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sohnric · 5 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.

1K notes · View notes

pholla-jm · 11 days

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Heir (2)

IMAGINE: HEIR~ SUKUNA X WIFE!READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: sukuna is a bit ooc. f!reader. true form sukuna. not proof read

If you haven't read the first part, here it is: Heir. ***************

As months went by, your stomach got bigger and rounder. Your back was certainly hurting, feet aching, and a constant need to go pee.

You almost hated every second of it.

If it wasn’t for the fact you were bringing life into the world, you would’ve hated every second of it.

Someone that was almost more excited than you was your lover, Sukuna. He was dead set on the baby being a boy. He was so excited to raise a boy to create a future heir.

He even already picked out a name for him. Akumu, not a common name but it was one that Sukuna liked and it was set.

However, you had a feeling that you were having a daughter. But, Sukuna was not hearing any of that. But just in case, you picked out a name just in case it was a girl. You wanted to have a similar vibe that Sukuna wanted so you chose Yumekui.

You were very close to your due date and you were extremely nervous. You felt like you weren’t ready. You felt the nursery wasn’t ready or that things weren’t baby proofed enough.

That’s why you paced around the castle, trying to get things ready. You didn’t care that your feet ached and your back was crying for help. All you cared about was making sure that everything was ready and perfect for the baby.

You know who did care? Sukuna. He didn’t like how you are constantly on your feet, pacing around and just being worried in general.

“Woman.” Sukuna calls out once he finds you wandering the halls. You turn to him, already knowing you’re about to get scolded. “You should be resting.” You pout a little, “but do you see that over there?” You say while pointing to an area where a sharp corner was protruding.

Sukuna follows your finger, “yeah. What about it?” “What if the baby hurts themselves from that?” Sukuna rolls his eyes, “you’re being paranoid. Our son will be strong. A corner is not going to harm him.”

There’s that word again. Son. You often thought about what his reaction would be if it was a daughter instead. Would he be mad? Would he kick the both of you out? Would he kill the child? All these negative thoughts clouded your mind daily.

That’s why when the time came, you really didn’t want Sukuna in the room- just the midwives. However, Sukuna wanted to be in the room with you and no one was really going to defy his orders.

Sukuna was being super supportive though during the whole process. He held your hand and let you squeeze as hard as you wanted, even though it felt like a little pinch to him. He also kept a clean towel to wipe the sweat off of you. Even the sly cursing didn’t affect him.

The process felt like hours and you were sure you looked like a hot mess. Sukuna didn’t care though. In his eyes you were still the most beautiful woman.

You could feel the baby coming through and it was only confirmed by the midwife when she said the head was crowning and you only needed to do a couple more pushes.

You were happy to hear that as you started to feel more tired and weak with every second that passed by.

Finally, you heard the sound of an infant crying. Relief washed through your body. Until you heard the words you didn’t want to hear.

“Congratulations. It’s a girl.”

You felt Sukana’s grip on your hand loosen until he completely lets go of your hand.

You could feel your heart drop and your skin paled. You wanted to grab the baby before Sukuna did. But you were too weak to sit up correctly.

“W-wait..” Your voice only came out as a whisper as your back hit the bed. “I want..” You couldn’t speak anymore as your head lolled to the side. You could feel a midwife trending to your side.

The last thing you saw was the midwife holding the child and Sukuna walking up to the child. You could see the subtle frown on his face as he looked down at the small baby. After that, your vision went black as you went into a peaceful slumber.

*************

Everything felt sore. Extremely sore. It took you a minute to come to your senses. But when you remember your situation, you sit up. Hoping to find your daughter safe and sound.

However, what you saw was the last thing you expected.

Your daughter was swaddled, in the crib sound asleep.

What shocked you even more was Sukuna. The man who said who wanted a son, stood at the crib admiring his child.

His large body was bent over so his arms were crossed and leaning against the edge. His head was tilted to the side and resting on his arms. You would have never guessed you would see a sight like this. He looked almost… soft. All though, you would never say that to him.

Sukuna heard the rustling of the sheets causing him to sit up a little.

“I’m glad you’re awake.” He says and you nod your head.

“Are you mad?” You softly ask him. “Why would I be mad?” “You know… for having a daughter. Not a son, like you wanted.”

Sukuna laughs, but not too loudly to wake the baby.

Sure, he was a bit upset when he heard that it was a girl. But as soon as her eyes opened, the same red color as his, he swore he could feel his heart stop. The cries were weak and pathetic in his opinion. However, when the midwife handed her over to him, her cries stopped. The baby looked up at him with wonder and she showed him a gummy smile.

Sukuna would never tell you that as soon as her cries stopped he started to love the child.

“No. She’s so small. I decided that having a daughter isn’t too bad.” You chuckle at his answer and peer over the crib, getting a good look at your daughter.

Even though she was a few hours old, you could tell that she was Sukuna’s daughter. You could only imagine what she would look like when she gets older.

“She looks just like you.” You mutter, a little upset that you carried her for so long and she came out looking like her father.

“Of course she does. My genetics are strong.” “Hmm, we’ll see with the next baby.”

Sukuna grins at your words, “the next baby? Already planning for another?” “Wait, wait,” you giggle while holding your hand up, “I don’t mean that just yet. I still have to heal.” Sukuna hums, silently agreeing. “Next time, it’ll be a boy. I’ll make sure of it.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging: @lotuskassagi

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #oneshot #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #ryomen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x you #jjk fluff

848 notes · View notes

redstarwriting · 10 months

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his girl | ii. envy me

earth 42!miles morales x fem!reader | miles morales x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: language, insults, spoilers, probably bad spanish, 42 Miles and reader get into a little spat, stubborn 42 Miles, violent 42 Miles, Miles and Miles almost fight twice

a/n: teehee and so it begins 🤭 didn’t expect this to turn into a whole series but i’m not mad. i hope y’all enjoy the storyline i thought up and please, by all means, give me your input! thank you all for the support 🖤 enjoy :)

previous chapter: i. his girl

now reading: ii. envy me

next chapter: iii. all the riches

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Miles, in fact, did not run. He was too taken aback to do anything, even though his body was screaming at him too. And he was too focused on your confused face. You looked exactly like his (Y/n), and it made his heart ache. And that is how other Miles was able to knock him out so fast. And why he just woke up in his Uncle Aaron’s apartment, chained to the punching bag, just like he did to Peter after first meeting him. He hears his uncle's music blaring from his record player. He looks in the direction it’s coming from. His eyes widen as he sees his Uncle Aaron. He’s alive. “Uncle Aaron?”

“Not your tío,” 42 Miles says, and Miles glares at him. “I’m just tryna go home, bro. Why are you doing this? What are you getting from this?”

“You said you’re from a different dimension?”

“Yeah. And?” Miles asks, narrowing his eyes at him. “Why are you here?”

“I told you I was sent here by mistake! I just wanna get back to my world, man. Dad’ll die,” he says, exasperated, and Miles stares at him with a blank expression. “Your dad alive?”

“Yeah, of course, he is,” Miles says, and 42 Miles frowns slightly. “Oh.”

Miles normally would be able to piece together what the disappointment in his voice would mean. But he's a little preoccupied with multiple other thoughts currently to necessarily care to psychoanalyze his own behaviors. He also doesn’t have the chance to see Aaron’s face drop and see the sadness in his eyes. Or the way you immediately look at your Miles to make sure the news didn’t break him. “But he’s gonna die if you keep me here,” Miles explains, and 42 Miles nods. “Yeah. Well, you ain’t leaving.”

“…Please. You have to let me go,” Miles pleads. But 42 Miles just stares at him, unmoved. “Why would I do that?” he asks, placing his gauntlet next to Miles’ head. Miles frowns, placing his finger on the piece of metal linking the chains together, ready to electrocute it and make his escape. The other him stares at him with an unreadable expression, seemingly no emotion behind his eyes, and just as it feels like shit is about to go down, he hears your voice ring out. “Miles. Just let him go.” Both your Miles and 1610 Miles turn their heads to you. It’s the first time 1610 Miles noticed you were in here. “(Y/n)? Bro, why are you letting her around your business?” Miles asks, and 42 Miles shoots a venomous look at him. “She insisted on coming. This is her first time around this shit,” Miles hisses at him. 1610 Miles can’t help but feel a tightening in his chest. He wants nothing more than for you from his world to be here with him. Not even in a romantic way, at least that’s what he’s trying to convince himself. He just misses you. He chased you away, and now he doesn’t even know if he’ll be able to fix it. His thoughts are interrupted when you clear your throat. Both of the boys look back in your direction. You’re on Aaron’s couch, staring at your Miles with such intensity it makes even 1610 Miles lock up. He can only imagine what it’s like being the one on the receiving end of that look. He sees other Miles’ eyes soften in his peripheral vision as he removes his fist from beside Miles’ head. “Mi amor…”

“No. Let him go, there’s no point in keeping him here,” you say, and 42 Miles frowns. “Not one to let people go, (Y/n). You know that.”

“I don’t give a fuck, Morales.”

“Damn, ma! Not even callin’ me Miles now?” Miles asks, an edge to his voice. You frown. “No. Not right now. Let him go, and we’ll see.”

“Why you want me to let him go? Got a crush on him or something?” Miles asks, and you raise your eyebrow. You glance at Miles, then back to your Miles. “Technically, yeah. I do. Unless you’d prefer I break up with both of you right now,” you say back, your voice just as cold as your boyfriend’s. “You tellin’ me you’d rather have this guy? Sayin’ this guy is like me? Estás de broma…” he mutters, and Miles looks between the two of you. “Not to piss you off more, but this guy is still technically you,” Miles says, and 42 Miles glares at him. “Cállate. No one was talking to you.”

“Man, why do you hate me so much?! I’m you!” Miles says, exasperated. He just doesn’t understand why this version of him is so hostile to him. They’re basically the same! Except Miles is a superhero and other Miles is a supervillain, but they still both have super in the title so how different can they really be? “Is this a call for help or–”

Miles gets cut off but 42 Miles punching the punching bag, right by Miles’ head. Enough force is exuded that the sand from the bag flies out, starting to pour down the side of it. His eyes widen, and you gasp. Even Aaron reacts a bit to it. But maybe it’s just because someone who looks exactly like his nephew is on the receiving end of it this time. This time. “Miles!” you yell, standing up. “What?!”

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

“What I gotta do! You don’t get it, (Y/n)! This is the job!” Miles yells, and you roll your eyes. “Oh, please, Miles. This is the job? He’s you! Wouldn’t you be trying to get home if you knew you could save your dad?!” you yell, and he glares at you. “(Y/n). Don’t.”

“You know you would be,” you walk over to him, placing your hands on his cheeks. He subconsciously relaxes, but only slightly. You sigh. “You don’t have to be such a hardass all the time, amor,” you mumble, and he shakes his head. “No comprendes, amor… I have to be this way. Or else— “

“Miles, he’s not a part of the cartel. He’s not gonna tell anyone here that you let him go… he’s not even from here. It’s okay for you to think with your heart instead of your head just this once,” you say, and he huffs. “Nah. I stopped thinkin’ with my heart a long time ago,” he says, and a hurt expression crosses your face. “Then what am I? A calculated move for you to use as an adavantage when you need it?” you ask, venom in your words. “No, (Y/n), don’t be estúpida. You’re mi vida, but him? How I know he ain’t just some experiment they made? To get to me?” Miles asks, looking at you with a skeptical look. You sigh. “Dude! I don’t even know what you’re talking about! I have spider powers, is that a thing anyone else here has?!”

“No.”

“Exactly! Why would whoever you’re talking about make a carbon copy of you with enhanced biology just to use me for this?!” Miles asks, and you shrug. “He’s got a point, Miles,” you say, and 42 Miles looks at you again. “Thank you, (Y/n),” 1610 Miles says, and 42 Miles rolls his eyes. “(Y/n) you have to understand that I can’t take no chances. You know that the cartel will go after—”

“I know. I know, Miles, but I really don’t think that—”

“You don’t know that (Y/n). You don’t know them like I do,” Miles says, and you sigh. “Miles. Mi amor. Mi vida. Mi sol, listen to me. If he wanted you dead, he would have done it by now,” you try to get through to him. He glances back at Miles, and Miles can literally see the distrust and paranoia in his expression.

He must have been through so much shit. This is a world with no Spider-Man after all. And all this mention of a cartel? No wonder Miles turned to the Prowler. It’s similar to Aaron in his world, he thinks. He thought that he had nowhere else to turn, so he turned to crime. But deep down, he can’t be that bad. Right…?

“Amor, I need to be cautious. I just have to ask him some questions before… letting him go,” he mumbles, glancing at Aaron. Aaron nods. 1610 Miles gets the feeling they’re not planning on letting him go. You must get that feeling too, because you shake your head, pulling your hands away from Miles’ face. “I can’t believe you right now,” you say, and he frowns. “(Y/n), please just try to understand—”

“No, Miles! I’m done trying to understand you when you never try to understand me!” you yell, and he clenches his jaw. “What do you mean by that, huh?” he asks, and you scoff. “I just. I need to leave. Before I do something I regret.”

“Like what, huh? Break up with me? Fight with me? Actually understand where I’m coming from for once?” Aaron cringes at that. You’re probably the most understanding person in his life other than him. That wasn’t the right choice of words. And you let him know it. “FOR ONCE?! Miles! Oh my god! Are you serious right now?! How many times have you tried to understand me?! I lost people too, you know! And I’m not out here—”

“Do you think I want to do this, (Y/n)?! Be fuckin’ for rea! I do this for you!” he yells back, and you shake your head, frustrated to the point of tears. “I never asked you to do this!”

“You didn’t need to because I love you enough to want to without you asking me to! You need it, Mamá needs it, everyone needs it, and I can provide it for all of you!” You angrily wipe a tear away, trying desperately to keep the rest of them contained. Miles softens. “Amor, no necesitas llorar—”

“Stop, Miles. Just… just stop. I need some air, don’t follow me,” you turn, hurrying to Aaron’s door. Miles steps forward to go after you, but Aaron puts a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head. “Nah, man. Give her some space. She’ll come around,” Aaron says, and Miles clenches his fists. As soon as he sees you slip out of the door, closing it behind you, he turns to Miles. “This is your fault,” he says, pointing at him. “Miles,” Aaron says, crossing his arms. While he is also weary of this new Miles, his Miles isn’t thinking rationally right now. Then again, he is only 15. That’s why Aaron is here, sometimes he needs some assistance. “Why you lookin’ at me like that?” Aaron asks the other Miles. Miles hadn’t even realized he’d been staring. He shakes his head. “Nothing… nothing. Just… good to see you. Haven’t in a while,” he mumbles, and Aaron raises his eyebrow. That could mean a few things. Best not to dwell on it, though.

“Who are you, really?” 42 Miles asks, and 1610 Miles groans. “I’m you, dude! Why is that so hard to understand?! I’m not a part of a cartel or anything I just want to get home!” Miles is frustrated. Seeing the world they live in from Aaron’s window, he gets why Miles is so… paranoid. But honestly, how long can he keep this uncertainty up? “Explain how you got here. And don’t just say ‘by mistake,’ alright?” Miles says, showing the claws on his gauntlets. Miles rolls his eyes. “I’m Spider-Man, right? And there’s tons of different Spider-Mans… men? Not important, there’s other me’s! And Spider-Women, Spider-People in a bunch of different dimensions, one of them, Miguel, figured out how to travel dimensions and we all met each other… except I wasn’t supposed to meet them because the spider that made me Spider-Man actually came from this world so someone here was supposed to get bit and I wasn't supposed to exist like this, but—”

“Wait… you sayin’ my world ain’t supposed to be like this…?” Miles asks, and Miles nods. “Yes. The people at Alchemax on my world built a collider and had the spider come to my world and it got out and—”

“You’re the reason for this?” Miles looks at himself, who is not even angrier. “I… n-no, but yes, I—” Miles gets cut off by a gauntlet getting placed way too close to his head again. What he doesn’t know is 42 Miles just put together everything in his head. This Miles was Spider-Man. And his dad was still alive because of it. If that were the case for him, maybe his dad wouldn’t have died. Maybe he wouldn’t have been like this.

He could have had everything that was taken from him.

“That’s enough talking, cabrón,” he growls, ready to escalate things yet again. Miles gets ready to break out of his restraints again, and Aaron gets ready to help Miles out. Then, over the music, they hear a scream.

A scream that undoubtedly belongs to you.

───────────────────────────────

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ikeuverse · 1 month

Text

MI AMOR — p.jongseong

PAIRING: jay x fem!reader GENRES: smut, slight fluff WC: 3.8k+

WARNINGS: unprotected sex (wrap it up and do it carefully), little plot, a bit of swearing, slaps on the skin, mention of hanging, lmk if i've forgotten anything.

NOTES: my first smut on this account, finally? i confess i'm not happy at all because i tried to get out of my bubble and fulfill some requests. after a long time i'm back to writing this so please be nice because it's not something i usually write. i've done and redone something for jay countless times and this was the only time i found myself (somewhat) satisfied with the writing. let me know what you think, these feedbacks are always welcome and help me to produce more and more. i hope you enjoy it!

masterlist

The cold climate of the city contrasted with the warmth of the whisky Jay had drunk a few seconds ago. The slight burn in his throat made him wheeze as he drummed the glass in his fingers.

Arms resting on the table, tired eyes looking around and listening to the middle-aged man with his Spanish accent talk about everything that involved money to him.

It was banal, and uninteresting that Jay was listening to all this while the men laughed at completely idiotic jokes and drank more of their expensive drinks.

"Are you tired, chico?" he asked, catching Jay's eye and he looked up at the man.

Now everyone else was talking about something while the oldest of them was looking in Jay's direction. He gave a quick smile, raising his glass and showing that he had finished his whisky.

"I'm just trying to pick things up…"

"Yes, I see" he came around the table to sit next to Jay, "You don't want to take over your father's things, do you?"

Jay really didn't want to. Being in that environment was not at all what he imagined would happen to his future. Of course, he knew about his father's business, he knew how much money he had and what he did to make it happen. But Jay simply didn't want to be part of it, not when he hadn't asked to be there.

"I assure you it will be quiet, I promise to take care of you" the man's sentence was interrupted by knocks on the door. Slight, but he managed to hear it and nod to Jay as he momentarily turned away "Mi hija."

Jay didn't want to turn around so abruptly because he knew who it was, but it was impossible not to look in your direction when he heard your voice. He'd be lying if he said he'd only accepted that damn meeting in the middle of an even worse week just because he was going to your father's house. Anyway, he'd find you and here you are.

"Hi, papá. I was wondering if you'd finished the meeting" your Spanish accent was much better than your father's, that's for sure. Jay loved it.

"Am I keeping him too long?" your father asked, making you roll your eyes as the older man made room for your figure to appear in Jay's field of vision.

He shuddered as soon as your eyes met, you looked beautiful. Like never before. And it wasn't anything fancy or anything like he always used to see when his parents got together. You were wearing simple, completely casual clothes and your loose hair gave your figure even more comfort.

"I don't think you can leave him there knowing that he doesn't feel comfortable" you said afterward, still looking at Jay as you beckoned him to come closer.

And he did. He didn't want to listen to any more of those men while you were calling him in such a graceful and unique way. The boy's feet just moved towards you and stopped close enough to you, still remembering the figure of his father next to the two of you.

"Can we continue this conversation later, Park?" your father asked, his voice serious but not at all angry.

"Of course" Jay greeted him and waited for you to leave the room before following behind you.

A considerable distance in that huge corridor as the footsteps headed towards the elevator. Once your father had closed the door and the two of you were waiting, Jay finally managed to slip one of his arms around your waist and pull your body against his. Your back pressed against Jay's chest, your hand on his arm sliding down to his hand resting on your stomach.

"How did you know I was here?" he whispered between your hair, his lips moving down to your neck and placing a kiss there. That gave you a slight shiver before you pulled away from Jay as soon as the elevator arrived.

The two of you entered and you quickly pressed the button to the first floor to get out.

"I saw your car in front of the mansion" you said so simply that he didn't have anything to say.

Jay hadn't parked thinking you'd recognize him. He had the perfect plan to text you and ask you to meet him in front of his house because he would already be there. But you found him first.

"So you recognize him?" Jay joked and hugged you again, this time facing you and placing a kiss on the top of your head.

"Impossible not to recognize him when we've lived through so much in there, mi amor."

He laughed out loud at your response, but knowing full well that it was all true. Being with you in any corner of the house, his car, or the city, had a little piece of you both. There were memories that you both shared, with Jay between your legs or with the marks of your mouth all over his body. Jay wanted to remind you of him in every way.

"Come on, I'll get you out of here" he intertwined his fingers in yours as the elevator opened, quickly leaving and heading for his car.

"And where are you taking me?" you asked. Your hands were still intertwined with his, but you didn't let go until you reached Jay's car.

He unlocked and opened the door for you, letting you in on the passenger side while he quickly turned around to get in on the driver's side.

"You know the mountain overlooking the sea that Sunghoon mentioned last week?" Jay glanced at you as he started the car and pulled out from where it was parked.

"That he went with his girlfriend? I think I know" you tried to remember, knowing that he and Sunghoon talked about a lot of things and even if you knew them all, it was always good to try to remember.

"We never had sex there, did we?" you almost choked at Jay's sudden question, glancing up quickly when he felt your gaze on him, laughing as you imagined the horrified expression on his face. But he had to pay attention to the road in the meantime. "Answer me, mi amor" he slid his hand up your thigh, squeezing it even though the restriction of your pants prevented him from touching your skin.

"Never" you replied.

"Good" he managed to look at you for a few seconds, squeezing your thigh even tighter before turning his attention back to the road.

That would be another place you and he would claim, as you had done with almost every corner of the city you had visited together.

The contact of Jay's fingertips with your skin sent shivers throughout your body. He took all the time in the world with you, from taking you to the back of the car to undressing you slowly while you sat on his lap, kissing you just as slowly.

In those moments when Jay felt he needed you even more than usual, it was good to be able to enjoy every little moment you could.

The view of the mountain had been forgotten the second you both jumped into the back seat, knowing that the real journey there hadn't been the view from outside the car. You two could do that later, perhaps.

Nibbling on Jay's lower lip, you heard him hiss softly at the slightly better contact between the undersides of both your bodies after you'd got rid of your pants and were down to your underwear.

He loved feeling you. He loved everything you were capable of doing to his body and that's because the two of you were only kissing at the moment, but Jay felt so aroused that the tightness of his boxer shorts was beginning to show.

"I missed you so much" he whispered after a while in silence.

The breeze outside was the only sound apart from the kiss you two shared. You smiled, moving your face away from him enough so that Jay could look at you in the dim light of the night.

Your beauty was unreal. He couldn't tell you how lucky he was to be able to have you with him and call you his girlfriend. Jay knew that you were worth more than any money his father could have made from those businesses.

Making millions, leading things he didn't even want to know about, none of that compared to having met you. The scenario itself wasn't the best, you were his father's business partner's daughter, but seeing you at a fortnightly party while you blew off every man who came your way made Jay sigh. He would be the next to get dumped, you wouldn't give a chance to the man who didn't even want to be there in the first place.

But Jay was taken aback when he needed a breather and left the hall, finding you leaning against a bench and staring off into the distance. Talking to you that night only started what you and he had slowly built up to.

Did you also think the same, how Jay was the only one who managed to win your heart? You knew which men your father worked with and you'd be lying if you said you didn't look at any of them. But you'd be honest enough to say that no one had caught your eye like Jay did.

He was different from all the others because he was there with you. After all, you were... You. Not because you were the daughter of someone like your father. Jay didn't even care about that, to tell you the truth. He only focused on you and only you.

"Mi amor" Jay's whisper brought you out of your thoughts, his hand now resting on your ass and squeezing the flesh without too much force when you looked down. You were sitting perfectly aligned on the head of his cock, evident by the erection almost bursting through the fabric.

Your eyes went up to Jay's face and he smiled lazily, his mouth pink from the newly shared kiss as his hand squeezed a little tighter at the same second that your hip – involuntarily – brushed against his.

"Baby, fuck" he moaned, feeling his boxers get wet with pre-cum and knowing that his slide was only being made easier because you were just as wet as he was. Your wetness slowly spread as you rolled your hips back.

"What? Do you want to see the view then, mi amor?" you teased, nibbling on Jay's cheek and trailing your lips down to his jaw. Your moan was so sly when your boyfriend's hands pushed your panties aside enough for him to slide his hand down to your pussy.

Parting your lips and collecting a good amount of your juices, Jay let his fingers move slowly up and down your pussy until he found your clit.

"I'm having the best of it" he whispered, circling your clit with ease due to how wet you were.

Your moan was music to his ears as his fingers worked on circling your swollen, needy muscle. Jay knew how sensitive you were in that area and paying attention to that before anything else was something he prioritized, even if his cock was starting to ache from how much it was throbbing to be inside you.

"Jay, I need..." his fingers slid down your pussy until he had two of them in your hole, squeezing them as he began to pump in and out.

"What do you need?" he asked. You wanted to punch him for his audacity, even though he was being careful while he fucked you with his fingers in such a delicious way. Hitting specific spots and pressing his thumb on your clit "Tell me. I want you to tell me, y/n."

Motherfucker. Jay was a cute son of a bitch for being like that even when he wasn't degrading you and wanting to take care of every inch of your body.

You rolled over with his fingers inside you, one of your hands going to the hair on the back of his neck and pulling Jay's face back against the back of the seat. From that angle, his neck was even more visible to you and the marks you would leave on his tanned skin would be a reminder of what it was like the first time the two of you were on that mountain in his car.

"Baby" he whimpered as your teeth slid across his skin, nibbling and muffling his moans as Jay's fingers slid in and out of her wet pussy. The lewd sound of wetness made your eyes squeeze shut tightly as you still nibbled on it and made your way to Jay's earlobe.

"I love your fingers, you know" your voice was charged with arousal and you were panting, you wanted to moan when Jay stopped moving them, wanting to pay attention to you. But that didn't stop you from contracting your pussy and squeezing his fingers, causing your boyfriend to bring his other hand up to your thigh to slap you.

The burning on your skin combined with how fucked up you were just from being in that position and how you both were. You weren't going to come at that moment.

"But I love it even more when I have your cock inside me."

"Is that what you want?" Jay asked, his fingers slowly pulling out of you. You didn't have to be a master to know that now it was your turn to work, lifting your hips enough for him to take off your boxers and help you out of your panties, abandoning them along with everything else on the floor of the car.

That's exactly what you wanted. It was his cock that you'd been craving ever since you and Jay got into the back seat of the car. So that's what he was going to give you anyway. But not before teasing you some more.

Holding the base and taking advantage of the angle you were at so he could enter you, Jay ran the tip of his cock all over your pussy. Only pre-cum could help it go in easily, especially as his fingers had worked hard enough to make you wet for him too. But you knew it wouldn't stop there.

Circling your clit with the tip of his cock, then going down your hole and teasing where you wanted him at that moment. Jay didn't enter you, just stroking everything he could and collecting as much of your juices as he could to wet his cock.

"You're..."

"I'm what?" he asked, at which point Jay's cock released itself as soon as it was at your entrance and, rolling his hands to your hips, he pulled you down and thrust himself into you in one go "Say it, mi amor."

He ordered his voice raspy, a moan caught in his throat as your pussy hugged him so tightly. In such a delicious way that it fit so perfectly.

A few seconds passed before your hands went to his face, holding him so close and feeling Jay's breathing hitch as your hips began to work.

"You're a motherfucker" you laughed softly, letting him kiss you as you moaned through his movements.

Jay wanted you to take the lead that night, bouncing on his cock and slapping your ass against his thighs as you sat down the way you wanted. He wanted to feel you, he wanted to go deep inside you, but with your movements. It was the night that Jay needed you so badly, but at the same time, he didn't want to be rude. So making you sit on him was a way of being able to look at you and appreciate your features in front of him. The movement of your body going up and down, your chest pressed against his as your mouth opened to moan his name when the kiss became too much to bear.

He loved fucking you, loved swearing at you as he shoved his cock roughly into you. Jay loved going slow and making love, hearing you declare yourself, and being able to declare yourself too. But unlike all that, nothing could compare to the needy sex he loved to have with you.

As if every time his cock hit its sweet spot, he needed to hold onto any part of your body without letting go of you. Afraid that you would run away or get away from him before it was all over. That was when Jay allowed himself to be vocal all the time, with his hands squeezing your hips and leaving even stronger marks so that you would remember the next morning what the two of you had done.

Jay didn't want it to ever end, least of all with the stuffy air inside the car, the sounds of skin slapping, and your moans mingling with his. One thing fits into another to make that sex one of the best yet.

You gave in to Jay when you felt his hands go to your ass, gripping your buttocks tightly as your hips began to wobble. He knew you'd come at any moment – he wasn't much different – so helping you wouldn't be a problem.

Lifting you there, up and down on his cock, Jay tilted his hips in search of more contact to go to your limit, where his cock reached you and made you scream his name without caring if anyone else was out there to hear you two. All that mattered was how much you needed your boyfriend and how good he made you feel.

"Jay, mi amor..." you whimpered to him as your stomach gave the all-too-familiar feeling it was coming. Your hands, which were still holding his face, slid up to Jay's neck and one of them grabbed him by the throat. You didn't think about that act, being the only visible place you could hold on to as he leaned in to get you fucked before you both reached the edge.

"I know, baby. I know, come with me" the brushing of lips against each other, the uneven breathing as you moaned his name and he moaned yours.

You'd already forgotten the sting of Jay's nails digging into your ass, helping you move up and down on his cock and matching the movements with his hips thrusting into you. Your fingers on his neck tightened a little, by instinct, and that made Jay's eyes widen.

For a second he stopped his movements and stared at you. You stared back, not knowing what had happened, ready to open your mouth and ask him what was going on.

"Do it again" he ordered.

"What?" you swallowed, your throat dry from keeping your mouth open too long and your eyes searching for an answer to what your boyfriend had said.

"Squeeze..." he whispered "Your hand on my neck again, please."

Your eyes rolled to where he had said it, noticing only now that his hand had wrapped around her neck. Of course, it was nothing compared to when Jay did that, like a human necklace around your neck when he held you there. But you could see the effect it had on him when the orbs darkened and Jay thrust his cock deep into you again.

A scream and a moan came from your throat as the movements resumed, and you squeezed his neck again with your fingertips, using a little more force and seeing his eyes close in the process. Jay couldn't believe that this would make him come even more easily.

He could ask you to do it again and again if he had to, because it was something new that had made his cock throb even more inside you.

With your free hand, you leaned on the back of the seat next to Jay's head, helping to lift his hips as you squeezed his neck and let him fuck you into oblivion.

"Come with me, mi amor" your whisper was a warning that your knot was bursting, that you were going to come and you wanted him to be on the same frequency. And he was.

Because as soon as everything broke, your pussy contracted on his cock as you came. It didn't take half a second for Jay to spill inside you, hot jets of cum invading you as his cock was milked by every spasm of your twitching pussy.

He moaned your name with his lips parted, so inviting that you couldn't stand it, and nibbled on the bottom one, taking it between your lips while still riding Jay through the rest of the orgasm until there was nothing left.

The next few minutes were spent with Jay carefully getting you off his lap and reaching for the shirt he was wearing earlier to clean you up. Carefully because of the overstimulation and how sensitive you were.

You wanted to remain sitting on his lap, cuddled up to your boyfriend who was still trying to normalize his breathing little by little.

"I missed you, you know that?" Jay said after a while in silence, glancing quickly outside to notice the darkness of the night and then looking back at you. Exhausted, your skin is illuminated by the reflection of the moonlight and the sweat from your sudden activities. Jay cracked a wide smile at that.

"Why didn't you tell me you were there? I missed you too and I could have gotten you out of that room so quickly..."

"I know. I'm sorry, mi amor" Jay let you kiss his lips in the process, hugging your body to his, both of you tired "I wanted to try and surprise you."

"And you did it by bringing me here" you said with your lips still close to his, hearing your boyfriend's laugh even though it was low.

"How about we see the other view now? Or do you want to continue?" Jay asked.

You seemed to think for a moment, looking at him and then out of the car before letting out a sigh.

"A bit of that view wouldn't be a bad idea" you shrugged "But we can come back here later, we've got all night."

It was your turn to laugh when Jay looked shocked, but then grateful that you'd said that since he didn't want to leave too soon. He wanted to enjoy all the time he had with you.

The truth was that the boy didn't like anything his family was involved in, nothing his father had in mind for his future. But being in that environment had led Jay to you.

So perhaps the only good thing about being there was that he had you by his side. And for that Jay would always be grateful.

#enhypen #enhypen smut #jay smut #enhypen jay #enhypen au #enhypen scenarios #enha smut #jongseong smut #park jongseong smut #enhypen masterlist #enhypen x reader #jay x reader #jay fanfics #jongseong x reader #enhypen imagines

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satoruhour · 8 months

Note

While I know Suguru is the og girldad, there’s something so endearing about Satoru with a daughter.

First time she’s in his arms and it’s like somebody put the sun into his palms. She has his white hair and six eyes but in shape of your facial features, his loud and boisterous personality and his sweet tooth, and there’s not a thing on this planet he cherishes more than her. Spoils her, wants to be her “superhero” dad children look up to, you best believe everything she draws for him is kept secure in a folder in his room. He never lets anyone treat her as inferior to boys (knowing the misogyny in jjk universe), and both of them love you to piecessssss🥹

Like I just randomly imagine him baking a cake with his little daughter for your birthday and MY HEARTHNSJ😭

WHEN US MEANS MORE THAN ME & U

a/n: literal tears. bye. i love dad gojo sm. wrote this through tears while listening to this. tagging @crysugu @jabamin @hyomagiri @seeingivy ✶

wc: 3k plus?? man idfk cant see thru my tears

✶ dad!gojo . . .

. . . who ages so well the more he grows older. if you think he looks good at 28, just wait until he’s 34, or 40. although he still has a baby face, his features have matured way more, now, crinkle lines on his forehead and around his lips that accentuate his dimples even more. he just looked… so damn good, truly keeping his physique well into his thirties, except you wouldn’t have known if his hair is turning grey, though, since it’s already white, but you can tell he’s happy when his body hair is not just white upon white.

. . . who has the palest skin, so when he starts to grow a noticeable moustache and goatee he shows you the short strands excitedly, pointing to the various parts of his face with an excited finger and a beaming smile. he annoys you by rubbing his chin and cupid’s bow along your skin in the morning or when he returns home — it’s a little funny seeing you jump in surprise.

. . . who only lets you dictate whether he should keep the facial hair and when you hesitate even one moment (“nope! let’s shave it!”) you’re pulled into the bathroom and handed a shaver and shaving cream. he hums when the blade glides along his skin, knowing you were too afraid to be too rough. gojo liked the tenderness of these moments, you perched upon his lap and bottom lip caught in between your lips as you focused on his chin and cupid’s bow. the grip on your waist is firm, loving the way your thighs close around his own so snugly.

“okay — last one,” you voice out softly, eyes squinting because it was so difficult trying to see white hair from skin. gojo simply giggles at your struggle and you tsk, telling to stop moving! before you’re yelping and the shaver leaves your hand, the soft, plump lips of satoru moving against yours. behind you, there’s a plop! of water, and gojo just laughs when he sees the shaver lodged into the toilet. “ah. well, let’s use yours.” and your mouth twists, “no! i use that to shave…” you trail off and you swear you can hear gojo’s grin and the insult of pervert on your lips. “well! all the more to use it!” ✶

. . . whose vision from the start is slowly turning true. the jujutsu world is in the good hands of his students that he’s able to spend time with you and the (unborn) baby more. he smiles more freely now that he works less missions, but still as cheeky and playful as ever, squishing your cheeks and moving them around as he plants kisses on them. he also shows his feelings more, not afraid to bury his face in your neck and ask for head rubs or tell you he might be thinking about suguru a little too much; the first time satoru put his head to your swelling belly and heard the kid kick he teared up right away, baby talking to the baby bump like the sap he is.

. . . who at first hated his family name because it was only ever associated with his powerful father and then him, with both of his renowned techniques, how it pointed straight to him being the strongest and a cog in the machine to overwork. but now, gojo rather likes it, referring to you as “my wife” and “mrs. gojo” more times than necessary. you gave him his surname meaning by saying your vows and slipping his (rather expensive) ring on your fourth finger. you gave the family name a sense of warmth and homeliness whenever he’d come home to you humming a tune from high school and cooking up some dinner. you gave ‘gojo’ a worth that means more than just the six eyes and limitless — that it’d mean that gojo was the penthouse in some far off tokyo district coupled with you and the baby growing in you.

. . . who when first handed his baby girl, cried full on tears in the hospital, both arms wrapped so snugly around his baby because he was afraid he was going to hurt her or drop her in some way. gojo is generally pretty large in stature that he makes your baby girl look so small that it’s endearing. your cheeks hurt from smiling so much at them, not having the energy to capture the moment since you just quite literally delivered. but satoru much rather have his girls in the picture, handing the baby back to you before he reveals his phone to snap a picture.

“w-would ya look at her?” satoru coos, rocking and bouncing his body gently to ease your baby back into slumber. there’s an ugly show of a mess on his face — snot falling everywhere and tear stains lining his cheeks. but there’s one final thing that has gojo choking up all over again; the baby is curious and feels up his hand, your husband letting a finger out before she curls her small fist around his finger. “oh my god.” it’s cute seeing gojo so distraught as tears spring to his eyes again and he can’t even form words. it makes the baby laugh and he sobers up a little, sniffing and raising a brow. “love seeing your papa cry, huh?” and the baby sputters again and giggles and satoru swears he ascends to heaven and mutters a promise more to himself than your darling girl. “i’ll protect that little smile for as long as i live, okay?” ✶

. . . who is entirely enamoured with his baby girl, carrying her a little too much when she should be in the crib, singing her little songs or pointing out the colours of the sky in the nursery. you watch the scenes like a proud wife and mother, still not used to the beautiful scenes and childlike decorations of the room — only because satoru would not let you in after learning why ellie from up couldn’t conceive even if the paint now was safe. but you don’t have the heart to turn away your husband when this is what you get out of it, reminiscent of when gojo had playfully done to tsumiki and megumi before (“the scenery is beautiful today, gojo-san!” vs. “i already know what colours are, dumbass.”).

. . . who only asks you to rest while he takes on most of the diaper-changing and feeding duties. you weren’t even that old to begin with, but it seemed like just like you were pregnant, satoru found it offensive that you’d think of even lifting a finger. you let him, for a while, until you find out he’s putting on the diaper wrongly and putting a little too much formula in the bottle, but you simply pat his cheek when he tears again. by god, he doesn’t want to mess this up, he doesn’t want to mess you up, he doesn’t want to mess her up, but you show him with your hands wrapped around his. one, two, three, and a half cups into the bottle; wrap around her right, then her left and secure it with the provided adhesive.

“satoru, baby,” you sigh, going on your tippy toes to kiss away the tears spilling from his cheeks, “you’re not a bad dad because you didn’t know how to make her food or change her diaper.” your fingers are as light as dewdrops, always in awe of his flawless skin and looks, and now, in awe of his consideration and love of your baby girl. “but—” you put up a finger, “no buts— remember? we promised each other not to be sorry if we can’t help it. you are human, my love.” gojo heaves a shaky sigh and swallows away the sobs, nodding against your hand as he covers it and leans into your touch. “i am human,” and a little later after quelling the baby’s cries in bed, “thank you.” ✶

. . . who, when she’s old enough, takes her on flying mishaps, hands tucked under her arm pits to guide her through the house in exaggerated flight. it feels like dad is superman, the sofa, high chair, even mama is all too far away from her and she’s onto her next exciting adventure. the bubbly giggles from your darling girl is the only sound that matters to satoru, alongside your laughter as you watch the two in play while dinner simmer besides you. higher! higher! she asks when she can speak and he does just that with his imposing height, but gojo’s tallness never intimidates his baby girl; no, not when gojo satoru is her hero and you, her solace.

. . . who gives nothing but a multitude of praises when his girl is leaning more into the artistic side, asking for colour pencils and crayons and paint to explore her creativity that with each drawing she shows him, he gasps, falls to the floor, and cries out how it should belong in a museum! gojo is doing the most — hands on his chin and pointing to various parts of the drawing and discussing the “meaning” behind it when all your girl wanted to do was draw the three of you as a happy family. he’s buying the frame, making a plaque for the artwork to be hung; when he’s making copies of the artwork to keep in a folder, he’s crying his eyes out (“she just wanted to draw us, us! as a family!” you giggle, “yes, satoru, that’s what we are.”)

“girlssss! i’m home!” satoru grins when your baby runs up to him, swooping her up before she can crash into his legs and twirls her around. “papa! look at what i drew today!” you’re emerging after cleaning up her very passionate creative space after she swore on finishing it before your husband came back, smiling when she bounces on her heels. “woooow!” he clutches his heart, one knee and then the other before he croaks out “ooouhhhh! why isn’t this masterpiece in a museum yet?! it’s a crime!” if you were in high school, the gojo then would definitely barf at how cheesy he was being at the moment, “very compelling use of colour, here, miss gojo. hmm, yes, yes, i see how you used multiple colours for the sun — very effective in showing the many colours of the sunset!” you’re cheesing so hard at the display because he does this every. time. and it never fails to make her yell in excitement, running over to you as she gives you a big fat kiss on your cheeks, “mama helped me!” a raise of the eyebrow before you finally get your well-awaited kiss to your lips, “i’m sure she did, honey.” ✩

. . .who teaches her the basic things, not shying away from the harsh realities of the world and jujutsu society. he tells her about boys who make fun of girls and think it’s acceptable, or teachers that would only like the strong boys to carry the chairs to the centre of the classroom. he thinks that if he’s going to do this parenting shit, he’s going to do it right, not the way his parents did it, not the way the higher-ups “looked” over young sorcerers. he covers self-defense, verbal comebacks as well as a rejected raise of her hand to threaten a punch (you were the one to stop him from teaching her that — you could only thank it wasn’t a middle finger instead), praising and rewarding her with candy and blown raspberries into her skin.

. . . who teaches her mama is as important as he is, but your darling girl already knows the value of her mother who holds her tight when she has a nightmare, or the airplane on mama’s airline that always holds delicious food. she knows how much her mother loves her when you’re sharing a smile with her at the dinner table as satoru chokes again on his food, and when you pat her to sleep while telling the story of how you and gojo met. that’s why she was the one to suggest that they both bake you a cake for your birthday — with her as the head chef and satoru as her sous chef.

“it has to be perfect, papa! no more burning the pancakes in the morning or putting too much sugar.” gojo stifles a laugh at that; it seems that his baby girl had heard the many trivial mishaps that had happened in the kitchen, snapping out of his daze when his daughter lands a light slap on his cheek. “pay attention!” satoru fully laughs now, okay, okay! he says and they read through the recipe together — a family recipe passed down to you — and they try their best. the flour is a little messy, the sugar is a tad too much and satoru thinks he may have preheated the oven too high a heat, but then there’s the familiar smell of the vanilla extract and the rise of the cake in the tin. your baby cheers, collapsing into gojo’s arms in front of the oven and together on the floor, they watch the cake ascend.

“careful, baby, it’s hot.” gojo brings her away when the cake is finally done, dramatically smelling and letting out a sigh at it, “it smells really good, ain’t it?” she purses her lips and points to herself, “all due to me!” and gojo hums in agreement. he’s content to let his baby girl take all the credit when she’s looking as adorable like that, finding that her confidence is looking more and more like his while your kindness shows when she’s propped up on the kitchen island and saying, “but papa was the one who helped me pour everything! so maybe it’s because of both me and papa.”

the “thank you” that satoru whispers into his girl’s temple is a whisper, and the house falls into a comfortable, more calm atmosphere as they work on the icing together. it’s clear that all her excitement has caught up to her and she’s now feeling a little sleepy in between, only shooting up when gojo’s announced the icing’s all mixed properly. “happy . . birthday . . mama,” she draws out in the air with satoru’s finger clutched between her fist, a clear layout in her young mind that he had no choice but to listen (he would always listen), lathering first the white base icing before the pressuring job comes and his darling girl is looking at him with narrowed eyes, “don’t mess it up, papa!”

“i won’t—” and before gojo can start on the lettering, you’re depositing the house keys into the bowl your husband gifted you in high school, letting out a chuckle at the scene before you: the sorcerer’s face caked in white, vanilla extract and broken egg shells on the island and in the middle of it, your husband and your daughter looking like deer caught in headlights.

“hi, mama,” they say in unison and your grin only widens. you could hardly be mad when this doesn’t happen often, already knowing the occasion, but they seemed to be a little bummed out from being found out so you only hope your hug can make it up. your baby girl goes first: she squeals when she’s scooped into your arms, smile so bright it could mirror any angel in heaven. while she still pouts, she’s more than happy to wish you a happy birthday. “thank you, baby. was baking with papa fun?”

she nods so hard her whole body moves in your arms, “papa is very bad at measuring stuff, though.”

you burst out laughing while your husband falls into a greater pout than your daughter did, brushing off the flour from his arms and taking the both of you into his embrace, “she’s so mean to me, sweets.”

“i’m not, just telling the truth. mama, i was the head chef, so i get to say what he’s bad at.” gojo’s pout worsens and you coo, pulling him closer.

“yes, but daddy did help with everything, didn’t he?” you whisper, brushing away the strands that fall over her face. you’ve never really taken the time to take in everything: her white hair, those blue eyes that are a little darker, the lines at the side of her smile that look like yours. instinctively, your forehead rests against hers and upon feeling her nod, you think that this is all you need. “thank you, darling.” and your girl grins again when she feels your peck on her forehead. gojo only can look at his girls with a content smile, pout stretching into his face while his hand never stops caressing your back. “can daddy have a kiss too?”

that night when she’s put to sleep after much protest (you both give in and end up watching your favourite movie together as a present), you’re drawing circles on gojo’s bare chest which also has grown a little bit of hair. his lips upon your hair feels like a divine blessing; he speaks.

“happy birthday again, baby,” a kiss, “only if you came home a liiittle later, though.”

you laugh softly, “actually, i sort of heard your shenanigans when i was standing outside the front door.” satoru jerks from the comfortable position, prompting your head to hit the headboard in a loud ‘thud’.

“oops sorry, baby— but what?!”

you shake your head, roll your eyes, pull him back to tuck yourself under his chin, “you’re so damn dramatic. i just didn’t want to interrupt the both of you. you mean a lot to her, you know.”

gojo sighs, moving away a bit for your head to tilt up and his heart still pulls and tugs like so many years ago. if he recalls correctly, it’s just exactly like this that you shared your first kiss together, the line between friends and lovers blurring so much that all it took was your eyes staring into his to make him notice he never had infinity on around you.

“you made me forget what i was gonna say,” satoru mumbles, a laugh cutting through his features when you smile sheepishly. he copies your outburst, “you’re so damn beautiful.”

“and you mean a lot to her, too. we mean a lot to her — it’s the least we can do when you’ve brought such a beautiful baby into the world,” gojo mutters — it’s late and he’s slurring his words from the fatigue. his eyes glow under the night light and he holds on to you just a little tighter, “to give her a normal life.”

his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and there’s the sheen of his tears again. “we will succeed, don’t you worry.” you silence his doubts with a kiss, “you’re doing a great job of a father, ‘toru. i will keep reminding you until my voice turns hoarse and i can’t speak.”

normally, he’d tease you but all it does is make the tears full spill over; but they’re happy this time. satoru only lets you catch his lips in a deep kiss, quietening his sobs as your hands fumble at his undercut and his face. you can hear the faint “thank you”’s he mumbles and you’re also close to crying, pulling away to admire him — god, you loved him so much you feel like you could collapse. he loved you so much he would do it all over again if it meant having you in every life.

“thank you for having me. thank you for loving me, baby,” satoru whispers, wiping at your tears as did you and he laughs, “dunno why we’re cryin’. s’pposed to be a happy moment.”

you huff (of course, he’d say something funny now), but that’s just one of many things you love about him. all you do is hold him closer that night and mutter a prayer — to virgin, to buddha, to anyone who would listen.

it might get difficult along the way: one of you may need to take on more missions, your baby will be growing up and heading to school. there will be difficult talks, puberty, tantrums, none of you were truly ready. and yet, despite it all, you’d still have your satoru, the one who made tsumiki and megumi into what they are today. despite it all, you’d still have each other and your darling girl, your family of gojo’s whose definition changed from suffocating to belonging. despite it all, as long as galaxies are created and supernovas happening and the planets revolve around the sun, it’d take light years for your love to diminish even one speck.

your love for each other could surpass the cosmos — that in itself is enough.

part two

#asks #anon #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojou x reader

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ikaroux · 2 years

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How are they with their pregnant companion? Al Haitham, Dottore, Pantalone.

Synopsis: Pregnant, your husband/partner is over the moon. But how would he take care of you during pregnancy?

Style: Cute, fluffy, female reader.

Bonus NSFW (18+) I remind minors to avoid reading this kind of content.

Alert: May contain story spoilers for some characters.

Characters: Al Haitham, Dottore, Pantalone.

Next on the list: Ayato, Itto, Heizou, Cyno.

Part 1 Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya, Xiao, Venti, Albedo, Kazuha, Childe.

Part 2 Scaramouche, Dainsleif, Thomas.

Note: For this headcanons, I assume that the reader is of age and that she is in a relationship with the genshin boy for a while! For Al Haitham, I don't know the character yet, I haven't met him during the main quest. I wrote him as I imagined him in a serious love relationship, like for Dottore and Pantalone. For Dottore, in the manga he is portrayed as a cruel man, who does not hesitate to play with the lives of others. I like the idea that once in love, he can completely change. You are beginning to know me, I never write anything cruel or violent. Dottore, Pantalone and even Pierrot (if I were to write about him one day), I would always soften the characters in their relationship, so don't be surprised to see no torture, insult or abuse.

PS: I'm trying to do a rewrite of part 1 with Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya etc… I would like to add more details to what I already wrote…

masterlist

Part 1 Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya, Xiao, Venti, Albedo, Kazuha, Childe.

Part 2 Scaramouche, Dainsleif, Thomas.

Vomiting, fatigue, late menstruation. Alhaitham would quickly notice the signs of your pregnancy. And, by the archons, if his deduction proved correct, you would make him the happiest man in Teyvat.

He would not tell you immediately, preferring to take you to a doctor first. Nevertheless, he won't be able to hide that sweet little smile every time he meets your eyes. No matter how much you ask him why he looks so cheerful, Alhaitham will just tell you in a calm voice, "You'll know soon enough."

When the doctor tells you the good news, Alhaitham will warmly welcome you into his arms, tenderly kissing the top of your head. "You knew, didn't you?" You tell him against his chest, which vibrates against your ear from his laughter. "Why didn't you tell me?" He gently pulled you away from his embrace to look into your eyes. "I didn't want to see your face devastated if it turned out I was wrong." His lips met your forehead. "But I'm glad you weren't."

Alhaitham was a scholar, a man more often occupied with furthering his knowledge than frolicking about the city. He spent most of his time reading, writing, studying or observing and, of course, improving his fighting skills. He was a man with a cold and distant appearance, often considered an unpleasant person, but as soon as you appeared in his field of vision, his expression would soften and he would stop all his activities to take care of you, and even more so since you were pregnant. The people of Sumeru as well as the scholars who knew the man well will be amazed at the change in his personality as soon as you entered the same room.

The man would personally take care of your meals, preparing each dish with care to ensure your child's good health as well as yours. He would select every ingredient and buy it for you. He would ask (or order, depending on your point of view…) Tignari and Collei to bring him the best fruits of the forest. Cyno would also be part of the game, whether willingly or not…

Alhaitham's hands are perfect for massages. He will use on you essential oils made in Sumeru to massage every painful part of your body. He will also apply it to the areas where your skin is more susceptible to stretch marks.

When he was not with Lady Kusanali, you will find him at the academy, sitting at his desk with several scrolls spread out in front of him. He has always allowed you to visit him, but where once his focus was on his work, since your pregnancy, Alhaitham now wants you close to him, pulling your body into his lap, one of his hands resting comfortably on your now beautifully rounded belly. His lips gently kiss your cheek before one of his hands picks up his quill between his fingers to continue taking notes. The gentle rubbing of his hand on your belly, the sound of the pen against the paper, and the peaceful breathing of your lover will accompany you into a pleasant sleep.

Alhaitham could sometimes see your face light up with intense joy when you felt the baby move. Curious, he would try to understand your feelings by touching your belly. The first time, his child had stopped moving as soon as he put his hand on you. "Sigh why do I feel like this child will be a strong head"; "Because he will be stubborn like his father!" You laughed and reassured him as best you could, one hand tenderly caressing his cheek before kissing him.

Alhaitham accompanied you on every visit to the midwife. She advised both of you to try haptonomy in preparation for the birth. It was a therapy that allowed you to create an emotional bond with your baby. She was to teach you both how to communicate with the baby. Touching was a fundamental thing and your lover did a great job of that, applying gentle pressure to feel the baby move.

With each touch, Alhaitham could feel his child respond as he "played" and stroked your belly, your hands gently placed over his to accompany him. He would often talk to your belly, his deep voice seeming to soothe your baby.

Sometimes he would stop whatever he was doing just to look at you. The more your belly rounded, the more he felt moved… You were so beautiful, standing there in front of that flowerpot you were watering, one hand on your belly while singing a nursery rhyme to your child. You were so precious to him, a jewel in his life.

Since your pregnancy, you had been moody. The midwife had already explained to him that this was normal, so Alhaitham did not worry about it. However, he stayed by your side through every bad patch that came your way, calming your fears. He knew you would be a good mother, and he told you so whenever you were in doubt.

At night, Alhaitham already had a habit of holding you close to him while you slept. Now that you were pregnant, every time you lay down next to him, he would massage your belly and your aching chest until you fell asleep. He will look at your sleeping form for a long time, his hand still on your belly before tenderly kissing your forehead, whispering a warm "I love you". He will fall asleep against you, his hand continuously brooding over your baby, who seemed to react to his father's warmth by giving gentle strokes against you.

Alhaitham was always lovingly tender with you. Throughout your pregnancy, he would bend over backwards for you, taking care of everything in preparation for the birth. He was the one who took care of decorating the baby's room, as well as everything administrative. He wanted to remove all the unnecessary stress from your head and take on his future role as a father.

Alhaitham will be an exemplary father, always encouraging his child to excel, to believe in his abilities. He will show great patience in his education.

NSFW Bonus:

Pregnancy hormones made you insatiable. The first time you begged your husband to take you, he was lying comfortably on your marital bed with a notepad in one hand and a pen in the other. Without him having time to react, you straddled him, gently pulling what was in his hands away to focus his attention on you. He knew immediately what you wanted and was neither surprised nor shocked. His lips met the sensitive skin of your neck as his hands came to rest on your waist to help you sway against his hips. You could quickly feel his sex rising up under his clothes as you rubbed languidly against him. You were driving him crazy. Crazy with desire, and your pregnancy wasn't helping.

Alhaitham would always go easy on you, he didn't want to bully you or hurt the little being in your belly. He would undress you calmly, his lips worshipping the parts of your body that were offered to him. By dint of rubbing against him, you were wet enough to take him inside you, nevertheless, Alhaitham preferred to prepare you for him, thrusting a finger then two between your lower lips, making you moan at the sudden invasion. As he pumped his fingers inside you, you clung to his clothes, begging him to remove them and penetrate you as deeply as possible. He couldn't resist you, but still decided to make you cum once on his fingers before tearing off his clothes and giving you the object of your desires.

As soon as he got what he wanted from you, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you panting and sweaty. He slid his tunic over his head as quickly as possible before opening his pants to pull out his manhood already soaked by his own excitement. His heart pounded against his chest as he helped you stand over him. You straddled him in one go, without giving each other time to adjust. Grunts filled the room. Both of you had red cheeks as you slowly rolled your hips against him, whispering his name over and over in his ear.

It felt good. Terribly good. Alhaitham helped you with your movements, using the strength in his arms to lift your hips up and down with more speed and precision. He was surprisingly loud, moaning loudly, his head pressed against the back of the bed. At this rate, he wasn't going to last long. Knowing you were pregnant, full of desire for him because of the hormones was making him dizzy.

He made you cum several times that night, before retiring to take care of your exhausted, but finally satiated body. After cleaning you up, Alhaitham took you in his arms to let you sleep. His hand, warmly placed on your belly, rocked you. He whispered loving words in your ear to help you fall asleep. Before he fell asleep, he made sure to tell you and the baby that he loved you more than anything.

"Dottore! I have good news for you!"

Dottore never thought about having children. Not with the life he was leading. He was known to be a cold-hearted man with little to no regard for human life. So when you happily told him of your pregnancy, Dottore would cease all movement with a grim look on his handsome face. His ruby eyes seemed empty as they remained fixed on the bottle filled with a strange liquid that he handled carefully before you arrived in his laboratory. "Good news, you say?" His calm voice nevertheless hid a hint of horror. Shivering at his chilling tone, you slowly moved away from him, understanding that he was not happy about the news. Quickly, you ran out of his laboratory, tears in your eyes. "Tsk… Shit!"

Dottore didn't care about people, much less their feelings… Many women had coveted him for his intelligence or his looks, but none of them had interested him enough to make him feel affection. His relationships had always ended in the same way, as soon as one of his suitors started to annoy him, Dottore killed her in cold blood, using her body for his experiments… So why was it so different for you? Why did your distress affect him so much?! Why, by all the gods, did he have to fall madly in love with you? Abandoning everything he was doing, he ran out of his laboratory to catch up with you. Dottore was a man of incredible intelligence, but he always felt like a complete idiot when it came to you. He easily hurt you with his words or his behavior. Yet, you had always stood by him, faithful and loving. So when he finally managed to grab your wrist, he vowed never to be the cause of your tears again.

Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, letting you beat his chest as hard and as long as necessary if it would earn him your forgiveness. Losing you was not an option… "Let me go! " He tightened his arms around you a little more as he heard your words. "I'm sorry…" He whispered in your ear in a broken voice, which stopped all your movements instantly. You weren't used to hearing him apologize. "A baby? The idea's not so bad." You sniffed against his shirt, plunging your face deep into his chest. "You really are just a jerk…"

After that, Dottore had a completely different demeanor with you. Where he was once obsessed with his research and experiments, his mind now wandered to you, often imagining you with a round belly. A gentle smile would sometimes appear on his lips as he tended to a few vials filled with some herbal liquid or poison. Seeing him like this often frightened his subordinates, who would ask him in a hesitant voice if everything was all right, which usually erased his soft, happy expression to find that cold, threatening façade.

Your companion was not a very popular man, either among the Fatui or anywhere else on Teyvat. He was feared for his experiments on humans and hated for being the cause of death of many. He knew that your relationship with him could harm you, so for your safety and that of his unborn child, he decided to have you live near the Tsarina's palace, only a few steps away from his laboratory. The only people Dottore trusted absolutely were his copies of himself, who took care of your protection in his absence.

At your request, Dottore will cease his research on human beings (though not willingly), claiming that your child does not need a murderer for a father. The two of you argued about this for a long time, but Dottore had found someone who could stand up to him, even finding you frightening at times (and even more so since your pregnancy), when you got upset about the methods he used in his experiments.

Dottore would go to great lengths not to upset you. He knew that strong emotions were not good for you during pregnancy. As a doctor and scientist himself, he knew the risks of miscarriage. He refused to have you followed by a doctor out of nowhere and preferred to be the one to follow your pregnancy and delivery.

During the first six months of pregnancy, Dottore would continue to spend a lot of time in his laboratory, asking Pulcinella to look after you and your needs when his clones could not.

Your husband would leave work in a hurry if one of his copies came to warn him of a problem. You'd be surprised to see him come running, breathless and disheveled, slamming the door to your house and calling your name in a hurry. If you complain of stomach pain, Dottore will lay you down on the bed, taking his medical equipment with him to examine you. As soon as he was reassured of your health, his body would relax as he continued to examine your belly with his stethoscope, a small chuckle making his vocal cords vibrate. When he removed the object from his ears, his amused gaze turned to you. "Would you like to hear it?" For the first time, you could hear your child's first sounds. A softly beating heart… Dottore tenderly kissed your forehead as the first tears of happiness rolled down your cheeks.

After the seventh month, Dottore would spend more time with you. It was strange not to see him working on one of his experiments or even just seeing him in a more casual outfit. Now that he was home more often, Dottore personally made sure you rested properly, sometimes forcing you to lie down on the couch where you were sitting and rest your head on his thighs to fall asleep. Of course, you didn't say anything, enjoying these moments of affection between you and him. Dottore was more tender than he wanted to be, his hand caressing your hair until your eyes closed. You were the one who had made him like this, affectionate, tactile, in love… He had become completely addicted to you, to the idea of building a family… He couldn't deny that a little bit of fear was making his heart twirl.

The more your belly rounded, the more your back became painful, often forcing you to sit or lie down. Dottore would work on massaging your back until you felt nothing.

"I'd rather it be a girl." he once told you. You laughed, knowing exactly why he was saying that. "You'll take what comes, honey." Dottore had seen and lived with younger versions of himself, ranging from childhood to adulthood. You had always thought he was a bit of a father to them, even though it seemed strange.

Dottore always made sure to keep you away from his work to avoid any danger from the Fatui. But, when people hostile to Fatui had attacked you during a moment of inattention on his part, you had seen a face of your husband that you had never seen before. Anger invaded his features, distorting his beautiful face into a mask of hatred. You knew that Dottore already had a lot of blood on his hands and you didn't want your child's father to have any more. Just as he was about to kill those who had hurt you, your voice brought him back to his senses. So, since he couldn't punish them himself, he would let the Fatui justice system do it for him. Perhaps it would have been better if he had killed them…

Your child adored his father, you could tell by the way he wiggled in your belly whenever he heard his voice or felt his hand on your belly. Dottore may have told you it was ridiculous, but you could still see his ruby eyes sparkle every time he felt his baby press against the palm of his hand.

Overall, Dottore will be a very strict father, hoping that his child will follow in his footsteps. He won't be strict to the point of being scary or hateful, he was just what was needed to keep his child from straying from the straight and narrow. Nevertheless, his child will love him unconditionally, seeking his approval, attention and affection every time he comes home.

NSFW Bonus:

You had reached the second trimester of your pregnancy, and you were beginning to feel a rather ferocious carnal appetite. Dottore would be the one to claim you first, though, not waiting for you to come begging. Of course, you were happily guided by this man. You didn't know if it was the pregnancy that made you want to be one with him all the time, and frankly, you didn't care. The only thing that mattered to you was to feel him inside you, to have him claim you, to desire you. Maybe it was a subconscious need to feel desirable again as some of the curves were coming in with the pregnancy?

When Dottore came home, he quickly threw his long fur coat on the coat rack before looking for you in the house with the only idea in mind to make you his. You were used to his roughness in bed, but now that you were pregnant, he was more gentle. He'd take the time to prepare (or rather torture) you with his fingers, caressing your slit and then massaging your clit before his lips took over after tending to your sensitive breasts. Even if you were wet enough for him, Dottore would always add extra lube to his fingers and member.

Your round belly prevented you from getting into certain positions during sex. Most of the time, Dottore would dominate you with all his form, just to save you from any unnecessary physical effort. But sometimes he would simply lay you down on the mattress with your back to him, spreading one of your legs to facilitate the penetration of his member into you.

The swaying of his hips would be torturously slow at first. Dottore liked to play with your nerves, putting aside his desire to hammer you to listen longer to the small moans of pleasure that you offered him. You were so sensitive that it made him lose his mind. But there comes a time when his restraint breaks, and as his lips marked the skin of your neck in a possessive gesture, his hips would increase the pace of their thrusts. Your husband's grunts of pleasure along with the moans of your name would eventually send you over the edge.

Dottore would wait patiently for you to calm down before continuing, his hips slowing in a languid circular motion. He wouldn't cum yet, preferring to savor you for as long as possible. His hand would come to rest on your belly for a while, caressing it gently. He would silently claim your lips with his eyes, kissing you deeply, tangling your tongues together. Dottore was a cold and cruel man, but in your arms, passion and warmth would emanate from him like a fire.

"Sweetheart, I have a gift to give you."

Pantalone was a Fatui enforcer, a wealthy banker known throughout Teyvat as a false, calculating and unscrupulous man. Who would have thought that such a person was capable of loving anything other than his money and starting a family?

When you offered him this small rectangular box carefully sealed with a blue ribbon, Pantalone first looked at it with a doubtful air before displaying his usual smile. "Do we have something to celebrate my dear?" Your sweet, innocent smile always cracked him up. As you remained silent and your gaze grew more insistent, the man sighed before one of his hands tugged at the ribbon that surrounded the package. When he opened the box, he was surprised to find inside a small knitted sweater, obviously made by you. He remained silent for a long time, observing the garment in his hands. "Um… isn't this a baby garment?" He fell silent, realizing what he had just said. When his eyes met yours in a silent question, you nodded sharply, confirming his suspicions. Trembling, he dropped the box to the ground, treasuring the sweater in his hand as he pulled you into his arms. You had both been trying to have a child for several months, and so far, it hadn't been a real success. He was going to do everything he could to take care of you both…

The first few months were complicated for you. You had every morning violent and unbearable nausea. But Pantalone always managed to help you get over it, sitting you on his lap after giving you a cool glass of water. He would massage your belly until you felt better.

Pantalone is rich. Excessively rich. It's almost indecent. Next to him, you felt like a smile. Yet your husband had been poor and that was the same reason why he was spending a lot of moras on his unborn child. He wanted to give him a luxurious and comfortable life, everything that he had not had in his youth. The furniture was made of the best wood. The sheets, mattresses, and all the fabrics covering the surfaces were made of the most expensive materials in all of Teyvat. Of course, he also showered you with gifts, giving you clothes, bringing you all the food you wanted. He spoiled you and fulfilled your every wish.

When the two of you go out, Pantalone always keeps a protective hand on your lower back, warning those who would want to hurt you. He wants to keep you from any unnecessary stress, especially if it's work-related.

You'll be quite surprised to learn that Pantalone has told all of his harbinger colleagues about your pregnancy. Sometimes he would sit in Dottore's office and tell him about your growing belly with unconcealed pride. Dottore would often growl at him, asking him to get out of his lab. The man hated to see his colleague, usually wearing a cold, manipulative smile, so gaga over a "baby.

In the early stages of pregnancy, Pantalone sometimes didn't come home all week, too busy managing Snezhnaya's bank. He hated to leave you alone for so long, even knowing that you had bodyguards protecting you. And although Pulcinella would come to see you from time to time, sometimes bringing you some sweets or your favorite fruit, it didn't make him feel any better. Every day he would write you a letter and you would rush to answer it. He was always so anxious to hear from you…

Pantalone is the kind of man who will talk to your belly, hands gently encircling your hips and an ear pressed against you, hoping to feel his movements and hear his child. If you're sitting comfortably on a couch, the man will come between your legs, face against your belly, eyes closed, savoring your hands combing his long silky hair. He would be perfectly capable of falling asleep in this position, totally serene in your hands.

Sometimes your companion would come home late from work and find you asleep on the couch in the large living room, patiently waiting for him to return. The man would let a long sigh escape him before displaying one of his rare tender smiles, approaching you to kiss your forehead, your nose and then your lips. His hand would warmly caress your rounded belly, until he was startled by his baby's movements. "Well, aren't you still asleep my precious? Be good, don't wake up mommy…" Gently kissing the spot where he had felt his child's thrashing. He would eventually lift you gently off the couch, carrying you in his arms to lay you down in your bed.

Every time Pantalone passed you, he would pull you into his arms, kissing your lips and whispering about how beautiful he thought you were with your rounded belly, brooding over his child. "How is it that every day you get more and more gorgeous?" You would often roll your eyes, cheeks flushed and a slight smile on your lips before silencing him with a kiss.

Pantalone has a deep, gravelly voice, perfect for soothing your child's fidgets as well as your nerves. He will gladly lay you on his lap with a Snezhnaya storybook in hand and read it slowly until you fall asleep.

Your mood swings will never disturb this seasoned businessman. He will find the right words to calm you down.

Your husband will be very affectionate with you. He'll always speak softly to you, the warmth in his voice soothing your often frayed nerves during pregnancy. He will put aside his evil eye, wanting to live many years with you and your child.

Pantalone will be a very loving father and like Kaeya and Zhongli, extremely gaga over his child. He would spoil him to excess if you weren't there to temper him.

NSFW Bonus:

Your partner did not hide his desire for you. After all, he never stopped telling you that he found you beautiful and desirable… Pantalone was not in the habit of asking for you at any time of the day, often too busy with his work. But he couldn't help it, your pregnancy made it impossible for him to control his urges.

Your sexual relations were always slow and languid. Pantalone had never been a rough or brusque person. He liked to sit you on his lap in his office, his fingers penetrating your wet slit. He wanted to hear every moan, every whisper of his name in your mouth. His free hand took hold of your sensitive breast, gently pinching and pulling your nipple. His lips would mark the skin of your neck before moving up to your jaw and then your ear, gently whispering to you to cum for him… His deep voice, marked by lust, will make you rock on his fingers.

Pantalone likes to take you from behind, sticking you against a wall before penetrating you. His hips will slowly sway behind you, first in a teasing circle before moving in more forcefully. One of his hands would be under your belly, helping you bear the weight, however lightly, while the other would draw your hips into place. A smirk would appear on his lips as you begged him to go faster. "Oh? Don't you appreciate the way I take you? It seems to lull our child to sleep though, don't you think? " And indeed, it was possible for sex to lull a baby to sleep in the womb. Reluctantly, you gave in to your husband's slow rhythm.

As soon as he felt your walls tremble on his member as your orgasm approached, Pantalone accelerated his thrusts, surprising you in the process with a shrill cry of sudden pleasure. "Pantalone! The baby he-"; "I never said it was enough to be slow to rock him honey." You quickly climaxed, screaming his name over and over until he released his load inside you, his head collapsing onto your shoulder, his breath tickling your bare back. Both of his hands would rest on your lower abdomen, tenderly caressing it as he whispered his love for you in your ear.

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iheartyouyou · 2 years

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OUT LOUD | Eddie Munson

Summary: When you and Robin pass notes in class about Eddie Munson, the teacher calls you both out for it, confiscating the notes. To make matters worse, she reads the notes out loud catching the attention of the very special freak.

Part 2

Author’s Note: Not proofread, sorry lmao 😭

You felt a tap on your shoulder. You turn around to be met by a very annoyed classmate with a neatly folded up note gripped in between their two fingers. They looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to grab it.

You take it, looking around to see who could have given it to you. You locked eyes with Robin, her nodding to you to open the note.

“When are you going to tell him?” The note read in sloppy hand-writing. Robin’s hand writing wasn’t the very best, you were surprised that you were even able to read it.

“Who?” You wrote underneath her sentence. You knew who she was talking about, you just decided to play dumb. What if— whoever the person’s name behind you— read it and told Eddie that the two of you were passing notes about the dungeon master? Ever since Robin found out about your crush on Eddie, she has been nonstop trying to convince you to tell him.

You turned around in your seat, a tight-lipped smile on your lips as you gave it to the person behind you. They frown, snatching the note before giving it to Robin.

You watch as she opens it, her eyes scanning the paper before looking up at you with a quirked eyebrow. She scribbled something on the paper before giving it back to the annoyed person who was now a note messenger for the two of you.

You take the note, opening it up. “Eddie? Who else would I be talking about. You really need to tell him, I’m telling you, he likes you back! I swear I saw him staring at you earlier in the hallway, his eyes were like heart-shaped!”

A faint blush painted your cheeks. Was he actually staring at you earlier? The two of you only talked a few times, only knowing each other because of Robin and Steve. You guys have probably talked three times the whole school year. The first time was when Steve introduced you two, the second was when you accidentally bumped into him during lunch and the third time… was when you bumped into him, again.

“Chrissy was near me. He was probably staring at her.” You quickly scribbled onto the paper.

“Ms. Y/L/N.” Your teacher started, her witch hand snatching the piece of paper out your hands. You gasped.

“Are your notes more important than this class?” She asked, squinting her eyes to read the words written on the paper.

“N-no, ma’am.” You mumbled. You prayed that she would just throw it away, confiscate it and tell you, you can get it after class. But, no. With your luck, she decided to humiliate you, her screechy voice reading everything out-loud enough for the whole school to hear.

She mimicked the words, trying her best to read Robin’s sloppy handwriting. “When are you going to tell him? Who? Ed…” You slouched into your seat, covering your face with your hands to hide your red, embarrassed face. You prayed that the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

You didn’t dare look up, even when she lectured you about how you should be worrying more about school than boys. How boys were going to get you nowhere in life. She then threw the note in the trash, her face grimacing.

You could hear a few snickers from students in the classroom, some whispering and judging you for having a crush on the infamous freak. You could already imagine the rumors that would be spreading around by the end of the day.

What did Eddie think of you now? Was he snickering along with the rest or the class? Was he going to take apart of those rumors? Was he disgusted? Embarrassed for you?

You hesitantly removed your face from your hands, looking back at Robin to send her a glare. She just gave you a apologetic look before mouthing the word “sorry”.

In your peripheral vision you could see someone staring at you. You already knew who it was. You remembered where he sat, it was the one area of the room you tried your best to avoid— to avoid any obvious signs of your crush on him.

You turned back in your seat, crossing your arms as you went back to slouching. You prayed and begged that you would be able to escape the classroom before Eddie could have the chance to confront you. You could just avoid him for the rest of your life.

A few minutes went by of you trying to find a way to disappear when you felt a all-too-familiar tap on your shoulder. Was Robin trying to embarrass you, again?

You turned around, the note messenger holding up another note for you to take. You look back quickly at the teacher to make sure she wasn’t looking before snatching it, turning back around to open it up under your desk.

“I was actually staring at you, not Chrissy. Cheerleaders aren’t my type. - Eddie”

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things season 4 #stranger things x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #joseph quinn #eddie munson fic #stranger things 4

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badgerbl00d · 3 months

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one piece boys rescuing you pt. 2

☆ characters: sanji, kidd

☆ up next: waking up with the one piece boys

☆ summary: you end up in an awful situation where your life is put in serious danger. will they be able to save you in time?

☆ content: physical violence, slight SA implications, gory imagery (blood, wounds, injuries, etc.), mutual pining, angsty, happy ending, mdni

☆ a/n: i am the proud leader of the scottish!kidd agenda and like to imagine him using scottish slang and having a thick accent so this required some extensive research into scottish swear words lol. chebs (tits) is my favorite. enjoy!

part 1

Sanji:

Zoro nodded, wordlessly, resting against the doorframe.

“Careful you don’t catch her in the crossfire.”

Sanji said nothing. He opened the door and walked in, closing it behind him.

For the first time in his life Zoro’s presence brought him a degree of comfort. He knew he could handle whatever awaited him by himself, but he would be a fool to deny that the swordsman was further guaranteeing your safe return home.

He descended a small set of stairs into a dark, damp basement. The walls were lined with a sickly yellow mold and the smell of rot had sunken into the cracks of concrete, filling the room with the thick, metallic smell of drying blood.

His stomach churned knowing that you were somewhere here.

A door lay slightly ajar at the end of the hallway, pale yellow light pouring out from it.

He approached the door, pushing it open with his free hand.

Merde.

He was greeting with a sight that made his head spin in a way it never had before. He steeled himself, biting back the urge to vomit at the sight of what they had done to you.

Five or six men, whose faces he didn’t care to look at, stood around the room surrounding you.

The outer corners of the dirty cloth that had been wound around your mouth as a gag were soaked through with blood. Sanji felt heat climbing up his throat and settling into the space behind his eyes translating itself from mere anger to blind fury.

Your hands were bound too tightly behind your back leaving your elbows bending at unnatural angles and your shoulders jutted forward as though they were being torn out from your skin.

He began to undo his tie, watching from the corner of his eye as one of the men- the apparent leader- began loading his gun. His breath was shaky and uneven, the inhales and exhales never dealing with an equal amount of air.

He never took his eyes from you as you doubled over and took small gasps of air. In the midst of his disbelief he made a mental note of each injury you seemed to have. Broken wrists, dislocated shoulders, broken ribs, cuts and bruises covering most of you- the most upsetting of which were the purpling fingerprints around your neck.

He would return every injury done to you tenfold. As he took another inhale from his cigarette he realized that you were losing blood from another wound to your side.

The few-days-old injury to his left eye, bloodied and mushed, the broken finger on the hand wrapped around his gun, the dried trickle of blood pouring out of his left ear.

Atta girl. He knew you wouldn’t have gone down with a fight. Sanji took a moment to glance at the others in the room, all bearing similar injuries, and couldn’t help the smirk that settled onto his face.

One of them said something, perhaps a snarky remark meant to question his confidence, or an insult meant to diminish it. He wasn’t sure. Nothing other than you was registering in his blurring mind.

It was the sound of a faint drip, drip, drip that sealed their fate.

As Sanji turned to see your tears hitting the floor his vision blacked.

He felt the unfamiliar feeling of hot blood covering his hands- the very ones he’d sworn to never use in battle.

The feeling of flesh tearing beneath his fingernails, his fingers grabbing whatever mass they could get their hands on and tearing.

You turned your head toward the floor, trying to block out the sounds of gore and violence that echoing within the four damp walls that had held you prisoner for the past two days- not because it scared you, no. But because you did not want to face the pure satisfaction that the scene unfolding before you brought. It was too much to watch someone else carry out the revenge that was rightfully yours.

You laid your forehead against the cold floor, sweat dripping from your forehead. God, you were exhausted. You let your body hand limp, allowing yourself to rest as best you could now that Sanji was here.

You weren’t positive- the old digital clock that was on the desk in the corner seemed to not work properly- but by the time Sanji finally stopped, bending down to wipe the blood off of his hands onto the shirt of one of the men, you guessed that thirty six-ish minutes had passed.

You held still as Sanji undid the restraints against your hands, letting yourself fully fall onto the floor.

You sighed, savoring how good it felt to feel the cold, wet cement pressing against your shaking body. The floor, which for days you had been dangled over, teased with, now welcoming you onto it.

A warm, sticky hand under your chin broke the pleasure. Sanji tilted your chin slightly upward to look at him.

“Mon coeur,” he said, voice shaking.

“Sanj’,” you responded, closing your eyes and resting your head into his palm.

“Can you sit up? I’ll carry you out.”

“I can stand,” you said, more aggressively than intended. But you didn’t need to be treated like you were fragile. The fact that you were even alive was a testament to that.

Sanji drew back, offering you only a silent hand in case you needed any assistance getting to your feet.

You struggled, taking deep breaths as you shakily made your way onto aching feet, feeling like a thousand nails were being screwed into your skin.

Sanji tucked a hand under your armpit, resting it gently against your hips- your ribs were too cracked to risk applying any pressure to your sides.

You winced, eyes shutting as you let the ebbing pain pass through you, placing one foot in front of the next.

You made it to the door before you spoke.

“Let me have a smoke, will you?”

You reached for the cigarette between his lips before he could answer and took a deep inhale, ignoring the hot white pain that seared through your chest as you did.

One of your captors, the one who tied you up, was lying by the door. Eyes open and glazed over, mouth swelling like a dead fish left out in the hot sun.

You bent down, enduring the pain sent by your body, a desperate attempt to make you stop moving.

You pushed the lit cigarette into your captor’s open mouth, watching the ash burn his tongue.

You stood back up, leaning against Sanji.

“Carry me?”

He nodded, picking you up ever so gently, his hands providing you with a sense of security that you had spent the last several days losing any hope for.

“One last thing, Sanj’,” you said.

You closed your eyes, cementing this place into your brain. The stench of blood, now fresh and coppery. The humid air that stuck to your skin.

Whispering, more to yourself than anyone, you uttered a final word.

“Rot in hell.”

Sanji carried you up the stairs and out the door.

It was only when you saw the first hint of sunlight that you allowed yourself to fully indulge in the comfort of his presence. He was here, you were safe, he had you.

Zoro was waiting for you with Chopper when you got outside. The sun felt both heavenly and hellish. It’s warmth proof that you were still alive- that blood flowed perhaps too freely through your bones. And it’s brightness, which so highly contrasted the mildewy lamplight of the room you were stuck in, a confirmation of what you’d gone through. But the harsh rays were suddenly replaced by cool shadow and you opened your eyes as Chopper did what immediate work was available for him to do. Sanji stood over you, the sunlight pouring over him from behind his head, a worried look on his face.

You closed your eyes again, the tiredness of your body finally catching up with you.

Zoro, who up until this point had said nothing, placed a hand on Sanji’s back. A gentle touch that offered a surprising sense of grounding.

“Your hands,” he observed. Sanji looked down at them, caked in dried blood and small, stringy pieces of… skin, maybe? Flesh? He tried to recall but everything was a blur.

Sanji shrugged, “Didn’t notice.”

He looked at Zoro who gave him a curt nod and they both turned their attention back to you.

A memory played out before you.

I must be knocked out, you thought. It was crystal clear, so unlike a dream that you momentarily felt you might actually be reliving it.

The white light of the fridge in the kitchen cast you in a glow as you rummaged through its contents. It was rare to have any leftovers with this crew. There was some fruit- none of which you liked. Milk, eggs, carrots, pork, nothing. Ingredients upon ingredients and you knew better than to start trying to cook.

“Hungry?”

You turned, startled to see Sanji lighting a cigarette in the doorway.

“Yeah.. Not many options though.”

Sanji came to stand beside you, beginning to do his own rummaging. He began grabbing several things, a head of cabbage, carrots, pork, butter, heavy cream…

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna start cooking. It’s nearly three in the morning!”

Sanji smiled at you, taking out the set of kitchen knives you’d gifted him just two months prior for Christmas (a gift that left his nose bleeding for nearly half an hour).

“Ah. I couldn’t sleep. And besides, it is my job to feed you if you’re hungry.”

You smiled and took a seat at the counter, watching him cook. Normally you might offer to help but you were far too hungry to allow your lack of expertise to ruin your own meal.

He moved with such mesmerizing fluidity, the art was clearly a second nature to him and to watch it was captivating. The cutting of vegetables, the smell of cooking meat, the view of his forearms flexed as his hand gripped the handle of the knife, the tease of his happy trail when he lifted his arms to reach for something and his slightly small pajama shirt lifted.

Sanji was enchanting- but so were you.

Your head tilted to the side as you rested it on your hand, a small smile set on your lips. Your shirt was the exact opposite of his- too big on you- and was hanging off of your shoulder. Sanji did his best to not stare at your collarbone, and the line it painted that led up your pretty neck.

“What’re you making anyway?”

“Garbure,” he said, simmering a pot on the stove, “It’s a french soup. Sort of a cleaning-out-the-fridge thing. But it’s amazing when made well.”

You hummed, “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

“Honestly? I heard you in the kitchen and figured I’d make you something to eat.”

“You’re an angel.”

He looked up at you and the two of you smiled. A light jolt of electricity ran down your back.

God, was he always this handsome?

“I think so?”

“What?”

“You… asked if I’m always this handsome- That was for me right?”

“Oh- Fuck, I-I hadn’t meant to say it out loud!” Your cheeks darkened and you let out an embarrassed giggle.

“I’d ask if you’re always so beautiful but I know the answer is yes.” He ladled the soup intj a bowl and set it in front of you, serving one for himself as well.

You leaned your head against his shoulder as you ate.

“Mmmf- ‘S good!”

Your hand snaked through the opening between his bicep and chest to rest on his arm, giving it a light squeeze.

“Thanks Sanj’.”

He smiled, and leaned his head against yours.

“You know, you’re the only one who calls me that. Makes me feel special.”

“You are. Who else can make ‘garbage’ this good?”

You added a french accent.

“Garbure!” he corrected, laughing.

“Right, right. That.”

Maybe it was the soup or the feeling of Sanji’s hair against your forehead- both a warm and physical proof of how much you were cared for, but you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so full.

The rest of the memory is blurry.

You can recall the weight of sleep seeping into your body, more and more of your weight being shifted on to Sanji.

The feeling of his hands under you, carrying you to bed. Or was that now- as he carried you into the Sunny’s infirmary? The last thing you remember- if this was even a memory anymore- is the feeling of a kiss being pressed upon your cheek.

You woke up in one of Sunny's medical rooms with very little pain.

“I made sure you got the bed by the big window,” Sanji said from the chair he’d pulled up next to your bed, “You joked about it once.. That if you ever got hurt you’d want the room with it.”

It looked like he’d spent the night. You were in new clothes but he wasn’t. Dark circles lined his eyes.

You smiled at him, “Thanks… For everything. I’d still be there if you hadn’t-”

Your eyes welled with tears and your lower lip was trembling, like your body recognized that within these four walls any emotions would be welcome.

Sanji placed his hand over yours and rubbed his thumb up and down your wrist.

The tears flowed freely now, as you looked down at his hands.

“Sanji…”

He had started washing them but the moment Chopper told him you were stable he abandoned the project altogether. His hands were cleaner but browning bits of red gunk were drying in his nail beds.

Your eyes were wide as you waited for him to say something, your breath shallowing.

He sighed. He didn’t want you to be reminded of anything that had to do with what you’d gone through.

“Yeah,” he said, at a loss for words.

“I’m… sorry.”

You weren’t sure what to say. But your heartbeat picked up as he squeezed your hand.

“Don’t be, mon ange, I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner. We all are.”

You laid your head back down, chewing your lip.

“I’m glad it was you. That found me.”

Sanji’s chest tightened.

He’d come to terms with how he felt about you, a feeling both amplified and confirmed by the sound of your voice. His time spent around you affected him deeply beyond flirty remarks and nicknames. He was reduced to so very little in your presence, a nervous bundle of love sickness and desire.

And you were glad he found you- that he rescued you.

“So am I.”

You turned to look at him.

It didn’t really have to be said- it was there.

In his hands dripping with filth and violence, and on your face teary-eyed and thankful. In the lingering touches and glances the two of you have been sharing for the year you’ve been a part of the Straw Hat crew.

Neither of you had to say ��I love you’. It was there.

Sanji pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.

“I made soup,” he said smiling at you, “Garbage.”

You nodded, lightly laughing. It hurt your ribs.

“I can warm some up for you, if you’d like?” He stood up, preparing to leave.

“No- Can you stay? Please,” you said.

Sanji smiled, “Of course!”

You scoot over on the bed making space for him, which he happily took.

You laid your head onto his shoulder, and grabbed his hand. You felt him freeze up when you did, and laughed.

“You just saved my life and saw me at my lowest- is holding my hand too much?”

Sanji chuckled, “You’re right. How about this then?”

He brought a hand underneath your chin and you locked eyes as a smile spread across his face. He dipped his head down and pressed a kiss to your lips. It was soft, and chaste. Perfect. You placed a hand against his neck to prevent him from pulling away and deepened the kiss, slipping your tongue past his lips. You felt a small moan escape him and smiled against him. When you finally pulled away a thin string of saliva connected your lips to his.

“Hot,” you said, giggling.

Sanji’s pupils were blown wide and his cheeks pink. A few beads of sweat had gathered on his forehead and he tugged his tie loose.

“You okay, Sanj?”

“Yes! More than okay- I just, I wasn’t expecting that.”

You nodded, holding his hands.

“Well, I would like to shower and… I take it you haven’t showered yet either.”

Sanji gulped, “Um, no. I haven’t.”

You smiled, admittedly proud of yourself for flustering him out of his flirty act.

“Would you like to join me?”

Poor thing, he tried his hardest to maintain eye contact and keep up his civilized demeanor, but the steady trickle of blood that had started to pour out of his nose gave him away.

“Yes!” he yelled, “Mon dieu, tentatrice de femme, yes, please. I would love to join you.”

You laughed, getting up out of bed.

“Mind carrying me?”

“Of course, my love!”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck as he picked you up, “It’s nice to have you back, perv.”

He blushed, “What can I say? An offer like that from a woman like you is enough to fix anyone up.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, walking you out of the infirmary toward the showers.

Kidd:

You were going to kill him. If you got out of this alive you were going to kill your captain and tear his other arm off. You knew that, one way or another, this heist was going to go wrong. It was messily planned, Killer hadn’t been consulted, and Kidd was motivated primarily by anger and a bruised ego.

You sighed, somewhat resigned to your fate, and leaned back against the wall, trying to ignore the barrel of a shotgun that was resting against your temple.

“Mind backing up with that?”

The pirate holding the weapon shot you a faux-sympathetic smile, “Sorry, baby, Captain’s orders.”

He trailed a finger down your back, causing you to struggle against the cuffs. He dropped his hand and laughed at your reaction. “You’re disgusting,” you spat at him.

He nodded. “Yeah, and you’re stuck with me here. So better watch that mouth.”

Your wrists ached, it had been a while since you last felt the weight of sea stone against your skin. It was worse than you remembered. You could feel every muscle in your arms straining above you from where the chain that linked the cuffs hung on a nail. The first time you were handcuffed, the marines had caught you stealing but you were only fifteen, not yet a pirate, and lucky enough to have ran into a notoriously easy going captain who let you off with a warning. Those handcuffs were metal, tight against your wrists but not physically draining- if anything, you were only riled up at the inconvenience of having your hands tied. Sea stone was different. A naturally occurring mineral found in the depths of the ocean weaponized against you and other power holders. When you first felt sea stone a few years after, tight and heavy around your wrists, the fatigue stuck with you the most. How humiliating it was to not only be powerless but to have the will to fight drained from your body. You’d only narrowly escaped and swore to never be rendered so powerless again.

Yet here you were, silently praying that Kidd would walk in soon. This heist was a bad idea from the start but you’d only agreed because you had stupidly assumed that Kidd had acquired accurate information. Your anger had somewhat subsided as you approached your third hour in captivity, it was too tiring. Hopelessness had begun to spread.

The entire heist was Kid’s idea in the first place. A poorly executed revenge plot that you and Killer had tried to discourage.

“That’s them?” you asked, pointing to a group of pirates.

“Aye… First year we spent in the New World those bawbags got a few good shots on us. Heat came out with a few broken bones and it took us around a month to get Victoria back up and runnin’.”

“Ohh, I get it. They hurt your ego and you want to get back at them. That always ends well.”

Kidd scoffed, rolling his eyes at you.

“No- it’s luck. They have the map we need… and a lot of treasure that I wouldn’t mind taking.”

“See!? Ego. If this was just about necessity we’d take the map and leave. I’m telling you that this is a bad idea.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. He’d had a nonstop headache since you joined the crew.

“Alright! Alright. Jesus, woman! Killer won’t say yes either way so I need your cooperation. No gold, no treasure. We’ll just grab the map and be on our way.”

“And by we I’m assuming you mean me?”

He flashed you a smile that made your chest tighten.

“Aye! And if you’re caught they wouldn’t hurt a bonnie lass like ya’ anyway.”

“Oh, I’m sure. They seem like great people.”

“Don’t start getting smart with me,” he said, pulling out a piece of paper.

There was a diagram of a building on it, with a room in the back circled in red ink.

A thick metal finger landed on it, “Here’s where the map is. This building is relatively unimportant to it so they assign their lower level lackeys to guard it. There’s two guards outside each door, four guards on this one. I’ll distract all except the four by pretending to steal some other shit. They’ll recognize me.”

“And I come in through this window I’m guessing?”

A window at the end of the hall led right to the room you needed to access.

“Aye. You’ll be alright handling the four of ‘em. But you need to keep one conscious to show you where exactly the map is. Once you’ve got it- run. They’ve got a few devil fruit users in the crew and they’ll be at the scene fairly fast. From there we can bolt.”

You thought about it. The plan seemed quite out of character. It was extremely unlike Kidd to avoid a fight even in circumstances like this. But maybe he had other reasons…

As though he read your mind he answered, “Look, if it was just me I'd kill every son of a bitch on that crew. But I don't want ya' getting hurt.”

You sighed, “This is a terrible idea. Your information is twenty percent reliable, at most.”

“If you follow my instructions and we stay near each other we’ll be fine.”

“Hm, so you’re scared I’ll get hurt, huh?”

You laughed, watching his brows furrow and his cheeks go pink.

“No! Kind of, it's just 'cause you’re weak and I don’t want to have to worry about ya'.”

“You’re still mad about losing the arm wrestling match to me, huh?”

He scowled, folding his arms across his chest- refusing to answer.

“Alright, cry baby let’s go.”

Kid’s information was wrong. The four guards were the devil fruit users. You’d managed to knock two of them out relying on haki alone, but the two left were stronger. If only you could isolate one of them. Your devil-fruit worked well in close distance one on one fights, but you were mentally unprepared for this fight and the two in front of you were logia-users. You were badly beat up and struggling to stay on the offensive. Your dodges were growing slower and slower, your attacks weaker and weaker.

Fuck, you thought, trying to stay calm and think of your best course of action. You needed to get into the room they were guarding, if you could just create an opening that caught them off guard.

You reached for the pocket knife you kept tucked in your boots- it was a dirty move but it would have to do. You faked an attack on one of the two conscious pirates, before quickly changing directions and throwing the knife directly at one of their unconscious crewmates. They both ran in the direction of the knife to defend their crewmate, giving you the perfect opportunity. You slipped past the pirate closest to the door, shutting it behind you and jamming the handle shut with a chair. You had ten seconds tops- a chair wasn’t going to come close to stopping a logia user. Luckily for you, they had made the mistake of assuming no one would get past them and left the map out in the open, on a table with a bunch of other papers. You swiped it, quickly rolling up a loose piece of paper to imitate the map. Right as you finished tucking it into your shirt you felt a hand wrap around your neck, your vision blurring. Damn it, you thought.

You could faintly hear the voices of the two, ‘What should we do with her?’

‘She didn’t manage to take anything,’ they laughed. A small smile settled onto your face.

‘She’s pretty, huh?’

You felt something heavy clamp down on your wrists. What little energy had evaporated, and you blacked out.

You were starting to lose track of time. Three, maybe four hours had passed? You had no way of being sure other than the burning numbness that had spread throughout your body. Your arms were aching in a way you never thought possible, and you had been taken to a second location, you were sure of it. If you were in the same building as before, Kidd would have found you hours ago. But there was no doing anything now. The pirate watching you had kept his distance, aside from an occasional taunt or revolting brush of his fingers. He was now settling in the corner of the room, silently watching you, his gun’s aim never leaving you. You decided that staying quiet and avoiding eye contact was the best course of action, and beating his ass would only be a thought worth entertaining once you were out of the cuffs.

“So how does a pretty lady like you end up in a situation like this?”

He broke the silence, much to your disappointment.

You didn’t say anything.

He stood up, coming closer to you. Your stomach churned and you looked down.

“I asked you a question,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

“Fuck. you.”

You heard the crack of his fist against your jaw before you felt it. It was dizzying and left your mouth bloody and aching. You winced, running your tongue over your now split lip.

“What’s your name?”

He tucked his gun into his pants. You braced yourself. This was going to be a long night.

“Your name, baby, what is it?”

You spit the blood that was pooling in your mouth onto him.

This time it was an uppercut to your stomach. You couldn’t even double-over in pain. The third hit was to the other side of your jaw.

You stopped counting once they went over eight. You tried to think of something else, anything else. Killer’s baked goods, Heat and Wire’s terrible joke collection, Kidd’s latest invention or screaming match with you. You’d seen them all only hours ago but your heart was aching. You missed them.

Your mind kept going back to a few weeks ago, replaying a memory you had been trying to forget.

You were headed to the kitchen, you remember it was warm out- or was it raining? You went with raining. You took more time than usual to make your way up to the kitchen, meandering through the halls and tracing the old wood with your hands. The sound of hushed voices caught your attention, bringing you to a stop outside of your captain’s room.

“Why don’t you talk to her about it?”

Kidd laughed loudly, more-so to make a point than anything.

“And say what? I know I’m an arse and not your type but I’m madly in love with ya’ please don’t kick my arse?”

Killer chuckled, “That’s one way to do it. Or, you know, you could just be genuine and tell her the reasons why.”

“‘Cause she’s a tough lass- and a bonnie one, at that, a bit too good for me, no?” he said. Your heartbeat was resonating up in your throat and your mouth ran dry- who were they talking about? Kidd had only ever taunted you for being one of the stronger members on board. Your heart contracted in your chest and a deeply unsettling sense of jealousy creeped its way into your system. You tried to shake it off- it’s not like you wanted your captain to be in love with you. You definitely weren’t in love with him.

“… I dinnae Kil’,” you heard Kidd continue, “I might be a mean son of a bitch but I don’t think my heart could handle a rejection like that.”

“You definitely couldn’t,” Killer agreed, laughing, “But I don’t think you’d get rejected. Worth a shot if you ask me.”

Your brain tried focusing on other things, but you always came back to your captain. Hot-headed and irrational and eighty percent of the reason you were in this mess in the first place. He had you captivated. But it was enough. You felt yourself dancing the line between conscious and not and decided to savor these memories, these snapshots of a life on the sea. You didn’t hear when Kidd finally came in, staining the walls with a spray of red blood as he tore through the man who had dared lay his hands on you. But when you noticed the lack of hits being thrown your way you looked up.

Kidd had experienced heartbreak before- many times, but very few things compared to what he felt when he made eye contact with you. If a heart could physically break, tear and twist and shatter, that’s what Kidd felt seeing your face, bruises and bloodied. You took note of the red staining his metal hand. It was painted in multiple shades, light crimson to dark, sticky brown. He’d been at it for a while.

He rushed to your side, picking you up by the waist and removing the handcuffs from the nail on the wall. Your arms had been numb for an hour or two now. You wished they weren’t so that this release might have felt more satisfying.

You collapsed into Kidd, who kept his arm wrapped around you, bringing you into his chest.

“Shh, Y/n, I’ve got ya’ lassie,” he said, voice wavering.

“Kidd,” you said, wincing as you tried to sit up, “The map-”

“Don’t worry about the map,” he said, picking you up off the ground, “I’m getting you on board. I’ve already called Killer, he’s meeting us about half a mile away.”

He sat up against the wall, legs spread sort and placed you in between them, your chest against his back.

“Let me see your hands,” he said.

You placed your hands in the palm of his metal one, shutting your eyes and he cracked the sea stone around your wrist. The cuffs fell off in pieces around you.

He stood up, taking you in his arms, “How ya’ feeling?”

You coughed, the change in positions overwhelming you, “Like a million bucks.”

“Atta girl.”

Everything was muddy, your awareness, your vision, your memory. You clung to Kidd’s neck, tucking your head into his chest. His heart ached- you were scared.

“You’re alright, Y/n. I’ve got ya’,” he said, “Won’t let anything happen to ya’.”

You nodded, but your body refused to relax. At any moment, you told yourself, you were going to open your eyes and be back in that room. Kidd was your lifeline, a solid, physical reminder that you were safe now.

Killer was understandably furious when he saw the two of you climbing on board, Kidd with some cuts and bruises and you, barely conscious in his arms. He was smart enough to put two and two together and realize that Kidd had ignored his advice. He was on the verge of telling you two off, but one look at your state kept him quiet. You don’t remember much after that, as you fell in and out of consciousness. A feeling of disgust settled deep within you as your mind replayed the way your captor laid his hands on you, and was only soothed at the memory of Kidd’s touch. Of how gentle he was. The next four days passed in a similar fashion. You were much too out of it to know, but Kidd spent the majority of his time by your side. He established his longest arguing streak with Killer yet, by insulting all of the food he brought you insisting that “she doesn’t like that.” He made sure that you got new blankets every few hours, forcibly making Heat warm each new blanket. No one got much sleep until, finally, Kidd decided you were stable enough and retreated to his office to mope.

You woke up around an hour after Kidd finally left, and got up later that night after. Killer helped you to your feet. The feeling of the cool wood against your bare feet was relieving.

“Where to madam?” Killer said.

“His office.I have a word or two for him.”

“Whose idea was it, anyway?”

“Seriously? Whose idea do you think such a stupid stunt like that was?”

“Fair enough, but you were stupid enough to go along with it.”

“Fair enough.”

Killer dropped you off in front of your captain’s office.

“Best of luck,” he said, “And... I'm glad you're okay. You had me worried.”

You gave him a quick hug, “Thanks Kil'.”

You opened the door, closing it behind you.

Kidd turned around to scowl at you. His prior softness already having been replaced with his usual attitude.

“Can’t be bothered to knock?”

Your hands balled into fists at your side. You marched across the room toward where he was sitting, and landed a heavy slap across Kidd’s face. He staggered two steps back and landed in his seat.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered, rubbing his cheek, “I deserved that.”

“I told you! I fucking told you it was a bad idea and that your information was most likely innacurate. You risked my life and, even worse, your own. The crew could’ve lost everything, you selfish asshole!”

He sat silently in his chair, avoiding eye contact with you. His cheeks were pink, one significantly more so than the other.

“We should have called Killer like I said to and had another person with us- it was idiotic to have gone into that with just the two of us. Did I mention yet that I told you so? But you refuse to listen to anyone other than yourself, you absolute boar.”

The silence hung heavy in the room and you felt pride swell in your chest- you’d never seen your Captain so quiet before.

“That was the stupidest decision I’ve seen you make in a long time,” you took a deep breath before reaching in your pocket, “But it paid off.”

Kidd’s head turned to look at you, confusion was plastered over his face.

You pulled the map out of your pocket and placed it in front of him. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped slightly.

“Thanks for the change of clothes,” by the way, you said sarcastically, “I smell great.”

No doubt he had given up on the map the moment he saw you in that room. He took note of the bruises around your wrists and gently grabbed them without thinking.

“I’m… sorry,” he said, rubbing his thumbs on your wrists.

God, he could be stupid. But there was no one else you’d follow after as readily.

You crashed into him, wrapping your arms around his neck with tears pooling in your eyes.

“I’m just glad you’re okay!”

You felt him stiffen, not having expected you to hug him.

“I was so worried,” you continued, “That something had happened to you.”

He wrapped his arms back around you, sinking into the weight of your embrace.

“So was I.”

You heard him sniffling, and rubbed his back gently.

“Crybaby.”

“I’m not cryin’,” he said, voice shaking.

He squeezed you one last time before letting you go.

You stood up, facing him. His eyeliner was running.

It was quiet again, though this time it was much more awkward. You’d yelled at him plenty of times before, but never had you embraced like that. Your pink cheeks now matched his. This time you looked away from him.

You felt a slight pull at the back of your neck and realized Kidd was pulling you by your necklace closer to him.

You obeyed and sank down into his lap. Your mind was telling you this this was abnormal, an overstepping of boundaries. Kidd was your captain and friend. You shouldn’t be in his lap hugging him. But it felt so natural. Like the most casual thing in the world.

“I was terrified,” he said quietly, “That I- That we might lose you.”

You rested your cheek against his, savoring how warm it was.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Oh trust me, I know,” he laughed, “You’re a rather tough lassie.”

Your ears perked up at that, and very quickly went red.

“Oh,” you whispered.

“What’s that?”

“You were talking about me the other day.”

Kidd paused for a second, “Was I?”

You giggled.

“She’s a rather tough lassie,” you said, imitating his thick accent, “And a bonnie one at that. A bit too good for me, no?”

“Oi, oi! I was talking about someone else,” he said, his cheeks darkening several shades.

You pinched his cheeks, “Well, that’s too bad. I would’ve said that I feel the same way.”

He perked up, “Oh, yeah? How’s about I describe this tough lassie and ya tell me if the description fits.”

You smiled.

“Right, she’s about this tall,” he held up his hand to your standing height, “Sittin’ on my lap, and just about the prettiest girl on the sea. And I owe her enormously for my latest fuck up because if anything had happened to her I’d have gone absolutely mad and jumped right on overboard.”

Your smile softened, and you stared at him for a moment.

“Sounds about right,” you said.

“Well, then.”

You leaned in toward him and moved slowly, just in case. Just in case he changed his mind or wanted to backtrack or wasn’t sure. But your lips touched and your captain showed no signs of regret or hesitation so you deepened the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and savoring how he grabbed onto your hips. The kiss grew more and more heated, his grip on you stronger and stronger. You pulled away for air, gasping for breath. Kidd’s lipstick was smudged, and he brought a thumb up to wipe it off of your lips. His hand rubbed gently up and down your back. Fatigue began to take over as you let yourself indulge in the comfort of Kidd’s presence. Despite having been bedridden for several days your body was still mentally and physically in survival mode. Only now with a strong set of familiar arms wrapped around you could you finally relax.

You laid your head down onto his shoulder, closing your eyes.

“Tired?”

“A bit.”

“Sleep, lass. I’ll carry you to bed.”

And you did.

You woke up the next morning feeling more rested than you had in years, a thanks from your body for the break.

The bedsheets surrounding you were unfamiliar, not your own.

But the strong hand draped over your waist answered any questions you had started to form. You wiggled back until you felt your captain’s chest against your back, and held his hand, tucking it under your chin.

“Mornin’ sweetheart.”

“Good morning, Kidd.”

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lemonlover1110 · 10 months

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 6] Explanations

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

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“Am I– Am I your daddy?” Suguru slowly blinks, trying to see if he’s seeing straight. He pinches his arm to check if he’s dreaming or something along those lines. Maybe he drank so much that he’s ascended to another place. A whole different universe. He rubs his eyes to see if it’s just his vision that is deceiving him, but the young boy is still there. “What’s your name?”

“I asked you first.” The boy points out, and Suguru thinks about it for a minute. He shuts his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them, Suguru shakes his head in response. The boy in front of Suguru is the spitting image of Satoru, there’s no way that Suguru is the father of the child.

“I’m not your father.” Suguru answers. Suguru wonders whose kid this is. In whose place is he at? There’s no picture frames around, nor anything on the walls. He’s thinking about you– But there’s no way this is your child… There’s no way this is Satoru’s child. “What’s your name?”

“Who are you?” The child ignores the question.

“It’s my turn to receive an answer. What’s your name?” Suguru ignores the second question that was asked. He watches as the kid furrows his eyebrows and purses his lips, most likely wondering if he should share that vital piece of information to a mere stranger– A stranger that woke up in his home. He ponders on it for a minute before he ends up answering,

“I’m Ren.” And just as the answer leaves the kid’s lips, Suguru looks up to find you. You wear a white robe around your body, hiding the old pajamas that you wear. Suguru's eyes shift from your face back to Ren’s. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out, but he still asks,

“Who’s this kid? He looks just like Satoru.” Suguru’s eyes still shift back and forth between you and Ren. Maybe he’s a figment of his imagination because there’s no way there’s a child that looks identical to Satoru right in front of him.

You bite down on your lip. You were a little too tipsy– No, you were drunk. You remembered your address, and you gave it to Shoko, but your judgment was clouded. Bringing back Shoko and Suguru to your apartment would not be a decision you would make sober. Shoko knows about your son but Suguru definitely doesn’t. Your blood runs cold and this cold sweat runs down your face. You take a deep breath before you mutter, “He’s my kid.”

“Huh?” Suguru knows a sound came from his lips, but he can’t quite make out the muffled sound.

“He’s my son.” You tell him, and his eyes widen. That should’ve been expected, it’s pretty obvious. You were with Satoru for so long, and since the child clearly isn’t Sayo’s, it must be yours. Additionally, a child doesn’t just spring out of nowhere.

Suguru sits dumbfounded, unsure of what to say, and you stare at him for a minute before you grab Ren’s hand and you walk to the kitchen. You pour water into two glasses, one for you and another for Suguru. You give a glass of water to Ren and you smile at him, asking him, “Will you please take this to Suguru?”

He nods, a grin coming to his face, happy to be helping. You gulp down your water and then rinse the glass. Your hands rest on the edges of the sink, thinking about how you’ll explain everything, how you’ll tell him that you had a baby with Satoru and that he better not tell anyone about this, not even Satoru; you don’t know how you’ll explain that Satoru has a kid that he doesn’t know about, one that he won’t know about.

“How old are you?” You hear, and you slightly turn your head to look at Suguru and Ren. Suguru takes the glass of water to allow Ren to hold four fingers up. Ren then returns the same question, and Suguru answers.

“Oh–” You hear a more feminine voice, and you’re immediately startled. You had totally forgotten that Suguru and Ren aren’t the only people in the place. Shoko and your mother are also here. You look at Shoko and try your best to smile at her, but she doesn’t notice since her gaze is on Suguru and Ren, “They look so cute together. He could be the step dad.”

“Don’t you even dare.” You tell her, causing her to laugh in response. You look at her, and she looks completely fine. She drank more than you did but looks spectacular, but you’ve always known that she’s a heavy drinker. She makes herself at home, opening the fridge and looking for something appetizing for her. “Do you want pancakes? I’m about to make some.”

“It’s fine. I’m going to the balcony to smoke.” Shoko ends up saying, not really finding anything in the fridge appetizing enough. Pancakes don’t really sound good at the moment either. “Can I spend the day with you guys? I don’t really want to go home.”

“Yeah, sure. I’m just taking Ren to the park and other than that, not much.” You inform her, and she purses her lips together.

“Nevermind. Have fun.” She responds. She can’t fathom the thought of spending her day at the park, hearing children laughing and whatnot. “Are you taking Suguru with you?”

“I don’t know– I know he’s going to want to talk about this, I’m sure.” You tell her. You end up sighing just thinking about everything. Your life would be easier if you had just stayed away from the family, even if it meant you were drowning in debt. “I have to talk to him so he doesn’t tell Satoru about this.”

“Are you sure you want to keep this a secret for so long– The longer you hide it, the more Satoru will resent you when he finds out.” Shoko points out, causing you to shrug in response. There is a better way to handle all of this, you’re sure, but you can’t seem to figure out how to actually handle it. You just know that you’ll keep it hidden from Satoru, even if it isn’t the best option.

“I stopped caring about what Satoru feels or doesn’t feel for me the moment Ren was born.” You say, even if it’s clearly a lie. You won’t lie that the thought of Satoru resenting you tugs your heartstrings, but it also fills you with fury; Satoru was the one that left you even when you were just on a break, you’re the only one that’s allowed to hold resentment, especially since you were the best partner you could be when his father passed. “If you want him to find out so badly, you can tell him yourself.”

“That’s none of my business. It’s up to you.” She ends up saying before she walks away. You stare off into space as you think about it. You can’t let him know, even if you wanted to. You’re able to take care of Ren financially now, the last thing you need is to risk Satoru taking him away from you.

You deeply exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. You walk back to the living room, and you smile at your son before asking him, “Ren, will you please go check on your granny? I’m about to make breakfast and I wouldn’t want her to miss out.”

“Yes, mommy.” Ren nods his head before he sprints out of the room, making you yell,

“No running, Ren!”

“So…” Suguru begins, his hands going from his thighs to resting on his knees. He needs a moment to gather his thoughts. He feels absolutely awful from drinking too much the previous night, and he really can’t wrap his head around the thought that you have a child with Satoru. It’s so early in the morning too. “You have a kid?”

“I do…” You hesitantly nod. You take a seat next to him, and you sigh. You’re not sure how to start it off– You definitely don’t have the energy to explain everything to him, at least not this morning. “Before you ask, he is Satoru’s. Just don’t say anything to him.”

“Oh–” His eyes widen for a moment before he shuts them. He then shakes his head as he tries to process it all, something that he does when he’s overwhelmed; he’s done it ever since he was a kid. “I’m not sure what you’re asking?”

“His mother knows, she doesn’t want him to know… So we’re keeping it a secret, okay? Will you do that for me?” You ask, and he feels as if this is some kind of fucked up dream. Satoru is still his friend, even if they aren’t close like they were at sixteen, but that’s still his friend. This whole situation is so fucked up. You know he has a lot of questions. “I tried to tell him but–”

“But?” He interrupts you without intending to. He mutters an apology before allowing you to continue. You bite down on your lip and you debate if you want to tell the truth or tell a lie– You take a deep breath before you continue.

“He wasn’t ready to have a child, he told me that and when he heard there was a possibility of me being pregnant, he told me it was best to have an abortion. I just don’t want him to know because it’ll upset him, his mother thinks it’s the best decision too.” You become nauseous as you lie to him. You watch his expression go to a shocked one. You grab his hands, lightly squeezing them before you ask him, “Will you please not tell? I really can’t deal with that now.”

“Okay… Yeah. Okay.” Suguru slowly nods, not really thinking everything through. The only thought that runs through his mind is that Satoru is the biggest jerk to ever exist on Earth, and you couldn’t agree more. You stand up from the couch and smile at him, his eyes softening when he sees your smile.

“I’m making pancakes for breakfast, would you like some?”

There’s a knot in your stomach for a week straight, each day you’re expecting Satoru to show up at your desk, yelling obscenities, berating you for hiding his son. The anxious feeling passes after a week, and you’re sure that Suguru won’t tell. Luckily for you, you avoid bumping into Satoru for the whole week.

And just as you think that you’ve freed yourself from ever looking at Satoru again, you’re reminded that you work in the same building. You’re reminded when Shoko calls you into a board meeting since she forgot to bring something, a small gift. You take a deep breath and brace yourself to walk into the place. The door is wide open, telling you that the meeting has yet to start.

You have to bring yourself to take the small steps that you have left to enter the office. You walk inside, your eyes immediately landing on Satoru of all people. He’s looking at the blonde assistant, and you recognize the look in his eyes from a mile away. Lust filled eyes, and it confuses you. Maybe you’ve forgotten how he is; his expressions, his manerism. He surely wouldn’t look at that at his secretary? You’re surely misreading things. Surely the mischievous smirks they share mean nothing. Satoru wouldn’t do that to the wife that he seems to love so much.

You take your eyes off Satoru, only to find Sayo there as well; it certainly confuses you since she isn’t a board member– At least you don’t think she is. You try your best to not dwell on it, after all, it’s none of your business. You spot Shoko and silently walk to her to give her the small gift. You have a couple of questions about it but once again, it doesn’t concern you.

Once she thanks you, you’re able to sneak right out, and luckily you leave before Mrs. Gojo arrives. When you’re about to go back to your floor, someone stops you and you begin to chat. You’ve luckily made some work friends, and they keep you up to date on gossip. Since nobody needs you, you’re allowed to chat with them for a bit.

You lose track of time but you’re sure you didn’t spend too much time chatting when you step in the elevator, ready to go back to your floor. Just when the doors begin to close, a man comes running to not miss the lift, and when you see him, your nails dig into your palms. You leave just at the wrong time– At the very least, you hope that someone is behind him but no one enters in time.

You stand on opposite sides, and you step farther away because the large distance between you isn’t enough space. He doesn’t acknowledge your presence the same way you don’t acknowledge his. He looks at his watch before clearing his throat and commenting, “Shoko sent you back a long time ago, why were you still on the floor?”

You don’t answer. He guesses it’s fine if you don’t ever talk again, there’s nothing to talk about anyway. You just wait for the doors to open, and when you’re almost at your floor, he decides that if you’re never talking to each other again, he might as well say one more thing before you leave.

The elevator doors open and he says,

“Time has done you well, you look as beautiful as ever.”

#[changes]#gojo saturo #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x you #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo angst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic

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daddynattt · 1 year

Text

Tastes So Good

Request: milf mommy wanda x innocent babysitter virgin reader. smut please tysm. (sorry I accidentally deleted)

Summary: When you babysit Wanda’s twins and see her breastfeeding, the thought of trying it for yourself doesn't leave your mind

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Top Milf Wanda, Innocence, Loss of Virginity, Mommy Kink, Unspecified Age Gap, Fingering, Oral, Lactation/Milk Drinking, Pet Names, Praise. 18+ only

Word Count: 2.9k

You knock on Wanda’s front door as you wait for her to answer. You have been Wanda’s babysitter for six months now, taking care of her twin boys while she works during the day. She takes care of the boys alone most of the time as her and her ex-husband Vision are divorced. The first time you met Wanda at her home, she answered the door wearing only her robe, apologizing as she was running late and didn’t have the chance to put on any clothes beforehand. The sight of her bare legs and the v-line of her chest made you feel these tingly feelings you didn’t know the meaning of.

“Good morning sweetheart, come on in” heat rises to your cheeks as you feel her hand on the small of your back pushing you further into the house as you enter.

“Good morning Ms. Maximoff” you mumble out as you look anywhere but at her. You don’t know what these feelings are when you are around her. She always looks at you with this look in her eyes that you can never figure out what it means.

“Angel, what did I tell you about calling me that? Please, Wanda is fine.” she said chuckling, walking towards the boys that are in their playpen in the living room.

“I’m sorry Y/n but I didn’t have a chance to pump their milk so I need to breastfeed them quickly before I leave, is that alright with you? I will be home early today before they need to be fed again, I will only be gone for three or four hours” you look at her as your eyes slightly widen, slowly nodding your head.

“Y-yes um, yes that’s fine. Do you need me to step outside?” she smiles at you as she lets out one of her breasts, the sight of her nipple and the milk coming out of it making your mouth water.

“Nonsense sweet girl, I can only feed one of them at a time so I need your help with the other.” Your cheeks flush as you watch Tommy sucking on Wanda’s nipple, the sight hard to look away from. You hear her intake of breath, a light groan coming out of her mouth as Tommy drinks her milk.

“You alright Y/n?” you try to steady your beating heart as you go to pick up Billy and hold him in your arms as Wanda finishes feeding Tommy.

“Yes M- Wanda, um, is it okay if I grab a drink from the kitchen?” you need to get out of there for a second before you pass out. A smirk makes it’s way onto Wanda’s face as she watches you. You’re such a shy, innocent thing that makes her curious.

“Of course honey, make yourself at home” you walk with Billy into the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water. You hope you can get through the day quickly.

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

Two weeks have passed since that morning and you hate to admit that the sight of her breasts have been on your mind ever since. You don’t know why you can’t get it out of your head. To make things worse, you imagine what it would be like to suck her nipple into your mouth and taste her milk. As you’re putting the twins to sleep, you hear footsteps down the hall as Wanda appears at the doorway.

“Hi sweetheart, i’m home. Sorry i’m later then usual. How were they?” you smile at her as you walk out of the room and into the kitchen, following behind her.

“They were great as always Ms. Maximoff, well behaved as usual” she lets out a hum as she pours herself a glass of wine, turning and facing towards you.

“Do you drink Y/n? You’re allowed to drink right?”

“Yes Ms. Maximoff, but no i’ve never drank before” she chuckles as she pours you a glass.

“Call me Wanda sweetheart, Ms. Maximoff makes me feel so old” you look at her as you blush. She definitely does not look old.

“Come sit on the couch with me as we have this drink”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother, I should be heading home now” she smiles at you as she takes a seat on the couch, patting the spot beside her.

“C’mere honey, I promise you it’s okay” you did as you were told, following her into the living room and sitting beside her, your legs brushing together as you sit close to one another. You hesitantly take a sip as she hands you your glass, grimacing at the taste. She chuckles as she looks at you, taking a sip from her own wine.

“You are such a cute little thing. Tell me, do you have a boyfriend?” you take another sip as you shake your head.

“No I don’t. I’ve only ever had one boyfriend, but then I realized i’m not into boys. It didn’t last very long.” the words feel silly coming out of your mouth as she looks at you.

“Oh? Do you have a girlfriend then sweetheart?” you blush as you find it hard to maintain eye contact with her from these questions. You take another sip of your wine, your head already starting to feel fuzzy.

“I’ve never had a girlfriend before” you bite your lip as you feel embarrassed. She turns on the couch as she faces you, placing her hand on your thigh as she rubs small circles with her thumb.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed little one, I guess that means you’ve never had sex before hmm?” you blush deeply as you look at her with wide eyes.

“I-I-i’ve never- um, n-no I haven’t” you feel her hand move towards your inner thigh, her teeth caught between her bottom lip as she looks down at you.

“God you’re such a pretty little thing. Can I be honest with you sweetheart? I think about you every night when i’m alone in my bed after you leave” you look at her confused, her hand running along the inner part of your thigh, moving up slowly.

“W-what do you mean?” she finishes the rest of her wine in one sip, placing her glass on the table.

“I mean that when i’m in my bed at night before I go to sleep, I spread my legs and slide my hand down my underwear and touch myself as I think of you” you gasp as you look at her, the thought making you squirm in your seat.

“Don’t be shy baby, have you ever done that before?”

“N-no i’ve never done that before” she strokes your cheek with her other hand, looking down at your lips as she continues to run her hands along your inner thigh.

“Of course you haven’t, you’re such a pretty little thing waiting for Mommy to please you, isn’t that right baby?” you look up at her, eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

“W-Wanda, I don’t think this is right? Maybe I should go home now” truthfully, you didn’t want to go home, you want Wanda to show you and teach you what it feels like, to show you how to properly touch yourself down there like she says. She smiles and runs her thumb along your bottom lip.

“You can say no sweetheart, Mommy won’t be upset” you take her thumb into your mouth and slowly suck on it. You hear a tiny gasp come out of her, an innocent look on your face as you look up with doe eyes. You don’t know why you did that, it just happened.

“Fuck baby, you’re such a good girl aren’t you? Do you want Mommy to teach you how to make yourself feel good?” you let her thumb go with a pop, nodding your head yes.

“Mhm, need your help mommy, feels icky” you grind your hips into her hand that is still on your thigh, needing the painful ache you feel down there to desperately go away.

“Aww Princess I know, I bet you feel all sticky down there huh? Don’t worry, Mommy is going to help you okay? Lay down on your back for me” you lay back on the couch, looking up at her.

“Mommy please, feels so icky down there” she spreads your legs and gets in between them.

“Shhh, be patient and Mommy will take care of you baby. You’re going to be a good girl for me right? Mommy wants to kiss you first” she kisses you and you whimper against her mouth at the feeling of her lips on yours. Her hand makes it’s way under your shirt, the feel of her cold hand against your skin making you gasp, allowing Wanda to slip her tongue inside your mouth.

Once you feel the need to breathe again, you pull back, whimpering into the quiet air.

“M-Mommy…”

“What is it baby? Be a good girl and tell me” your cheeks flush as your breathing picks up.

“Wanna taste” you look at her breasts so she can understand what you’re asking for.

“You want to taste what? I want to hear it come out of your pretty little mouth”

“Wanna taste your milk Mommy, please? I’ve been a good girl” Wanda let’s out a groan at your words, pulling back so she can pull her top off her body.

“Yeah? Wanna suck Mommy’s nipple and drink her milk? Fuck, you don’t know what you do to me Angel” she rids herself from her bra as well, straddling you as she places her breast near your mouth, your lips instantly attaching to her nipple. You instantly let out a moan at the taste of her warm milk on your tongue.

“Fuck baby, just like that, keep drinking Mommy’s milk. Such a good girl for me” you mewl at the praise, looking up at her with hooded eyes as you lap up her yummy treat.

“Tastes good Mommy” You feel her pull off your shorts and underwear, throwing them somewhere on the floor.

“Wow sweetheart, you’re so wet.. you’re absolutely dripping; I didn’t know it was going to be this bad. You must be feeling so icky huh? Don’t worry, Mommy is going to show you how good it feels to touch yourself down here.” You buck your hips at the sudden feeling, her fingers gathering your juices as she touches you. You let out a breathless moan as you feel her rubbing your sensitive bud.

“M-Mommy… feels so good” you remove your mouth from her breast, your head falling back against the couch as she touches you. You feel her finger at your entrance, and you look at her as you bite your lip nervously.

“Is it going to hurt?” she gives you a smile as she slowly enters her finger inside you, making you gasp.

“It may hurt or feel uncomfortable at first baby, but I promise it’s going to feel so so good.” She moves in a little deeper, your walls gripping her finger in a vice-like grip. You whimper at the pain, squirming in place.

“It hurts Mommy” she moves her finger in and out slowly as she lets you adjust, the feeling slowly starting to turn into pleasure the longer it’s inside you.

“Breathe darling, it’s going to start feeling good any second now” she picks up her pace, her finger sliding in and out of you, your walls accepting the intrusion, the pleasure overpowering the entirety of your body.

“F-feels so good, don’t stop Mommy” you feel her add another finger, the stretch making you whimper as you close your eyes. She slides her fingers in and out of you faster as your juices coat her fingers and down her hand.

“That’s it’s sweetheart, you’re doing so good for me. Looking so pretty under Mommy baby, thank you for letting me see you like this” your moans and whimpers are heard in the air, your stomach tightening at the amazing feeling begging to be released.

“Let go Mommy, I think ‘m gonna pee” you're embarrassed as you try to pull away. She twists her fingers inside you, hitting a new spot as she moves her fingers deeper and faster, making your body jolt up as you feel your legs starting to shake.

“Shh baby, just relax and let go. You’re not gonna pee you’re gonna cum and have your first orgasm. It’s okay, let it out and cum on Mommy’s fingers”

“Oh my God, Mommy!” you cried out, your back arching as you cum around her fingers, the pleasure taking over your entire body as you see stars behind your eyelids. You feel like your floating as you lay there, panting and trying to catch your breath. She removes her fingers and instantly wraps her mouth around them and you whimper at the sight of her tasting you.

“Fuck, you taste so good baby, so so sweet, just wanna eat your pussy all night and never stop” you blush at her words, looking at her through hooded eyes.

“That’s dirty Mommy.. why would you want to put your mouth there?” you’re shy as you ask her, not understanding why anyone would want to do something like that.

“No sweetheart, that’s totally normal and how you show someone you really like and care about them, to please them just like how I did to you. Plus, it tastes so so good, like candy” she smiles at you sweetly. You perk up as you look at her.

“Can I do it to you then Mommy? I wanna try! I love candy” you tell her shyly. She bites her lip as she looks down at you, taking her turn in removing her pants and underwear, laying down against the couch across from you.

“Oh fuck, of course you can Princess, you are such a perfect pretty baby for your Mommy. C’mere and taste me down there, I promise it’s going to taste so sweet” you move from your position and get down on your knees in front of her, the sight of her bare core making you blush.

“H-how do I do it Mommy? Do I just lick you there?” she smiles at you and deposits a soft kiss to your lips, gripping your jaw and looking into your eyes.

“Yes baby, lay down on your tummy and use your tongue, Mommy will guide you okay? It’s been so long since anyone has touched me here, I won’t last very long.” You blush as you lay between her legs, her smell instantly hitting your nose.

You hesitantly give it a soft lick, her sharp intake of breath making you look at her.

“Like that Mommy?” she runs her hands through your hair, holding your head in place as she looks down at you through hooded eyes.

“Yes, keep going sweetheart, you’re already making Mommy feel so good” you continue to lick her, her juices instantly coating your tongue, the taste making you moan against her.

“Just like that, such a good girl for me, oh you’re so good with your tongue baby” her taste is addicting as you keep licking her folds, not wanting to stop till you get it all. Your tongue moves up to her swollen bud, her body jerking as your tongue comes in contact with it.

“Oh! Take it into your mouth and suck my clit baby” you do as your told and suck her clit into your mouth, feeling her grind herself on your face, her juices coating your chin and making a mess.

“Yes yes yes, Mommy is close baby, I’m gonna cum and give you more of my special treat in that pretty little mouth of yours, put your tongue inside Mommy like she did with her fingers.” She husked, spreading her legs wider as she pushes your head deeper into her, keeping you in place. The thought of more going into your mouth excites you, so you do as your told, pushing your tongue inside her hole like she did to you with her fingers previously.

“Fuck! Here it comes baby, swallow it all for Mommy” she moans loudly as her orgasm washes over her, letting go into your mouth, tasting her sweetness as it goes down your throat as you swallow it all. Her hands run through your hair as your tongue keeps licking her, wanting to get every last drop of it. You’ve never tasted something so good. She was right, it tastes sweet like candy and you can’t get enough. You want it everyday from here on out. Her chest heaves as she looks down at you, smiling at the mess on your face. She pulls you up, kissing you eagerly and moaning into your mouth at the taste of herself on your tongue. Her tongue dances with yours and you whimper when you feel it travel all around the inside of your mouth. She pulls back and cleans up your chin, tasting more of herself.

“Good job baby, you were such a good girl for Mommy. You and I are going to have a lot of fun from now on.” you blush as you think about it, and she smiles kissing your cheek. She wraps her arms around you, holding you against her.

“Did you like how Mommy tasted?” she asked as she stroked your bare thighs. You blush as you nod, relaxing your body against hers.

“Yes Mommy, tasted sweet like candy just like you said, thank you”

“Oh sweetheart, you are such a sweet little thing. I am not done with you yet. Mommy wants to make you cum again. Lay back down for me baby, Mommy is going to make you feel good with her tongue now”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda x reader

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merowkittie · 8 months

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Imagine being new to Visions Academy and meeting Miles, he noticed you one day fumbling the lock on your locker and you look so pissed off and he can see the hot tears starting to form on your water line.

He’ll walk up to you and ask you if you need help, his brows furrowed in confusion because he’s never seen you before and no one around you even dares to stop and ask you first.

“Yes please.. I-I’m sorry. I’m new here and.. and I’m just so lost.” You sighed out, he could hear the tremble in your voice.

He’ll chuckle and he’ll nod. “I understand. I almost went crazy on my first days here. No worries, Mami.”

Miles turns to your locker and then stops, “sorry what’s your code?” He mentally Face palms because why didn’t he ask that before??

You giggle and shake your head, wiping at your eyes. “No! That’s my fault, boo. It’s 10-6-9-1.”

He slowly input the numbers and voila! “And tada! I’m a master at locks.” He winked at you and then internally cringed, what the fuck was he doing.

You’d shake your head and put what you needed to in your locker. When you finished you shut it and turned to him.

“Thank you so much…” you left the sentence open, “Miles.” “Miles.” You smiled at that.

His heart beat faster as you stared at him and repeated his name back to him, as if tasting it. He watched as you nodded and straightened up at the sound of the bell.

“I should probably get going.. Miles.” You smiled and started to walk away.

But before you got too far he turned and ran up to the side of you, “Wait! Maybe later I can give you a tour of the school?”

She stopped and tilted her head, pretending to think it over then nodded her head. “Why not! We can do it at lunch?” You asked.

He perked up at that and nodded his head back. “Yea that’s cool, I’ll see you then?”

“Mhm, see you then.”

In the end you ended up getting a school tour by this cute boy named miles AND a date after school <3

— could be read as 1610 or 42 :)

#spiderverse miles #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #reader insert #black reader #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #miles morales 1610 #earth 42 miles x reader #1610 miles x reader

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i9messi · 5 months

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I want a baby — Ruben Dias

Meeting his friend’s baby triggers Ruben’s desire for a baby, turning him into a cute, baby fever-filled mess.

Word count — 1k

ruben's masterlist

It all started when one of his friends had his first child. You and Ruben went to meet the baby for the very first time and both were practically fascinated with the child. Your boyfriend held the baby in his strong arms, holding him like it was fragile, something he had to take care of and protect.

The vision shocked you. You and Rubén had never spoken before about having children, but to see him that way, with a baby in his arms, an instant feeling made you ask yourself what if you and him were parents someday. The idea wasn't so terrible after all.

"Look how small it is. Did you see his little hands?"

His brown eyes met yours and you couldn’t help but smile.

"He’s so cute."

"Our babies would be cute." Ruben said casually, totally sure of what he thought.

Oh, did Ruben think about you and him having a baby?

"Can’t you see us doing that?"

You smiled at your boyfriend’s question.

"Actually, I can."

That was just the beginning. As the days went by, he constantly sent you cute baby videos and photos. You couldn’t stop smiling and thinking that you wanted one, that Ruben was the right man to have your first baby and that maybe, you were ready to start trying.

One day your friends needed your help to babysit their baby. Ruben was practically already knocking on the door of his friends' house. While you were babysitting, you both looked at each other and took care of the little boy. It was a whole new experience, giving the bottle to the baby, playing with him and singing lullabies. At the time of changing his diaper, your man volunteered and made no complaint about anything at all. That proved your suspicions that Ruben would be an amazing father.

"I could do this with our baby."

You smiled, "You would be a great dad, a great one."

"I think you’d be an amazing mother. I can’t wait to have a baby of our own."

The talks about having children became a topic of conversation before bed. You had come out of the bathroom and settled into his arms, with your head on his chest. Lying next to him was amazing, but lying down and touching his skin, listening to his heart and having him so close was your drug. Kind of like heroin.

"I want a baby."

The silence was interrupted by his voice and his statement. There was a moment of silence, until you reacted and realized you hadn’t imagined it. You raised your head to look at his face. He was totally serious.

"Ruben, are you serious?"

"I’ve been thinking a lot lately about having kids and I think I’m ready. I want a baby. I want to hold our baby in my arms, I want her or him to look like you and me, to be a constant reminder that we are a family. Because that's what I want, I want a family with you. But I really don’t want to have kids with someone other than you, I want you to be the mother of my babies."

Your heart was beating like never before. Your cheeks were red and you wanted to kiss him. So you did, you didn’t control yourself anymore. Your lips joined together, Ruben kissed you back as euphoric as you. His hands went up to your hips, where he held you close to his body. He just separated to keep talking about the baby.

“Would you want to have a baby with me?”

“I’d love to have your baby, Ruben.”

That same night you started your try to have your first baby. A few weeks later, Ruben came home and found you in the bedroom.

"I haven’t looked at it yet. I was waiting for you."

Both approached the bathroom, totally nervous about the result of the pregnancy test. You didn’t dare look at it, so you let Ruben look at the evidence. It was the first attempt, the first time you checked on the pregnancy test, so there might be a chance you weren’t pregnant yet.

Ruben had read a lot, had been informed about how the pregnancy process would be, and had even seen videos of couples discovering they were pregnant. So when you saw him stay quiet you didn’t know what to expect.

"Ruben?"

"You’re pregnant."

"Wait-we’re having a baby?"

You couldn’t believe it, your eyes filled with tears and he came to you. You both hugged and began to understand that in nine months, your baby was going to be born.

“Eu te amo, eu te amo…” he repeated, his face full of happiness.

Ruben always placed a hand on your lower abdomen, even though the pregnancy wasn’t showing yet. Just thinking your baby was there was enough to keep him happy as ever. He was the happiest man in the world, you had made him the happiest man in the world.

When Ruben was not training or at his matches, both shared time at home, talking about the baby and all your plans about the future. He would buy any cute article of baby clothing that he saw, and do a mini haul of what he bought for your baby. That meant he had already brought your baby a City jersey with his number on it.

He also tried to figure out the baby's gender by analyzing your symptoms with old wives' tales.

"I feel like a fat cow."

"Well, you're the most beautiful cow I ever met.”

But your insecurities continued, having a baby in your belly made you feel much more emotional than usual. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, but once you found yourself crying and seeing your body in the mirror. Ruben came closer to you and put both his hands in your belly.

"I think I’ve fallen more in love with you being pregnant."

The day he met his baby, Ruben knew that baby was all he needed in his life. That you and your baby were your family, two people he would love forever. The child was finally born and you were both crying.

"I am so grateful to you for loving me and allowing me to be a part of this family with you."

You loved him. You were both new at this, but were excited about your upcoming adventures as parents.

#ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagines #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias one shot #ruben dias #ruben dias one shots #ruben dias x you #ruben dias x y/n #manchester city

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aphrogeneias · 9 months

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kickstart my heart — one-shot

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: the first time eddie sees your bare chest isn't the way he imagined it would be, and he'd imagined plenty of times.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: smut (+18), dirty thoughts, suggestive dialogue, for the purpose of this story, eddie is a boobs man (but we all know he enjoys the whole package), allusions to sex but no graphic descriptions. jeff is implied to be gay because in my heart all of cc are somewhere in the alphabet mafia.

author's note: elaborating on this. i want to remind you that this is a silly piece and i hope you take It as such <3 also i am incredibly rusty when it comes to writing, i'm sorry if this isn't great.

There were thousands of people around him, including the band on the stage in front of them, but Eddie couldn't look anywhere else but at you, eyes wide with a weird mix of emotions.

As cold sweat made his previously hot skin shiver, all he could think was "this wasn't how I thought it would go". Believe him, he'd thought about it a million times. When he needed to stay awake in class, when you wore low cut tops and tight shirts, in the blessed days you decided to opt out of a bra, late at night with his hand gripping his hard length, leaking all over his mattress. He thought about it an embarrassing amount.

In his daydreams, though, the first time he saw them was very much different. He had visions of you sprawled out on his bed, him undressing you slowing, showing your bare chest little by little until it was revealed in the low light of his bedroom, or dragging you to the ever dirty man's bathroom at The Hideout and ripping your clothes off your body in a rush to worship it.

No matter how much he thought about it, nothing prepared him for the fact that the first time he saw your tits was at a Mötley Crüe concert, in the middle of a crowd of thousands of other people.

Eddie hadn't even wanted to go in the first place — he's not very fond of metal of the glam persuasion, but you and Gareth had convinced him and the other boys to go. Jeff and Grant never passed on an opportunity to watch a good concert, and Eddie just wanted to be near you, any excuse was good enough.

He had spent the night happy, hands tucked in the pockets of his leather jacket, enjoying the feeling of the music coursing through his body, running through his veins like an adrenaline high. The bass and drums beating in sync with his heartbeat, feeling it deep within his ribcage. It felt good, like it always had. It also felt good watching you in your element, hair a mess after headbanging all night, skin glowing from sweat and the glitter in your makeup, dancing without a care in the world. The way he thinks you always should be.

It was funny at first. When the band made a pause and the members started addressing the audience, he was about to turn to you when the drummer made some particular lewd comments about the "beautiful ladies" in the crowd, expecting you to laugh with him. The whole rockstar shtick doesn't work on you, he knew that much — whenever he tried pulling something like that you'd just roll your eyes, which only spurred him on because he loved watching your beautiful eyes roll up, though he'd like to do that in other ways. What he saw instead was you whispering in Jeff's ear, the pair of you cackling at each other, too conspiratorially for Eddie's taste.

With his brows joined together in confusion, he watched you lift yourself on Jeff's shoulders, and after that everything happened in slow motion. The drummer had gone and asked to see some tits from the girls in the crowd, and as ridiculous as that sounded, a lot of girls obliged. You included, for his shock.

Gareth blushed and looked down, Grant closed his hands over his eyes, Jeff was laughing — the bastard was the only one unaffected when you lifted your top up to your head for no more than a second, but it was enough to torture him for the rest of the night. He watches you get down to stand on the ground once again, still laughing, and Eddie could tell you were a little flustered, but mostly you looked like you were having a good time.

He couldn't blame you, wouldn't blame you. He had no right to tell you what to do or not to show your body, you could do whatever you wanted. But, as the band proceeded with their setlist, and your eyes met with his, a playful look and a tentative smile on your face, Eddie couldn't reciprocate. He felt jealous, jealous of everyone who got to see you like that too, and frustrated for being able to look but probably never being able to touch the way he wants to, he felt protective over you, afraid that some other guy would feel entitled to look at you or touch you disrespectfully after that. His mind started reeling, and he could barely distinguish the music anymore.

In his brooding, his fists clenching where they still rested in his pockets, he missed the way you looked down, eyes turning sad, unsure about what your best friend's strange expression meant.

"Are you mad at me?"

Your question caught him by surprise, because you'd barely talked during the whole trip back home. The guys were rowdy as usual, sitting in the backseat of his van, talking about the highlights of their night, making fun of you for your little groupie moment, which had you brushing them off with a laugh and smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.

Eddie felt guilty. He didn't mean to make you feel like that, but he couldn't stop his mind from wandering back to that moment, and he couldn't stop the blood from flowing downwards, his pants uncomfortably tight at that point. If you noticed his erection, he was ready to throw himself out of the car in shame.

It didn't help that you were right there beside him, thighs looking delectable sitting in his passenger seat, his hand itching to take place on your knee like it always did whenever he drove you places. He could feel the faint smell of your perfume, and see the way you crossed your arms in front of your chest, not helping with his problem at all.

You had only approached him when he'd stopped the van in front of your house, after he had dropped all the others at theirs.

"What? No, I'm not…"

You interrupted when he was about to start stammering. "Because if you are, I really don't understand why, and if it's about what I did earlier, you have no right to. You're not my dad, you're not my boyfriend…"

A bitter laugh escaped him before he could help it. "I'm well aware, sweetheart."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Still frustrated, he pinches his nose between his fingers. "I'm not mad at you, I'm not judging you", he looks at you then, pointing a ringed finger in your general direction, "I'll have you know I'm a feminist, 'kay?"

You snort. "Okay, Mr. Feminist. What is it, then?"

"I just…", he sighs, "It wasn't supposed to be like that."

Maybe it was the couple of joints you all shared on the way home that had his lips loose like that. Maybe he was tired of holding it all in, his feelings spilling out of him like a dam breaking. Either way, it was out there.

"What wasn't supposed to be like that?" You asked slowly, testing the waters after feeling a shift in the conversation.

"I wasn't supposed to see you like that, I thought the first time I'd see you naked would be different."

Eddie couldn't meet your eyes. He could tell you thought it was funny, with the way you looked like you were holding back a smile. He was never bashful around you, that was the first time you saw him like that.

A lot of firsts for one night, it seemed.

"You think about seeing me naked?" You raised your brow, spurring him on.

"Yes." He says, simply. Swallowing loudly, the tension grows inside the van. "And I never planned to tell you that, but now is as good a time as ever, I guess."

You scoot a little closer, putting an arm on the back of his seat. "Can I tell you a secret too, just to make us even?"

Eddie just nods, unconsciously getting closer to you as well. You can feel the heat of each other's bodies, an electric current running between you. You draw your mouth near his ear, and whisper "I think about you too."

"Yeah?" Eddie feels his confidence slowly return, his dream coming true right before his eyes. His pretty best friend reciprocating what he thought was his most perverted secret? Couldn't be real — but it was. "We should do something about that, shouldn't we? Gotta give you something other than your imagination to work with."

He wasn't able to resist tucking a fallen piece of your hair back behind your ear. You shifted on your seat, rubbing your thighs together. Eddie took that as encouragement, drawing even closer, hand finally moving to touch the soft skin of your thigh.

"Gonna do you one better, Ed." Your voice lowered, filled with promise. "You can look, and you can touch. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like we've waited long enough."

Later that night, after you were done riding him in the backseat of his van and he'd fucked you on the floor of your bedroom as you desperately tried not to wake the other people in your house, after his hands and mouth explored your body and mapped every inch of your chest, leaving his mark all over it, you'd joked, with a soft giggle at the memory, that you would do the same thing you did that night at the next gig he'd have at local bar.

The only answer you had was an unnecessarily long drag of his cigarette as he laid beside you on the purple comforter of your bed. "If you want me to not last through the set without dragging you out of there early, go ahead."

You'd just kept laughing.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader

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oneforthemunny · 1 year

Text

blood soaked tears |mafia!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: eddie gets hurt, and continues to hurt himself. you're not staying around to watch.

bad description holy shit, but if you remember from the old blog (rip) this is the angst you wanted lol. also my first fic (not repost) since starting this blog!!! a long angsty one so buckle up!!!

contains: 18+ minors dni, mafia!eddie au, blood, guns, eddie is shot and hospitalized, language, fighting, mentions of eddie's dad (derogatory), angst, angst, ANGST

You knew.

You knew from the first shrill of the black landline on your desk. You knew from the quivering sigh on the other line. You knew from the rasp in Hopper's voice, the urgent tone that he desperately tried to mask as calm when he told you, "It's Eddie. He-He's... You need to get down here. He's in the hospital."

The twisting gut punched sensation that sent a shock through your nervous systems, senses tightened with fear and shaking with every fear-filled step of your strappy heels clacking fiercely against the pavement. You could barely grasp your key to turn the ignition, all quivering hands that fumbled, a white knuckled grip on the wheel of the Porsche, the car zipping and gliding through the streets of Hawkins with ease.

Eddie had bought it for you for the speed. Told you how pretty you looked in your little sports car, how much he loved watching you drive and go fast. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably, bile rising thick in your throat at the thought. You didn't want to see the state Eddie was in. You weren't sure you could bear it.

The drive to the hospital was filled with racing thoughts, consuming anxieties that whirred and raced through your mind. What happened? Are the other boys ok? Oh God, who's going to take care of the dogs? They're still at the house and need to be let out. Did anyone tell Wayne? Should I tell Wayne? I need to call him, maybe the hospital will let me use their phone.

What if he's dead?

That sickening, ringing question that only got louder and louder, deafening you with the cruelty of the words. The harsh reality that you very well could be facing your worst fears. You didn't want to think about life without Eddie. You couldn't.

You couldn't imagine not waking up next to him every day. Not feeling his sweet kisses in the morning. Never hearing him hum lowly in his chest, swaying with you in the kitchen. Being without that beautiful laugh that bubbled out of his chest, shook through his body and always left him with a dimpled smile that radiated over to you filling you with warmth. Never hearing him tell you he loved you, or holding him, or watching him throw toys in the backyard with the dogs.

You couldn't do it. You wouldn't.

The fluorescent lighting of the hospital did nothing to help the eery feeling that settled deep in the pit of your tummy.

Hopper's gruff voice stopped you, calling your name before you could get on the elevator, tunnel visioned and determined though you didn't know where you were going.

"Hop," You hated the way your voice shook, frail and wobbly; afraid. "What's going on? Where is he? I-Is he ok?"

Hopper sighed slow, heavy, a horrifying sign to you. "They've got the west wing on the second floor cleared for him." He said lowly, eyes scanning around. "We can talk up there."

"W-What happened?" You asked. The lights were getting brighter by the second, you were sure of it.

"He got hurt." Hopper said slowly, vaguely, nodding towards another officer while his eyes still scanned around. He was looking for a threat.

You passed two other men in the waiting room, inconspicuous waiting patients- but you'd seen them before. They worked for Eddie. They were here for backup, you knew enough to know that. The realization made you sick.

Hopper pushed back the restricted area, past the bustling nurses and doctors all scurrying with medical equipment, to the back elevator. The emergency elevator for staff only.

The elevator creaked, stopping with a low thud in front of you, craning open with an ominous groan. You could barely move, barely will your brain to tell your legs to get on, much too consumed with the terrorizing what-ifs.

Hopper looked ahead, spine straightening as the numbers climbed. The other officer moved his hand to his holster, gripping his gun as nonchalantly as he could, but you didn't miss it.

"Is he dead?" You asked, your own voice surprising yourself.

The other officer turned to Hopper, eyes cutting carefully to monitor his reaction. Hopper didn't turn, kept his head pointed forward, eyes trained on the doors. "No."

You could feel your shoulders fall in some sort of relief, muscles quaking at the release in pressure. The chime of the elevator accompanied the low groan of the doors parting for the three of you to step off.

The hallway ahead looked like something out of your worst nightmares. Dim and dark, flickering with lights and all together abandoned. There were men by the elevator, men by the doors, posted down the secluded halls. They all looked at you solemnly when you passed, eyes falling down in sorrow.

Gareth's mess of curls passed by the small, narrowed window of the closed door, once then twice, pacing furiously.

"Gareth?" His eyes flickered towards yours when you entered, wide and red-rimmed.

Jeff lifted his head, hands folded and placed between spread legs, head hung low with defeat. Max looked angry, furious, those steel eyes cutting and calculated; she was planning her revenge already. She was always so good at considering every step, carefully considering the best outcomes with optimal damages. It's why she was one of Eddie's closest 'goons'. He always laughed when he called her that.

Your chest ached at the thought, knowing you wouldn't hear his laugh today.

"What happened?" You asked, eyes darting from him to Jeff to Max. "I-Is he alright?"

"He got shot." Max snapped bitterly. You knew she didn't mean to be so biting, that she was angry and hurt; maybe even scared. "They got him in surgery right now."

You paled at the thought, lifeless and hopeless feeling leaving your frame and slithering down your body chillingly. The ringing in your ears returned, a dull screech that made your head spin.

Jeff called your name lightly, brown eyes drooped with pain. These were Eddie's closest friends. His most trusted friends that watched their friend get shot. He wasn't a boss to them, wasn't the mean scary mafia man who put a chilling fear into anyone with a look. To them, that was their friend; and they watched him get shot.

"He got shot in the chest." Jeff said slowly, a shaky exhale that he tried to hide, ducking his head back down.

You swallowed thickly, looking from Hopper back to Gareth, eyes begging for someone to say it wasn't true. To tell you he'd be ok. For Gareth to cackle and tell you, "Munson's had way worse, don't even sweat it," like he did when Eddie had to have stitches from a stabbing.

They didn't this time.

Instead, they all held the same solemn look in their eyes, scared and unknowing.

"They said they won't know if it hit his heart or-or a spinal chord until they open him up." Gareth swallowed, hands clenching to hide the shake in them. "He, uh, he lost a lot of blood."

You exhaled slowly, a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding, ribs feeling like they might cave in entirely, crushing your lungs- your heart.

"D-Do you think he'll be," You willed your voice out of your throat, shuddering breaths that threatened to escape with the tears you held back. "Is he going to be ok?"

No one answered you.

Downcast eyes that refused to meet yours, a thick, uncomfortable tension that lingered in the air, deafeningly loud over the buzz of the air conditioning in the small area.

***

The doctor came shortly after Wayne had arrived. Eddie's uncle sunk into the waiting room chair, knee bouncing furiously, those familiar brown eyes hard and trained on the wall.

No one spoke. No one knew what to say, what to do. That was the worst part, the waiting. Gareth paced, Jeff barely looked up, Max plotted, and Hopper tried to multitask- calling Rick and checking reports, huddled by the phone.

The anxious man still in powder blue scrubs stood before you, voice wavering while he told you Eddie's condition, throwing around the word critical and coma, two phrases that rung in your ears, piercing and loud.

Eddie laid lifelessly before you, a million beeping machines monitoring his condition, a wide tube shoved down his throat, ribcage expanding and falling sharply. Thick lashes that rested neatly on his cheeks. You were always so jealous of how long his lashes were, so beautiful framing those puddle eyes you adored. The dried blood around his mouth and nose, caked on crimson that made your stomach twist.

You'd never seen him so still. So flaccid and rigid, covered in a hospital gown, too colorful for anything Eddie would normally wear. He was never this idle, not even in his deepest sleep. His body twitched, lugged arms that weighed heavy on your body. He'd snore, drool, settle in his sleep; show some signs of life and movement. You used to whine and shove him off you, snap at him the next morning for hogging the blankets.

You wish you could take that back now. You'd let him have all the blankets, you'd let him drool in your hair, drop a heavy arm on you, snore in your ear all night; you'd do anything to have him be ok. Anything to be home in bed with him.

Wayne's shuddering breath startled you lightly, pulling you out of your fixated trance. "Boy," He grumbled, jaw clenched tightly. "What have you gone and done now?"

The doctor told you to be patient, that it would take time. It would be a slow recovery.

The silence crept back into the room, now filled with a background symphony of beeps and crinkling machines to lull out the sound of your dread and pain.

You and Wayne sat side by side, chairs huddled up by Eddie's bed watching him, the rise and fall of his chest, slow and calculated. Both of you scared to look away. Afraid if you did, it might stop.

***

"Missy, didn't I tell you to go home and get some sleep?" Wayne's gruff voice poured through the room, warm and grizzly, a nice contrast to the sharpness of the machines you'd grown used to.

You huffed playfully, folding up the blanket and tucking it in the chair next to your makeshift cot. "I wouldn't be able to sleep at home anyways." You muttered, rubbing at your eyes.

It had been a little over a week since you'd arrived, scared and skittish with that sinking feeling of impending doom. It still hadn't left, consumed your insides and left you queazy, but Eddie had started to improve. The doctors came in with positive reports daily, praises of his condition on the incline. The day before, you and Wayne watched Eddie start to twitch, eyelashes fluttering and moving a tiny bit in his induced sleep.

It made you grin. A little sliver of hope that was returning back to you. Wayne had laughed with you, pulling you close into his side in a comforting hug. "Y'know I always worry 'bout that boy not gettin' enough sleep. Guess on the bright side he'll be pretty well rested now."

You could make jokes now.

Now that Eddie was getting better. Now that they were taking the tube out and pulling him off the heavy sedatives. Now that his beautiful brown eyes were groggily staring into yours, letting you give him water on a sponge to wet his tongue.

"Hi, sweetheart," Eddie's slurred finally, voice cracking and rasping from the tube. The doctor told you he'd be sore from it for a while, a little foggy while the drugs wore off too, but even in his haze his eyes held that same warming light of adoration when they looked at you.

Lips trembling and chest tightening, you flung yourself carefully into his shoulder, heaving sobs that wracked through your whole body, muffled into the scratchy material of the gown. Eddie held you still, even in his loopy state, he comforted you lightly, calloused hands rubbing up and down your spine slowly.

"Don't ever scare me like that again, Eddie," You sniffled, watery and choking on your own sobs. "Thought I lost you forever."

"Can't get rid of me that easily, baby." Eddie droned, a lopsided dimpled grin and heavy lidded eyes that made you swoon. "I'm tougher than that."

And he was. He really was. You knew that he was, his friends did, Wayne did, Hopper did, the guys who did this to him certainly did; but you also knew the doctor's orders.

Dr. Montgomery had let Eddie go under one condition: rest.

Bed rest, sleep, antibiotics, and nothing extreme at least until the stitches healed.

You'd been absolutely buzzing with excitement when you brought him home, carefully commanding the dogs when you walked in, willing them down but letting them greet Eddie with excited wags. You'd set him up in the guest bedroom on the first floor, the stairs too strenuous for him now.

"Baby, I'm fine." Eddie moaned lightly, arm wrapped around you for support. "I wanna sleep in my own bed, please."

"The doctor said-"

"I'll be fine." Eddie sighed lightly. "Please? Just help me up the stairs. I'll go really slow and careful, ok? Just please, sweetheart, I wanna sleep in my own bed with you." Those brown eyes rounded, melting into you so sweetly, you couldn't possibly say no.

So you helped him up the stairs, Gareth and Jeff aiding you to make it as painless as possible. Eddie sunk into the silk sheets, freshly washed and scented with that detergent you loved so much. You hadn't let the housemaid clean the sheets until he was better, too scared to lose the scent of him that lingered on his pillows.

You slept better than you had in days, Eddie's hand grazing your hip, your waist, your cheek. Tearful whispers and shushed kisses shared under red bedsheets, promises of better days ahead, and you believed there would be.

Until the next day.

Heavy lids, still bleary with sleep, watched Eddie through blurry vision as he grunted softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. "W-What are you doing, honey?" You muttered, rubbing the palm of your hand over your eyes. "Tell me what you need. I'll get it. Y'don't need to be moving a lot. You'll tear your stitches."

Eddie smiled softly back at you, dressed in his black button down, black tailored Armani slacks, chains and rings; his work attire.

"Go back to bed, sweetheart. I'll be back in a little bit." Eddie whispered, a normally soothing tone that left you rigid instead.

Spine straightening, eyes blinking you looked at him carefully. "Eddie," Your eyes scanned over his frame. "You-What do you think you're doing?"

Eddie paused, slowly looking over his shoulder at you. "Baby," He started, that same tone he used when he was trying to soothe you; when he was about to tell you something you wouldn't like. "I gotta go to work."

Your heart stilled in your chest, a fluttering stop that left you breathless. "Are you-Are you being serious?" You blinked. "Eddie, you just got fucking shot-"

"It's nothing strenuous, baby, I promise." Eddie's quick reply came with a heavy sigh. "Jeff and Gare will be with me, and Rick made sure I was doubled up with his guys-"

"-You just got out of a coma!" You screeched, sitting on your knees, fully awake and furious. "A coma! You're supposed to be resting!"

"I will be." Eddie replied, calm and smooth, like you were arguing about something minuscule. "It's just meetings. Just planning-"

"-Eddie, you almost died." You choked on the word, that constricting around tears and fury.

There was a chilling silence, thick and ominous that settled between the two of you. Eddie's jaw flexed, eyes piercing into yours with a familiar look of fear. It always came across like a challenge, but you knew better; knew him better.

"I'll take it easy, I promise." Eddie's response was nonchalant, brushing off any of your fear and discarding it meanly away. "I'll be back soon."

Your heart raced uncomfortably, that familiar rising panic that you felt days before running through the hospital. "If you leave, I won't be here when you get back." Your heart thumped in your ears, chills shaking down your body. Eddie's hand lingered on the knob, stilling but not turning towards you.

"I swear to God, Eddie, if you walk out that door, I won't be here anymore. I'm not letting you kill yourself. You can't go back now, it's too soon. You-You'll get hurt." Your voice cracked, lip wobbling. "You're hurting me."

Eddie whispered your name, defeated and tired, eyes pleading with you like you were in the wrong. "I'll be back soon." He whispered, those thick lashed framing his eyes.

You swallowed back a sob when he shut the door, the click of the lock far too loud and heavy in the silent room. Tears rimmed your eyes, blinding your vision and spilling down your cheeks. Your heart ached, even as you waited, determined he'd come back. Sure he'd come through the door and apologize, smother you in kisses and apologies, rest like you'd begged him to do- like he'd promised he would do.

But he didn't.

The room stayed silent and still, the dogs watching you carefully from their beds, your eyes unmoving from the frozen doorway.

Unlike Eddie, you were true on your word.

He'd only been gone an hour and a half, rushing through the meetings at the warehouse, securing plans and leads before barking orders and coming back home. His chest ached, stitches healing and stretching uncomfortably, and he was tired, head still foggy from the medication.

All Eddie wanted was to go back home, pop a pain pill, and curl back into bed with you. The guilt of leaving you was eating him alive, but he had to go. Sure, Jeff or Gareth or Max could have covered the plans, he knew they were more than capable, but Eddie needed to do it; had to, for himself. The fear of getting swapped out and replaced for another was festering and stirring in the pit of his stomach.

Eddie called your name, a little surprised that the dogs didn't greet him. Instead, they were seated outside the bedroom door, whinging and whimpering pathetically to get in.

"Baby?" Eddie's brow furrowed, lips pressing together. "Don't tell me you're still mad at me, kitten. I told you I'd be back soon, I just had to finish a few-"

He didn't find you in the sea of red sheets like he imagined. He didn't find you in the bathroom, or the closet, or the living room, or anywhere. He didn't find your car gone, clothes missing, nothing out of the ordinary, but yet, he didn't find you.

Instead, he found a letter, neatly tucked in an envelope by your bedside table, scribbled words in your handwriting on a tear soaked card that tore his heart out, filled him with dread and fear and anger- not at you, at himself.

"Gareth!" Eddie thundered, sending the dogs into a frantic frenzy, barking and growling viciously.

Gareth pounded up the stairs, eyes wide in fear and alert. Eddie's tear-filled eyes met his, jaw clenched in anger. "Find her." He muttered. "Find her right fucking now. That's everyone's top priority."

"Ed, what-what hap-"

"-I told you to find her!" Eddie roared, the vein in his neck thrumming and protruding out fiercely. "Right now! Fuck!" He hobbled towards the stairs, gripping the steel banister for support.

"Ed, wait, seriously, you can't be acting like this, alright? I'll find her, but if you tear your stitches she's gonna be so mad." Gareth said calmly. He was used to this kind of attitude, exploding and chaotic, but he hadn't seen this side of Eddie in years. Hadn't seen him this scared in years, not even days ago when he was bleeding out in his arms.

"You better fuckin' find her, Emerson, you fuckin' hear me?" Eddie growled, chest heaving and ringed finger jabbing towards Gareth.

"I will, Ed, I will." Gareth held his hands up, backing away from Eddie carefully. "I'll find her just-just relax, ok? I'll find her."

***

Two days.

It had been two days of Gareth, Jeff, Max, and everyone else on Eddie's payroll searching tirelessly to find you. It wasn't until a traced call by Hopper that Eddie had his answer.

The gravel of the Forest Hills Trailer Park flew out under the tires of the Bugatti, speeding towards the familiar back lot. Eddie gripped the wheel tight, barely throwing the gear into park before he was stepping out, bounding towards the steps.

Wayne was already at the doorway, holding the screen door open with a hard glare. "Thought that doctor told you to rest?"

"Where is she?" Eddie ignored him, eyes mirroring his uncle's in a rivaling gaze. "Huh? Where's she at, Wayne?"

You stood, hidden from your place in the kitchen, peeking around the corner carefully. You could barely see Eddie's curls, wild and frizzy, clearly mussed from his hands tugging and pulling at the locks- something he always did when he was stressed.

"Thought that doctor told you to rest." Wayne repeated, stepping out on the front step. "Thought your girl told you that too."

Eddie swallowed hard, desperate to keep his emotions contained. He'd worked so hard for so many years to train himself to maintain his composure, keep his cool. "Wayne, please, ok? Please let me see her-"

"-Ya know, I hoped she was lyin' to me, boy." Wayne continues, heavy work boots clacking against the creaking step, shifting his weight with a low groan. "Thought for sure you'd be followin' your doctor's orders. Thought you'd actually want to be gettin' better after all that, might be different from your Daddy."

Eddie stilled at the mention of his father, a cold chill running down his spine at the comparison. Wayne never spoke of his brother, especially never to relate his son to him.

"You know, that girl in there called me in hysterics twice." Wayne held up two fingers, eyes slotting towards his nephew. "Once to tell me I needed to come see you, that you'd been hurt. No one else thought to do that, only her." Eddie swallowed, guilt bubbling higher and higher into his chest.

"Then she calls me to tell me you're already back out. Won't listen to the doctor, won't listen to her, too stubborn to let yourself heal after you promised her you would." Wayne could see Eddie's eyes blinking, watery and red-rimmed yet wide and watching his every move.

"I can put up with you doin' a lot of shit. Pretend not to know what them skulls on your arm mean, not talk about the obvious; fine. But I didn't raise you to be a liar." Wayne bit, jaw grinding in fury. "'Specially not to the ones you love. The ones who dropped everything to be with you. That girl in there loves you. Didn't leave your side once in that damn hospital." His finger pointed back towards the trailer where you stood, gripping the counter, hidden from their view.

"I-I know." Eddie stuttered out, a deep breath releasing from his nostrils slowly. "I love her too-"

"-Do you?" Wayne snapped.

There was a chilling silence that hung between the two men, thick and heavy, you could feel it all the way inside the trailer. Your heart twisted at the question, squeezing even harder at the potential answer.

"Don't you dare," Eddie's voice was low and gravely in his chest, catching in his throat. "You know I love her, don't you dare-"

"Don't you." Wayne sneered. "I ain't the one who's hurt her, that's you, Ed." You could see Eddie flinch through your tear soaked vision, recoiling at the harshness of his uncle's words.

"I-I didn't mean to-" Eddie stuttered, labored breathing and trembling words falling from his lips. You'd never seen him so frazzled, so emotional this way. So scared.

"Don't give me that shit." Wayne snapped, shaking his head. "You walked out that day, and you knew she didn't want you to go. You know who that sounds a lot like?"

Eddie didn't answer, neither did Wayne, the answer clear on both their faces. Eddie's father was reckless, too, so careless it ended up with his mother dead. Eddie swore he'd never be that stupid, the selfish, yet here he was. Acting exactly like Clint.

Eddie could feel his chest constrict, heaving heavily at the thought. The familiar aching burn of tears squeezing his airway, filling his lungs and throat and nose in the most uncomfortable way. Tears filling his eyes that he tried to will back, knowing once they started they wouldn't stop.

"Please," Eddie rasped, voice too unsteady for his own liking. "Please let me see her."

You could feel your own breath hitched, catching in your throat with a strangled gasp. You moved closer, trying to see Eddie through your own watery vision.

Eddie's eyes caught onto the figure moving slowly towards the doorway, lips pressing together at the sight of you; red rimmed eyes and cheeks that shined wetly even in the cloudy, sunless skies. He did this to you, fuck, he was just like his dad.

"Fuck, 'm so sorry, baby, 'm sorry." Eddie's voice wavered, heels of his hands pressing into his eyes, desperate to keep his leaking tears hidden.

Wayne turned back to look at you, lips pressed together lightly. You wiped your own eyes with the back of your hand, looking at him gently. "Can you... just give us a moment?" You asked softly. Eddie had turned, shoulder stuttering, hands running down his face.

Wayne nodded, eyes cutting back towards his nephew. "I'll be inside if ya need me." He patted your shoulder lightly, comforting, the same squeal of the hinges on the tracks before the door fell with a heavy latch.

You padded carefully towards Eddie, watching him intently with his back still turned. "Ed," You cooed lightly, stopping behind him. "Eddie?"

"I'm so fucking sorry." Eddie breathed, still not turning towards you. "I-I was scared that Rick would have me replaced or-or that the guys might see me as weak, and I-I shouldn't have..." A strangled cry tore through the air, his shoulders dropping low and shaking, chocolate curls cascading to block his covered face.

"Eddie, calm down, honey." You said softly, hands running over the silk material of his shirt. He was still dressed from before when he left for work, a little crumpled.

"I-I'm sorry." His eyes flashed to yours, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, streaming down to his chin. "I'm so sorry."

You reached for him instinctively, holding him close to you, mindful of his stitches though he didn't seem to care. Eddie clung to you, head dropping into your neck, shuddering breaths and shaky sobs mixing with soft apologies and watery promises.

You found yourself huddled in Eddie's old bedroom, pressed into the poster covered wall so the two of you could fit comfortably on the twin bed. His mess of curls, wild and tickling your cheek and chin, his cheek rested on your chest while you ran your nails soothingly through his hair, scratching at his scalp. The two of you stayed there for the week, Wayne and you swapping off on cooking, cleaning Eddie's wounds, making sure he could heal properly.

Eddie promised you, tucked under the quilt in his old bedroom, that he'd do better, he'd take care of himself for you; he wouldn't be like his dad. You whispered back your own vows to not leave him again, silent apologies passed to each other in between loving kisses and longing stares.

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