. It’s my fault. I let it get bad, I should’ve ended it a long time ago. I just have a talent for being self destructive I guess.” You let out an unconvincing laugh.

He leans into your touch, letting his eyes flutter closed.

After a few minutes you begrudgingly pull your hands away from Max. He immediately misses the warmth on his face.

“You should put some ice over your bruise.” You tell him.

You step back, giving him space to hop down from the counter. He stands over you, but his height is anything but daunting. He looks down at his now clean but bruised knuckles then back up at you.

“Thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you.” You tell him.

He clears his throat then shuffles around you, back into the main part of your room. “I should probably go.”

You follow him, itching to give him a reason to stay.

He grabs his hoodie from your bed and walks back to your door. He opens it, ready to step through when you call his name. He turns back to see you standing near the door as well, shifting your weight on your feet.

You take a deep breath then throw caution to the wind. You take a quick two steps to him and press your lips to his cheek.

Max freezes, only regaining a semblance of composure when you pull away from him.

“Thank you Max. Really.” You smile.

He gives you a sheepish smile and a nod, his cheeks colored with a light pink blush.

“Goodnight Y/n.”

“Goodnight Max.”

#max verstappen x reader #formula one x reader #mv33

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risuola · 5 months

Text

ENTRY #5 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // There's sugar to your kisses, it tastes like dessert.

contents: arranged marriage!au, fluff — wc. 2093

a/n: you welcomed the series so warmly and lovely, that I made this part longer. it's sickly sweet, it's fluffy — enjoy!

series masterlist

“What the hell am I doing–“

You groaned. Again and again. Sighing and throwing your hands into the air, helpless and hopeless. Resignation crawling up your skin, threatening to fight and win with your stubbornness and determination. You felt the characteristics you proud yourself with falter and peel away along with your pride and dignity and you found it ironic — pathetic — that years of harsh trainings, of bloody torture you endured, years of fights and pain did nothing to break you and now you’re losing your mind over a goddamn mochi.

Mochi.

A dessert made of rice dough, sweet and objectively adorable with its round shape and sugary filling. If someone asked you how much time you spent in the kitchen already, heating up the glutinous rice flour, mixing and kneading the dough, you wouldn’t know. Hours, most likely. Fighting a battle that you weren’t ready for, mixing ingredients, adding water, whisking, and then kneading again, burning your fingers and pads of your palms more times than you’d ever admit. And you hated it. Hated the corn starch that dusted all around the place, the sticky mass of heated rice flour that you tried to get just right and above all, you hated how much time it took you before it finally started to look like something you can work with.

“There we go,” you mumbled, kneading and stretching the dough between your hands and the marble countertop. There was a reason you were a fighter, not a cook and the current state of your kitchen made enough of a proof. Mochi now, cleaning later.

The fillings were delicious, you had to pat yourself on the back. You were very lucky today to grab the sweetest strawberries you ever ate. They tasted like summer, like hot, tropical heaven and you fought with yourself before you ate them all. The cream you whipped turned out just perfectly thick and fluffy. Then the green edamame paste — your husband’s favorite — came out just as good. Decadent almost, smooth and sweet, with perfect, bright green color and texture of a cloud. Half of your cream you mixed up with melted chocolate and while happy with the insides, you were still a little concerned about the dough.

You’re not gonna be defeated by a rice dough.

You managed to roll out the mass very thinly, perfectly, and began forming mochi, which turned out to be much easier to do than you anticipated.

Take the dough.

Scoop on the filling.

Close the dough.

Roll.

Repeat.

You filled up a tray, all of the balls prettily displayed on top of a parchment paper and you took it upon yourself to have a taste of each one. Delicious. Absolutely mind-blowing.

To the fridge they go.

Now clean.

* * *

Satoru got home around 7 pm — typical, if nothing comes up or hold him at work. His job as a teacher, you learned it quickly, was repetitive, predictable. He’s out the door just shy of 10 am and back near the evening, before the soft pinks and oranges of the summer turn into nightly blues and greys and you grew to appreciate the routine that settled into your lives. Spending most of the days separately made the first weeks of marriage much more bearable. It gave you and him enough time to get used to the new situation and cool off after many fights you had. But that was about to change and you were meaning to tell him today, sweetening the deal with mochi.

Oh right, mochi!

It got you a little too excited for Satoru to ignore, you looked a little brighter than usually, nervous even and he found it concerningly amusing. You’re rarely happy to see him back, he’s more used to see you ignore him than to greet him, and even if so – you’d usually pass him with a hi or an attempt of a small talk that he hated. Gojo couldn’t tell what was it that made you so much more vibrant that evening, you looked thrilled, your eyes glimmered in the dim lights of the house. You almost looked… happy? To see him? No, that couldn’t be it.

“Did something happen today? You look oddly excited,” he spoke, following his usual routine of taking off his uniform jacket and putting it neatly on a hanger in the hallway, folding his blindfold in half to have it ready in the morning and washing his hands and face. The soft, dry towel soaked up the excess wetness from his skin as he patted it away, pointing his ocean-blue eyes toward you expectantly.

“Well, yes, kind of,” you replied and dropped onto the soft cushions of the sofa in the living room. You twisted your body slightly and looked at him, and he got the hint because few seconds later, he sat down next to you. “Two things. First, I got an offer to work as a teacher in your school. Yaga contacted me–“

“You are the new teacher for the second years?” Satoru cut you and you couldn’t read him. A slight surprise was all you could decipher from the expression of his features.

“Yes. Well, not yet,” you sighed, “before I agree I wanted to ask you what you think.”

“And you’ll do as I say? Since when you’re doing as you’re told?” He teased and for a moment you considered eating all the mochi yourself. Maybe tying him to the chair and devouring it right in front of his eyes? You opened your mouth to say something rather unpleasant before he spoke again. “If you’re asking me for permission, we both know you don’t need it. I’m sure kids will benefit from having you to lead them.”

“Are you willing to be civil with me if we spend more time along each other during the day? Last thing I need is to argue with you more than we already do.”

“We don’t argue that much lately,” he protested and you huffed out a chuckle, nodding in agreement. You didn’t fight at all, if you think about it. It seemed as if slowly you were getting used to… everything.

“So, you’re fine with the idea?”

“I’m fine with the idea, yes,�� he said, running a hand through his white, slightly damp hair and brushing it back. You took in his features, allowing yourself to just stare at the man you married, because even if wedded, you see him no more than his students are. He still sleeps on the couch; he still spends most of his time outside. “You’re staring.”

“I am,” you confirmed, shamelessly and it made him chuckle. “Talking about staring, close your eyes.”

“Why would I–“

“Close your eyes and open your mouth,” you ordered, getting up from the comfortable seat you were sunken into. “Please?”

“I’m honestly concerned,” he said but reluctantly lowered his eyelids. As if it made him any less aware of his surroundings. “What are you planning?”

“Don’t peek.”

Quickly, you padded into the kitchen and uncovered the mochi you kept out of the fridge for about ten minutes now. You took the tray and a glass of water and got back to where Satoru was situated. With his eyes closed, comfortable against the cushions. He felt your weight sinking onto the pillows next to him and a hint of something sweet in the air.

“Open up,” your voice made him hum, still uncertain but curious nonetheless. ‘Open up’ was such a foreign command for him to follow and the small amount of trust that was secure between you and him had to suffice for him to comply. “There we go,” you almost whispered and Satoru slightly flinched at the first contact of his mouth with, what felt like, a blob of cold unknown substance. For a reason he couldn’t really rationalize, he grabbed onto your waist to balance himself, even if there was nothing to throw him off.

Slowly, with caution, Gojo closed his mouth, allowing his teeth to meet the dough, go through it. Mochi. He recognized the sweet taste of his very favorite treat immediately but something about what was just melting against his tongue felt different to what he’s used to. The rice envelope was softer but chewy, sweetened just perfectly and the paste inside — green bean — had a texture of silk and butter, a luscious heaven itself. He felt it spreading along his taste buds, warming against the insides of his cheeks. A perfect mixture of fluffy inside and glutinous outside. So sweet, so delicious.

“Oh my god,” he whimpered. A sound so foreign, that it almost surprised you if not for the very vibrant wash of pleasure that relaxed his features. Just as the mochi melted in his mouth, he melted against the couch.

“Was it good?” You asked, while the answer was relatively clear from what you had a chance to witness. “I made them for you and they are not perfect yet but–“

“You made this mochi for me?”

Satoru’s bright blue eyes snapped open and his grip on your waist tightened. A shock pushed to the front of his expression, he blinked — once, twice — before you nodded slowly. Then he followed the direction of your gaze; his own landing on the tray full neat rows of plump rice balls, so perfectly imperfect against the dark wood below them. He could tell some had a green undertone, the edamame filling, and some were looking white and plain. Next row seemed to have chocolate inside and he could catch the hint of it in the air.

“You made all of this? With your hands?”

“From scratch, yeah,” you nodded, reaching for another one. “Chocolate.”

Being fed by you — his wife — felt odd, unfamiliar, and yet the subtle brush of your fingers against his lips whenever you gently pushed the doughy ball into his open mouth felt just right. Satoru thought he could get used to it, and the mochi.

“So you’re not only a good cook,” you’re not, but you hummed. “But also you can make mochi? If we weren’t already married, I would have asked you to marry me now.”

“That easy, huh?”

“That easy.”

You shook your head, visibly suppressing a giggle and Gojo hoped you wouldn’t hold it. It’s only now that he’s learning how pretty is your smile, how your eyes crinkle every time you allow your face to relax and take on a pattern of joy. He likes the shape your lips form, how they stretch whenever you’re happy and how your brows lift up just slightly above your half-closed lids. He wished you’d let yourself burst out laughing, but instead you shook your head yet again and let out a sigh of content. Good enough.

You reached onto the tray again. This time it was the white blob of doughy goodness hanging heavy between your dainty fingers. “This one is my favorite.”

There was no need to tell him twice. Satoru opened his mouth, eager for the sweetness you called your favorite although from your words he had a suspicion what was inside. Strawberries. You love strawberries. He learned that during the wedding celebration, when you eyed the fruit on his piece of the cake with the most adorable envy he’s ever seen – and then, those very same eyes glittered with pleasure when he exchanged his plate with yours. He remembers how you left the red, plump strawberry for the last bite, how you sighed with content as you bit into the juicy flesh of the fruit, how you nearly purred despite the stressful predicament you were placed into.

“Divine,” Gojo purred himself, as the flavors mixed in his mouth. The crisp, fresh strawberry, along the velvety cream and chewy dough made for an experience he could only compare to orgasm.

He wanted more.

Craved more and he blames it on you that the moment you sunk your teeth into the sweet treat, he leaned closer. His mind went blank when he wrapped his own mouth around the half mochi that sticked out, his lips brushed against yours. A drop of red juice run down his chin, wet and sticky against his skin. He didn’t care. Greedy for more, for you, he leaned in even more, tempted by the sweet taste of your sugar-powdered lips flush to his own.

You gasped. Purred. In surprise, in pleasure, or both.

The feeling unfamiliar, addicting, syrupy.

You should stop it.

You wanted more.

He should stop it.

He wanted more.

It was slow, sloppy and nothing but strawberry and cream.

taglist: @kinny-away , @anan-baban , @lotomber , @netflix-imagines , @kawliflo , @nishloves , @ghostfacefricker6969 , @thejujvtsupost , @yozora7154 , @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost , @ae-mius , @ropickle , @chokesonspit

739 notes · View notes

sohnric · 9 months

Text

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.

2K notes · View notes

h0rnyauth0r · 1 year

Text

ghost wants to help teach you how to snipe! (but it turns into… something else)

i know i haven't posted in forever but i'm doing so much better so we'll see what happens <3

ALSO 1K??????? THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH AHHH

word count: 2.2k

tws: choking, unprotected sex, reader with vagina, pussy eating, cum eating, fingering, rough sex, cumming inside

you hate how cold it is on the rooftops, slow gusts of winds chilling your bones completely. you would normally complain, but with ghost being right next to you, you truly can’t. his large body blocks the majority of what should be hitting you, and you can’t help but feel giddy getting to spend time with him alone.

he gives off heat, thick layers of clothing doing nothing to stop the way his gloved fingers and muscular arms touch into you as you try adjusting the rifle appropriately. his eyes are looking you over to make sure your positioning is right; it’s not.

“you need to move some.” his voice is barely above a whisper, sending shivers down your spine as you turn your head slightly and only then realize just how close you are to him.

you gulp and nod your head, heat bubbling up in your tummy as you try to adjust yourself and the rifle once more. you can feel his eyes on your every part, silently judging how you just seemingly can’t do this right.

the darkness of the night is all that surrounds you, rifle aiming at some lit up targets prepared on base for you to use. you opt to fire with the newly adjusted position, but it’s no use.

the bullet whizzes into the very edge of the target, just scraping it. ghost sighs frustratedly, deciding to move closer to you so he can help (force) you into the right aiming position. you don’t expect his arms to wrap around you the way they do, causing you to jump a little as you’re moved around with ease.

once he stops, he’s speaking up. “try now.”

you nod, aiming down the sight and pulling the trigger. excitement courses through your veins when you notice the bullet hit the center of the target, a smile forming on your face.

“nice! did you see that?” you say, turning your head to him and immediately becoming hyper-aware of his face only inches away from your own. he nods, eyes staring down at you in a way that makes you feel a lot less cold than before.

it’s the sultry look that he always has that makes you break eye contact quickly, clearing your throat as you turn away from him and decide to take another shot.

following his prior movements of your body, you try once more to shoot and that’s when your confidence skyrockets. once again, a direct hit.

“yes!” you say happily, grinning and glancing over to the man. he nods at your work, opting to put a hand up for a high-five as opposed to using his words for the moment.

your eyebrows raise at such a random gesture, slapping his gloved hand gently and then move the gun over to the side of you. “did you want to practice at all?” you ask, swallowing harshly once you’re looking into his eyes again.

his eye contact remains so sharp in a way that sends spikes of heat in between your thighs, head shaking as he looks between your faltering smile and your bright eyes.

“i think we both know i don’t need it.”

you nod knowingly, almost feeling embarrassed. obviously he wouldn’t want to practice, he’s the best sniper on the base. you feel stupid for even asking, eyes wandering to the edge of the rooftop and looking around at the night sky.

the lights directly above the two of you make the view less visible, but it’s still beautiful nonetheless. you can’t help but wish you were able to stay out with ghost, that maybe this would be a date instead of him doing his job.

you decide to move around some to prepare to get up. “well, i suppose i should get going. i don’t want to take up anymore of your time.” you mumble.

as you move to get up, his hand stops you with a strength that has you wondering just what other parts of you he could move around so easily. you gasp out, looking to your side at him.

“stay.”

his eyes look pleading, emotions held in them that have you nearly melting into his touch. you immediately falter, getting back into the same prone position you were in before.

you don’t know what to say, so you say nothing. it’s like that for a while, silence between the two of you and the weight of unspoken words creating tension. you choose to take a glance at him, almost forgetting to breathe when you see the way he’s staring at you.

“it’s nice out tonight.” you’re embarrassed saying this, knowing it’s completely random to even mention how the weather is given the current circumstances.

he nods along though, which comforts you in some way. “better than normal.”

you sigh, shutting your eyes tightly. “why did you want me to stay out here?” you don’t want to pry, but it’s needed now. with the tension in the air and the crickets chirping away, your mind is left wandering.

one of his hands gently touch you, eyes pulling open from the pressure of his hand guiding you toward him. your body leans against him, his other hand snaking around your waist. you wait patiently for his words, but nothing is said.

instead, he’s adjusting your bodies so that you’re on top of his body, thighs on either side of his hips as you look down at him. the movement happened so quickly that you can’t think properly for a moment, just staring at him blankly.

your insides feel like they’re on fire from pure lust, face growing hotter from the feeling of a bulge pressing against your clothed pussy. you want to kiss him so badly right now, eyes desperately looking between his eyes and where his lips would be underneath his mask.

“please…” you whisper breathlessly, eyes fixated on that one spot. you unconsciously grind your hips against him, feeling his hands shoot to your hips where they dig in and he pushes up into you.

“fuck it.” he mumbles, hand flying up and pushing the mask up just enough so his lips are showing. you immediately lean down and press into his lips roughly, kissing him with every bit of passion you can muster.

your lips move against each other heatedly, one of his hands grabbing onto your neck to push you in more. you let out a whine when he starts grinding up into you more, the pressure absolutely soaking your panties and probably your pants, too.

the stimulation is just enough to have you gasping his name into his lips desperately, teeth clashing and wet sounds echoing in empty outside air. the hand on your hip is rubbing circles into it, making your body twitch as you push your hips down harder and harder.

he abruptly ends the kiss between the two of you, hands hurriedly pulling your jacket off before he hesitates to take off any more of your clothing. “will you get too cold?” he asks.

you nod, “it’d be best to leave my shirt on.” you mumble, trying your hardest to catch your breath. but he kisses you again, this time fumbling with your belt and then the button of your pants.

you stand up and quickly pull them off with your underwear in a rush, settling back down on him with your bare pussy resting against him. he reaches down and lightly presses his thumb against your clit, making you whimper out.

you kiss him again while he plays with your clit, eventually sliding down your slit and playing with your hole. his finger stretches you out and your teeth accidentally bite down on his lip as you gasp.

a second one pushes in as your lips leave his again, eyes looking down to where his fingers are thrusting into you and biting your bottom lip. your hips grind down and push him in deeper, eyes rolling back as you come closer and closer to your orgasm.

he slides his fingers back out though, looking you in the eyes as he slips them into his mouth and sucks gently. the sight has you moaning pathetically, a hand reaching down to palm his dick in his pants.

he grunts and pushes your hand away, quickly undoing his pants and pulling them down enough to free his cock. “are you sure you want this?” he asks.

you nod, hand reaching out and jerking his cock several times before lining it up and pushing just the tip in. you slowly sink down onto it, eyes clamping shut from the size and just how good he feels inside of you.

“fuck…” he groans softly when you clench around him, and you almost cum just from how sexy he looks. eyes glazed over, lips still revealed and puffy, and fists clenched roughly at his sides.

you start to move against him, grinding up and down on his cock as you reach out and grab onto his hands. he uses this to his advantage, pulling your body forward just a little as his hips start thrusting up into you quickly.

your mouth falls open, a mix between a gasp and a whine coming out of your mouth. “more…” you cry out, eyes widening when he pulls out of you. his body is moving yours around, your ass in the air as he adjusts himself to be behind you.

he slowly pushes himself into you from behind, fingernails digging into your ass as he bottoms out. the angle is much better than before, his hips slapping into your ass as he begins thrusting feverishly.

“so tight and pretty. and all mine.” he growls out, hand reaching around and gripping onto your throat as he fucks into you harder.

you can barely keep your eyes open, but you do when he leans your head back to look at your face while he thrusts. you can feel the pressure building up in you, a steady orgasm bubbling up from the pressure of his dick hitting every little spot that you know gets you going.

he squeezes your throat and you wheeze out, eyes rolling back and clit throbbing hard from the sensation. you can’t help but cry out loudly, even more so when his other hand moves from your ass to your clit to rub circles into it.

your whole body shakes as his movements quicken, his fingers pushing down on your little button as your orgasm hits you hard. you feel your thighs shake and you’re sputtering out incoherent words, a mix between his name and different curse words.

“that’s a good girl. so good for me.” he whispers in your ear, tears streaming down your face from the overstimulation and a content noise coming out from his praise.

he doesn’t stop after you come down from your high, hips never faltering but fingers leaving your clit after you try to squirm away from them. his hand remains tight around your throat, occasionally squeezing.

it’s not long after when you notice his hips sputtering and becoming more and more sloppy in movements, and eventually you can feel his cum fill you deeply. it’s leaking down your thighs, mixed with your own release and sweat as he finally pulls out.

you sigh out, exhausted but entirely satisfied. “that was amazing.”

he pushes your back into the ground, “i’m not finished with you yet.” his words are stern, and you let out a squeak when you feel his breath against your thighs.

he licks up your pussy, lips finding your clit and beginning to suck hard. you cry out, a hand slapping over your mouth to calm yourself as his tongue begins completely violating you.

his tongue runs along your clit in circles before moving back to your stretched entrance, sliding in and out of your hole before moving to your clit once more.

your orgasm approaches quicker since you’ve already cum once, a loud moan escaping your lips as you release against his tongue. he coaxes you through your orgasm, humming softly once he pulls back.

“you taste as good as you look.” he says shamelessly, and you don’t respond. your whole body is shaking beyond belief and you don’t think you can move anymore without falling over.

“i can’t move.” you say quietly, and he’s looking at you smugly as he pulls his mask back over the bottom half of his face.

he decides to help you put your clothes back on, hands gently taking care of everything and wiping your wet thighs down with a towel. “i can carry you.” he says, shrugging.

you shake your head quickly, “no! we’re not going to do that. it’d be so obvious we just fucked out here.” you disagree, arms crossing as you sit down criss cross on the floor.

he leans down to your ear, “you think they don’t already know, love? you were screaming my name. everyone here knows.” his voice is low and makes you shiver, your face going hot as you realize just how right he is.

needless to say, ghost carries to your room with knowing eyes glaring at the two of you the whole way there. but you really can’t care, knowing that this won’t be the last time it happens anyways.

taglist: @wwwurmomdotcom @kovieky @chibijusstuff

(send an ask/dm to be added or removed from my taglist!)

#ghost #ghost x reader smut #ghost smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod smut #cod #call of duty #call of duty smut #x reader #female reader #smut

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drak3n · 9 months

Text

BANKER!KENTO

CONTENT WARNINGS: fluff, slow burn, coworkers to lovers trope, reader is whipped for nanami, smut, office sex, oral (m. receiving, f. receiving implied) cum-eating

sena’s note: i will never get over my hubby :(

MINI-SERIES MASTERLIST

➩ BANKER!KENTO who recently moved back to tokyo after having spent some time in malaysia; who came back as a well-rested, new man (& even more handsome with a nice tan)

➩ BANKER!KENTO who had absolutely no interest in socializing with his coworkers and making friends at his new job and whose one and only goal was to survive his shifts and leave

➩ BANKER!KENTO who didn’t think he’d meet a person who hated work as much as he did until he saw you nearly ripping your hair out in your office through the glass door

➩ BANKER!KENTO who you got teamed up with to do the annual financial statement together to present to the entire team; and you couldn’t be more nervous to approach the blonde

➩ BANKER!KENTO who approached you instead and asked if you should just split the tasks up and present them together in the end, because he assumed you didn’t want to interact with him

you blinked up at the tall man while he leaned over your desk. what?

“come again?” embarrassingly, you hadn’t listened to what he said. his forearms just looked so buff and he had no damn business rolling the sleeves of his perfectly ironed, blue shirt up to his elbows—

“—me which part you prefer and i’ll do the other.”

fuck. what did he say? you couldn’t ask him to repeat it once more. he’d think you were a dumbass. what was the best way to get out of this situation without completely busting it?

“yeah, sure!” your response was weird and overly enthusiastic, and you were never happier to be sitting at this desk. you wouldn’t have the slightest idea what to do with your arms and legs, or frankly, yourself, if you were standing.

totally missing the look of disappointment on nanami’s face — which he covered by clearing his throat and collecting himself again quickly — you spent the next few seconds looking at each other.

did he have something on his face? had he forgotten a splotch of shaving foam on his chin or cheek? or did he have a coffee stain on his shirt? your gaze was making him wonder.

“you can choose your part, then,” he muttered, hinting at the stack of papers that had been given to you and kento. oh now it made sense… of course he wouldn’t want to meet up to get this done together. obviously.

“uh, i could do the statistics and the powerpoint.” this time it was you hiding how disheartened you were, and he had no idea.

➩ BANKER!KENTO who, as time passed, grew fond of the way you carried yourself so gracefully; how you always kept a clear head (except for in the confines of your office where you liked ripping and crumpling papers instead of shoving them into the file shredder)

➩ BANKER!KENTO who actually enjoyed doing the annual closure exposure with you on christmas eve and watched as you stayed behind to tidy up

➩ BANKER!KENTO who silently joined you, much to your surprise as it was well-known already that he didn’t like staying for longer than he had to

“oh, kento, i’ll take care of it. just go enjoy your christmas eve.”

he grunted, throwing the plastic cups into the nearest trash can while you collected the leftover cookies, placing them into a tin. “don’t you have anywhere to be?” you asked out of interest, to which he shook his head. you smiled. “me neither.”

as you left through the backdoor, wrapped up in thick coats, gloves and scarfs, you noticed that it had started snowing. you wanted to ask him if he was up to come over to yours and have dinner together — perhaps not your usual pompous family christmas dinner, but takeout — and then watch a sappy movie with two mugs of hot cocoa… but you didn’t.

ironically, he thought the same, but he couldn’t get the worst past the lump in his throat.

instead, you seperated after a couple of feet, wishing each other a merry christmas and cursing yourselves why you didn’t speak up.

➩ BANKER!KENTO whose fingers hovered over your contact information a day before new year’s eve; who knew you two would probably spend that day alone, too, and who thought it wouldn’t be worth it to make the effort of roasting an entire duck just for himself

➩ BANKER!KENTO who was beaten to it when you called him instead

“hey, kento.” you said, and he could hear your soft smile. “i was wondering if you uh… would like to come over for new year’s eve? i was going to… bake a cake, and it would be a waste to just eat it all by myself and have to chuck the rest in the trash...”

as you chuckled awkwardly, you didn’t have the slightest clue that nanami sent a smile of victory towards the duck in his fridge and a bottle of red wine resting on his kitchen counter. as if he had gotten caught, he quickly coughed.

“yes, i’d like that,” he muttered into the speaker, which made you cover your speaker to let out a joyous squeal. “do you like roasted duck?”

➩ BANKER!KENTO whose eyes went wide at the sight of you in a dress, elegant as always, but less formal; who felt the need to loosen his tie, sweating despite the freezing temperatures outside as you pulled him into a hug after taking the pan from his arm

➩ BANKER!KENTO who never thought much of others complimenting his cooking, but who felt giddy as you swooned, asking him about all the ingredients and expressing how you’d never eaten a meal as delicious as his in your entire life

➩ BANKER!KENTO who wanted to excuse himself minutes before new year’s eve, but who let himself get dragged to your balcony to watch the fireworks, and who let out a sound of surprise as you pulled him down gently by his now loosened tie to smooch him breathless

“darling, what if someone sees?” nanami sat back in his chair and let out a shaky sigh when his dark eyes darted to the door, before settling on you, hidden right behind his desk as you sat on your knees, unbuckling his belt with deft fingers.

“you’ve been pressing against me every time you walked past me today, kento.” your eyes were laced with need as you took his thick, hard cock out of its restraints. “didn’t you want this?” the blonde gritted his jaw when your thumb knowingly rubbed against his slit, smearing precum all over the reddened tip.

“you don’t know what you do to me, love…” he couldn’t stop himself from bucking his hips into your mouth, not when you took him so well and sucked him so nicely. it was almost as if you were asking him to shoot his cum down your throat when your eyes met.

you greedily swallowed every bit of it when he did, tucking him back inside and dusting your skirt off, acting as if nothing happened. when you shot him a coy smile and attempted to leave his office, he grasped your wrist in his hand, uncaring if anyone saw or not at this point.

“w—what are you—”

“did you think i missed the way you rubbed your thighs together the entire time? sit on the desk, let me reward my lovely girl.”

➩ BANKER!KENTO who now had someone to spend all holidays with, and who he didn’t even mind working overtime with :)

tagged: @melancholia-k @tansyfleurwhisper

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b0ther · 6 months

Text

ain't even jealousy

you fucking hate the basketball team, but there's no one you hate more than aomine.

pairing : aomine daiki x reader (feminine pronouns. afab) rating : explicit, not safe for work (sexual content) type : chaptered tags : aomine is a bully im not even kidding he is quite cruel, porn with PLOT, reader is besties with satsuki, reader also has a crush on imayoshi, reader also was wakamatsu's ex, hate sex, semi-public sex, manhandling, vaginal penetration, thigh fucking, semi-clothed sex, some slutshaming going on here, reader has big tits, slight dubcon. word count : 4,323

author's note : title from 'want u back' by cher lloyd. this is comissioned by a dear friend. hope you enjoy mwah. this first chapter (and whole fic im ngl) is centered around the onsen episode.

( masterlist │ ask/request │ ao3 )

After a long and hard day at school, all that you ever really want to do is to quickly get to your part-time job and finish up your shift. Perhaps you can get some convenient store food after that, or go straight home to shower and rest.

Whatever it is that you daydreamed of, it wasn't this.

Satsuki calls out to you, her voice soft against the bristling wind with her lithe arms circle around yours as you try to walk away, dragging her body forcefully with you. She whines your name over and over again, over the beating speaker against your ears before you finally had enough, ripping your headphones off your head, turning to face her.

“Satsuki!” You try to sound stern, but you end up whining in the same tone that she used. You can only be so serious as a high school girl, after all.

Her pink strands fall against her face messily; you use your other hand to tuck them behind her ear as she elongates the way she enunciates your name and begs, begs, begs you to listen to her. “Please! Just—”

“Satsuki!” You groan, shaking her off your body. “I’m busy. I have a part-time job, I’m failing maths, I have club activities. I can’t just… ditch everything and go !”

“You can!” It’s like she was not listening to a single word that you uttered. “It’s a month away and on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday—which you can begin asking for a leave day starting today , they will definitely let you if you do it a month in advance!—and maths!? That’s easy! I’ll teach you!”

You slant your eyes at her, arms crossing on your chest. “Alright. What about my club activities?”

“You mean your journalist club? One that encourages their members to leave their comfort zone in order to bring back interesting stories? One that basically has a crush on the basketball team?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, don’t be dramatic.”

She gasps. “Don’t you love me!?”

“Don’t do this to me…”

“If you love me at all, you wouldn’t even think twice about going with me. Imagine me, a girl, going alone on an all-boys’ trip to some secluded place—”

“You’re being dramatic—” You tried reiterating your point.

“I’m not!” She whines, even louder this time, attracting attention from all the other Touou students around you. “You literally have nothing to lose by coming along! Give me five reasons—five good reasons—and I will literally stop bothering you.”

You shake her off again, and this time, Satsuki lets go and stumbles back a couple of steps as the mischief on her eye continues to shimmer. You have never lost an argument to Satsuki—but there is a first for everything, and you have a feeling that you are going to break some personal records today.

“First,” you take a deep breath as you hold up a finger. “Aomine’s gonna be there—”

“Perfect!” Not giving you a chance to speak, she cuts you off, eyes glimmering like starlight. “You like him!”

She strikes a nerve with this one.

One of your eyes twitches as you cross your arms under your chest. The excited smile on her face fades in an instant, recognizing in an instant that something is wrong.

Recognizing in an instant that something she should have known about is wrong.

She blinks a couple of times, trying to use all that intelligence in her head to analyse the error in what she said (which turns out pretty useless—guess all that she is good for is basketball).

“Have you been paying attention at all?” You begin to blabber after letting out a huge gasp, arms waving around in the air. “We’ve been friends for years— years ! Since the first year of middle school, and you know nothing of my strong, burning opinion of Aomine!? Flash news, Satsuki, it’s not love!”

“You—” She stammers, “You talk about him a lot!”

“I complain about him a lot!” You correct her, blowing out air in frustration, feeling somewhat betrayed that your best friend had just accused you of liking your archnemesis… your enemy… your… your rival.

The point is! You hate him!

You would rather live in a world without television and the internet and good music if it means that you will have to never hear him say another word.

Aomine.

You shiver in annoyance.

Just saying his name irks the hell out of you. Imagining his face causes a feeling close to that of an explosion in your chest. You just wanna grab him by his face and shove him down a flight of stairs.

You cannot even count all the shitty things he did to you in high school: revealing your crush on Nijimura Shuuzou not just to the then-basketball team captain, but the entire student body; tripping you in the cafeteria multiple times; stealing your undergarments during P.E. and commenting crassly about how you were two sizes under his favourite adult model. Granted, you never told Satsuki about the last thing. That shit was just too embarrassing—you were glad that no one else was in the room when he threw your bra back at you.

Still, your frustration remains at her. Jogging down memory lane boils your wrath, and you close your eyes to calm yourself down.

He’s just a bully.

A damned bully.

And you would be damned if you are going to willingly spend your weekends in the same vicinity as him.

“Well… Dai-chan likes you!”

You roll your eyes.

Yeah, right.

You would agree if she had claimed that he found you attractive, or he thinks you’re hot. But liking you? Highly improbable—impossible, even.

Aomine Daiki does not seem like he is capable of feeling any emotion aside from boredom and mischief. The only thing he loves, or even likes, is probably his beloved Aya-chan from his gravure magazines.

You’re not even sure if he still likes basketball.

Which is a shame—seeing someone so tall gradually shrinking to the size of nothing, even if you despise the guy, the whole ordeal with whatever-the-fuck Satsuki’s basketball team went through still managed to extract some sympathy from the bottom of your heart. You’ve been paying attention to Aomine, after all, albeit not under any positive light.

“Whatever,” from past experiences, you know better than to argue against Satsuki. “I don’t care anymore. And you know what? Aomine himself and your blatant disregard of your best friend’s feelings—me!—should be enough to fit all five criterias!”

You know that look in her eyes, the way her lips press against each other and how one of her hands is clenched into a fist.

“I’ve been friends with him for 16 years, (Y/N),” she bumps her fist against her chest in pride. “Best friends, even! I know him better than you do!”

You scoff. “People who like someone don’t bully them, Satsuki. Open your eyes.”

“He isn’t bullying you!” She groans.

“Oh, so now not only are you attempting to kidnap me, but you’re also defending my bully?”

“Argh!” Satsuki hugs your arm again, earning her a groan from you. She calls out your name again, enunciating each and every syllable. “ Pleeeaaaaseeee? You don’t have to pay a single dime! You don’t even have to see Dai-chan if you want to. Imayoshi-san will be there—you like him, right?”

You slant your eyes at her in suspicion, not buying anything she just told you. You just know that you will have to see Aomine sooner or later if you come with her to the onsen.

“No man is ever worth that much headache, Satsuki.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, still shaking you ferociously. “But it’s Imayoshi-san!”

You decided to come along. Because of course you did.

It’s either that, or Satsuki pestering you for the rest of the month, bringing either Imayoshi or Aomine or whoever she thinks will get your attention.

And Imayoshi Shouichi? Sure. He’s hot as hell.

But is he worth dealing with Aomine?

You like to think not.

Satsuki dragged you along to a basketball team meeting—the one that would be discussing the practice trip and the whole onsen ordeal.

It wasn’t like you needed to be there at all. You know just a little more than the average person about basketball. All that you were preparing for the onsen was your clothes and deciding whether it’s you or Satsuki who should be bringing her hairdryer.

“Why me?” You said, crossing your arms when the attention of the entire basketball team was redirected towards you, and Imayoshi laughed. The only problem they were facing was convincing Aomine to come along.

And you were happy with not being the babysitter. You were happy with twiddling your skirt as you sat on the edge of the stage of the hall, scrolling down your social media timeline as the team argued on how to get that blue-haired freak into coming.

That was until Satsuki ruined your afternoon by offering up your name.

To your surprise, everyone in the team seemingly agreed almost immediately to offer you as a sacrificial lamb to feed Aomine’s ego and coax him to at least come to the trip.

“He likes you,” Wakamatsu scoffed when you asked why, and you glared at him, but said nothing. Out of respect, you guess, to the upperclassman. It’s not like you respect him, though. You’re on bad terms with a lot of the basketball team, but no matter your disagreements with Wakamatsu, you will never dislike him the way you loathe Aomine.

“He does have a soft spot for you,” Imaoyshi mused as he flashed you a smile—and lord , you cannot say no to Imayoshi. Especially when he’s being so nice.

You saw Satsuki smirking from the corner of your eyes and internally cursed her.

That was how you found yourself climbing the ladder leading to the rooftop.

And that was how you found Aomine with one hand between his backpack and head, and the other holding an obscene magazine.

He doesn’t even spare you a single glance—probably thought you were another manager or even worse: Satsuki again. But the moment you open your mouth to call out to him, his head snaps in your direction, an eyebrow raised in amusement as he pushes himself to rest his body against his elbows.

“What are you doing here?”

You try not to let your rage spill. You try to keep the boiling water down. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and continue to climb the ladder before approaching him.

Think rational, you think to yourself, he hadn’t even said anything yet.

“The Captain wants to see you,” you manage to say between your gritted teeth, staring down at him before looking away. Imayoshi didn’t ask you to make Aomine see him, but Aomine probably respects Imayoshi more than you, so you try to throw him under the bus just to get out of the situation quicker.

“Imayoshi-san?” He frowns before repeating his initial question: “What the fuck are you doing here?”

I want to punch him.

“You own this roof or something?”

“Calm down,” he scoffs, tilting his head before eyeing your body up and down. You shift your weight into your other leg, ignoring the uneasy feeling on the pit of your stomach. “I just wanted to know.”

Sighing, you glance up at the sunny sky, sweat starting to form on the base of your neck and you are dying to leave at that very moment. You shelter your eyes from the sunlight, despite finding it more appealing than Aomine’s face.

“We’re discussing the practice trip thing—whatever, and also the onsen trip,” you lazily explain, not bothering to hide your disinterest. “Imayoshi-senpai wants you to be present for the meeting. Obviously.”

You cannot fathom the fact that you were explaining his basic responsibilities as a club member to him. What a fucking child.

“You coming with us?”

His focus seems to be misplaced, and you glare at the sky, imagining it was his stupid face.

“I’m going with Satsuki,” you correct, still not willing to look at him. “I don’t give two shits about you or the basketball team.”

“Hey,” he sits up, wrapping his fingers around your wrist before tugging your body towards him. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

You scoff, finally letting your gazes meet before pulling your hand away. “Fuck off.”

He, in fact, does not fuck off.

Aomine pulls on your wrist again, this time hard enough for you to lose your balance and fall, your knees landing on the coarse floor as the bottom of your skirt rides up your thighs. The skin of your knees scraping against the gravelled surface and you curse, jerking your hand away only to immediately shove his shoulder.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” You shriek, annoyed at how he remains unmoving even as you push him again.

He towers you, even when sitting, and keeps his eyes peering down at you.

Maybe it’s the heat that day; summer has just ended, but even the soft Autumn breeze cannot conceal the searing flare creeping up the skin of your cheeks. Aomine slants his eyes and grabs your wrist yet again—you weren’t quick enough to retract away from his athletic instincts, and so, you fall again when he pulls you in closer.

You hiss in pain as your knees drag more against the floor, desperate to find your balance only to grab on his shoulders.

“Hey,” He calls out to you, a lame attempt for your attention. “Look,” he says again, and your dumb ass looks.

He grabs the magazine on his lap and tautens the pages together, showing you the spread where he left off before you interrupted his peaceful afternoon. “(Y/N), remember Aya-chan?”

The girl that ruined your life?

How can you forget?

You cannot hide the distaste in your eyes as your eyes scan her beautiful, black hair falling against the sheer material of her white uniform top. The black lace bra she was wearing underneath is apparent as she pushes her two tits against each other, legs spread to reveal an equally seductive pattern on her panties.

Before you even realise, Aomine’s arm begins to wrap itself around your waist as he holds you up, fingers creeping up the side of your torso, tracing invisible lines before resting on one of your breasts. Your stomach begins to churn in excitement, embarrassingly enough, and you press your legs instinctively when the muscle between your thighs tighten as he continues fondling you.

You circle your arm around his neck under the pretence of keeping your balance.

“Mhmm…” He clicks his tongue, resting his face on the side of your upper arm—his nose touching the side of your tit as his hand palms your other one. “I feel like you’re no longer two sizes under Aya-chan. Maybe a size under? Maybe the same size?”

You grit your teeth. “You talk big. Have you ever seen her outside your magazine? She probably edits her photos.”

He grins, gaze shifting to drink in your frustration. “No, but you’re real, and I’m groping you right now. Isn’t that better?”

“Better than your pretty Aya-chan?”

Aomine raises an eyebrow, humming knowingly. You can’t even believe the word escaping your mouth.

“You have a cute side to you after all,” He muses after a short, mocking whistle. “What do you want me to say? Want me to tell you how much better you are than her?”

“Want you to shut the fuck up.”

“Calm down, tiger.” He laughs, pulling away from your arm. He tosses the magazine to the side, straightening his back to press a short kiss to the peak of your cheekbone. His hand begins to work; he slowly kneads your breast while continuously trailing kisses down to your ears. Your nipples brush against the fabric of your damned lace bra, and he stops for a moment only to tug on where your bud is protruding.

A whimper leaves your mouth.

“Excited are we?” He whispers, voice dropping lower as he presses his lips against your ears. “I like hearing you like that.”

“Shut up,” you run out of words, turning your head to the other side, exposing your neck to him. Which turns out to be a bad idea, as he takes it as a sign to sweep his tongue over the skin of your neck.

“A–Aomine—”

“God,” he chuckles. “Who would’ve guessed that you can be this sexy?”

He pulls away from your neck, and drags his hand from your tits to rub against your torso, feeling the material of your uniform. He presses one hand on the small of your back, pressing his forehead against yours. In a swift motion, he pulls on your body, drawing out a squeak as he lays you down against the concrete floor.

“What if…” he trails, rubbing a thumb under your eye as he hovers over rested body. Your cheeks sear with heat, alongside your chest and the pulsating on your cunt. “...I just fuck you right here?”

“W-what?” You whimper.

He laughs. “I’m hard as hell. You made me this way.”

“You were the one groping my tits!”

“You liked it,” he shrugs, pushing himself off of you, forcing both your legs open as he moves between them. His fingers begin to unbutton your uniform, unravelling the bra you are wearing underneath. Sucking in a deep breath, he stops midway down your torso, and without taking his eyes off your chest, he asks, “Want me to stop?”

Your cheeks flare, and you don’t answer him. You don;t even look at him.

He takes a quick glance at your expression.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’.”

“...Whatever.”

A wide smirk forms on his face, fingers continuing to unbutton your uniform all the way down.

“Do me a favour and get up for a bit,” he murmurs, pressing one of his hands against your back once again to get you to sit up. The feeling of his palm against your bare skin sends you to shivers, coupled with the soft wind whistling between the two of you.

“What’re you—”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as his fingers fumble with the hook of your bra. It took him two wrong moves before getting it right with the third—the fabric loosens around your body, and you pull him closer to conceal your humiliated expression.

“See,” Aomine chuckles after some awkward motion, tossing your stupid bra to the side when he finally gets it off. “You’re so pretty like this.”

“Shut up,” you groan, nails digging into his skin deeper and deeper.

He pulls himself away from your grip, taking a nice hold on your torso to pull your ass up his lap, letting you fall against the hard floor again.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, roaming his touches against your legs. His eyes cannot leave the heaves of your jugs.

“Stop fucking staring,” your hiss, trying to pull your uniform together, hiding your chest away from him.

Aomine scoffs, using one hand to unbuckle his pants. Your eyes travelled from his face to the loose button on his collar to the wet stain on the grey briefs around his hips to the bulge underneath them.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

He tilts his head at your question, furrowing his eyebrows as he takes his cock out from under his briefs. “Fucking you?”

The precum leaks from the tip of his cock, little drops of white strings rolling down his length. He pulls your hips closer to his body and presses it flat against your soaked panties.

He groans at the contact. Your warm slick welcomes him entirely as he presses more against the fabric, rubbing his tip along the length of your pussy.

“S’that feel good?” He whispers, hastily hooking his fingers on your panties, pulling it up your legs, then tossing it to go with your bra. He presses his arm on the side of your head, leaning into you again.

“Don’t put it in,” you whine, trying to hold back your hips from rolling. “You’re gonna get me pregnant.”

“You can’t say shit like that,” he groans against your neck. He positions the tip of his cock against your cunt, and even with your sopping lips, you aren’t sure if you are ready to accommodate his size at all.

“You don’t want to be a teen dad,” you bite your lower lip, hand going to rub his neck.

“I wanna fuck you, though,” he breathes, using his thumb to run along your wet slit. “Wanna fuck you raw, wanna cum inside’a you.”

You tremble with his words, feeling two of his fingers now circling your pussy. “D— don’t be stupid.”

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers, making your cunt wish it has something to tighten around. “D’you know how long I’ve been wanting to get you like this?”

He pushes himself off of you, and holds your wounded knees as he watches your chest heaves, heavy tits rolling with every staggered breath. He flips your skirt over, exposing even more of your cunt to the chill.

He rubs his length against your slick, his tip now pushing against your swelling clit. “I’d jack off and wonder if you were tighter than my fist,” he wraps his cock with his hand and places it again on your entrance, pushing in a slow, deliberate motion.

Between your drooping eyelids, you saw him inaudibly mutter a curse.

“Used to wanna fight Wakamatsu ‘cus he’d stuff this pussy all he wanted. Right?” He scoffs with a stupid, satisfied smile that you wish you could wipe off his face. “Shame that you broke it off, huh? Did he dump you when he realised how much of a whore you are?”

“Shut up…”

“Well, I don’t care. More fun for me.”

“Aomine—“

“Who else have you fucked in the basketball team?” He grunts. “In Touou?”

“Shut— shut the…”

You slap the back of your hand against your mouth—not willing at all to let him hear you be satisfied with his size—biting down on the flesh as he pushes his cock in. All of his cock in.

“Aomine—”

His cock is dragging against your wall, kissing every possible inch of your insides. Your hole continues to burn as he stretches you wide open, draining every last bit of energy from inside of you.

“ F-fuck…”

Your hand goes to fondle your own tit, rolling your hard nipple between your fingers, sloppily trying to garner more and more pleasure. His dick fills you more and more, stuffing you full, before finally stopping.

“Don’t act all reserved now,” he raises an eyebrow as you mewl out his name. He stays still for a moment, a bud of sweat rolling down his temple before pulling out of your homey cunt. “You don’t have to lie.”

Aomine bites his lips, letting his cock rest between your pussy lips. He sees the way they engulf his dick, moving his hips to rub against your core.

“Letting me fuck you on the school rooftop,” he murmurs, “where’s your fucking self-respect? Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if this isn’t your first time getting dicked down up here.”

Your eyes slant up at him, but he quickly shuts down any of your retaliation by pressing his thumb flat against your clit, slowly circling the nub. Your teeth press down hard on your bottom lips.

“We aren’t— we are not …” You babble, putting a thumb between your teeth to stop yourself from moaning, “...having sex.”

He scoffs, drinking in how your eyes roll with your head turned to the side.

“I was inside you just a moment ago.”

Filthy noise of his cock squelching against your cunt filled the air—if someone were to come after you, they would hear Aomine’s dick fucking your pussy lips.

“Fuck,”Aomine spits, pressing your legs tightly against each other then down on your lips.

“A-ah,” You gasp as he drills into your thighs, the tip of his cock rubbing quick and hard against your swollen clit. “Oh my God—”

“Are you cummin’?” He breathes, one hand reaching to roll your tit on his hand. “Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, and you whine at the nickname. He snickers, “You’re so sexy like this, y’know that?”

Your back arches, little whimpers of encouragement swallow your pride whole as you fall completely into him. Aomine grunts at the expression, seeing the lewd expression on your face. He picks up the pace, slamming his hips against your ass.

“M’gonna cum,” he hisses. “Fuck. Wish I could shoot my load into your tight little cunt.”

“Fuck it,” you manage to spit between your groans, “F-fuck it. Just— oh God, just don’t stop—”

Your words rile him up even more—he tightens his grip on your leg, his fingers bruising your fragile skin. Your head begins to spin. Your slam your fists against the ground and your mind numbing orgasm comes the moment strings of Aomine’s thick, white cum comes flying down your skirt and stomach.

“Shit,” he loosens the grip on your legs, letting them fall even with your still convulsing ass and core. His gaze stays on the tip of his dick, the white cum oozing from it, then to your face—your parted lips, dumb eyes, and the sweat dripping down the side of your head down your neck.

He feels himself getting harder as he watches your plump lips whine, wondering how they would wrap around his thick length, if the colour of your lipstick would stain the veins of his cock.

“You coming to the onsen trip?” Aomine tries to distract himself.

You roll over, blindly reaching out for the bra that he tossed God knows where.

“Fuck you.”

#knb #one-shot #chaptered: ain't even jealousy #commissioned #aomine #aomine daiki #kuroko no basuke #kuroko no basket #kuroko's basketball #smut #aomine smut #aomine x reader #aomine x you #knb smut #aomine x reader smut

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lichenes · 4 months

Text

Disco Belgica

You and Joost work in an office in his early days as a musician. Enemies to lovers who?? what??

CW: haterperson and loverboy truly, toxic workplace behaviour

wc: 814

•───────•°•❀•°•───────••────────•°•❀•°•────────•

You were Joost’s worst nightmare. He was plagued by you everywhere he went. It wasn’t helping that you were so fucking bright and cheerfull to everyone you met, yet when it came to him - he never got the same treatment. “Do you mind?” You said as you waved at him, your eyes and voice full of disdain. “What?” He answered. “You’re staring.”

It happened more often than he’d like to admit, the constant surveillance made your stomach do flips. Joost has been working in the same office as you for a few months and, apparently, made it his purpose to drive you crazy. “I need you to go through these documents.” You dropped them onto his desk, his blue eyes drifted to your own. “What’s this?” His accent evident, the venom rolling deliciously off of his tongue.

“Boss told me to give them to you I don’t know what they pertain to Klein.” You were about to turn on your heel and walk away but he called your name. “I didn’t tell you to use my name, did I?” You said making sure to convey as much hate in your tone as you could. “Jesus you’re such a pain in the ass.” You opted against retaliating his stupid remark and went back to your work.

At the end of the day you were getting up to leave as one of your coworkers approached your desk. “Hey, Klein left this for you.” You looked at what appeared to be a folder with over 2 hours of work. “That motherf- this was supposed to be done by the end of the day! Did he tell you why he didn’t finish it?” You were fuming. “I’m not taking this home, it’s his job left unfinished.”

Joost was just walking past the reception when you caught up to him and almost tripped him over (it was meant to be a tap on the shoulder). “Jesus, what the fuck?” The folder was shoved into his arms. “Don’t take me for a pushover, Klein. I’m not gonna do your fucking work.” Walking away you caught his face going red.

God damnit. He hoped it wasn’t visible - although his pale complexion must’ve given it away. Truth be told he just liked fucking with you to rile you up to the point of breaking. Your authoritative side came out just when you were about to snap and he loved it. He did the remaining work in his house but couldn’t quite keep his mind off of you.

The next day he dropped off the documents at the boss’ office and made a beeline towards the kitchen where you usually resided for the first few hours of the day. “I need to talk to you.” You raised your eyebrow. “No you don’t, save the apology for someone who cares Klein” He rolled his eyes. “Just- please?” You eyes widened when you heard him mutter the word, for the first time since you’ve known him.

You stood up wordlessly and followed Joost to the desolated part of the office - a corridor mostly used for the cubby holes of the janitors and cleaning supplies. “What the fuck do you want.” He looked increasingly nervous with each passing second. You crossed your arms. “Cut the shit Klein. Come on, spit it out.” He straightened his back and pulled out a small packet of your favourite candies.

“What is this?” “I just wanted to apologise properly. I don’t hate you and I wish you wouldn’t hate me too.” You were flabbergasted. Your hands fell to your sides. “Cat got you tongue?” He smiled at you for the first time since… ever, you realised. “H-How did you know I liked these?” You were starting to suspect he was stalking you. “It’s not anything bad! I just asked the only guy who you talk to. B-besides me…” His voice faltered a litte when he mentioned Alex.

You took the candies into your hand and quickly thanked him then walked away moved by his sudden change in attitude.

The next day when you walked up to his desk he actually gave you a smile and you handed him a thank-you card. “I wasn’t sure what to give you so I went with the path of least resistance. It isn’t as thoughtful though…” He read the little annotation you wrote under the pre-written text. He smiled and proceeded to chit-chat the whole time you would spend in the kitchen.

“So… you and Klein huh?” Said Alex jabbing your side. “It’s nothing like that… we’ve just gotten on better terms.” Your face got hotter. “Yeah, suuuure.” You were packing your things and just about to leave the office when he called your name and when you turned around he gave you a wave and a huge grin. Your heart started to beat faster and that’s when you felt and knew you were in big, big trouble.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────••────────•°•❀•°•────────•

masterlist

#x reader #joost #joost klein #joost x reader #joost klein x reader #joost klein x you #joost klein fanfic #enemies to lovers #eurovision #eurovison song contest #eurovision 2024

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lowkeyerror · 6 months

Text

The Family Business Ch.6

WandaNat x Raeder

Word Count: 2.4k

Ch. Notes: Rising tensions

Summary: The after math of the fallout between Wanda and her family leads to an all too important business meeting the next day.

An: haha I didn't almost forget to post today... And don't hate me for the next chapter please

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

“What um… what number are you guys staying in? Do you know?” You ask, finally breaking the silence as you arrived at the building.

“220,” Natasha answers for them.

You nod, “I’m in 216, we’ll be right across from each other.”

The ride in the elevator was as silent as the car ride. The anger that was permeating off of Wanda had slightly reduced, but not by much. When the elevator opens, you escort the women to their apartment.

You point across the hall then say, “Well this is you and that is me if you need anything you can always knock."

You attempt to walk away, but a soft grip around your wrist stops you. Your gaze slowly rises to meet Wanda’s. She pulls you into her and the warmth of her embrace let’s you know that she’ll be alright.

“Goodnight little krolik,” she kisses the top of your head before making her way into her new home.

“She’s going to be ok right?” You ask Natasha and she smiles softly at you.

“I’ll make sure of it lisichka. Go rest, you've had an eventful day. “

Its like her words trigger a yawn from your lips. Exhaustion is finally catching up to you properly.

“Goodnight, Nat.”

Once you go into your condo you sigh. The quiet finally getting the best of you. Though you were exhausted your mind was racing. Car chase, Wanda, Natasha, dinner, it all hit you at once. Despite your thoughts you attempt to get ready for bed.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand as soon as your head hits the pillow. It’s a text from Dragos calling for a meeting tomorrow at 9am. You put the phone back down and shut your eyes. This would all feel easier to deal with in the morning.

When your alarm rings at 7 am, you are quick to shut it off. Your sleep had been restless, and you feel the previous nights events weighing heavily on your shoulders. Nonetheless you stumble out of your bed.

After you brush your teeth, you throw on a pair of sweats to get your morning run in before the meeting. Usually, you’d do a run followed by a more rigorous workout, but you were short on time.

Your mind is clear as you begin to run away from the condo. Your only thoughts are focusing on your breathing.

Gloom hadn’t yet left the city. Though it wasn’t raining yet you wouldn’t be surprised if it started up later. Traffic seemed light, not a lot of cars were passing you on the road. The cool air was welcomed against your face as your body temperature slowly rose with each stride.

For a small moment in time, you were at peace. Part of you wished to skip the meeting and just take a lazy day. However, that wasn’t an option because you didn’t work in a regular job field. The non-negotiables of your profession were few but harsh. While you knew the Maximoff’s were lenient with you, you never craved to take advantage of that.

When you arrive back to your building, you quickly shower and dress. You had just finished doing your hair when your doorbell rang. Opening the door, you are met by a familiar red head, who seems to be in a better mood than last night.

“Morning little krolik, I come with coffee and a bagel.”

You smile, “The occasion?”

“I was hoping we’d carpool to work.”

You nod a few times, “Of course, just let me grab my coat and we can head out.”

Quickly you grab your belongings and follow Wanda to her car. You quietly munch on the bagel during the car ride.

“No Natasha today?”

She shakes her head, “Papa is still unsure of her role in the company, so he doesn't want her at the meeting.”

“Speaking of Dragos, are you feeling any better from… yesterday?”

Wanda takes a deep breath. You see her hands clench around the wheel and her demeanor shifts slightly.

“I assume the meeting will further address what happened last night,” she speaks flatly.

“Wanda, you have to keep calm.”

You see her jaw clench, “I will reflect whatever mood is brought unto me.”

You shake your head, “You and I both know that nothing gets solved with that kind of behavior.”

“So, what, you want me to bow down and apologize?” The irritation in her voice doesn’t phase you.

“That’s not what I said. I’m saying you can’t get into a yelling match, and you can’t put your hands on anyone.”

“If they were honest with me from the beginning I wouldn’t have-"

You cut her off, “I didn’t ask for an explanation Wanda. I’m telling you something that I know you are already aware of. If you want to head this organization, you have to keep your emotions in check.”

She mumbles underneath her breath. You raise an eyebrow at her childish antics, “What was that?”

“I said, it’s easier to keep my emotions in check when the lies aren’t about you.”

You fumble with your words briefly before speaking, “Well I told you truth, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but- “

“Well, there you have it. If you want to know something about me, it’s best to ask me. However, if I tell you, and you don’t like what you hear you have to deal with that on your own time,” you glance at her.

She chuckles softly to herself, “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to how much you’ve grown.”

You smile, but then it falters as you recall the argument from last night. Wanda had made Pietro and Dragos retreat instantly when mentioning something that revolved around you. You want to know what it is.

“Wanda, what are they hiding from me?”

You can visibly see the woman pale, “Do you trust me Y/n?”

You nod slowly.

She sighs, “When it’s the right time, I’ll tell you.”

You want to argue more, but you don’t. You trust Wanda, you know she has your best interests in mind. So, you fight the urge to be upset for the rest of the car ride.

When you get to the office, the two of you ride straight to the top floor. Dragos, Pietro, and Flora were already there. The room is tense as you both sit across from them. Usually you’d sit by Pietro’s side, but you weren’t going to let Wanda feel alone in this.

“You can disagree with me if you want, but your actions yesterday proved why keeping you in the dark about the situation with Y/n was the right thing to do. You’re hot-headed now, but back then you were even worse,” Dragos looks his daughter in the eye when he speaks.

You can feel the anger radiating off of Wanda’s body and for a moment you think she is going to have an outburst. Instead, she puts her elbows on the table and leans forward, never breaking eye contact with her father.

“We are a family and I thought that we agreed on having no secrets from each other. In this business a secret is the most dangerous weapon that could be used against us. My potential reaction aside, keeping this secret from me is breaking the rules you set in place. Or do the rules only apply to me?”

Wanda’s response was damn good in your opinion. Although she was angry you saw her hands clasping each other for dear life as a sign of restraint.

“Can we just move on from this? It was 5 years ago, and Y/n is fine now,” Pietro tries to defuse the tension.

Wanda shakes her head, “As much as this is about Y/n, it’s also about not respecting me enough to keep me properly informed about our family and our business. It’s unfair for you all to sit here and claim that I’m solely in the wrong. We can’t move on until all parties take responsibility for their part in this,” Wanda holds firm.

It's weird being in a meeting about yourself, but almost having nothing to do with anything being discussed.

“Have you ever considered the possibility that Y/n didn’t want us to tell you?” Dragos states and your body tenses.

“No,” Wanda says nonchalantly, as if his question was unimportant.

“What if she…”

Wanda’s glare hits her father like an ice pick to the back, “This isn’t a hypothetical, papa. If in some universe out their Y/n wanted you to keep it a secret from me, then that would be fine. However, this isn’t that universe, now is it Y/n?”

She doesn’t look at you, but you answer her question firmly, “No, it isn’t.”

“The best way to move forward from this is an apology from both sides. Wanda has just returned and we’ve dwelled on this matter for too long,” Flora stops the argument in it’s track.

You thought it was a civil solution. It would be for the best, but just by taking a quick glance at Wanda you can tell that she doesn’t want to apologize. It was her rigid posture and her hardened eyes. She felt like she did nothing wrong, but you were hoping she would stand down for the greater good.

“Wanda, I’m sorry we intentionally kept this from you. It is not the way we do things around here. Forgive me, docha,” Dragos speaks sincerely as he looks at Wanda.

She doesn’t seem to be budging. You make the judgment call by discreetly placing your hand on her thigh. This causes her to look in your direction and you speak to her with your eyes. Your features are telling her to apologize. You see her posture relaxes and her eyes soften a bit.

“I’m sorry for the way that I acted last night. It was uncalled for, regardless of my feelings,” she speaks with an equal amount of sincerity.

“Good, now that we’ve settled that I’m going to cut to the chase. Natasha, what assets does she bring to the table?” Dragos moves on to business fairly quickly.

Wanda follows his suit, speaking highly of her wife, “Natasha is a hands on kind of employee. She thrives being where the action is and that doesn’t just mean in a fight. She’s a highly trained assassin, her accolades are insurmountable, and there’s quite literally nothing that she can’t do.”

“She can start as head of security, and we can see what she can do from there,” Dragos offers, but even you think the role is undercutting Natasha’s abilities.

Wanda seems frustrated, but she is going to agree to these terms.

You speak up, “I think she should be in charge of field operations.”

“You and Pietro handle the field operations just fine, why add a third?” Dragos questions with curiosity not animosity.

“To avoid things like what happened yesterday with Mr. H. Right now, the way we operate is that Piet comes and gets me when needed and we just go from there. It’s not strategic at all, I’m usually in the car before I know what exactly it is that we’re doing,” you argue your position.

“It always works out,” Pietro fires back.

Your eyes lock on his, “But it could work better. With me running numbers for the company and for our business, I don’t always have the time to sit and plan out these operations. We all know that Piet doesn’t believe in planning. It’s field operations, it shouldn’t always just be Piet and me. We should have men out there with us incase things go south, but there’s never a plan for that.”

“And you think the addition of Ms. Romanoff will add…” Dragos leads off his sentence.

“She’s going to add structure and power by organizing this department into an actual department rather than just Piet and I doing deliveries in car. She’s experienced and we should be using that to our advantage, especially with us potentially being undercut at the moment.”

Dragos ponders, which is a good thing. It means he believes there is something to everything you’re saying.

“Give her a week on field operations and if you don’t see any type of benefit, she can be head of security,” Wanda offers a compromise.

“Only a week?” His disbelief is hidden in his voice, but you know it’s there.

“It’s all she needs,” Wanda says with confidence.

“Alright, that’s everything for today- “

“We’re not going to address the Kingpin situation?” You stay planted firmly in your chair.

Dragos sighs, “I will deal with Kingpin personally. I had Kate set up a meeting at neutral territory.”

You shook your head knowing what Dragos was insinuating, “You’re trying to have a one-on-one meeting with this bastard? Everyone in this room knows that idea sounds like shit.”

“It’s not an idea, it’s happening in a few hours,” Dragos counters.

“Papa you’re going to have someone tailing you right? You don’t trust him to keep true to his word,” Pietro looks at his father in disbelief.

Dragos’s hand trails through his thick gray hair, “I’ve dealt with Kingpin before. I’ve known him for a long time, and I will be prepared for whatever he has coming.”

“Papa you can’t be serious?” Wanda has features akin to Pietro.

The arguing is about to continue, but then Flora speaks up, “Your father knows what he’s doing kids. Have some faith in him, he’s got a lot of experience for all of you. If he thinks this is the right call, then it has to be. Now, you’re dismissed.”

Suddenly there was no room for arguing with her. You try to keep calm but your feelings on the matter aren’t well hidden as you storm out of the room. Wanda and Pietro leave after you, both with the goal of trying to comfort you. However, their moods weren’t much better than yours.

When it was just the husband and wife in the office Flora let her nerves show. She was unsure about this plan. The lack of support from the group only heightened her anxiety for her husband’s well-being.

“You better prove them wrong Dragos. If anything were to happen to you I-"

The older man is gentle as he reaches for his wife’s hand, in the way he is always gentle with her. He places a kiss to the back of her palm, “Nothing is going to happen to me, moya lybov. I’m going to take car of this business and this family like I always have.”

Dragos wasn’t going to show his nerves. He never did, but to think they didn’t exist would’ve been ignorant. There wasn’t a reality that Dragos saw where the meeting went sideways. It had to go well, or a war would tear across the city. That thought protected him like a bullet proof vest. He was going to protect the industry he worked to build because that was the only option.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wandanat x reader #pietro maximoff

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superhaught · 6 months

Text

To Be Another Notch in Your Bedpost

Pairing: Leighton Murray x Reader

Warnings: explicit smut! (18+ MDNI) implied sub/bratty Leighton, implied dom/brat tamer reader, one night stand

(This is my first ever published fic please be gentle! I want to start taking requests for anything Renee/Regina/Leighton so, ya know, tell me if ya like it and wanna see more writing from me)

Word Count: 2700, Part 1/?

Reader has a one night stand with the Leighton Murray.

Explicit Content Below

This party was everything you hated. Loud, unintelligible music. Drunken idiots everywhere. Sticky spills all over the floor and sweaty bodies brushing against you no matter how much you tried to stay out of the way.

You wouldn’t have even come out tonight if it wasn’t for the fact that your friend basically dragged you kicking and screaming out of your dorm and away from your comfortable Netflix binging. You remained steadfast, though. She could bring you to the party but she couldn’t make you enjoy it. While she danced in the middle of it all, you continued to nurse your one cup of punch against the wall, allowing yourself the guilty pleasure of people watching.

It wasn’t that you thought you were better than your peers, you just couldn’t match their vibe. You couldn’t let go enough. You couldn’t become uninhibited. Your first year at Essex had been an overwhelming one. Making good friends had been hard. Staying on top of your classes even more so. And finding common ground with the legacy and/or wealthy students had been damn near impossible. Your student job in the library was draining, and your dating life had been nonexistent. This party felt like the absolute last thing you needed to decompress.

You were just about to throw in the towel and say goodbye to your friend when someone unexpected approached you.

“Hey wallflower,” she said, addressing you, “a few of the Theta guys are concerned that you’re bored or drugged. Either way, they want it to be resolved.”

The girl was Leighton Murray. A rising queen bee on campus. She was deeply connected to the school, extremely popular within multiple social groups on campus, and easily one of the most stunning women you have ever seen by far.

You chuckle awkwardly and smile at the blonde, “Ah. Well, I am sorry for disturbing the vibe of the party. I know that the frats work hard to make these go well. But truly, I’m neither bored nor drugged, just… not fitting in.”

Leighton raises an eyebrow at you, “I take it this isn’t your usual scene, then?”

“Not at all,” you admit. “I’m much more comfortable in quiet settings with fewer people to worry about.”

Leighton nods and takes a sip from her own drink, glancing over the crowd thoughtfully. She turns back to you, “What made you come, then?”

You shrug, “I was forced by my friend. Apparently my preferred Friday night of watching Queer Eye and baking brownies for myself in the dorm kitchens depresses her.”

Leighton laughs, “It’s not necessarily a bad thing but definitely not how you should be spending your Friday nights in college…” she looks you up and down for a moment, clearly checking you out, “are you… ya know?” She makes her wrist go limp in that recognizable signal and you can’t help but chuckle.

“What? Gay?” She looks a little embarrassed but you smile warmly and give her a reassuring nod, “Yes, I am. Very much so, don’t worry.”

She nods and takes another drink, and you mirror her. Word spreads quickly amongst the sapphic community at Essex and Leighton had been a big topic of conversation lately. The story was that she had recently come out and was making up for lost time. It wasn’t something that you judged her for, but now that she was here chatting you up, it did make you question the depth of her intentions.

You tilt your head questioningly at her and decide to be bold, “We haven’t connected yet, have we?”

Her cheeks flush and she hides her face with her cup again as she responds, “No… we have not…”

“So were you truly sent by the frat guys to come check on me or did you… maybe volunteer yourself for the task?”

She feigns offense at your question and then shrugs, “I will neither confirm nor deny.”

You flash her a knowing smirk and take another sip of your drink. You’re more than interested in her, but you’re also more than nervous. Casual hook-ups have never been your thing and Leighton was the type of woman that you’d want to spend more than just one exciting night with. But for all you knew, that’s not what she wanted right now.

“Well…” she begins quietly, “since you aren’t enjoying yourself here, would it be okay for me to take you somewhere else?”

You slowly nod your head and meet her eyes, “Can I ask you a question first, Leighton?”

She nods back, “Yeah, what’s up?”

“What are you looking for, right now?”

She gives you a confused expression, “What do you mean?”

“Do you want one fun night and nothing more, or someone who might last longer than one fun night?”

She considers the question for a moment, “Is it important for you to know the answer to that before we go further?”

“It is,” you reply, “I just want to manage my expectations.”

She nods in understanding, “You’re the first person who’s actually asked that… honestly, I’m just looking to feel good. Lately, that has resulted in a string of fun nights… but I’m not opposed to having more than that, really.”

“So, you’re saying that if you hit it off with someone and they asked you out, you wouldn’t outright reject them?”

She nods, “Right. Does that… help you with your concerns?”

“Yeah, it does. Thank you.” You smile again and she smiles back, seemingly moved by your tender nature. You hold out your hand to her and finally introduce yourself and she echoes your name back to you as she happily shakes your hand.

“So… about my offer?”

You giggle and nod, “Get me out of here, Leighton.”

The girl grabs your hand and quickly leads you out of the frat party. You’re able to quickly shoot your friend an explanatory text so that she won’t worry about your whereabouts, and soon enough, you're trailing behind Leighton Murray as she takes you across campus back to her dorm.

You hold onto her hand the entire time. She swiftly unlocks the door to her suite, which is thankfully empty at the moment, and she pulls you straight into her room, shutting the door behind you.

You lock eyes and smile, a little nervously on both of your parts. It was comforting to you that there was some anxiety for her as well. But you’ve never been one to let that anxiousness prevent you from taking the lead. You bring your hands up to her cheeks and cradle her softly as you pull her in towards you and close the distance between your lips. Her eyes flutter shut and a small sigh escapes her as you kiss. The softness of her, the lipgloss she wears, the perfume on her neck… all of it completely tantalizes you and you suddenly have no trouble falling into her completely.

Her hands drift to the small of your back, then she squeezes your ass playfully and yanks you a little closer to her, which prompts you to gently push her backwards so that she’s against the door. Leighton gasps lightly and you smile in the kiss, knowing that your actions have pleased her. Your parted lips give her the opportunity to graze her tongue over your bottom lip and you eagerly accept it and meet her with yours, deepening the kiss.

You begin to trail your hands down her body, letting your fingertips brush skin where it’s exposed and fidgeting with the fabric of her dress as you go down to her hips and hold onto her firmly. Your touch sends a shiver up her spine and she moans. You pause the kiss for just a moment so that you can take a much needed deep breath, but you keep your nose and forehead pressed against her and meet her gorgeous blue eyes again for a second and you can’t help but be in awe, “fuck…” you breathe.

She nods eagerly and pulls you back in for more. You push her back against the door again, keeping her pinned in place as you gently shift her hair out of the way of her neck and you lean down to place kisses on her skin beneath her jawline and along her pulse point.

She sighs and melts, biting her lower lip and burying her fingers into the hair at the back of your neck to hold onto you. Your lips and tongue explore her soft, sensitive skin and you playfully nibble at her earlobe which makes her gasp before you return to her lips and continue making out with her.

You feel her start to rock her hips, trying to grind against you in search of friction where she needs it. You smile and tease her, slowing down your movements and taking your time to worship the other side of her neck and each collarbone.

She groans, “oh fuck… you… tease...”

You smirk and whisper into her ear, “Feeling needy, Leight? If you want something, you’d better ask for it.”

She whines and bites into her lower lip hard but then indignantly shakes her head, deciding to try to maintain a little bit of brattiness rather than just caving right away.

Your hands drop down to her thighs and start to toy with the bottom hem of her dress, inching the fabric upwards bit by bit and making her squirm while you kiss her collarbones and as much of her chest as is exposed by the low cut.

Your fingertips dance over her skin and give her goosebumps as you touch the backs of her thighs feather-light, keeping your pelvis just out of her reach so that when she rocks her hips, she doesn’t find anything to make contact with. You find a great deal of amusement in watching this powerful woman quickly crumble. She pulls your hair harder and gets even more vocal with her whines and groans, cursing in your ear and desperately seeking more deliberate touch from you.

You keep kissing her neck, touching your lips and tongue softly to her hairline and feeling her pounding heartbeat. You barely hear it, a faint whisper escapes her, “please…”

You raise an eyebrow and pull back to look at her face, “Hm? What was that?”

Leighton grumbles and whispers it again, “please… please.”

“Please, what?”

“Oh my god please fucking fuck me!” She finally blurts.

You smile, satisfied, and decide to oblige her instead of gloating any further. You kiss her lips once more before lowering yourself onto your knees between her legs, her mouth falls open and she stares down at you in awe.

You look up at her and maintain eye contact as you hike up the fabric of her dress even more, until it bunches around her hips and exposes her lace panties and an intoxicating inch of skin between her navel and the underwear. You reach your head up and press a soft, cruel kiss to her center over the fabric which makes her jut her hips and groan, falling back against the door a little bit. You can feel how hot and wet she already is and you try not to let that go to your head.

You slide your hands down the skin of her legs and follow your fingers with your lips, kissing her gently, until your hands reach her heels and you start to take them off of her one at a time while watching her face.

“You’re so gorgeous, Leighton.” You tell her.

She just flushes and nods, helping you by kicking her shoes off and out of the way. Your hands return to her thighs and then slowly, you hook your fingers into the waistband of her panties and you start to pull them down. She moans and you feel an overwhelming wave of heat race through your own body and settle between your legs. You watch her eyes as you pull the fabric down and she carefully steps out of it, then you take a moment to admire her like this and you feel like all of this must be a dream.

“Are you ready, Leighton?”

She nods emphatically, “God yes… please…”

You nod and help her drape one of her legs over our shoulder as you get yourself into a solid position and bring your face between her thighs.

She leans back, putting more of her weight against the door and with one more affirmative nod, you extend your tongue and drag it along her.

You hear her moan and can sense her letting her head fall back against the door as she winds her fingers into your hair and holds your head firmly in place so that you are less inclined to pull away.

Your senses are flooded by the taste and feel of her and your own eyes roll back before you shut them completely and draw your focus into pleasing this incredible woman. Your lips and tongue start to work on her slowly, you moan against her and she grinds against you and you can tell that she’s already anxious for release.

You drag your tongue languidly through her folds and pause to push it inside of her before returning to her clit and circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with the flat of your tongue. You can easily tell what she likes and wants more of and it doesn’t take long at all to build her up to climax. Your lower face is already drenched in her but you stay in place and maintain the pace and motions that she’s responding to, feeling all of her muscles tense, her breathing quicken and her noises intensify. With just a few more movements of your tongue she finally releases with a long, drawn out moan and you start to slow your ministrations as she rides out her orgasm on your face. She beams widely and laughs joyously through the waves of ecstasy, breathing hard, chest heaving.

You do your best to clean her up and then you quickly stand and help support her as her legs weaken. With a simple lift, you bring her from the door to her bed and lie her down and she curls up with a big smile on her face and says, “holy shit…”

You laugh and crawl into the bed next to her and wrap your arms around her while she rests for a moment, catching her breath and regaining her bearings. You spend a few quiet minutes just spooning her and rubbing her back gently and she smiles and hums happily.

Eventually, she whispers, “You know, I’ve slept with a lot of people recently… but what you just did for me… doesn’t even compare. I feel like you’re on a whole different graph…”

You laugh, “What? That can’t be true.”

“No, I'm being one hundred percent serious. That was insane.”

You smile and get close to her ear and whisper to her, “It doesn’t have to be over…”

“Well right, I need to return the favor…” She starts to roll over toward you but you hold her in place and stop her, leaning over her shoulder and kissing her neck lightly, “sure, you could do that, but I’m talking about it not being over for you…” you whisper against her ear.

“Fuck…” she groans, “are you going for some kind of record?”

“I just want to make you feel good…”

“You’re unreal…”

You flash her a playful smirk and she gets up out of the bed and slips a sock over the door handle to her room, “Bela will understand.”

You both giggle and then she excitedly gets back into the bed with you, climbing onto your lap and immediately capturing your lips in more passionate kisses.

The night skips on, continuing to excite and pleasure you both, and you remind yourself no short of a hundred times to thank your friend for making you come to the party.

Next Chapter

#leighton murray #tslocg #sex lives of college girls #leighton murray fanfiction #leighton murray smut #smut with plot #renee rapp #renee rapp fanfiction #original writing

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freedomfireflies · 7 months

Text

I Love You*

Summary: The second part to Yellow* and One for the Money*

The one where you tell Mr. Styles you love him and you wonder if he'll say it back.

Word Count: 3k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, blow job, multiple orgasms, brief Daddy kink, Sir kink

I love you.

Three little words that feel so big in such a small room.

Mr. Styles remains still. Unmoving. So quiet, you wonder if you actually said the words aloud or if you only thought them.

But you can feel his heart racing. Can hear the subtle hitch in his breath as the seconds tick by. And you know, undoubtedly, that he heard you.

You clear your throat. “You don’t…you don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know.”

There’s another long lull between your admission and his response. He shifts in your arms before finally he finally nods once.

And that suffices as his reply.

Truth be told, you feel relieved. You aren’t even sure why you said it at all, much less now. And after such an intimate scene. Especially when you knew he most likely wouldn’t say it back.

But you don’t blame him for that. Mr. Styles has never been the overly romantic, affectionate type. You don’t expect that to change just for you. You’re happy with the relationship you have. You like that you stay at his apartment more than your own. You like that he dedicates his free time to you. And you like that you work together and play together.

He’s more than just your partner and your boss. He’s…yours.

“Sir?” you whisper, and you feel his hand tighten around yours. “Are you all right?”

He nods again. Quickly. Strained. “I’m fine, Peach. Are you?”

You nod, too. “Mhm. I’m better now. Promise.” A beat. “Could we start the scene again?”

He lets out a sigh and finally looks up to catch your eye. “Maybe later. We’ll see.”

You pout and feel that anxious twist in your stomach return. You don’t want to end this moment on a sour note. The note where you had to safe word and make him stop only to tell him you love him and surely freak him out. You want to go back. Start it all over again. Do it right.

He notices your frown and tilts his head. “Peach,” he warns. “Don’t.”

“But—”

“I said we’ll see,” he repeats sternly. “If you’re good, I’ll consider it. But if you want to argue with me, you can sit here, achy and dripping, with nobody to touch you.”

You bite back a whine. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.” He pats your hip. “I’ve got a few more emails to answer before dinner. If I go, will you be all right until I’m done?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He takes hold of your chin. Firm. “I want your honesty.”

“You have it.”

He hesitates. There’s a tension here, between you. An unspoken strain and an edge you’d give anything to smooth out.

You can tell he wants to resolve it. He’s a problem solver. It’s in his nature to fix things. And that’s how this whole arrangement was started in the first place.

But how can he fix what he knows he broke?

He kisses your cheek. Quickly. Gently. “Be good while I’m gone.”

And with that, he leaves you. He turns off the camera, puts his clothes back on, and disappears into his home office.

You spend the next several hours trying not to stare at his closed door. Or thinking about how it ended. What you said. You delete the footage off the SD card and vow to never speak of this day again.

He feels so far away, even if it’s only a few hundred feet. But there’s an ocean between you now and you are lost in his sea.

Dinner is good. You order Chinese and it’s delivered right as he’s exiting his office for the night. You do your best to put things back to the way they were before. You talk—a lot—and he listens. He’s quiet. Nodding along without much commentary. He picks at his food and you know something is still on his mind.

You hate it.

He cleans up while you go take a shower. You take your time, allowing the water to wash away your regret. Make you clean again. Until each mistake has been swept down the drain.

The two of you will be okay. You have to be.

When you get out, you find him on the bed. He’s got his reading glasses on and a book in his hand and he looks…

Ethereal.

You’ve always been attracted to him. How could you not be, when he has a jaw like that and abs that could grate cheese? But somehow, he looks even better like this—relaxed. At peace. He’s still wearing his fancy slacks and white button up. But the sleeves have been rolled to his elbows and he’s left the first few buttons undone.

You step further into the bedroom and he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s engrossed in his novel, glasses perched on the tip of his perfect nose as he flips to the next page. And you smile. Your insides already aching as you crawl onto the end of the mattress and allow your towel to fall away.

When the bed dips, he glances up. Briefly. He notices the feral look in your eye and the way you’re moving toward him. He knows what you want and thankfully, he doesn’t deny you.

He looks back to his book. “How was your shower?”

“Good,” you murmur. You reach for his belt and slip it through each loop until you can toss it toward the floor.

He’s quiet.

“How’s your book?” you ask and he hums.

“It’s all right. Not entirely helpful but I like the subject.”

You grin. You adore when he sounds studious. “That’s good.” You pull his zipper down and reach inside his briefs.

Still, he doesn’t so much as flinch. He reads and he pretends as though you aren’t currently dragging your palm along his hardening cock. He pretends your tits aren’t mere inches from his grasp and he pretends that he can’t see the way you’ve already begun to drip.

You take him in your mouth. Your tongue is wet and ready and you swing your leg over his thigh in order to brace yourself against his lap and take him fully. He’s large. Incredibly large and you forget that sometimes until you feel the way he curves down your throat.

You pull back and spit only to watch the way it drips down his length until you can smear it around the way you want.

“Peach,” you hear him say and you look up. He moves the book aside to see you. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

He reaches down and pinches your cheek. “Watch it,” he warns and he’s strict but somehow kind. “I thought I told you to wait.”

“I did wait,” you argue before sucking on his tip. You pop off and lick your lips. “All day. Couldn’t wait any longer.”

“Hm.” He moves his hand to the back of your head and tugs you away. “I’m not sure I should let you.”

“…why?” You straighten up. “I’m okay now. I want to do this. And you never got to finish—”

“Peach—”

“—which I know isn’t the point,” you amend quickly, remembering what he said before. “I know. But I want to make you finish. I want to make you feel good. Especially after what you did for me.”

He frowns now. Sighs. Takes off his glasses and sets down his book. “I’m your dominant and your partner. It is my job to take care of you. I don’t do it because I want something in return and my kindness is not transactional. I care about you. I want you to be okay. Always.”

I care about you isn’t exactly an I love you but it still makes you smile. Really, really big.

“I know,” you whisper. You squeeze his thigh. “But I feel…edged.”

He smirks. “Do you?”

“Mhm.” You dip back down and drag your tongue up from his balls. You notice his jaw tick. “And if you really want to take care of me and make sure I’m okay…you’ll cum in my mouth.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He considers this, fingers tapping over the hard cover of his book. Then, he nods once, and slips his glasses back on. “All right. I’ll let you have your way just this once. But once you’re through, you’re to get into this bed and go to sleep. Is that understood?”

You nod eagerly. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl. Go ahead.”

With that, you continue your sucking and fondling while he continues reading his novel. The bedroom is eerily silent except for the loud echo of your wet, enthusiastic lapping at the large cock sitting proudly on your tongue. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. Even if he won’t give you your own orgasm before bed, you’re content to have him just like this.

It doesn’t take long until he’s twitching in your mouth. He doesn’t look at you or watch the way your cheeks hollow or the way his balls look in your pretty hands, but you know he’s desperate to. You can tell by the way he turns the page. The way he grips the book and tries incredibly hard not to rip it in half as he moves to the next chapter.

You don’t slow. You keep going, even as his legs flex beneath you. As his chest takes in labored breaths. You want to get him there and he subtly nudges his leg further into your cunt to feel your arousal smear across his skin.

You do everything you know he likes, even though the camera is off. You suck and squeeze and give him everything you know he likes. Because this performance is just for him. The way you moan, the way you swallow, the way you bob and take more of him than you think you ever have before.

You’re his good girl. His investment, his toy, his.

And moments before he finally releases himself all down your throat, he tosses the book aside, grabs a fistful of your hair, and yanks you off.

“Get on,” he grits and tugs you closer.

You don’t need to be told twice. You scoot forward and line him up just so before he takes hold of your hips and helps you sink down. Things move quickly and he doesn’t have the patience to wait any longer.

And it’s beautiful, this moment. The way he stretches you open. And even if there’s a slight burn from the intrusion of his thick cock, you revel in the pain. Both of you groaning the moment you feel it.

And you know he won’t be able to hold off much longer.

“How did it taste, Peach, hm?” he asks as he fucks up into you. “How did it feel to have me in your mouth?”

“Good,” you pant. You claw at his curls. “So good, Sir—”

“Yeah?” He slaps his hand against your ass and you mewl. “Like to take my cock, don’t you? Like to be my dirty little slut—"

“Yes—”

“Like to feel me down your throat…have me cum all over your tongue.”

You make too many noises and he reaches up to pull your lip with his teeth. He kisses you and groans into your mouth and this is what sex should be. Rough and hard but filled with adoration.

“What a fucking whore,” he groans. He tugs at your hips. Watches the bulge in your belly with every thrust. “Begging to suck my cock, wanting to make Daddy feel good…guess I don’t give your mouth enough things to do, hm?”

You shake your head and wilt in his hold. He rarely refers to himself with that nickname and hearing it now almost tips you over.

“So fucking wet,” he exhales and you look down to watch with him. “S’fucking pathetic, isn’t it? Didn’t even have to touch you to have you dripping.”

He’s right. He always is.

He pinches your clit. Takes your nipple in his mouth and lets his large hands scratch down your back—your shoulders blades, your spine, your ass. And you have never felt safer than here in this moment with him.

“Cum,” he says, and he nips at your skin until it’s littered in marks and memories.

“Cum,” he whispers, and he pulls on your hair and wraps it around his fist to bare your throat to his teeth.

“Cum,” he pleads, and he kisses you—hard—until the room is spinning and you finally let go.

You unravel together. A collection of moans and cries and tangled limbs as you make a mess of each other. And you don’t care—about any of it. About what was said earlier, about what wasn’t said, about the way he looked when you said it.

You cling to his strong shoulders and you kiss him hard and you indulge in the feel of him dripping from your cunt.

But he’s not through. He pulls you off his cock and flips you onto your knees until your ass in the air.

You feel his tongue. Dragging up your cunt, tasting the remains of his cum, your cum, everything. He spanks you—hard. Paints his mark across your skin and leaves it there just so he can admire it.

“Say it,” he hisses and you suck in a sharp breath.

“Wha…what?”

“Say it,” he says. He spanks you again and nips at your pussy. “Say you love me.”

You clutch the duvet and your thighs are shaking. Your mind feels fuzzy. “I…”

Another slap to your ass and you’re overstimulated and wildly sensitive. He fucks his tongue into your dripping hole and grunts at the way you keen and you’ve never felt this kind of beautiful confusion.

“Say it.” He holds your thighs open and nearly suffocates himself as he mouths at you. “Fucking tell me you love me. Tell me again.”

You shake your head. You don’t understand. “Harry…”

Wrong. He slips his fingers inside and fucks his cum back into you. Fast. Lewd. Loud. “Come on, Peach. I know you want to. Know you do….so say it.”

And maybe this is a trick. Maybe this is some cruel, sadistic game just to make you lose but you can’t think straight when he’s this close. When he’s bending your body to his salacious intentions and treating you like a toy.

“I love you,” you whisper. You screw your eyes shut. “I do, I love you, Sir.”

He curses. Groans. “Again.”

“I love you.” You fall onto the bed stomach first but he doesn’t stop. He flips you around and he looks at you as he eats you. “I love you, Mr. Styles.”

His lashes flutter. You reach for his hair and tug it with your fist and he moans into your cunt before drinking you down. Spitting on your pussy just to smear it around and thrust it back into you.

You arch. “Shit, I love you—I—”

You cum again and he enjoys every second of it. He pulls you as close to his face as he can get you and lives inside the sound of your strained whimpers.

And when you finish, he leaves your clit with a satisfied pop and licks his lips. You watch him crawl up your body until he’s settled atop your chest and you smile lazily as he reaches up to run his hand down your cheek.

“My sweet Peach,” he whispers and kisses you hard. You taste everything. You taste him. You taste the desperation woven alongside his tongue. He kisses you until you can’t breathe and he only stops so he can stare at you a little longer.

You brush your fingers through the damp curls along the back of his neck. “That was fun.”

He’s quiet. Studying you closely and you feel as though you’re being graded on a test you didn’t know you were taking.

Then, he murmurs, “I don’t say it.”

Your heart skips. You don’t have to ask what he means. “I…I know. It’s okay. I don’t expect you—”

“I don’t say it because I’m afraid I can’t live up to it,” he continues. He ignores you. “Because the last time I did, I couldn’t deliver on what it meant. My love didn’t look the same as hers did. I said it. And she still left.”

Your other hand finds his shirt. You trail your touch over the exposed skin of his chest and you feel the way his heart races. “I know.”

His brows furrow. “I want to say it,” he says softly. “I want to. For you. Because I do. And I don’t want this to feel unfair—”

“It doesn’t,” you assure him. “I promise. I…I figured you wouldn’t say it back and I was okay with that. Because it doesn’t change the fact that I do.”

Another beat. “I’m worried you didn’t mean it.”

“What?”

He sighs and sweeps his thumb along your jaw. “You’d been anxious, and you were scared. You said none of your other partners had ever been kind to you in moments like that, and…sex is intimate. It can change the chemistry in your brain and maybe…maybe you didn’t mean it—”

“I did.” You grab his face and you make him listen. “Harry, I meant it. I still mean it. And I’ll mean it tomorrow, too. And the next day. And the next.”

His expression softens.

“And I meant it long before today. I wanted to tell you tons of times and I didn’t because…I don’t know. I didn’t want to scare you,” you admit and you both smile. “It is a big word. But it’s just a word. It means nothing without action. And even if you can’t say it, you show it every day. And that’s all I could really want.”

He dips down and nuzzles his nose against yours. “I don’t deserve you, Peach.”

“No,” you tease. “No, you don’t.”

You kiss again and his body feels good against yours. His heart feels good against yours.

Then, he exhales, "I love you."

And you don't say anything. But you smile. Because you know everything he's giving up just to offer you what you want to hear.

Minutes go by before you finally change the subject and say, "You know, I kind of wish we'd been recording all that. That would have been some great content."

He laughs, relieved, and the sound is so incredibly beautiful.

“Next time,” he says and you grin as he holds you closer. “Tonight…your love belongs to me.”

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY CUTIES!!! Granted, this wasn't exactly a Valentine's blurb BUT LISTEN IT WAS CLOSE ENOUGH!!!!! ASLFJSF

I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH and hope you're having the best day! No matter what it looks like or who it's with ♥️

~ Full One for the Money Masterlist

~ Full Masterlist

Credit for the incredible and perfectly peachy dividers to @firefly-graphics!!

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @kathb59 @iamjustaholeforyousir @harrystylesfan2686 @cherryluvhobi @caynonmoondreams @daphnesutton @ilovec0lbybr0ck @definegirlfriendsx @allthelovehes @amiets2 @nega-omega @sucker-4-angst @hsgucci94 @gills-lounge @kennedy-brooke @avasversion @stylesfever @saturnheartz

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katnisspeetaprim · 7 months

Text

Father Figure

Lucifer Morningstar/Platonic!TeenReader

Summary: You'd had a hard time in the sort while you'd been alive, so when your new boss shows you kindness like you've never seen, you can't help but be suspicious...

Warnings: Platonic relationship, teenage fem reader, implied drug use, implied sex work, implied underage sex, dead beat parents, assault, swearing, panic attack, crying, angst, fluff A.N; not sure if I will write a part 2 yet, see how this does!

Word Count: 3102 Hazbin M.list

Hell was a scary place for someone like you. Being a teenager in Hell was less than ideal.

Your parents were useless, always too coked out of their minds to care for you, so you left.

Due to your unfortunate circumstances, you had to resort to some... less than kosher means to survive. It was awful, but it’s all you could do.

One night, one of your clients wouldn’t take no for an answer so when you tried to fight back, things went bad for you.

So here you were.

Luckily, under princess Morningstar’s new work programme, all new sinners would be provided with a job to get them started, if they accepted the help that is. And that’s how you came to be the King of hell’s live in maid.

You’d finally found your way to the mansion, after getting lost multiple times. You felt somewhat intimidated as you stood before the large doors. It just now hit you that you’d be working for the devil himself. The thought made your blood run cold. Why would they give such a high profile job to someone like you? Maybe because you wouldn’t be able to cause any trouble? Either way you couldn’t back out now.

Swallowing back your nerves, you raised a hand and knocked on the door.

Almost immediately the door swung open to reveal a short man, who seemed a little too keen to interact with you.

‘Why hello there! Something I can help you with?’... Was he waiting by the door?

‘I uh- I was told to come here to work?’ You handed him your work certificate, and he quickly scanned it over before breaking out into a smile.

‘Wow! I didn’t expect to get someone so soon!’ It was only after Lucifer read the paper, did he properly look at you. His smile faltered slightly.

‘Uh sorry to be blunt, but you look a little... young?’

‘Well I’m 16.’ You laughed nervously. ‘Is that not ok? I promise I’ll be a good worker!’ Lucifer frowned deeply at your sudden panicked rambling.

It wasn’t uncommon for people to die young, but to end up in Hell?

He knew Earth could be a terrible place, but what could you have done at such a young age to end up here.

‘No no! Just me thinking out loud haha.’ Lucifer quickly backtracked. ‘Please come in.’ He moved to allow you to pass by, now smiling again. You entered, realising you were only slightly shorted than him as you passed by.

Maybe working for the Devil wouldn’t be as scary as you thought.

‘You have no idea how long I’ve needed a maid. I hate cleaning!’ He sighed out dramatically.

Over the coming months, you’d settled well into your job. You suppose you had it easy when it came to jobs in Hell. Cleaning was pretty easy.

Lucifer mostly left you to your own devices, thinking you wouldn’t want to hang out with an old man like him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t make an effort with you.

The first time he approached you in the middle of the day, was to gift you a mobile phone.

‘Hey!’ He slid up to you out of nowhere, making you jump out of your skin. ‘Realised you don’t have a phone! Can’t check in if you don’t have one of those!’ You weren’t used to receiving gifts with no strings attached, But Lucifer didn’t seem to have ulterior motives, so you tentatively accepted.

‘Oh! I’ll even give you my daughters number! You two will get on like a house on fire!’

Another encounter was on an evening. Lucifer was finishing up his supper, when he aught sight of you scurrying round the foyer. He called out for you to come over.

‘Have you eaten yet? It’s getting pretty late...’ You couldn’t help but feel touched that he was seemingly looking out for you.

‘I still have a lot to do... I’m a little behind today...’ You trailed off, worried about being scolded for being tardy.

‘Nonsense! Please join me, there’s way too much for just me anyway.’ Lucifer insisted, jumping up and pulling a chair out for you.

‘Are you sure that’s ok?’ You asked, still a little reserved of his kindness.

‘Of course! Always happy for the company.’

Lucifer could read you like a book. He knew you were still nervous and skeptical of him, but he couldn’t blame you. He still didn’t know the circumstances for you to end up in Hell, plus you were so young, it would take a lot to trust.

Even though you worked for him, Lucifer couldn’t help but feel protective of you.

One of the more recent incidents, was when you got hurt.

The house chef was running out of ingredients, so he asked you to run out and grab them. You happily agreed since you didn’t really have any reason to leave the house otherwise.

Ok. Maybe you’d gone a little over bored, you thought as you juggled the heavy bags in your arms.

‘Hey baby! Need some help with those?’ You looked over and saw a group of 3 men leering at you. You smiled nervously and said ‘ No thank you.’ Before turning round, hoping to get away without any trouble.

‘Hey do you know who your talking to? Don’t be rude!’ One of the men grabbed your arm, causing you to drop your bags.

‘Don’t touch me!’ You screamed out, trying to pry your arm from his grip.

‘We were just offering to walk you home lady, but if you want to get down here, that’s fine by us.’ The second man sneered at you with a smirk as he grabbed your face hard.

Your eyes widened at his words. You were now struggling even more, to no avail. The final man cam up behind you and grabbed your other arm in an attempt to keep you still.

‘Stop struggling will ya!’ The man in front of you spat out, shaking you by the arm. He shook you so violently, that the long sleeve of your dress began to rip. You took advantage of this. Pulling your arm back so hard, your sleeve came off in his hand.

The attacker behind you hadn’t been expected you to fall backwards, so he lost his grip on your arm, giving you just enough time to book it in the direction of Lucifer’s home.

You could hear them running and shouting after you, but you didn’t look back. It wasn’t far now. You just had to make it back to the house and you’d be safe.

Bursting through the main doors, you immediately fell to your knees and cradled your head in your hands as you hyperventilated.

‘Y/N!? What the Hell happened?’ Lucifer had heard the slam of the door so he came out to investigate. He hadn’t expected to find you having a panic attack in his entrance hall.

He was kneeling by your side in an instant, placing a comforting hand on your back. As he looked closer at you, he saw that your sleeve was ripped, with a bruise forming round your wrist. When you looked up at him with wide, teary eyes he also clocked some bruises on your jaw.

Lucifer’s eyes immediately darkened.

‘’m sorry I-I lost the groceries...’ You stuttered out with a shaky voice. Lucifer’s face immediately contorted.

‘Y/N I don’t give a damn about the groceries! I want to know who did this to you.’ Lucifer was aware of how angry he sounded, but he was honestly offended that you thought he cared more about some groceries than you.

You cowered slightly at his raised voice and Lucifer felt bad. He took a deep breath to calm down before speaking again, much more softly this time.

‘Please Y/N, I need to know who did this.’

You looked up to him and you could see the genuine concern in his eyes. You tried your best to get your sobs under control so you could speak.

‘There was a-a group of three rough looking guys not far from here...’ Lucifer groaned internally. He knew exactly who you were talking about.

They were a group that had been causing trouble round the are for a while now, but he never had a good enough reason to get rid of them... Until now.

Lucifer stood and extended a hand to you with a smile. You hesitantly took his hand and he helped you to your feet.

‘Go get cleaned up ok? I gotta go out for a while.’ He ushered you towards your room.

‘Ok...’ You trailed off sadly.

‘Great!’ Lucifer grinned widely at you as he opened a portal. He stepped through before leaning his head back out to address you.

‘And I don’t want to see you doing house work when I get back, kay?’ he tipped his hat before dashing back through. Then the portal closed.

‘Evening gentlemen.’ The three men from earlier swiftly jumped up from their card game, to see Lucifer leaning up against the wall, blocking the exit to the alley. They all immediately shrunk back when they saw it was him.

‘oh your majesty... What brings you to our hideout?’ Lucifer started to slowly walk into the alley, never tearing his eyes away from the men, making them even more on edge.

‘Uh-sir?’

‘So you think it’s fun to assault kid’s huh?’ Lucifer spoke in an eerily calm voice. The men looked at each other, now sweating profusely. They all immediately tried to deny the accusations, but Lucifer wasn’t having it.

‘Keep your filthy mouths shut!’ His demonic form began manifesting as his anger grew. ‘You dare lay your hands on someone I care about!?’

The men were no longer tough bullies, but now reduced to a quivering mass with their backs to the wall as Lucifer stalked forwards.

A smirk appeared on his face as he narrowed his eyes at the men.

‘What do you say I give a demonstration of how Hell got it’s reputation?’

Screams echoed from the alley. People knew better than to intervene.

Lucifer returned home not much later, making a bee line for your room straight away.

He was about to knock on your door, when he heard faint crying coming from the other side.

He looked down remorsefully. Maybe he shouldn’t have left you alone. He composed himself and knocked. The sobs went quiet and he heard a meek, ‘come in.’

As he entered, he noticed you’d changed from your maid outfit and now wore your pyjamas and dressing gown.

‘Hey Y/N, you feeling any better?’ He came to sit next to you with a comforting smile.

‘I guess so...’ You replied, though the defeated look was still evident on your face.

‘Well golly! I have something to turn that frown upside down!’ You were startled by his sudden energetic proclamation. ‘Ta-da!’ He pulled a small duck from his coat pocket and proudly presented it to you.

You looked over the duck, which had obviously been made to resemble you by giving it some of your features.

As you looked at the little yellow duck, something inside of you snapped. Without warning, you batted the duck from his hand and jumped up in a fury, scowl painted across your face.

‘Why are you acting like you care about me!?’ Lucifer jumped up as if you’d burnt him, his hands out in front of him as a peaceful gesture. He was stunned at your sudden outburst.

‘Y/N, I don’t thi-‘

‘Don’t try and lie to me! Nobody’s ever cared about me!’ You cut him off. You were getting more irate as you broke down into hysterics again.

Lucifer didn’t know what to say. He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t find the words to speak.

When he didn’t answer, it only made you more angry.

‘What do you want from me!?’ You screamed at him, tears flowing down your face. ‘Is it sex? Is that what you want from me, just like everyone else!?’

Lucifer audible gasped at your outburst and took a step back to show he meant no harm.

‘Whoa kid! I don’t want anything from you! Especially not...’ Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to say it. Everything began to fall into place for him now. So that’s what you had to do back on Earth.

He was angry that you accused him of being that disgusting, but not at you. He could never hate you. He was angry that there were people on Earth that thought it was ok to take advantage of a child like that.

You froze in place. The way he was keeping his distance, the way he was making himself look small so as to not intimidate you... Then there was his eyes. They were sad.

They bore into you, as if he were pleading with you to believe him. He wasn’t lying.

Your eyes stung with tears and your face heated up as you looked away, embarrassed by your outburst.

Lucifer wanted to comfort you, but he also didn’t want to spook you, so you needed to make the first move.

You mumbled something under your breath he couldn’t quite hear.

‘I uh, didn’t catch that...’ You squinted your eyes and let out a shaky breath, as if hyping yourself up to repeat what you had said.

You looked him dead in the eye, face hard as you repeated yourself.

‘I said I wish I were your daughter! My life would have been so much better.’

Lucifer was gobsmacked. He really hadn’t been expecting that. When he really thought about it he realised he shouldn’t be that surprised at all. He knew you had to have a rough life, and with how welcoming and caring he’d been to you, he should have know something like this would manifest.

The more Lucifer thought it over, the bigger his hear swelled. You thought so highly of him, that you wanted him to be your dad, or fatherly figure at least.

It seemed that Lucifer took a few moments too many to digest this information, as you turned away from him abruptly. He could see you shaking.

‘I’m sorry....’ You whispered.

Lucifer was snapped back to reality by your voice. You were clearly still upset, but he couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face.

He made his way over to you and gingerly placed a hand on your shoulder, so as to not startle you, but you still flinched at the contact.

‘Y/N... You’ve nothing to be sorry for.’ Lucifer spoke so softly that it took you off guard. You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell by the tone of his voice that he was smiling.

‘It wasn’t till recently that I repaired my relationship with Charlie.’ You were rooted to the spot as you listened intently to what he was saying. ‘ I wasn’t there for a long time, and I truly regret how much time I missed with her.’ Your face was cast down as you hung onto every word.

You felt so stupid bringing this up. He already had a daughter that he loved, so you would just get in the way. Maybe this was his way of letting you down gently.

Lucifer moved to stand next to you, with his arm now across your shoulders. As you looked up to him, you were stunned to see him smiling. You almost passed out at his next words.

‘But maybe I can be there for you.’ More tears started to stream down your face, but this time they were tears of joy. For the first time in a long time, you felt truly happy.

Flinging your arms round his torso, you buried your head into his chest as you clung to him for dear life.

Lucifer happily returned your embrace and lay his head a top yours.

‘I’m sorry we couldn’t get here sooner.’ He soothed as he stroked the top of your head. You pulled back and looked up to him with a slight laugh.

‘You mean I should have died sooner?’ Lucifer cringed and pulled away, playfully throwing his hands up in the air.

‘Well of course it’s gonna sound morbid if you say it like that!’ You both laughed together and you wiped the tears from under your eyes.

Something caught Lucifer’s eye from across the room. It was the small duck he’d previously offered you.

You watched without a word as he retrieved the gift. He stood before you and offered it once again with a wide grin. This time you gratefully accepted.

Cupping your hands round the small toy, you held it up next to your face.

‘Great likeness.’ You joked and Lucifer snorted out in laughter.

‘I’m glad you like it! You know when you knocked it away, I thought you were highly offended with how I portrayed you, so good to know that’s not the case!’ He teased and gae you a thumbs up.

‘Thank you.’

‘Well.’ Lucifer spun round, making his way to the door before pausing to speak over his shoulder. ‘Thanks to todays surprising turn of events, I need to hire a new maid.’ He paused for a moment before turning back round to fully face you. ‘Can’t have my honorary daughter run ragged , now can I?’

Later that night after both of you had taken some much needed time to calm down, Lucifer had made you sit at the dining table, whilst he served you for a change. Once you were both settled, he took the opportunity to press you a little.

‘So did you ever reach out to Charlie like I said a while ago?’ You chuckled nervously and rubbed at the back of your neck.

‘I didn’t really think it would be appropriate.’

‘Ah come one now, I was the one who bought it up! Plus I think it would be good for you.’

‘How so?’ You titled your had curiously and Lucifer sank back into his chair with a breathy laugh.

‘Charlie showers literally everyone she meets with love, and she’ll introduce you to loads of new friends.’

‘But-‘ You stopped yourself, really thinking weather or not you should even ask. ‘Will she even want to meet me?’ Lucifer’s face softened into a warm smile. He knew exactly what you were thinking. You were scared that Charlie would want nothing to do with you, considering the way you saw him now.

He sat up and reached over, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze.

‘I grantee it.’

571 notes · View notes

jedi-luca · 2 months

Text

Avenger Lane Chapter 14: All My Lovin’

Summary: You and your wife Quinn move your family outside of New York City to Avenger Lane; a small private suburbia. There you face your toughest obstacle of your marriage. Will your marriage with Quinn be strong enough when a certain redheaded beauty captures your attention?

Parings: Natasha Romanoff x GN!Reader

Warnings: Reader has a Penis

Previous Chapter

The following Monday you were taking Beth and the other kids to school for the weekly carpool when you came home to Quinn leaning against the counter.

“Y/N we need to talk.”

You nodded, setting your keys down. Before sitting at the table.

“I know I’ve made some horrible decisions, but I love you more than anything- besides our daughters of course… I don’t want a divorce, I want to work through this. Maybe find a couples counselor-“

“Quinn no-“

“Y/N I’m begging you to give us another chance.”

“This was our second chance! You wanted to work on your jealousy issues. So you moved us out of the city work an hour less everyday-“

“Y/N please. I’m being fair here.”

“Fair?! Are you fucking kidding me? Fair? You and your witch of a mother stole my chance at a full ride, and you cheated on me with Berry for God knows how long! Let’s not forget you acting like you were pregnant when your tubes were tied!”

“Like I said I made some horrible decisions but-“

“But what? This marriage is over. I’m going to move out, get my own place, take the job Tony offered me and we are divorcing. I do not want to be with you Quinn! The very thought of me still being with you sickens me!”

“Y/N I didn’t want to do this-“

“Do what?”

The doorbell rang and Quinn looked away as you made your way to the door.

“Quinn it’s your assistant-“

“I’m so sorry about this Y/N-“ the assistant handed you a document. “You’ve… been served.”

“What?!” Your neck nearly snapped looking over at Quinn as her assistant ran away. “You’re fucking serving me?!”

“It’s the only way! I need another chance-“

“So in order to get that you’re serving me?!”

“Y/N-“

“Get the fuck out of my face. I hate you!” You breathe out angrily.

“Y/n-“

“LEAVE QUINN!”

She nodded and quickly ran up to her study..

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“Quinnie, are you sure about this? Do you really think it’s wise to listen to mom? I mean she’s a big part of the reason you’re in this shit.” Frannie asked as she helped her sister make the guest bed in her home.

“I won’t lose Y/N.”

“Why would you wanna hurt them more by doing this? Y/N made it clear they want a divorce. You have done too much damage. Please for the kids sake just let Y/N have the divorce and go back to the city.”

“No! What do you not get!? Y/N is mine! I will not lose them!” Quinn shouted.

“Don’t shout… your niece is asleep in the other room.” Frannie grit. “You’re making a mistake.”

“Frannie.” Quinn sighed, rubbing her head.

“Y/N said they hate you… hate. Quinn, that's the word they used. Y/N wants a divorce they do not want to be with you any longer.”

“They didn’t mean it. They were just angry.”

“Y/N wouldn’t just throw that word around. If you truly loved Y/N you would take your losses and leave before this gets uglier.”

“I can’t.” Quinn cried sitting down as Franny held her.

“If you love someone but they don’t love you then you’ve gotta let them go.”

Frannie knows Quinn has the worst parts of their parents. A pure evil mix of envy and bullheadedness. She knows her little sister will always stand in her own way through life. Especially now.

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A couple weeks later

Natasha could feel the bile rise in her throat seeing Quinn walk in with you.

“Natty!” Fin squealed, running straight to her.

“Hi sweetheart!” Natasha smiled lovingly at your daughter lifting her up in her arms.

“I misded you!” Finley squeezed her neck.

“I missed you too; so much.” Natasha cooed, rubbing her back softly. She leaned back a bit to get Finley’s attention.

“Are you excited to learn more today?”

“Yes!” She beamed.

“Good, why don’t you go ahead and put your shoes on.”

“Okay!” She cheered as Natasha set her back down. You let Quinn help her with her ballet shoes and walked towards the redhead.

“Hi.” You gulped.

“You’re- you’re back with her?” She asked folding her arms, her jaw clenching and unclenching.

“No, God no… the judge said we needed to go through couples counseling. I wouldn’t say we’re back together. We just have to do this for bit and then I can legally divorce her.”

Natasha nodded, as she briefly looked down.

“I uh…made you this.” You handed Natasha a present.

She smiled while taking it from your hand.

“It’s just a frame I thought maybe you could commemorate your first class.”

She nodded looking at the wooden frame. She traced the words on the frame and looked up. “You made this?”

“Hmhm.”

“Thank you, Y/N, it’s beautiful.”

“You’re welcome.”

Her eyes are piecing and you can’t help but waiver beneath her gaze.

“I should; let you get to it then.”

“I miss you.” She said softly.

“I miss you too, so much.” You reply.

“You haven’t called me or texted me I thought you said we could keep talking at the very least.”

“I know I’m sorry I’ve been really struggling lately. She’s fucking draining me Nat.” Your voice wavered.

“I’m here for you, Y/N-“ the redhead began until she was interrupted.

“Natasha?” Quinn interrupts as she steps beside you.

“Yes?” She asks with a heavy gulp.

“I just wanted to apologize for my behavior. You did not deserve that whatsoever. I understand if you hate me, but I just need you to know that, and to know how grateful I am for this class for Fin. I can’t wait to see her in the recital!”

Natasha nodded, crossing her arms.

“Hey sis!” Yelena walked up knowing her sister needed an and out as she pulled her close.

“Hey Yelena.” You smile stiffly feeling wildly uncomfortable.

“Y/N, good to see ya.” She smiles. “This must be the Cyka, I’ve been hearing all about. You’ve got a lot of gall coming in here.”

Quinn gaped, not understanding what was going on.

“We better get going.” You say nudging Quinn knowing she had about 5 seconds to get the hell out of there before the young blonde kicked her ass.

“Thanks again Nat.” You say and she nods in response.

“I know that hurt but you gotta be strong.” Yelena turns to her sister. Natasha nods and Yelena takes the bag from her and gives her a big bear hug before letting go.

Natasha clears her throat and chuckles seeing Finley dancing with the other kids.

“Okay class, who's ready to learn?!” Natasha beams.

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You waited patiently as the toddlers in the class said goodbye to Natasha leaving with their parents.

“Papa!” Finley beamed up as Yelena helped her take her ballerina shoes off.

“Hey bubs, did you have fun?” You grin and she nods excitedly.

Natasha was trying to clean up when you began helping her.

“Thanks.” She said as you both finished up.

“Anytime.” You reply.

Yelena smirks as her sister just stares at you waiting to speak.

You looked away from Natasha’s captivating eyes before speaking. “Can we talk for a minute?”

She nods and you both walk to another empty room that seems to be the break room.

“I’m sorry about Quinn, she just really wanted to apologize. I told her don’t hold your breath.”

Natasha nodded slightly upset again. “Why Y/N?”

“I don’t know she’s seeing a psychiatrist now and-“

“No, why are you still with her? She’s hurt you in so many ways and you’re with her?”

“It’s not like that, I know it looks like, but if I don’t go to couples therapy I will lose the girls. Besides, it's court ordered.”

“She seriously took you to court?”

“Jen, did the best she could do but since Quinn’s father has political ties he managed to get the judge in her favor.”

“I thought you said she doesn’t talk to him?”

“I thought so too, I guess she’s more like her father than I give her credit for.”

“Did you tell your parents yet?”

“No.” You sighed. “I don’t want them to worry or get upset.”

“You need to tell them Y/N.” She raised her brow.

“I know.” You nod.

“How many appointments do you have left?”

“I’m not even half way yet.” You sighed.

She nodded sadly.

“But I’ve been working for Tony and he told me he might be able to help me out with the court as well.” You grin when you see her smile. “Quinn’s working from home now she’s taking care of the girls full time. So you’re looking at a working stiff now.”

“That’s really great Y/N.” She nods, still smiling.

“God, I miss you.” You can’t help but say and her smile fades.

“I miss you too. A lot.” She says sadly. “This is harder than I thought… being away from you.”

You caress her cheek and her green eyes flutter. You lean down kissing her softly. Natasha knows she shouldn’t kiss you back but she’s missed you and she can’t help but pull you in letting the kiss deepen.

You find the strength to not let it go further and respect her boundaries. Your foreheads stay touching as you both cool down and you can feel her breath against your skin.

“I’m leaving for Japan soon with Tony for a few days and then we’re back in NYC.”

“Wow. I haven’t been to Japan in a long time.” She chuckled.

“I’d beg you to come with me but I know… you’ve got the studio and well I’ve got my mess.” You smile sadly and she hugs you tightly. “Do you want anything from there?”

“I’ll send you a list.” She says making you laugh.

“Alright.” You kiss the top of her head.

“So I won’t be seeing you these next few lessons with Finley?”

“No… but don’t worry I asked Wanda if she could bring Fin and of course she said yes.”

“Thank you.” She replied.

“Of course.”

“If everything goes to plan the recital will be right before Thanksgiving. You’ll be there right?”

“Front and center.” You grin.

She leans up kissing you once more. “Come on.” She sighs against your lips.

You both walk back to her studio.

“Hey Y/N we’re all having Thanksgiving at the Barton’s if you wanna join?” Yelena grinned as Finley climbed on her thighs.

“We’re actually going back to Lima for Thanksgiving. We usually have Finn’s memorial around the same time.”

“Papa, can Lena and Natty come with us to visit popo and GG?”

“I would love to, Finny, but Natty and I have to stay here.”

“Awwww.” Finley sighed sadly.

“But we’ll see each other when you get back.” Lena smiled. “Plus you’re not even leaving yet but we still have lots and lots of practicing to do.”

“Oh well when I do get back will you take me to the slide?” Finley giggled as she spun around with Yelenas help.

“Yes bug we will go to the slide.” Yelena smiles.

“And the swings?”

“And the swings.”

“Then ice cream?”

“It’ll be too cold for ice cream, are you crazy?” Yelena chuckled, lifting up your giggle monster. “What are you Russian?”

“I think I’ve been traded for a younger Romanoff model.” Natasha chuckled.

“Nah, that’s not true. Right Fin? You love Natty?”

“I love Natttty!” She yelled giggling as Yelena tickled her as she tried to run to Natasha.

Natasha lifted her up holding her tight. “I love you too Finny.”

“Muah!” Your toddler leaned back kissing Natasha on the cheek. “You’re my favorite Natty.” Fin whispered in her ear.

Natasha felt her heart warm as she whispered back. “You’re mine too.”

“It’s time to go kiddo.”

“Awwww, I don wanna leave Natty.”

“I know you don’t.” You say as you take her from Natasha’s arms. “Trust me I don't want to either.” you mutter low enough for Natasha to hear.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Fin.” the redhead smiles lovingly.

“Oookay.” She sighed holding Natasha’s fingers. “Bye Lena, love you!” She said from your arms.

“Bye bug, love you, I'll see you at the same time tomorrow.” Yelena smiled.

“I meant what I said we’re going to happen, Nat. I promise you.” You say softly as you hold her hand that holds your daughters.

She nods giving you an unspoken look that you just know means she really wants to kiss you. So instead you lean down and kiss her cheek. She nods, kissing your cheek in return as well as Fin’s who giggles in response.

“I’ll see you again soon. Bye Lena.”

“Bye Y/N.”

With that you walked out with Finley in your arms.

“You okay?”

“I don’t know, maybe? I’d be better if Y/N wasn’t around that wretched woman and was with me instead.”

“It’ll happen. I just know it.”

“How?” Natasha deflated against her sister.

“Because of the way Y/N looks at you. Like you’re the sun after a thunderstorm. Come on, let's close up get some bad take out and binge watch something funny like Parks and Rec.”

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It’s been a few days since you left for Japan. When you sent Natasha a text.

She giggled at a video of you racing Tony on a Mario Kart.

You sent her videos of you trying foods and grabbing everything off her list that she wanted. Texts of your days and how much you miss her.

She spent her days thinking about you and in the studio with her pupils. That’s it, days passed by in heartache by not having you there, but you always checked in. You always told her the same thing.

‘I miss you.’

God did she miss you too. The only thing she had of you was your hoodie and being able to see your daughter in every lesson. She counted down the days until the recital when she could see you again.

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As for you, your days were stressful. It was definitely a struggle trying to be a parent and work a full time job. You loved your work though it was the only thing that made your days better besides your kids. It keeps your mind occupied.

The couples therapy turned into individual therapy sessions.

“So Y/N, how has the week been since the last time I had you and Quinn in?”

“I’m in love with Natasha.” You say bluntly.

“The neighbor that’s become a close friend? The one Quinn is afraid of?”

You nodded.

“Well, tell me more. How long have you had these feelings?”

“I think I’ve had them for a while now but I didn’t notice until we’ve been apart. I’ve been with Quinn since high school. I never cheated, not once. I’ve had women fall for me, and I never felt anything for them.”

“Until now.”

“Until now.” You nod in agreement.

“Do you even love Quinn anymore?”

You sighed, rubbing your head.

“Remember our conversations stay between us. I do not discuss anything with Quinn and vice versa. Now think about that question again and tell me how you feel.”

“I don’t love her anymore. She’s ruined all the trust I had in her. I thought maybe if I just-“ you began tearing up trying not to let your voice crack. “I just thought that if I tried, maybe I could love her again, especially for the girls, but I can’t do it anymore. I’m starting to hate her and resent her and I don’t want to feel that way for the mother of my children.”

“That’s completely understandable Y/N. Thank you for sharing. I know that was hard.” She said handing you the tissue box.

“Now tell me how Natasha makes you feel.”

“She makes me happy, and I don’t feel like I’m ever walking on eggshells with her. She’s been there for me through everything.”

“Are you having an affair with her?”

“No, we agreed we’d wait for my divorce.”

“So she does feel the same way?”

You looked your therapist in the eyes before nodding. “Yes”

“Does she know you love her?”

“I haven’t told her.”

“Why haven’t you?”

“I’m kind of scared.”

“Why's that? You and Quinn seem to be done. You may need a divorce or separation which leaves you single.”

“She makes me want to go out and buy her a ring, and I’m in the middle of a divorce.”

“It’s always scary when feelings develop. Especially in the middle of separation or divorce.”

“I know she’d never hurt me, but it’s still daunting.”

“Who? Natasha?”

You nod fiddling with your hands. “She just radiates love and kindness. I’d trust her with my life and with my daughters' lives.”

“Have you two kept in contact?” Agatha asks.

“We have but just through texts really. Work and the kids have been keeping me pretty busy.”

“Right, Quinn is staying home with the kids now.”

“Yes.”

“How has that been?”

“Good I think.”

“Is that what she tells you?”

“We don’t really talk too much. When we do it’s when the kids are around.”

Agatha nods jotting down a note from Quinn’s perspective; it has not been going well. She’s been struggling with being at home and taking on your old role. Fin needs constant attention and Beth’s grades are dropping and she’s been getting in more trouble at school. Apparently she hasn’t shared that with you.

“Do you miss being home with the girls?”

“Sometimes but I love my job too so it’s tough.” You chuckled.

“When the divorce is final how will you juggle the girls?”

“Stark Industries has a daycare in the office so I can have Fin with me, and Beth is good friends with the bosses daughter and the kids on the block so I won’t have to worry too much about carpool.”

Agatha nodded, writing out her notes.

“Where do you think you’ll live?”

“Well I have a few options.” You say.

Agatha nodded for you to continue.

“There's a house for sale a block away from Avenger Lane on Midnight Sun street. That way Beth is still close to her mother and the school.” You opted out on announcing the possibility of moving in with Natasha.

“That’s great.” She nods jotting down a note once again. “Have you thought about custody yet?”

“Of course and I would love for us to trade off weeks.”

“What if Beth doesn’t want to do that?” Agatha asks.

You gulp sitting up a bit. “Well then she can stay with her mother and visit with me when she’s ready.”

Agatha nods and looks up at the clock.

“Well that’s all for today. It was good to see you this morning.”

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Recital night

“Hey, Finley, your Papa is gonna have dinner with us tonight after she comes to your ballet recital. Are you excited?”

“Yeah!” Finley cheered.

“Let’s call her.”

“Hey, I was just about to call you.” She hears you say.

“Hey, are you close?”

“I am still in Manhattan, actually.” You sighed.

“What?” She hissed.

“It’s insane. The secretary of state got cold feet, so I’m stuck here trying to keep him on board.”

“I wish you would have told me an hour ago, when you knew you weren’t gonna make it.”

“Quinn, I couldn’t get out. I barely made it out just to make this phone call.”

“I want Papa!”

“You’re gonna do great. And you know what? Mommy’s gonna record it. So we’ll watch it together. Do you mind doing that, Q?”

“Of course.”

“Okay. Are you sure you know how to do video on the phone?”

“Yes, Y/N, I think I know how to point a rectangle at something.” She furrowed her brows and scoffed.

“Okay, okay, you know, just sometimes you’re not the best with technology.”

“I know how to operate my phone, okay? Listen, we’re getting close. We will talk to you later. Say, ‘Bye, Daddy.’”

“Bye, Daddy.”

“Bye…Yep. See, you’ve still got to press End, Q”

“Press “End.” Finley repeated.

You sighed, rubbing your temples before checking your phone.

Notification

‘1 bouquet delivered to…’

You sighed at least they made it to her. You really wanted to be there tonight.

“Hey bud.” Tony said softly, noticing your sullen expression. “I’m sorry you’re missing it too Y/N.” He sighed. “If it helps, Pepper just gave me hell.”

“It’s her first recital. I just hope she doesn’t hold it against me one day.”

“Of course she won’t. Come on, let's try again.” Tony sighed.

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“Who are they from?” Yelena smirked; but fell when Natasha’s smile faltered.

“It’s Y/N, can’t make it tonight after all.” She felt her heart squeeze.

Yelena snatched the card out of her hands and began reading aloud.

Nat,

I’m sorry I’m not the one handing these to you, and telling you myself just how proud I am of you. You don’t understand how upset I am right now that I won’t be there tonight. I hope I can find a way to make it up to you and Finley. Good luck and break a leg! I know it’ll go off without a hitch.

I’m sorry that I’m not there,

From Y/N with love

“Wow.” Yelena hummed, setting the card back in the bouquet.

“What?” Natasha asked as she finished applying her lipstick.

“I mean Y/N still missed it, but now you know how much Y/N wanted to be here. Also the flowers they’re Peonies. Like that old Greek tale about Apollo. I’m just saying they actually put forth the thought and effort. Also Y/N ended it with ‘from Y/N with love’.”

“And?”

“And that means they are in love with you.”

“Y/N and I haven’t said that to each other yet.”

“Сестра, ты влюблен в нее, не так ли?” (Sister, you’re in love with them aren’t you?)

Natasha stared at the card you sent.

“Yes… I’m absolutely irrefutably in love with Y/N.”

“Don’t look so sad. It’ll happen, I know it will.”

Natasha nods and smiles in return to her enthusiastic sister.

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Even though you weren’t there, the recital went on without a hitch, or so she thought. After everyone left she walked out to find her car had died but luckily your ex wife was still in the parking lot.

Quinn and Natasha drove in an awkward silence when you called.

“Hey.” Quinn smiled while answering the phone.

“Hey.” You sighed.

“So, how’s it going?”

“We lost the Secretary. I have no idea what happened. It’s like everything I did, he just wouldn’t go for it.”

“I’m so sorry.” Quinn said suddenly wishing she hadn’t answered the call with the redhead sitting next to her and her daughters in the back asleep.

“I have no idea where we’re gonna come up with this money, and we have to work insanely hard over the next few weeks.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I feel like you’ve already been working insanely hard.”

“Can you figure out how to upload Finley’s dance recital? I definitely could use a pick-me-up.” You sighed; Natasha’s heart aches she could hear the exhaustion in your voice.

“Um, actually, funny story — I didn’t get it. I shouldn’t have been so cocky about my rectangle-holding skills after all.” Quinn chuckled but stopped when she noticed the silence over the line. “Y/N?” She called out.

“You’re not serious, are you? You didn’t get any of the recital?”

Natasha bit her lip looking out the window. This was something she knew you had been so excited for. So the anger in your voice for having missed it was no surprise, but this fight she was about to witness was.

“No, I got Natasha introducing them and then the applause afterwards. But not so much of the middle part… Speaking of Natasha-“

“Come on, Quinn.” You sighed before asserting your tone. “Quinn, I asked you if you could use the phone, and you swore that you knew how. Nat had said she could have gotten one and I told her you would get it.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m sorry. I’m sure we can get a copy. A lot of people were recording it.” Quinn shook her head. She dropped the ball.

The two women jumped hearing the sound of your fist banging against something.

“Oh, great. So we’ll see somebody else’s kid with Fin in the background? I mean, it’s really not that hard to film a fucking video, Quinn.”

Quinn let out a small puff of air. “Is there– um… you want to ease up a little bit? That was pretty harsh. I’m still your wife Y/N.” She inhaled, really wanting to cry.

“Listen, Quinn, I don’t know what to tell you. I mean, what do I do? It’s gone. That moment is just gone. I missed it.”

Your wife scoffed at you causing you to ball up your fist.

“Oh I don’t know, Y/N — maybe you should have been here.”

“You’re not serious, right? Wow. I mean, how is that fair!? I’m in NYC. These are my days in New York. You’ve agreed to this. What? Now you know what it feels like and you hate it?

Natasha looked over with her peripheral seeing Quinn wipe her eyes.

“You know what? I– I– I don’t think you want to start a conversation with me about what’s fair. Okay? This is way more intense than I ever thought it would! Beth—“

“Quinn, I’m not explaining this to you– Quinn, I’m not going over this again. I stayed home and took care of our daughters for years and not once did I complain.” You all but growled. “You owe me this much and you know it.”

“Y/N. I need you.” Tony called out.

“Okay Tony give me a minute… I don’t know how else to tell you, okay? I’m doing everything I can every week to bring home-”

“I am– I am– I am trying to make everything perfect here, okay? So that you can have everything that you want. I’m working from home and I’m putting in half my hours-”

“I’m doing this just for me? Is that what I’m doing? I’m doing it just for me?! If that’s what you think, then this is a really sad night. But you know what? I got to go. Okay?”

“Of course you do.” Quinn muttered.

“Hey come on. We’ll put a pin in this for now and we’ll talk tomorrow?”

“Yep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Quinn’s voice was strained.

“Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You sighed.

“Bye.” She squeaked out.

Quinn pulled into her driveway when Natasha spoke up.

“Wanda, had her brother have a video of the entire recital. I’ll have her email it to you.”

“Thank you.” Quinn whispered.

“Y/N is just having a bad day and took it out on you. Give them some time.” Natasha explained.

Quinn chuckled before nodding.

“Thanks for the ride home.” The redhead said softly before turning to open the door only to have Quinn take her hand.

“Thank you Natasha for everything. I treated you like shit just because I was convinced you were in love with Y/N and would somehow steal them away. But I know now you’re just a good friend to Y/N and I need to respect that. I hope one day you can forgive me.”

Natasha felt taken aback. Quinn looked so… sad. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears.

“Of course and don’t worry about it.” She gulped down the feeling of guilt. Because she totally is in love with you, and soon you’ll be together again.

They both got out of the car. Natasha walked to her home as Quinn got Finley up and out of her car seat and gently woke Beth.

Natasha stepped in her home going through her nightly routine. After asking Clint to help her with her car tomorrow she laid down when her phone rang. She furrowed her brows. It was you.

“Y/N?” She answered.

“Hey.” You sounded tired but your tone was different than it was when you had spoken with Quinn. It wasn't irate and angry. It was tired but also tender.

“How are you?”

“Ah, I've had better nights.” You sounded like you were stretching.

“What’s wrong?” She asked as if she didn’t just hear you arguing with your wife.

“I just…” you sighed tiredly rubbing your face. “Nat, do you think me working for Tony is a mistake?”

“What? What do you mean? This is your dream Y/N.” She furrowed her brows sitting up.

“I missed my daughter's first ballet recital, and I missed your debut. I’m so sorry. I wanted to be there so bad Nat you have to believe me. I-“

“Hey.” She said softly before you went down a spiral of self loathing. “It’s okay! There’s going to be so many more, and it’s on video so you can still see it.”

“I know I let you down.”

“I'll admit I was upset you weren’t there. I just miss you baby, and you promised.”

“I know. I feel sick about it.”

“Well don’t it’s okay I forgive you. I know you wanted to be here. I know you did.”

“So badly.” She hears you lay down. “I- I got in a fight with Quinn about it.” You admit.

“What happened?”

“Now looking back on it I shouldn’t have been so upset with her.” You sighed. “I spoke with her this morning about this meeting Tony and I had with The Secretary of State. Nat this meeting was extremely important. Something happened in the meeting and well the United States is no longer wanting to back Stark Industries. I lost it. Tony lost it. We couldn’t leave. I spent all day in crisis mode and in and out of meetings…. I was so angry that I missed tonight and I may have taken it out on her a bit. I just wanted to see Finley ya know. That was it when I called her tonight. That was all I wanted and she somehow didn’t video Finley. My daughter's first recital was gone. Well not now that I just watched the video, but in that moment I wasn’t thinking and I got so upset with her. I shouldn’t have.” At this point you’re crying a little bit and you’re really trying not too but Nat can tell. “She made a mistake, and she’s been so good too. I’m such an asshole!”

“Y/N you are not an asshole.” She said softly. “You’re stressed, and you’re still hurt by what she did to you. She stole your dream away, lied and cheated. She even served you. If anything I think it would be a little weird if you weren’t upset with her. As for your question in the beginning, no I don’t think you working with Tony is a mistake. You told me this has always been your dream. That unfortunately got taken away from you, but by the grace of Thor-“

You chuckled, wiping your tears.

“-you met Tony and here you are. That’s not a mistake. That’s fate… As for the Secretary, go to him first thing in the morning. You can get him back. I know you can. If you can sell Finley her peas. You can sell tech to that old man.”

You chuckled.

“God, I miss you.” You found yourself saying.

Her breath hitched before smiling softly. “I miss you too baby, I got your flowers by the way. They’re beautiful.” She says softly as she studies them on her nightstand.

“I’m glad you like them.” You said softly you drove yourself mad going through a list of flowers to pick. It had to be perfect. “I still wish I had been able to give them to you in person.”

“Did you pick them?” Natasha asks you after a beat. “I mean I know they were delivered obviously, but did you?” She’s waiting with bated breath for you to answer. She knew it had to be a yes she just knew it. You loved gardening, you know flowers maybe not as much as growing vegetables and fruits, but you knew flowers. Especially since Quinn let it slip that the first time you ever got her flowers was when you were both hiding your relationship. You were 15 and you knew what Gardenias meant. You have to know the story of the flower.

“I did.” You said softly.

Natasha’s breath hitched you picked them for her. You picked a flower that means love and romance and of course Goodwill.

“Did you ever hear the story of Paeonia?”

‘Yes.’ You wanted to say.

“Tell me about it.” You say instead.

“Well the story goes to say that Apollo fell for a Nymph named Paeonia. Apollo found her more beautiful than Aphrodite. Unfortunately for Paeonia, this rubbed Aphrodite the wrong way. She flew into a jealousy-fueled rage. Feeling vengeful, she turned Paeonia into a red peony.”

“Apollo was quite the ladies man.” You chuckled.

“That he was.” Natasha chuckled; she knew she shouldn’t be wondering this but she couldn’t help herself.

“So… how was the recital Nat?”

“It was pretty amazing.” She gushed.

“I saw it. It was fantastic! Tell me all about it.”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“Nah.” You smiled, closing your eyes.

“Lies, you just want me to bore you to sleep.” She chuckled.

“Bore? Pshhhh! You could never bore me, Natalia Romanoff.” You chuckled. Her voice could easily lure you to sleep but you could never find her boring.

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You snapped awake, your phone blaring. You blinked a few times at the device. Still half asleep. Your eyes widened realizing you and Natasha never actually hung up the phone. You both must have fallen asleep. It’s your wife calling.

You hesitantly end the phone call with Natasha and answer Quinn.

“Morning.” You croak out having to clear your throat.

“Are you coming back home so we can leave for Lima?”

You were really trying to forgive Quinn, but deep down you weren’t ready to yet.

“Yes, I just have a meeting here in an hour.”

“Okay.”

The call ended and you and Tony had your meeting. You worked your magic, and remembered Natasha’s encouraging words. Even Tony was in wonderment as you spoke to the Secretary of State, but by the end of your speech they agreed and signed the contract.

And you and Tony shared a bottle of champagne on the way back home.

“I’m proud of you kid.”

“Thanks Tony.”

“I know you missed Finley’s recital and Natasha’s debut. Just remember that it does come with the job. It’s unfortunate it is but we just signed a very big fucking deal and you fucking did it. Not only that but your building your children’s futures. They will understand when they’re holding their diplomas in their hands and realizing how hard you worked to get them there.”

You nodded as you both toasted.

“How’s the divorce going?”

“Not good. She won’t fucking sign the papers Tony, and she fucking served me.” You huffed downing the flute. Tony refilled it.

“Don’t worry I’ll take care of it. You need to tell your dad what’s going on.”

“I don’t want to worry him.”

“I can understand that but he deserves to know. It would break my heart to know my kid was going through this alone and I didn’t know. You said you’re leaving for Lima today tell them, and what about Nat?”

“What about her?”

“Does she know you’ve been served?”

“No but I’ll tell her.” You sighed.

“It’s important she knows too. I know you two love each other. You can see it written on your face from fucking space.” He laughed.

“I haven’t told her yet… I want to be divorced first.”

“I get that it’s honorable.” He nodded.

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Once you get back home you rush towards Natasha’s home knocking.

“Y/N.” She says in surprise, bringing you inside.

You hug her tightly. It's been so long since you held her.

“How long are you leaving this time?” She mumbled against your chest.

“About a week. Taking the kids to see my parents back in Lima and we usually have Finn’s memorial as well around this time.”

“Have you…” she clears her throat. “Have you told your parents yet?

“I don’t know if I should yet. I'm pretty torn.”

“Well, do you plan on staying with her?” She asked, stepping back, her eyes hardened.

“No… you know I don’t.” You say stepping closer trying to take her hand only for her to smack it away.

“Then you need to tell them.” She raised her brow.

“I’m just worried-“

“Your parents are grown ups Y/N they handled a teen pregnancy they can handle this.”

You purse your lips and nod. “I’ll tell them.”

She nods, feeling apprehensive.

“Hey come on, Nat, don’t do that, I will, I promise you, I will.” You say taking her hands.

“Okay.” She nods.

“Come here.” You say bringing her in a hug.

Natasha squeezes you tight, breathing you in and so do you.

“I meant to give you this last night after your debut.” You said pulling out a small jewelry box. You opened it revealing a golden diamond tennis bracelet.

“Y/N.” Natasha closed the box.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“This just feels… wrong.”

“Wrong? How?” You frowned.

“It just feels like you’re… you’re trying to buy my forgiveness.”

“I guess it does seem that way, but it’s not meant to be. I was supposed to be there for you and Fin last night. I had it all planned.” You sighed sitting against the shoulder of her sofa. “I was going to bring Finley and give her some chocolate flowers and you the flowers I had sent and this bracelet I found in Tokyo.”

Natasha walked over between your legs. “I don’t need anything I just want you, I keep telling you that.” She says softly.

“This is just my love language, Nat, I do acts of service and give gifts when I’m away from people I care about for a long time.” You explain. “This bracelet isn’t me buying your forgiveness. If that’s how you feel then I’ll keep it.”

She shook her head and placed her hand on your heart. “No it’s okay it’s just I’ve never had someone who's gotten me things and made acts of service for me. I’m not used to it.”

“I probably shouldn’t have gotten something so…” You nod looking away from her eyes feeling foolish.

“It’s beautiful.” She says softly, turning you by the chin. She kisses you and your hands grip her hips. She whimpers letting her fingers peek in between the buttons of your dress shirt.

“Hmm.” You hum taking her bottom lip in between teeth. “I miss you baby.”

“I miss you too.” She says kissing you again letting her tongue meet yours.

Her negligee is thin and her robe is undone you can feel her thigh against you.

Your kiss is turning a little heated and sloppy teeth are beginning to clash and you feel the heat of her breath against your skin.

She presses her hands against your chest and lays her forehead against yours. “God this is so hard not being with you.” She whispers.

“I know. I just need a little more time and I promise I’ll be yours.” You stand and hold her close. “You were right by the way. I got the Secretary to sign.”

“I knew you would.” She smiled up at you.

Her hand makes its way down, and you raise your brows. She rolled her eyes and took out the new box.

“Put it on me.” She says.

You open it and take the bracelet from its silky cushion and place it around her wrist. You kiss her hand and say:

“I’m gonna miss you.” You say.

“I’m gonna miss you more.” She replies with a sniffle.

“Not a chance.” You say making her laugh.

You kiss her one more time she hums. Her hand going beneath your coat to rest against your heart. The diamonds twinkle beneath the morning sun.

“I have to go. Our flight leaves soon.”

She nods and kisses you softly as you hold her.

“I’ll see you soon.”

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“Thanks again for picking us up from the airport Frankie.” Quinn says from the backseat.

“Yeah thanks dad.”

“Thanks poppop.” Beth smiles from her switch.

“Tanks popo.”

“Oh of course!” Frankie smiles in the rear view mirror.

“Y/N how’s Nat doing?”

“Good she just opened up a ballet studio. Fin is her student!”

“Oh well that’s fantastic, good for her! Beth, you don’t wanna learn Ballet?”

“I am; just from mom.” She replied back.

“Bonding time is always nice.” Frankie nodded feeling it was a sensitive subject.

“Where’s mom? At home?” You asked, changing the subject.

“Of course just making your favorite.” He chuckled.

“Popo?”

“Yes Fin?” Your dad smiled through the rearview mirror.

“Wanna see me dance?”

“Yes honey when we get home you can show me and GG!”

“Yayyyyyyy!” Finley cheered.

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“Mom.” You sighed practically falling in her strong arms. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Your mom couldn’t help but cry holding you tight for just a minute longer before letting you go to see you. “Oh baby you look tired and have you been eating? Come inside!” She pushed you inside towards the kitchen before turning and giving Beth a hug.

“Hi GG!” Beth smiled hugging her close.

“Oh Bethy your getting so big please stop!” Sophia sniffled before letting her go as Finley ran towards her dropping her backpack on the grass for her popo to pick up.

“GG!!!!!” She squealed, running towards your mother jumping in her arms.

“Mi Reina!” Your mother cooed, rocking her side to side.

Quinn gulped feeling guilt ridden as Sophia smiled at her. “Hello, Quinn.” She hugged her and Quinn hugged back feeling like she was going to just break down in tears.

“Come on inside, it's time to eat.”

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You could feel your parents doing that thing where they telepathically communicate and stare at you.

“Papa, this is my favorite too!” Finley smiled as she chewed looking up at you.

Your parents chuckled and your mom leaned over kissing Fin’s cheek.

“When’s Finn’s memorial?” You dad asks.

“Probably Friday.” You nod.

“I ran into his mother the other day. She and Burt are doing well.”

“That’s good.” Quinn speaks up.

“I still can’t believe he’s gone. He’d show up everyday just to play with you.” Sophia smiled sadly.

“Uncle Finn?” Beth asked looking up.

“Hmhm, two peas in a pod; three of you really if you count Mikey.” Sophia chuckled.

“I was always happy you had two best friends.” Your dad smiled. “A classic friendship and plenty of memories.”

“What was the funniest thing that they did?” Beth asked.

“Well let’s see.” Your dad looked deep in thought when your mother chuckled and leaned over.

“Oh God, don't give her any ideas please.” You groaned.

“Once they learned an entire Backstreet Boys dance and showed off to that cute little girl what was her name? Gabrielle?”

“Avery.” Quinn muttered.

“That’s the one!” Your mom laughed.

“Or the time you sent that kid all the way to LA.” Your raised his brow.

“Wait what?!” Beth giggled.

“Your papa was a tyrant.” Your mom smirked.

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“I’m gonna go visit my mother for a bit.” Quinn speaks softly.

You nod not looking at her.

“Baby please look at me.” She sniffles, placing her hands on your cheeks.

“Don’t call me that.” You respond by taking her hands off of you.

“There was a time where you loved me and couldn’t keep your hands off me. Why can’t we just go back? Start over?”

“You know why Quinn.” You say stepping away and sitting down on your old computer chair.

“Y/N we’ve been together since high school. We have Beth and Finley. Our friends. Please I’m begging you-“

“You need to understand that I do not love you anymore. The thought of us together makes me sick. We are over. We’ve been over for so long. You just didn’t want to admit it. That’s why you snuck around.”

“I made some stupid decisions, but you were never one of them. I love you Y/N I always have and I always will.”

You looked away.

Quinn sighs in defeat before leaving the house.

You make your way back downstairs when you see your parents sitting in the living room.

“So? You're gonna tell us what’s wrong?” Your dad asked, setting his newspaper down as you mom sat on the arm of his chair.

You rubbed your face, the jig is up, they always know when something is wrong. Natasha’s face comes to mind.

“Get it off your shoulders Y/N.” Your mom whispered.

“Quinn and I are separated.” You say softly.

Your parents nod understanding as they look at one another.

“What happened?”

“You’re going to be very upset.” You say trying not to cry.

“What have I always said to you about that?” Your dad responds.

“We’ve had a rocky year. We purposely moved out of the city to help our relationship but it’s only gotten worse. I found that she cheated on me, got her tubes tied then tried to untie them, but worse she and her mother…”

“What did that bitch do?” Your mother all but growls.

“She’s the reason I didn’t get into MIT. She took my letter and declined it before I could see it.” You sniffle.

“I’m gonna kill her!” Your mother stands rushing to the closet.

“Sophia!” Your dad runs after her just as she grabbed your old metal bat. “No honey no!” Your dad said, trying to take it from her.

“She ruined our baby’s college career Frankie!”

“I understand you’re upset so am I and I’m sure our baby is too, but she’s a Fabray if you just go there guns blazing you will end up in jail. No, we have to be cunning. We have to be smart. This isn’t checkers hun this is chess.”

Your mom finally lets go and your father places it back in the closet and goes over to the bar to make your mother a drink.

“Y/N do you have a lawyer.”

“Yes but she served me our last court day she got the judge to give us court ordered couples therapy to prolong the divorce.”

“That’s okay we can use the therapy to our advantage and we can serve them. What she did is a felony.”

“I don’t want this to get uglier dad.”

“It already is Y/N.”

“No one hurts our family and gets away with it.” Your mother raised her brow laying a hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

“Alright so this is what you’re gonna do Y/N.” Your father begins.

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After following your fathers instructions you sat down next to him as your mother played with the girls..

“Despite all of this bad news I did find some good.”

“Oh? Is that Natasha?”

“Well yes but Tony was the one that found out about MIT he had Nat tell me… He also gave me a job. I’ve been working with him for the past few weeks.”

“Really?” Your dad asked, raising his brows as you nodded. “Y/N that’s great.” He smiled

“Dad, I'm kind of scared. The Fabrays have never been one to play.”

“I promise you the plan will work.”

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“Thank you for dinner, this is just absolutely delicious.” Your mother smiled villainously.

“Oh I’m glad you like it Sophia you’ll have to come again sometime.” Judy smiles. “By the way, where are the girls?”

“They’re with Santana and Brittany.” You responded.

“Oh okay.” Judy said sadly when the doorbell suddenly rang.

“Mind if I grab a drink?” Sophia asks.

“Oh yes of course. Let me see who's at the door.”

Judy stood walking to the door.

“You should go with your mother.” You nodded towards Quinn.

“Mom, what's going on.”

“Oh great two birds one stone. Quinn and Judy Fabray?” The courier asked.

“Yes?”

“You’ve been served.”

“Wait what?! There must be some kind of mistake!”

“Oh no it was deliberate just like how you stole my child’s chance at MIT.” Sophia spoke walking up to Judy with you and Frankie in tow.

“Sophia I-“

“Shush now honey, you’ll let the flies in. Just save it for the judge.”

“We’ll see you both in court.” Your father gruffs.

“Y/N-“ Quinn begins.

“It’s best if you stay here.”

“Y/N please!” Quinn pleaded but it was too late you had already slammed the door shut.

“I told you over and over again not to listen to mom. You both are fucking unbelievable.” With that Frannie grabbed her things and left the Fabray mansion.

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It was late in the night the girls were sound asleep and it was just you and your parents.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner sweetheart?” Your mom asks taking your hand across the table.

“I just wanted to try and handle it on my own and not worry you guys. I just didn’t want to disappoint you again.”

“We’ve told you time and time again.” Your parents sighed, shaking they’re heads.

“I know, I know.” You sighed rubbing your temple. “There’s something else you should know. A month ago I realized maybe Quinn wasn’t too far off about me having feelings about Natasha. We’ve gotten closer and well I’m in love with her, but you have to know I didn’t leave Quinn for her. That’s not how any of this happened.”

You parents nodded, taking it all in.

“So you love her huh?” Your dad asked.

“I do… I kind of figured it out a while back, but we never did anything, just stayed friends of course. Then when I left Quinn and I stayed with Nat. It was the last night I stayed there but we slept together. We knew we probably should’ve waited at least until the divorce is final, and we had that discussion we’re waiting to be together once this is over. I probably shouldn’t have even told you that part but it’s important because…” you reached into your pocket taking out a box.

Your mom gasped.

“I love her so much and this time apart has only proved that I wanna spend the rest of my days with her. I know it’s soon but I honestly have given it a lot of thought. She means so much to me.”

“So you fell in love with Natasha and now you want to marry her.” Your dad chuckled.

And your mom looked at him wondering what he was thinking.

“You know if we hadn't met her, I probably would have thought you were acting childish, but she was a beautiful and sweet woman. Your mom and I fell in love with her instantly.”

Your mom looked almost relieved at his answer.

“We just want you to be happy.” Your mom replied.

“Is it pretty fast? Yeah.” Your dad laughed. “But if she makes you happy, actually happy then lock her down.”

Your mom laughed, kissing his cheek and you wiped your tears.

“Let me see it.” Your mom beamed as you handed the the ring.

“Wow.” Your parents gasped.

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“Thanks again for watching the girls.”

“Of course.” Your mom smiled, squeezing Beth as they made dinner.

“Don’t worry we’ve got them. Go on to Finn’s memorial.” Your dad waved you off.

You nodded, grabbing your keys and pecking parents as well as your daughter's cheeks. “I love you all I won’t be back too too late.”

Your dad smirked as you walked out.

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You were the first one to walk into the old choir room seeing some things have changed. You could practically see your old silhouettes dancing and singing.

Your turned hearing footsteps. Mercedes, Sam, Tina, Mike, Artie, Kurt, Blaine, Santana, and Brittany all came in.

“What a nerd, always on time.” Santana snickered, giving you a hug.

“We may have been gossiping about you.” Mike cringed feeling Santana smack his shoulder.

“They just gave us a heads up.” Tina frowned.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Mercedes frowned, giving you a hug.

“It’s okay guys really.” You sighed.

“Do you think they’re going to show up?” Kurt asked.

“I don’t know, I mean, I won’t be upset if they do. This is for Finn, not me.” You shrug.

“You’re bigger than me.” Santana scoffed.

“Hmhm.” Mercedes nodded her head.

“I served her and Judy yesterday.”

“Pause. What!?” Santana raised her hand.

“I have a feeling she’ll sign in a few days.” You say.

“Oh for sure the Fabrays hate a bad image.” Santana huffed.

“Soooo how’s it going with a certain redhead?” Mike raised his brows.

“Ohhh I knew it!” Santana crouched down fist pumping.

“Noooo! You and the ex model?!” Mercedes gasped.

“Natasha?!” Kurt gasped, falling in Blaine’s arms.

“Alright take it easy.” You muttered.

“Dude nice!” Sam nodded.

“So what’s going on with that?” Tina asked.

“Well… when I left Quinn I stayed with Nat and well the last night I stayed with her….” You nodded.

“Woooow.” Brittany muttered.

“It just sort of happened, and I don’t know I’ve been having these feelings for her and that week really solidified everything for me.”

“So you two are together?” Mike asked.

“We’re waiting.” You shook your head.

“Why?!” Santana scoffed.

“We wanna wait until Quinn and I are divorced.”

“Damn, she must really love you to deal with Quinn’s crazy ass.” Artie commented.

“Ohhh yeah Artie you were right by the way.”

“I’m always right… but about what?” He kinked his brow.

“Steve is gay. He and Bucky are together.”

“I fucking called it.” Artie smirked, wheeling away.

You smiled to yourself, you turned towards Kurt and Blaine. “You alright there Kurt?”

“I’m just so happy.” He cried, dabbing his eyes as Blaine fanned him. “Steve’s gay and you’ve snagged Natasha.”

“She’s such a class act and absolutely gorgeous we’re so happy for you Y/N.” Blaine smiled.

“Thank you.” You said softly before snapping a quick pic of the scene before you and sending it to Natasha with the caption.

McKinley’s resident Diva finding out about us.

Nat: That’s hilarious 😆 Also you told them?

You: I did… is that okay?

Nat: more than okay 🥹😚❤️‍🔥

You: 😊🥰😚

“Do you guys think Shue is coming?” Sam asked.

“Ew I hope not.” Brittany cringed.

“Sorry we’re late guys.”

You all turn around seeing Quinn and Rachel walk in. Quinn’s nose was a pink hue and bags are now puffy from crying.

“I was thinking we could stick to what we have been doing every year? Everyone who wants to sing can sing and maybe we can end with a group song?” Rachel gulped feeling daggers at her face.

“Okay maybe we should all clear the air first? Then make this about Finn?”

“No we need to focus on Finn I don’t think you wanna hear what we have to say.” Mike grit.

“Well Michael, I think it’s best to clear the air.” Rachel doubled down.

“Oh no honey there’s nothing to clear. We know what’s going on.” Mercedes scoffed.

“Guys please I know you’re angry with me but Rachel really isn’t the problem just direct it to me.” Quinn sighed.

“I mean she did confront Nat about getting her to break us up but yeah sure let’s not say she had no hand in it.” You nodded.

“Skirrrrt what?!” Artie tilted his head.

“Okay, I was drunk and I did say that, but I saw how close the two of you were. Y/N deny it all you want but I saw how close the two of you were that night at your party. KISSING DISTANCE.” Rachel clapped.

“Oh no you’re right there is no denying it. You see Rachel unlike my soon to be ex wife over here I never cheated not once. I never looked at another woman, but she kept bashing me and kept hammering on and on about Natasha and myself that I finally saw the light that night. So many people said I made the biggest mistake by marrying you.” You said towards a crying Quinn.

“My parents, Mike, Finn, Sersi, and now Natasha…. And then all your lies started coming out of the woodwork. Accusing me of having an affair with Sersi when really you were probably having this affair with the hobbit from the Shire.”

Quinn sniffled, shaking her head as Rachel scoffed.

“Telling me you were pregnant but really you had your tubes tied after you had Finley just so I couldn’t work with Stark Industries. But what really takes the cake is you stealing my chance at MIT… I will NEVER forgive you for that. You’re a liar Quinn Fabray. There’s no telling what lows you will stoop too. What else have you done behind my back huh? What did you poke a hole in the condom to have Beth?”

“No!” She cried.

“Dammmmn.” Artie gasped.

“She probably did.” Sam mumbled.

“You’re gonna sign those papers. You’re gonna let me have 50/50 custody of our girls. You’re gonna let me take whatever is mine in that house including my dog Ollie. You can keep the house I’m moving in with Natasha.”

“I fucking knew it!” She cried.

“No you didn’t but you did push me in her arms.” You chuckled.

“Literally.” Santana nodded.

“Honestly Q, I warned you this would happen.” Brittany shrugged.

“Fine we’ll go to court and I’ll just prove that you and Natasha had a thing.” Quinn’s eyes hardened as her jaw locked in place. “I’ll get that little Russian bitch deported.”

“Wow!” Kurt gasped.

You chuckled darkly, stepping forward. “Oh Quinn, she has a green card that won’t happen. You’re gonna sign whatever the fuck I want you to sign, but hey if you wanna play it that way we can go to court.” You nod before losing your smile.

“Just know I’m taking the Fabray fortune with me, and your cunt of a mother can live the rest of her miserable days with you. If you wanna take that risk be my guest. Honestly I actually kind of want to go to court just so I can take your family’s money and that old mansion. I think I’ll knock it down and put up a Taco Bell. But don’t worry I’ll take care of Franny.” You wink.

“You fucking asshole!” Quinn tried to slap you but you managed to dodge the hit and Artie managed to get it on video right before you moved. Sam grabbed her and moved her across the room.

“That was fucking diabolical.” Santana smirked. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Dude.” Mike covered his mouth smiling. “That was amazing.”

“Y/N, I just sent you this video, you should show the court this as well.” Artie grinned.

“Thank you.” You shook his hand.

“Anytime. I live for this shit.” Artie cackled.

“Okay, she is starting to smoke from my pen so she’s good now.” Sam nodded.

A few moments later Rachel walked up it almost felt like high school again sitting in the bleachers with her front and center.

“Okay, so the air is cleared somewhat… can we now make this about Finn?” Rachel asked, looking at the framed photo in front of her.

“Definitely.” You said smugly.

“Quinn?” Rachel called out softly.

“Yes.” She said rubbing her temple.

“Guys?”

“Uhhuh, yup, yes!” Everyone answered.

“I also brought us some whiskey.” You announced holding up a flask.

“Y/N, this is a school.” Rachel huffed.

“Rachel it’s for Finn.” Quinn sighed.

You handed her the flask and she took it.

“Great… maybe let’s share some of our favorite moments with Finn? I’ll start us off…. I remember our last moments were at the train station when he sent me on my way to New York. I remember being really sad that I didn’t get to send him off. He told me he loved me but that he wasn’t going to write me.” Rachel began to cry. “Not because he didn’t want to but because this was goodbye he didn’t want to me to bring an anchor to New York.”

You furrowed your brows remembering Quinn saying those words when she mentioned them together back in high school.

“He kissed me and then he let me go. That was the last time I ever saw him.” Rachel sniffled. “It’s weird I know I’ve always had these feeling deep down for Quinn but Finn always held my heart. I’ll always love you Finn.” Rachel cried before taking a swig. The Broadway singer sat next to Quinn who rubbed her back.

“I guess I’ll go next, Y/N, you might wanna join me since you were there.” Mike chuckled, standing up holding the flask. “One of my favorite moments was the night before he left for the Marines.”

“It was just us three like old times.” You chuckled, nodding.

“Finn wanted to do everything we used to do when we were kids.” Mike sniffled. “We played video games and gorged ourselves on pizza rolls.”

“Then we went to the football field and got hammered.” You snickered.

“We tried to sneak into a strip club.” Mike laughed, causing you to laugh along with the club. “At first we couldn’t get in but Y/N-“ Mike chuckled. “Y/N told the truth to the bouncer that Finn was a dumbass who had enlisted, and that it could be the last time he would see a good piece of ass for the next 4 years.”

“We got in for like an hour.” You chuckled.

“Then Finn cried and told us how much he loved us.” The dancer had tears in his eyes.

“How much Glee meant to him.” You added trying not to cry.

“And how if he could do it all again he would.” Mike said sadly.

“We cried and then we busted his balls for making us cry.” You chuckled.

“We told him we’d write and FaceTime.” Mike continued.

“Told him I’d name my next kid after him.” You chuckled, making Quinn smile.

“We went back to his moms house, ate more pizza rolls, and passed out in his room in the same spots we used to sleep in as kids.” Mike smiled before taking a shot of the whiskey.

“Here’s to you Finn.” You say softly taking a shot.

“We love you man.” You and Mike said together before pulling one another in a hug silently crying. It was in your embrace that you both felt his presence. Almost as if he was holding you both in a bear hug. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room when you turned around.

“Fuck you guys that was sad.” Artie wiped his tears as he took the flask. “As you all know I was bullied relentlessly in the beginning before Glee. There was one day Puck was going to throw me down the stairs to be honest I was terrified. Finn caught him before it happened and took me to class. Y/N, I’m pretty sure you were the one that shoved Puck down stairs that day.” Artie snickered.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was in math class that day.” You grinned as everyone chuckled.

“I got messed with but Finn and of course Y/N and Mike always managed to save me. Thanks guys.”

Kurt walked down taking the flask.

“Um, so Finn was one of my biggest crushes in high school besides my husband of course.” He chuckled. “He made it very clear that we would only ever be friends at the most brothers. After seeing his wardrobe, and the way he danced. those feelings quickly faded.” He laughed.

“He was a great step brother though. Always took up for me and supported me when I decided to leave our school and then when I decided to come back. It was hard losing him. It still is after all this time. We miss you Finn but don’t worry I’ve got mom and dad taken care of.” Kurt took a swig and made a face before taking his seat.

Soon everyone said they’re kind words.

“Should we move to a karaoke bar? My dads said we can use theirs in the basement.” Rachel announced.

“I’d like say something first if that’s okay.” Quinn said softly you handed the nearly empty flask.

“Finn and I didn’t always get along. He never thought I was good enough for Y/N and he was right.”

You looked up.

“Finn, I’m sorry for all the times I tore you down and called you dumb. I’m sorry for telling you that you weren’t good enough for Rachel.”

The brunette looked up in surprise.

“But most of all I’m sorry for how I treated your best friend. I hope you can forgive one day.” With that Quinn downed the rest of the flask.

“That was beautifully said Quinn.” Rachel spoke up as the blonde handed you the flask.

“So Rachel, your parents still have that full bar?” Tina grinned.

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Drinks were going, songs were played, laughs were heard around the room.

Rachel downed a shot of liquid courage before walking over towards you. You looked up after making a drink.

“I just wanted to apologize to you for my part… I- I don’t know what the fuck came over me. I don’t what I was thinking. I don’t what made me think that trying to steal Quinn and getting Natasha to help me was a good idea. But I am sorry Y/N. I really am.” Rachel quickly wiped away a stray tear. “I know you’ve never liked me, I know you think I’m fake, but I’m being real with you right now. Because I know Finn would have been ashamed of me and my actions. It would have broke his heart. Me having feelings for Quinn I don’t think he would have really thought much of it but me hurting you I think he would have hated me for that. So I hope one day you can forgive me. Maybe we can be friends one day?”

“Maybe.” You nod.

“That’s all I can hope for.” She squeezes your hand and walks away.

“Was that an apology I heard?” Kurt asked, walking over with Mike.

“It was.” You raised your brow.

“Woooow.” Kurt nodded.

“Sup Fabgay.” Santana said, leaning by Quinn.

“Santana.” Quinn sighed.

“Was that a real apology you made earlier to Finn or just something to put on a show before court?”

“It was real.” She sighed.

“So then you’re going to sign?” Santana hounded her.

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Quinn groaned, before grabbing her drink.

“Are you even in love with Y/N? Like gotta have sex with them constantly, wanna have another baby, want to grow old with them?”

Quinn watched you as you laughed at something Kurt said.

“Because I can tell you right now Y/N does not feel that way about you.”

“I get it Santana, Y/N is fucking our neighbor.”

“I never said that.” The brunette snickered.

“Q, after everything you put Y/N through, don't you want them to be happy? Even if it’s with Natasha?” Brittany asked.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Quinn stood up going to the restroom with her old cheerio teammates in tow.

Meanwhile on the other side of the room.

“So Y/N tell us about Natasha.” Mercedes smiled coyly.

“She’s absolutely amazing.” Kurt began.

“Uh I said Y/N!” Mercedes huffed.

“Well he isn’t wrong.” You chuckled. “She’s the sweetest most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. I think I’m taking her somewhere special when all this is said and done.” You say.

“Ooooh take her somewhere secluded and snuggle by the fire.” Tina said whimsically.

“I think I just might! My boss did say I could borrow his cabin upstate.”

“Noooo take her somewhere tropical and luxurious.” Mercedes laughed.

“Seeing her in a bikini does sound nice.” You smirked.

Your friends laughed.

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“Alright guys I think I’m gonna head out.” You say standing up.

“Wait nooooo! Nooo!” Mike slurred.

“Yeah.” You chuckled.

“No wait Y/L/N play us one song just one! Berry you’ve got a guitar right?!” Santana asked.

“Yes!” Rachel ran into the closet grabbing a guitar before handing it to you. “It’s old, never really used it. It was in my early Taylor era hence the pink.” She giggled.

“Okay just one and I think you guys might remember this from grad night if so; sing along.” You say taking a seat on the stool. You start to tune the guitar and begin to strum lightly.

“Passed out on the overpass

Sunday best and broken glass

Broken down from the bikes

And bars Suspended like spirits

Over speeding cars

You and me were kings over the

Parkway tonight”

Tina took her lighter out waving her hand.

“And tonight will go on forever

While we walk around this town

Like we own the streets

And stay awake through summer

Like we own the heat

Singing "everybody wake up”

(wake Up!)

“it's time to get down”

(everybody, everybody wake up It's time to get down!)”

Everyone was swaying together as they sang.

“And when I pass the bottle back

To Finn on the overpass tonight,

I bet we laugh”

“To Finn!” Everyone cheered, taking another shot as you strummed.

“I'm gonna stay eighteen forever

(cut me open)

So we can stay like this forever

(sun poisoned)

And we'll never miss a party

(this offer stands forever)

'Cause we keep them going constantly

And we'll never have to listen

To anyone about anything

(new bracelet)

'Cause it's all been done and

It's all been said

(eyeliner)

We're the coolest kids and we

Take what we can get”

Santana cried as she remembered the good old days and how far she and Brittany have come. She’s not young anymore, none of them are.

“The hell out of this town

Find some conversation

The low fuel lights been on for days

It doesn't mean anything

I've got another 500 nother 500 miles

Before we shut this engine down,

We shut it down”

“I'm gonna stay eighteen forever

(cut me open)

So we can stay like this forever

(sun poisoned)

And we'll never miss a party

(this offer stands forever)

'Cause we keep them going constantly

And we'll never have to listen

To anyone about anything

(new bracelet)

'Cause it's all been done

And it's all been said

(eyeliner)

We're the coolest kids and

We take what we can get

(wait forever)

(you're just jealous cause

I'm young and in love)”

“Eighteen forever

(your stomachs filled up but

You're starved for conversation!)

So we can stay like this forever

(you're spending all your nights

Growing old in your bed)

And we'll never miss a party

(and your tearin up your photos

'Cause you want to forget... it's over!!)

'Cause we keep them going constantly”

“(you're just jealous cause

I'm young and in love!)

And we'll never have to listen

(your stomachs filled up but

You're starved for conversation!)

To anyone about anything cause

It's all been done

(you're spending all your nights

Growing old in your bed!)

And it's all been said

(and your tearin' up your photos

'Cause you want to forget... it's over!)

We're the coolest kids and we take

What we can get”

“You’re just jealous cause we're

Young and in love!

You're just jealous cause

We're young and in love!

You're just jealous cause

We're young and in love!

You're just jealous cause

We're young and in love!

You're just jealous cause

We're young and in love!”

All of you came together in a hug already planning on the next get together.

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“Hello?” Natasha answered sleepily.

“Hi I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t be, I was hoping you would call.”

“How have you been? How was Thanksgiving?”

“I’m ok and it was alright. Of course it would have been better with you.” She says softly.

“Same here.” You say softly.

“Yelena and Kate made me binge watch Parks and Rec.”

“It’s pretty great right?”

“It definitely made me laugh.”

“Who was your favorite character?”

“Ron Swanson of course.”

“The scene where he pulls out his tooth just gets me every time.”

She laughs and it sounds so heavenly you can feel your heart skip a beat. “Or the time he broke the coffee pot and started a war in the office?”

You both chuckled.

“How was Finn’s memorial?”

“It was eventful.” You chuckled.

“I got to see some of the stories.” Natasha snickered.

“Oh no.” You looked down at your phone seeing the tags.

“The story you and Mike shared about Finn was sweet. I definitely cried. Plus I got to hear you sing, which is one of my favorite things.”

“You’re making me blush.” You grin.

“The pink guitar is cute.” She snickered.

“It’s not mine, it's Rachel’s.” You huffed.

“A likely story.”

You laughed.

“I miss you Y/N.” She gulped, trying not to cry.

“I miss you. I may not be home for a few more days. I have some loose ends to tie up, but I promise you I’ll be there in time for your birthday.”

“Okay.” She whispered, wondering if she should hold her breath.

“I mean it Nat. I’m going to make it happen.”

She pulled your hoodie closer.

“Will you sing to me?”

“Close your eyes and I'll kiss you

Tomorrow I'll miss you

Remember I'll always be true

And then while I'm away

I'll write home every day

And I'll send all my loving to you.”

“Keep going.” She whispered.

“I'll pretend that I'm kissing

The lips I am missing

And hope that my dreams will come true

And then while I'm away

I'll write home every day

And I'll send all my loving to you.”

“All my loving.” She smiled.

“I will send to you

All my loving, darling I'll be true

Close your eyes and I'll kiss you

Tomorrow I'll miss you

Remember I'll always be true

And then while I'm away

I'll write home every day

And I'll send all my loving to you

All my loving I will send to you

All my loving, darling I'll be true

All my loving, all my loving ooh

All my loving I will send to you”

“What do you think?” You asked.

“I loved it baby.”

“Papa?” She heard Fin call for you.

“What’s wrong bubs? What are you doing up?” You lift her up.

“Popo snores too loud.” She grunts burying her face in your neck. You chuckled and so did Natasha.

“I’ll let you go take her back to bed. I’ll see you soon.” She whispers.

“Before you do, just know that I absolutely adore you and I swear I’m gonna make this birthday the best yet.” You say before ending the call. “Come on pipsqueak let’s go to bed.”

“Where’s mama?” Fin asks sleepily.

“She’s with her mama.” You sighed.

“Ohh.” She yawned.

You lay down and Fin cuddled into your side. “I love you papa.”

“I love you too Finny. To the moon and back.”

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