#take a look at reality for once and think about the kind of person you’d actually wanna interact with

[screampied]

‘ CANDY BOY ! ’

ᡴꪫ sum. who would have thought that the #1 camboy in your city was no one other than your virgin roommate gojo, who’s totally putting on a show for his fangirls. he talks too much, but maybe you can shut his mouth and put his sweetened little fantasies to reality.

wc. 5.8k

warnings. fem! reader, camboy!gojo, college au, gojo's a virgin, switch! gojo, unprotected, dirty talk, he gets pússy drunk quick, overstim, "good boy" usage, cunnilıngus, premature ejaculating, nipple play, lots of spıt, handjōbs.

if someone would have told you that your loser of of a roommate who stuffs his mouth with a bit too many sweets, cries at romcoms, and is just an overall dork was a camboy, you’d call them crazy. batshit crazy even, yet that’s exactly what happened—

gojo was rightfully one of the top camboys in the city, probably in the world too. he was sort of a household name, it was more of a side hustle for him. he did it only for the money—sure, he adored his fans, even the ones that went a little too extreme with the provocative thirsting. but that’s all part of the job, he’s about seven months strong in his little gig. every saturday and sunday, he logs on under the user of: @/GOJOSLUTORU.

the moment that same notification pops up that he’s live, a plethora of his fans join immensely, wondering just what their favorite camboy satoru was up to today. his streams would last for a good two hours—longer sometimes if it was some kind of special event where he’d reach a massive amount of donations, a special treat for his fans. gojo was beloved for his flirty personality, he’d make his fangirls swoon with his words, despite knowing full well he doesn’t know the first thing on how to please a lady.

that’s until you came along—more like catching him right in the act. it couldn’t have been any more embarrassing though. eleven thousand eyes were cheering him on, showering him with lewd "good boy" praises until you drop your bag.

“satoru?” you utter, curling your brow into a surprised furrow once you take in the scene in front of you. tossing the spare set of keys into the bin, you glance at your roommate—he freezes mid stroke with the most flustered expression. his hands were a bit … occupied, and a glimpse of a familiar cloth you once wore catches your eye. “are those my panties?”

“no….?”

with a deadpan, your shoulders drop before you drag your feet towards him to take a quicker look. oh, those were definitely your panties. so that’s where they ran off too. gojo tries to shield his nude exposed lower half with a nearby towel but it’s no use—you saw everything you needed to see.

“anywhooo,” he swallows, taking a brief peer at his chat that was flooding with all types of questions. they wanted to see you, they wanted to see gojo’s pretty roommate who he’s always rambling about on stream. clearing his throat, he runs a hand through his hair before pitching his tone. he tries to sound more attractive but ends up butchering right away, stuttering at his first pathetic sentence. “ i- i didn’t think you’d get here so early. how was the exam?”

“it was … fine,” you mumble, barely acknowledging his words. your mind was racing vigorously, trying to process how you’d just seen your roommate half naked. going up behind him, you lean in towards his neat set up—you grew a bit curious, immediately, your eyes meet the other eyes that stare back at you. near the top right displayed his large following of eight hundred thousand, the top left displays his current view count, a whopping amount of almost twelve thousand. peeking at the chat, you’re met with dozens of freshly new comments saying how pretty you are, asking if you’re his girlfriend he always talks about, and so on. “you’re a camboy?”

“heh, camboy’s kind of an exaggeration but,” and he’s nervous, you can hear the slight tremor in his voice. it’s cute, gojo was prepared for you to judge him for his side hustle but instead you don’t. he relaxes a bit, shifting his attention away from his crude chat and towards you. “i like to label myself as a um, streamer..”

you have a growing simper. “i don’t think streamers usually get naked for their audience,” and you take a quick stare at his attire—he was practically shirtless, his boxers were covered although he was wearing some kind of tank that had ‘submissive and breedable’ printed on the very front. you furrow your eyebrow, though you choose not to question it. his nervously sly smile only grows once he catches your eyes quite literally checking him out. glancing at the comments again, you hum. “why do they keep asking if i’m your girlfriend? you don’t have a girlfr-”

“woah, s-shut up!” he whines, cupping a hand over your mouth. you giggle, feeling the warmth of his palm rub against your lips. gojo lowers his voice, speaking in a faint whisper. “they think you’re my girlfriend,” and he peels his hand away before running a finger down his nape. “i told them that because-”

“satoru,” you roll your eyes, noticing how he was quite stiff with his body language. being this close to you, your mere elegant fragerence was so exhilarating for him. you made him this nervous, truth be told ; you were far too caught up in your academics to even realize your roommate had a little crush on you. however, you do wish you found out in a more … non less of a lewd way, a way where he wasn’t caught red-handed fondling with a pair of your pretty sage-colored panties. with a sigh, you mumble to him. “you wanna fuck, don’t you?”

that’s definitely not what he thought you was gonna say,

with pouty shimmery lips, gojo’s eyes widen before a sheepish grin marinates against his features. “pft. do i wanna fuck, whaaat?” and he doesn’t even last a second before sighing, dropping his head down in defeat. “y-yes..”

the ringing from his monitor — dozens of women sending him gifts, tickets, donations, begging for their favorite camboy to notice him only gets more disruptive.

the ringing grows louder, the repetitive chiming sound of bells, the blaring notification it makes whenever someone sends him a sweet contribution. pretty soon, he was on the verge of meeting yet another goal. ever since you got spotted on the stream, his viewer count doubled.

“well, why didn’t you just ask? besides, there’s other ways than using my panties to get off.” and a wave of embarrassment washes over his face. the towel’s still covering his torso before he shoots you a shy smile. any closer you could’ve got to him and he thought he was gonna explode. the heat radiating from you had his head going in a crazed ditz. stroking his cheek, you speak softly.

“i’m sorry,” he whines, bottom lip poking out. you end up sitting flat on his lap, and instinctively, the curvature of your waist was met with two big hands snaking around it. you’re so pretty like this, he wanted you so so bad. swallowing, he peeks towards his chat before you cup both of his temples to stare right back into your eyes. “i was gonna ask you but- but i’ve never done this, you know,” and the way you slide a finger behind his neck, skimming the texture of your middle finger down his undercut snatches a purr from him. “i- i want you, but i just don’t know what to do with like .. i wanna make sure that i don’t embarrass myself.”

oh, he couldn’t have been any more cuter,

you heard the slight crack in gojo’s voice at the end of his candied sentences before you sling your arms over him. “don’t be embarrassed,” you softly reply, still straddling his lap. “i can always show you how.” and he gulps, your voice was smooth as silk. sweet as honey, the more you strum your thumb down his undercut, the more he can hear the rapid pulse of his heart beat throb through his ears. the simplicity of your touch was enough to have him weak.

“please..” he murmurs in a hushed tone, loving the way how gentle, how tender you were with your touch. gojo mewls out a needy whimper, feeling a sudden tent rise near between his legs. he was hard, you’d giften him a pretty solid boner and whilst you were propped up on his lap, you felt it rub against you all too well.

gojo awaits for you to make the first move, but you’re teasing . . seeing if he was going to initiate, and he does, inching his sheeny lips into yours.

your roommate pulls you into a deep kiss, he tastes like candy, candied. with your arms still occupied, wrapping around him, you glide your tongue against his, parting lips, teeth clashing amongst each other in sync. you could hear the faint sounds of whimpers run from his lips, he doesn’t exactly know what to do with his hands though—so gingerly, a hand of his strums down your back, giving the fabric that stuck against your skin a soft yank. he wanted you, the strain beneath his half on boxers only grows the more he starts to suck on your tongue.

heavy, wheezing breaths collide against each other, hitting each moving muscle like a wave,

he’s so eager,

gojo’s mind clears everything out of his head and he’s just focused on you. the saccharine tang of your signature lip gloss, he tastes it and it’s so delicious.

through cerulean-pristine hazed peripherals, gojo looks towards his chat to read some of the comments . .

chososdoublehomicide: i miss choso

zorosthroatwarmer293: i wanna be gojo >:( she’s so pretty

secksybabeamy: Hey hot stuff ;) Subscribe to my only fans!

throatgoatemily: His whines omg

as the kiss deepens, gojo whines once your hand slithers its way down between his legs. slowly removing the towel that sheaths his exposed body, you feel against his dick. at first touch, he whimpers, then whines, then whimpers again.

he was so pent up—you could feel it, you were gentle with your fingers, brushing it against the length of his dick before gently wrapping a hand around its girth. gojo moans in your mouth, feeling hitched breaths arise from his lungs. he could never get enough of how fucking sweet you were,

and he didn’t even want to.

pulling away for a long gasp of fresh air, he bites his lip as he looks down to feel your hands stroke his cock. gojo had quite the staggering inches on him, he shivers at how precise your hand movements were—

up and down,

with a hand of yours gripping over his fat length, a thumb of yours runs down the vein that coats his shaft. its pulsing, he’s needy for more of your touch so bad that it sends shockwaving static to rigorously coarse through his bouquet of neurons.

“y-your hand feels so much better than mine, heh,” he breathes, swallowing the imaginary balled up lump that resides near the back of his throat. blue irises, dilated and all stares at you—a hand reaches towards your back before his thigh starts to bounce. “not to be weird but i kinda had a dream about this, angel.”

“a dream about me stroking you?” you hum, amused before sneaking a wet kiss near the crook of his twitching lips.

gojo nods wearily, forever deeply captured by your beauty. your hands swiftly resumes to stroke him, feeling the tender skin that lives near his frenulum peel back every few seconds. gojo moans, burying his face into the very depths of your neck. so desperate, he wanted more and more. “aw, is this too much? should i slow down?”

“no.. don’t stop,” and his desperate plea was so sweet, though he wanted to go further. you giggle once he suddenly lifts you up, dragging you towards the bed. “f-fuck, ‘m sorry. can’t wait anymore,” and he hovers over you with that crazed look of total desire. “can i … eat you out?”

with a coy smile, you’re laid on your back as he just stands over you — eyes gawking at your entire physique, the way your thighs were all out with the short hem of your shorts reaching against your ass. you could tell gojo was impatient, that hungry stare in his eye never once faded.

“yeah,” you coo, parting your legs slowly. oh, you were a fucking tease.

not only were you a tease for him, you were a simple force to be reckoned with. no panties on either, gojo felt himself get hard yet again before he kneels down. with your roommate positioning himself between your legs, he lets off a soft sigh.

combing your fingers through his soft tangles, he looks up at you with a craving yet impish expression. you giggle, making him look right into your eyes. peering at his chat that was going ballistic over his girlfriend, you speak in a soft tone. “do you know how to even eat pussy, ‘toru? i can h-”

“girl i know how to eat pussy,” he grumbles, and he sounds almost offended at you asking if he needed any sorts of help.

sure—gojo literally didn’t know the first thing of eating a woman out, maybe visually.

but now that he’s up close, he has to stop himself from folding right then and there. so soaked, he gets a full view of your slick entrance, your pussy was the prettiest thing he’s laid his eyes upon so far.

as he’s a few inches a apart, with sprawled open thighs—the last thing you’d expect was for to gojo to start drooling all on your cunt. a stringy, syrupy concoction of his own saliva pours out of his mouth and onto your folds. just a quick glimpse and he’s pussy drunk. fuck, he’s more embarrassed than he’s ever been but he can’t help it. gojo didn’t even get a taste and he’s already salivating at the sight of your sopping wet arousal. a thumb of yours wipes the spit that dribbles near the corner of his mouth and he whines at your touch again before he finally digs in.

lolling out his tongue, the very tip licks near the inner moistened entrance of your pulled out labia. gojo for probably the umpteenth time lays his tongue flat before he goes all in. a broad left hand of his attach towards the fat of your thigh as he remakes a long striping lick. “s-shiiit, ‘toru.” you gasp, the coldness on his tongue taking you by sheer surprise.

the texture of it .. you’re weak, gnawing on metaphoric bars of your enclose as well as the skin on your lip, you whine.

for someone who’s never had much experience, let alone no experience, you’d easily second guess. your back arches forward while gojo’s tongue rummages through every part of your clit. he sucks on your nub, closing his eyes and fully sinks into bliss. gojo’s pristine white brows cock into a furrow before he slides a thumb down your wet entrance. he just can’t get over how wet you were for him. sopping wet, inept lips of his constantly quivers before he gives your cunt a sweet kiss.

wet for him, he breaks his lips away for a few seconds just to smear his face against your pussy.

“m-mhm,” he whimpers, wanting your scent to linger on his face for as long as it could, your scent .. it was hard to not get obsessed, a few minutes in and he already felt his mouth watering.

as bundles of minuscule taste buds of his tingle with excitement — his tongue swiftly swirls through every orifice, not missing any spot. he searched through the gooey crevices of your walls, lips moving in complete tandem. his dick strains between his thighs that it’s almost painful.

if eating you out tasted this good, he only imagined what it’d feel like to be inside,

shoved deep into your pussy, stuffing you full with his luscious thickset inches . .

that same repeated whine that always sounds raw dies straight out of your esophagus, you yank on the strands of your roommate’s messy hair as his pace quickens by a mile. in the midst of devouring your heat, a broad hand of his caresses near the juncture of your thighs—he kisses the long slope inside of your entrance, lips all glossy and glittering with gloss thanks to you. that same panging throb starts to grow within you again. your toes curl up tightly before your eyes meet the drywall splattered on the ceiling. his tongue, the way it continues to scrabble all through every part of your cunt, he grows addicted almost immediately. gojo can’t help but lather a few sloppy kisses on your folds, sliding his tongue through your slit.

he even starts to tongue fuck you, softly thrusting the swollen tip of his tongue in and out until you’re about to whine out again for him.

that was his favorite part by far, pushing his tongue in and out of your puffy folds — relishing the way your pretty pussy coats the underside of his chin with a lustrous amount of sweet, burnished slick.

“ngh, ‘toru,” you’d wail, and your hips start to jitter against his face. he doesn’t mind . . in fact, gojo brings two hands to grip against the curves of your hips.

once he maintains a secure grasp, he lets you rub your wetness all over him. with his tongue thoroughly exploring in every part, he starts to whine too .. so eager to touch himself but he wants to keep his hands on you. a whiny whimper wrenches from the back of your throat before you start to babble. “satoru, ‘m gonna cum, fuuuck. jus’ like that, keep l-lickin’ there, baby.”

he was such a quick learner, part of you thinks he maybe had more experience than you oughta thought. gojo can’t help but attack your sweet syrupy folds with a multitude of kisses, drooling lips of his making you more sticky than you already were. your legs could barely hold themselves open.

he had to pry them open with clammy hands, slurping in every drop as if he was dehydrated with thirst. a thirst you happily quenched with him being propped between your legs. after a while, he runs a thumb down your slit once more, pretty eyes glancing up at you, wanting to see your sweet face. “a-am i doin’ a good job?” and his voice was a bit hoarse, the way he speaks, drooping eyes and a sheepish grin—visibly pussy drunk, you grab onto his strands before rocking your hips into his mouth. he giggles, muffled noises eliciting from his mouth, taking your eager jittery movements as a yes.

he just couldn’t get enough of his roommate’s taste.

occasionally, he likes to depart his lips to gather a nice concoction of saliva—only to then spit right onto your sopping folds, whining at how it was so shiny. so pretty, he’s mesmerized again at how it looks, and you end up cumming with the cutest shrieking orgasm. it snatches out of you roughly, your speech is slurred for a moment as your legs quaver in utmost pleasure.

you’re shaking, feeling him clean you up with the flatness of his tongue—gojo moans, white lashes fluttering as he takes your beauty in. this was so much better than one of his risqué wet dreams. so much better,

without even a single word leaving from his lips, he gets up to pull you into a kiss. almost immediately, you taste yourself that lingers on his tounge. it tastes sweet, gojo props himself between your thighs as you sit up, a free hand of his sliding between your stretched out legs. the constant rings of his donations continue to scream out that same annoying chime before he leans in to shut his computer. he’d probably have left so many—thousands of his fan girls devastated, but there was only a new fan girl he was fixated on.

you.

gojo was addicted, with tongues colliding against each other, hot breaths wafting against each own, he feel his breath hitch at your touch. a hand of yours snakes down to feel on his erect dick. he whines, gnawing at the bottom of your lip before his tongue gets more curious. he licks the bottom of your chin, the side of your mouth, only to then pull you into another deep kiss. “f-fuck, ‘m so hard,” he rasps between sultry kisses, heaving from each breath. you still couldn’t get over the taste of yourself that loiters all on the flat of his pink tongue. “i wanna feel you from the inside, angel.”

“but your stream,” you tease once he finally pulls away, taking a second to catch your breath yourself. you felt the heat roam across the room before stroking his cheek — flushed lips of his burn with such intensity, you had him feral. “your fans, i wouldn’t wanna interrupt them, ‘toru.”

“fuck them,” he pouts, the cute frown on his face tugging against his lips. “okay that’s mean, they help me pay rent but just- i want you right now,” and he’s so needy. he paws at your t-shirt, glossy eyes widening, god. his bottom lip pokes out, squinting for two seconds before seeing how your nipples invitingly poke out. so perky, he could feel his mouth watering sporadically. he lays you back before swallowing, a loud gulp before he hovers over you. “you knew this was gonna happen, didn’t y-you? such a tease.”

you simper, opening your legs for him and he gets a good glimpse. gojo sucks his teeth, still so soaked. he only dreamt of what you’d feel like inside.

probably so tight and warm,

the more he thinks about it, the more he could feel himself starting to drool. gojo’s panting as if he’d just finished a marathon. a hand of his wraps around his length—giving it a few solid pumps. “i thought you’d wanna do doggy for your first position,” you sweetly say, and oh, he pouts for you again. you sit up, awaiting for him to take the lead first before smiling. “missionary though? you’re not so good with eye contact, baby.”

“i know how to do missonry.” he grumbles.

“missionary,” you correct him with a titter.

he pouts again, preparing to align himself. so wet, your pussy was sopping wet, swollen from just being eaten out so good. a warm breath fans out through his lips before he rubs it against your slippery slit. “and don’t call me baby,” he moans, although the simple pet name for him a lot harder than he thought it would. slowly, gojo’s fat leaky tip continues to ghost against your folds. you hold back a sweet moan, laid all out on display for him on the mattress. he’s waited for this moment, had dreams about it, even fantasized about it. “fuck,” he’d huff out, and his voice cracks. you’d laugh but he’s staring at you the entire time with that cute pouty expression. “can- can we hold hands? for you know, leverage?”

“leverage, sure,” you play along, your fingers locking against his. damp, perspiring palms squeeze against yours before his rounded tip starts to slowly make its way inside. immensely, a breath gets caught in his throat and he whines. the warmth he’s rudely greeted with makes him gnaw his pearly whites together. “you’re kinda b-big, so go a little slow, ‘toru.”

“i’m big?” he repeats—cutely enough, it boosts his ego that you think so, yet his confidence fades the further he dumps a few hefty inches into your entrance. as you expected, you were a bit tight and stiff for a few seconds—unyielding against him for a moment, you moan. saying gojo was big was a mere understatement, he couldn’t help but lean in to lay against your chest. “how’s it feel? s-slower?”

“it’s good. that’s good,” you start to heave, gasping once he inches his head closer to latch his lips against your neglected cold nipples. he doesn’t even lift up your t-shirt, he runs his tongue through the fabric and sucks on your perked tits. “t-toru, fuckk.”

it was a soft twinge sensation at first before he’s close to bottoming out . . so close,

it’s at the moistened tip of his tongue. gojo’s shaft resumes to go in further, you feel him pulse inside before once he’s all the way in, he’s already out of breath. with his mouth occupied—he’s still sucking on your nipples through the shirt, whiney. a free hand of his runs gives your left thigh a nice firm grasp before he starts up a single few thrusts.

you whine, tossing your arms over him and he glances down at you—beads of sweat race down the sides of his brow before he sits up in a proper position. gojo can’t get over how pretty you look for him like this, he’s fully in and he sneaks a kiss onto your lips. “can i m-move?” and the falter in his voice was adorable, gojo’s breath continues to get more heavy before you give him a nod. he peppers various kisses near your mouth, neck, and of course, your precious chest. his personal favorite,

with frail arms wrapped around him, pulling him close—you run your ankle down his back and he moans. “oh, ‘s even better than i imagined,” he whispers against your ear, hot breath sending you antsy judders. the more his breath goes against your skin, the more you smell how minty it was. fresh, you desperately yearned for more so you pull him into another kiss for the nth time. “ugh. the way you clamp down, ‘s gonna kill me,” he babbles in a low puff. he’s speaking between staring up at decent pace for you to get accustomed to. you whimper, trying to get adjusted to his barreling length but he was just so fucking big. it was an ongoing rumor that between gojo—and his best friend suguru geto had the top biggest dicks. of course, you always wondered exactly how whoever started that rumor would even know, but gojo was definitely a packer. he stretched you out in ways you’ve never felt before. with strained breaths, he coats your mouth with many wet kisses. time and time again, the feeling of himself going into you raw has him drooling again. “pussy’s so wet, ‘m gonna die, oh my god.”

“don’t be dramatic, you’re not gonna die.” you try to reassure him. the grip on your hand only grows tighter, crimson lips of his suck against the underside of your chin.

so damn needy,

mussed strands of white tickle against your forehead the closer he presses his body into you. gojo was shivering, just a few minutes in pussy and as if it was a game—he’d be on the last level, game over. albeit, you feel it too. the warmth, it turns into a sweltering hot. as his hips rock, his whines start to become more vocal. he sneaks a hand down to feel the area that’s being stuffed, a thumb skims against your tummy before he moans,

“feel me t-there, yeah?” he whispers, a cute attempt at dirty talk but alas, it’s subtle. gojo easily folds once your eyes meet his gaze.

you moan, intertwining your fingers with his, moaning out a soft, “yeah,” and you sound out of breath yourself.

he’s jerking back and forth — his pace, his tempo . . wasn’t too slow or two fast, perfect.

with a quivering bottom lip, he leans in to lick against the outer shell of your ear. your cunt’s singing in harmony, sloshes of wet that leaves its metaphoric vocal cords and you start to get a bit louder. “f-fuck, ‘toru right there—fuuuck.”

“s-shit, you’re so pretty,” he pants, repeating his ways at coating your entire face with his wet kisses. you had him weak, entirely. you found it a bit silly considering how this could have happened anytime—anytime at all, all he had to do was ask. but gojo being gojo, he was not only a man with barely any experience, but he was nervous. he’s always had a bit of a crush on you but confessing sounded way scary. it was as if this entire thing was mere coincidence though, you happen to find out he’s not only a sloppy eater but,

he’s a camboy.

part of you wonders what he does on his streams. if you saw him rubbing one off while thinking about you—you could only imagine what other lewd antics he participated in.

gojo’s rutting into you at a much more quicker pace, he’s whining into your neck;

forgetting to praise you, and it’s more of the other way around. you’re cupping his face, stroking his cheek before repeating in that same melodic voice, “good boy, ‘s so good, makin’ me feel good, ‘toru baby.”

your voice, oh your voice, he could listen to it all day. you feel the constant twitch of his cock inside you and he whines every time your ankle rubs down his back. with the way your pussy holds him hostage— it’s so provocative, his reaction time was as slow as a sloth, droopy eyes stare at you before he grunts out a pleading, “f-fuck, ‘s gonna come,” and his voice sounds like a soft purr, gojo was like a kitten to you— so cute, his pout always make things more true too. he’s groaning in your ear, fat balls thwacking against you before his ears starts to ring. you’re moaning with him, bodies thrusting in sync that it’s almost like a pornographic choreography. “ugh, i- i feel it, ‘m gonna cum so much. so hot, gonna die.”

“breathe, baby,” you whisper, pulling his face closer to you. his chubby cheeks squish together once he’s within your grasp, the sharp piston of his hips makes you moan. his thrusts gets a bit sloppy and you press a kiss onto his mouth. “mwah,” you hum, watching how flustered he gets at a lick of your affection. “you wanna finish inside, don’t you?”

gojo whimpers. “yeah, yeah. really bad,” and the moment you suggest that, his ears perk cutely. he’s gotta be careful though—with a cunt as addicting as yours, he just might end up falling in love.

speaking of love, it’s as if heart eyes pour into his irises as he glances at you—again, metaphorically of course. gojo gulps at the tender touch of your fingers, leaning in to nip a kiss near your neck. through muffled words, he mewls. “i wanna fill you up. ‘s only fair since you’re milking me s-so much, ‘m so thirsty,” and he’s just babbling, pulling him close—he whines once he feels your finger glide through his sensitive undercut again. “hngh, gonna break me. let me make a mess in you please? i’ll even eat it out of you once ‘m done.”

you’re tempted at his pleads, giggling before dragging him into a deep kiss. “such a blabbermouth,” you tease between kisses, staring to feel the tears of sweat race down the sides of your forehead also— with a sly smile, you lick the drool that was about to run down the side of his lip. “finish in me, ‘toru. it’s okay. be my messy boy.”

his eyes dilated once he hears that,

your messy boy.

he even repeats it, “y-your messy boy, yeah, ‘m so messy for you, roomie,” and as he’s preparing for his inevitable release, he sinks into your warm embrace. “one more kiss, h-hold me.” and as if on command, you yoke his head in close, giving him a deep, passionate kiss. his pulsing heart beats through his ears. gojo—by this point, he was already whipped. the way his hips pick up, growing more sloppy and deranged—he’s feral.

the feverish under parts of his thighs burn, longing for its incoming conclusion climax—yet, as your smoldering heat gnashes against his, it finally comes.

with a primal gasp, it’s here.

the nirvana—euphoria, whatever it could have been called to describe this feeling, it was here.

gojo whimpers, going into a complete spazzing fit once he feels the slow orgasmic waves of himself starting to shoot literal humid blanks inside you.

it’s hot, parching hot— your heat against smelts his, it scratches a fervor itch in your brain. his tongue rummages the inside of your mouth again as he’s painting the insides of your gummy walls with his snowy white color.

satiny ropes of your roommate’s seed trickle into you, it’s so gooey and hot that it starts to stick against the inner parts of your thighs. each rough kiss reflects the same desire the both of you share before he shudders.

slow thrusts, he’s barely moving as fast as he was before but he’s still active. he wants to make sure you feel every inch he’s saved for you,

for weeks, months, maybe even years—

“god,” he whimpers out, pulling away from your glossed lips—a pretty cobweb of spit departs from each and he happily laps it up with his tongue. who knew your roommate was nothing more than a mere freak.

not you, not by a long shot.

it takes a moment for him to catch his breath, with a flustered look— gojo’s now clingy.

he doesn’t wanna move away from you, nor does he wanna exactly pull out. not just yet, he’s plugged you full of sticky cum that was threatening to ooze of your hole before he kisses the bridge of your nose. “that was so awesome.”

and just like that, the mood’s ruined—you pant, he’s hovering over you, his weight barely on you before you sigh.

“you know,” you change the subject, brushing a thumb against his cheek. “your moans, you sound more like a girl than me, ‘s kinda hot.”

“whaaat?” he grumbles, his sweetened pout forever returning. “that’s not nice, ‘n besides if it’s anyone who moans louder it’s you, angel.”

you kiss near the twitching corner of his lip, watching his sudden attitude shift like a light switch and he’s now a puddle. “you finished a bit early though,” and with your arms wrapping around him again, you speak in a soft voice. “wanna go again? you’re a natural, ‘toru.”

“please,” he whines with a nod, feeling how sweltering hot it felt to be still buried into the comforting tightness of your cunt. “this time, i wanna try doggy.”

“okay, pretty boy,” you tease, leaning in for another one of gojo’s sloppy, need kisses. just before he could pull out, the door springs open. the hinges scream once it pulls back and the two of you both look to see what the racket was.

as the door opens, it was geto—gojo’s best friend, and he had the most disgusted look on his face.

with a scrunched up face, he utters. “i’m never running errands for you two again, what the actual fuck.”

and as he turns his heel to leave, gojo snorts. “suguboooo! aw, don’t leave just yet. you can always joinnn.”

[requiemforthepoets]

he drives me crazy, it’s so beyond me 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x fewtrell!reader

SUMMARY: you’ve been hating on lando for a very long time now, since you were kids to be exact. only to realize that those hatred is only a mask for what you truly feel for him.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i’ve been on a slump lately, have so many works unfinished but i don’t really have the drive to finish them lol but my break from uni is near, so maybe i’ll get the motivation to finish all of it. for the meantime, hope you’ll enjoy this one! :)

REMINDER: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 3.3k

WARNINGS: typos, cursing, and playboy lando

Growing up being Max’s younger sister meant that you were always surrounded by his friends, and none of them irritated you more than Lando Norris. From the very beginning, something about Lando rubbed you off the wrong way. Though you had never understood why, there was something—an inexplicable annoyance that only grew stronger with time.

As kids, you tolerated him, well mainly because Max adored him and that they are racing karts together. You can’t just tell Max to stay away from Lando for no apparent reason, that would make look like an absolute ass. But as you all grew up, Lando’s behavior began to infuriate you even more, and it just got worse when he got to F1. He began dating girls and moving on as quickly as the seasons changed, never seeming to care about the trail of broken hearts he left behind. It wasn’t just his carefree attitude towards relationships or life in general; it was the way he would tease you every fucking chance he gets. If you tripped over a pebble or on air, he’d make a joke about it. Making fun of every little thing that he would notice about you. You just couldn’t stand it, and you couldn’t stand him and his whole existence.

But somewhere along the line, something strange started to happen. With all the teasing and eye rolls, you found yourself paying a little too much attention to him. Too much for your liking. It was almost as if you were noticing the first time how his aquamarine eyes sparkled everytime he laughed, or how his curly hair seemed to suit him perfectly. It made you mad—so fucking mad that you wanted to scream. How could you, of all people, start to like Lando Norris? Your public enemy number one.

Then the realization hit you like a shit ton of bricks. You were developing a massive crush on the one person you were supposed to hate. Surprised by the sudden realization, and you being you, instead of acknowledging it, you decided to bury it deep down, covering it with even more layers of loathing. If he said something stupid, which he always does, you’d snap back at him twice as hard. If he smiled that cocky grin, you’d glare daggers at him. But inside, your heart would be pounding, and it drove you crazy. It’s pretty much a fucking miracle that you have been able to stay sane.

One day, after a particularly annoying comment from Lando about your choice of outfit, you finally snapped. “You know, Lando, if I wanted your opinion, I’d ask for it. But I didn’t, so why don’t you just keep your mouth shut for once?” Then you rolled his eyes at him. You’re going out today, you don’t need this kind of negativity. “Besides, don’t you have your own fucking house? Why are you even here?”

Lando grinned, clearly enjoying how riled up you were. “I’m just saying, those shoes look like something a hobo would wear.”

You groaned in frustration. “God, you’re such an asshole, Norris! Do you ever stop to think before you speak?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He shot back, winking at you.

You felt your cheeks flush, and not from anger. You wanted to punch him, but at the same time, there was this insane urge to grab him by the collar and kiss him just to shut him up. But instead, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the room, muttering under your breath about how he was the most annoying person on the planet.

But then there were those moments when you saw the other side of Lando, the one that made your heart ache in a way you couldn’t even fucking explain. Like the time when he won his first race in Miami. The whole crowd erupted in cheers, everyone was celebrating his win and you found yourself smiling as he won his first race, a huge smile on his face as he celebrated. Your first instinct was to run up to him and give him a hug and tell him how proud you were. But then, almost immediately, you wanted to wrap your hands around his neck for making you feel this way. He had a unique talent for pushing all your buttons, and yet, no one could make you feel the way he did.

After the race, you all went out to celebrate, and as usual, Lando couldn’t resist teasing you. “Come on, admit it, you were impressed, weren’t you?”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the small smile from tugging at the corners of your lips. “You were okay, I guess,” you said nonchalantly.

“Okay? Just okay?” Lando feigned hurt, clutching his chest dramatically. “I expected more from my biggest hater.”

“Well, don’t expect me to start fangirling over you now,” you shot back, though your heart wasn’t really in it.

Lando just playfully winked at you, and excused himself, walking away and waving at someone else. You couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to admit it. To finally confess that maybe the reason why you hated Lando so much was because you love him in a way that no one else could. But you quickly dismissed that thought, shaking your head. There was no way you’d ever let him know how much he affected you. Not when he had the power to break your heart with a single word.

As the night went on, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. He was the center of attention, as always, and yet, for a moment, his eyes caught yours, and he smiled. Not a teasing grin that he would always send your way, but a genuine, warm smile. It made your stomach do flips, and you quickly looked away, mentally cursing yourself for being so weak.

In the middle of the night, you found yourself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the day’s events in your mind. You hated how he could get under your skin so easily, how he made you feel things you didn’t want to feel. It was maddening, infuriating, it drives you nuts, and yet…you couldn’t stop thinking about him. How was it possible to love and hate someone so much at the same time? You didn’t know. You don’t have an answer for the lingering questions in your mind and it drove you crazy.

“Why him?” You whispered to yourself that night, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. “Out of all the fucking people in the world, why does it have to be him?”

You knew Lando could be a major asshole, but somehow, he was your asshole. No one else could make you feel this crazy mix of anger, frustration, and affection all at once, and despite all the annoyance, deep down, you knew you loved him. It made you mad, and yet, in some twisted way, it also made sense. No one else could make your heart race like Lando did, that can make you feel so alive, so frustrated, so utterly confused—and most importantly, no else could break your heart like Lando Norris, and you were beginning to think that maybe, you didn’t want anyone else to.

It has been three months since Lando’s first win, but the tension between the two of you hadn’t eased. In fact, it felt like it was growing stronger, pulling you into a confusing spiral of emotions. It was one of those days that you were grateful enough that you were back in uni, and have to forget about him even for a short period of time.

Though it didn’t last long, you can’t stay and hide in uni forever. So here you were, officially back home for a break, and you decided to stay at Max’s for the time being. Prior to arriving from uni, Max had already asked you if you wanted to come with them on their holiday trip, but you passed on it, making up some silly excuse and wanting to get the rest you need since you haven’t had the proper rest back when you were in uni. You wanted to avoid being in the same place with him as much as possible, you definitely don’t trust yourself to keep up the charade of hating him when your heart was screaming the exact opposite.

It was when they’re already back from their trip, and as usual, Lando is at Max’s place. You found yourself in exactly in the situation you’d been dreading. Max had invited Lando over to help him with something, and you figured you could just stay in your room, far away from the inevitable teasing from him. But when Max suddenly had to leave to deal with some urgent matter, you were stuck. It was just you and Lando, alone in the living room, with a show neither of you cared about playing in the background.

Lando being Lando, of course he wasted no time in getting into your nerves. “So, how long are you planning to hide up there?” He asked, his tone annoyingly casual as he sprawled out on the couch.

“I was not hiding,” you retorted, focusing on your phone and pretending he wasn’t there.

“Sure, you’re not,” he said with a smirk. “You’ve been acting pretty weird lately. You didn’t even come to the trip that we invited you on. Is everything alright?”

You nearly choked on your words. How could you even begin to explain what was wrong—that you were utterly terrified of how much you liked him? That every time he teased you, your heart skipped a beat instead of fuming with anger? That you couldn’t fucking stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss him.

“Everything’s fine,” you lied, hoping he couldn’t see the turmoil behind your eyes. God, you just wanted for this conversation to end or better yet, wishing for the ground to swallow you whole right then and there.

“Uh-huh,” Lando said, clearly unconvinced. He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. “Oh my god, why do you even care?” You shot back defensively. “You’re just here to annoy me, right? So why don’t you just go call someone and bother them instead?”

Lando’s smirk faded slightly, and he studied you with an intensity that made you uncomfortable. “You think I just want to annoy you?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, frustrated by his persistent questioning. “That’s what you’ve always done ever since, isn’t it?”

Lando shook his head, looking more serious than you’d ever seen him. “No. Not really.”

The shift in his demeanor threw you off balance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his beautiful curly hair that you want to touch so badly. “It means that maybe I didn’t just do it to annoy you. Maybe there was another reason.”

You blinked, your mind racing to keep up. “What reason?”

Lando sighed, leaning back on the couch and staring at the ceiling. “God, this is harder than I thought,” he muttered to himself before finally looking at you. “Look, I’ve known you since forever. Yeah, I used to tease you because you were Max’s younger sister and it was fun. But somewhere along the way, it wasn’t just about teasing anymore. I think I did it because…I didn’t know how else to get your attention.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “What are you saying, Lando?”

“I’m saying that maybe I’ve had a crush on you for a while now,” he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. “And I’ve been acting like an idiot because to be fairly honest, I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

You stared at him in utter shock, your brain struggling to process what he’d just said. All this time, you thought your feelings were unrequited, that he was just being his usual annoying self, but now, everything was different. The anger, the frustration, the confusion—it all made sense now.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” you whispered, still reeling from his confession. “Honestly.”

Lando smiled softly, a hint of nervousness in his expression. “You don’t have to say anything, I just want you to know. I get it if you don’t feel the same way, or if you’re too mad at me for being a jerk all these years. But I wanted to be completely honest with you for once.”

The room was silent for a moment, the air thick with tension and unspoken words. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “Lando, I—“

But before you could finish, Lando suddenly stood up, crossing the room in a few quick strides. “You know what? I can’t fucking take it anymore.” And with that, he grabbed your face in his hands and kissed you, pulling you into a kiss that was both urgent and tender at the same time.

For a split second, you were too shocked to respond. But then, your body seemed to take over, and you found yourself kissing back, all the frustration and anger melting away in the warmth of his embrace. It felt like everything you’d been holding back, all the mixed emotions you’d been burying, finally broke free. When Lando finally pulled back, you were both breathless, staring at each other in stunned silence.

“Why did you do that?” You asked, your voice shaky.

“Because I’ve wanting to do it for a long fucking time,” Lando admitted, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “And because I couldn’t stand the thought of you hating me for real.”

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t hate you, Lando. I…I think I might be falling for you, and it’s terrifying to tell you honestly.”

Lando grinned, his usual cocky demeanor returning. “Well, that’s a relief. Because I’m pretty sure I’m falling for you too.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between you dissolving into something warmer, something that felt a lot like hope.

“You’re still an asshole, though.”

“And you’re still a pain in the ass,” Lando shot back, his grin widening.

This time, there was no venom behind your words, no hidden frustration like it was used to. Instead, there was a new understanding between you—a mutual acknowledgment that maybe the thing you’d both been fighting against all these years was exactly what you needed. When Lando leaned in to kiss you again, you realized that no one else could make your heart race like he did, and no one else could make you as crazy or as happy.

However, Lando’s confession and that unexpected kiss did leave you feeling more confused as ever. As much as you wanted to believe in the moment, in the warmth of his touch and softness of his lips, a familiar fear gnawed at the back of your mind. After all, this is Lando Norris that you’re talking about—the guy who seemed to switch girlfriends at lightning speed. You’d seen him charm his way through countless girls, only to move on without any second thought. The idea of being just another name on his list made your chest tighten with fear and anxiety.

As you sat still, still close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, Lando looked at you with a hopeful expression, waiting for you to say something. But instead of responding with the excitement that was bubbling up inside you, all you could think about were the stories, the rumors, and the heartbreaks you’d witnessed.

“Lando,” you began, moving away slightly, creating a small but significant distance between you and him on the couch. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“Why not?” His smile faltered, concern creeping into his eyes.

You bit your lip, trying to find the right words that won’t hurt him. “Because…” you trailed off, “I know you, Lando. I know your way with girls. Yes, I can’t deny the fact that you’re very charming and sweet when you want to be, but the way you get bored and move on quickly scares me. I…I don’t think I can handle being just another girl you get tired of.” You breathed out.

Lando’s expression softened, and he reached out to take your hand, but you hesitated. He noticed this right away and dropped his hand to his side.

“I get why you’d think that. I haven’t exactly been the most reliable guy when it comes to relationships, am I?” You nodded and he chuckled, “but this…this is different.”

“Is it?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Or are you just saying that because I’m here and it’s convenient?”

Lando shook his head, gaze so intense that you might melt and turn into a puddle any second. “It’s not like that, I promise. I know I’ve messed up before, but I’ve never felt this way about anyone. You’re not just another girl, and I’m not just saying that. I’m really serious about you.”

You wanted to believe him, you really did. But the fear of getting your heart broken, of being left behind like so many others, made it hard to fully trust his words.

“But what if you get bored? What if this is just a phase for you, and once you’ve had your fun, you move on to someone else?”

He looked at you with an earnestness that you weren’t used to seeing him. “I can’t blame you for being scared. But the truth is, I’m scared too. I’m scared because I’ve never wanted someone so much, something to work out this badly. I don’t want to mess this up. I know I have a reputation, but I don’t want that to be who I am with you. I want to be better—for you.”

You stared at him, your heart warring with your head. Could he really mean what he was saying? Was it possible that he could change, that you could be the one he was serious about? But even as the doubts swirled around you, there was a part of you that desperately wanted to take the leap, to believe that maybe this could be different.

“I don’t know if I can handle getting hurt,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough for that.”

Lando took a deep breath, his expression sincere. “I can’t promise that I’ll be perfect, but I can promise that I’ll try my best not to hurt you.” He said, tucking a few strands of your hair behind your ear, “I care about you too much to let that happen. But if you don’t want to take the risk, I’ll understand. I’ll back off if that’s what you want.”

You could see the honesty in his eyes, the vulnerability he rarely showed. It made your heart ache, knowing that he was giving you the power to decide where this would go. It would be easy to walk away, to protect yourself from the possibility of pain. But then again, what if he was telling the truth, what if this was real.

“No, I don’t want you to back off,” you finally said, your voice steady despite the nerves twisting in your stomach. “But I need time, Lando. I need to see that you’re serious before I can let myself fall for you completely.”

Lando nodded, relief washing over his face. “I’ll give you all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

You smiled, feeling a bit of the tension ease, though the uncertainty still lingered. “Good. Because I’m not sure I could handle it if you did.”

As the two of you sat side by side on the couch, the show was still playing in the background, the atmosphere between you had shifted. There was no rush, no need to force anything. It was just the two of you, slowly navigating the complicated mess of emotions that came with falling for someone who scared you as much as they made you feel alive, and maybe that this was the start of something real.

[sohnric]

plot twist – k. sunwoo

pairing: kim sunwoo x gn! reader

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

wc: 21k

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

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

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

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

TONIGHT'S PREMIERE – UGLY TRUTH (2009)

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

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

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

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

Until one fateful day, of course. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait– newbie–”

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TONIGHT'S PREMIERE – PALM SPRINGS (2020)

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

Why?

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

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

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

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

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

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

He just laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, pretty much.”

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

“My dad’s watching.”

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

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

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

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

Oh, how foolish of you.

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

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

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

“Look, you don’t have to-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who are you kidding?

You’d definitely say yes.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – THE HATING GAME (2021)

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

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

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

Maybe you should thank him, in a way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know what those are–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sunwoo–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely not.”

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

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

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

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

“Which one?” he asks, seemingly interested.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

“Because,” he shrugs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look, I really can’t-”

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

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

“Because…?” you demand a valid reason.

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

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

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

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

Maybe you should quit yourself, actually.

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

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

Yeah. Not too many.

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

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

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

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

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

Wrong.

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

“Fuck, man–”

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

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

“Oh?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Kim Sunwoo–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have to be kidding me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do you believe him? No. Absolutely not. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look, it’s not me, it’s my dad–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The screening room was definitely cleaned before.

Which means that Sunwoo brought you here for absolutely nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I couldn’t,” he shrugs.

“Huh? But you bought two tickets..?”

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

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

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

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

“Probably,” he admits.

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

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

“Are you not leaving?” you ask.

“No,” he hums, “should I be?”

“Well, you’re on the clock…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – CLUELESS (1995)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sir, I can’t-”

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

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

“So?”

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s ridiculous-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sure he will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – ME BEFORE YOU (2016)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You force yourself not to care.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How would you know?”

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

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

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

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

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

He fails you, though. “No.”

“Why not?”

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

“Oh come on–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, so it’s not working.

You’re fucked.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – THE PROPOSAL (2009)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not fair.”

“Very fair, actually.”

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

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

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

Fuck, you think. That’s my favorite. 

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

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

“Just because. It’s too long.”

“It’s not even two hours?”

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

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

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

“Y/N, come on–”

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

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

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

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

“Maybe,” you shrug.

And maybe, the true reason is something completely else. 

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

You decide you no longer want answers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Grab a chair…?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The choice is yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sunwoo!”

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

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

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

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

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

Kim Sunwoo does make a really good kisser.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – PRIDE AND PREJUDICE (2005)

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

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

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

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

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

It’s the first snow of the season. 

Kim Sunwoo loves it when it snows.

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

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

Well, here goes nothing, you think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought so too,” you nod.

“And you don’t?”

Shrugging, you reply. “Not really.”

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

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

“You don’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re so cheesy.”

“But you quite like me anyways, no?”

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

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

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

“We’ll see,” you shrug.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[gay-dorito-dust]

@thelightofmylife wouldn’t it be funny if I decided to reread your entire HSR writing list again (I in fact did)… lolol <3 I’m still thinking about your response to me btw. You’re very kind 💖💞💗 truly I can’t get enough of your writing and I suppose kind words

No pressure to do this request if you don’t want to, you can also take this ask as an invitation to chat too

( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

ahh! I was thinking ,,,, Sunday + Aventurine + Jing Yuan… and anyone else you would personally want to do …!! Giving them headpats because you love them soooo much!!! And receiving or asking for headpats in trade … <3 i think it’s a universal thing that headpats are <33 so good and lovely and good for showing love ;w;’ <3

Jing Yuan will gladly accept your head pats, he finds your beaming face adorable as you gently patted his head as though you were being extremely cautious with how you gave him head pats.

He recognises it as your primary display of love after awhile and would create a routine where he would just sit himself in front of you, claim that he was meditating, and closes his eyes and waits until he felt you begin to pat him on the head and mutter ‘soft floofy hair’ under your breath as he fights back the urge to smile.

You really do want his heart and he didn’t want to go back to a reality where he did not know the power of your comforting head pats.

Someone could’ve been looking for him about something serious and when they’ve enter the room, they are greeted to the sight of him him dozing off all the while getting treated to some well deserved head pats from you.

A bird popped out of his hair once during a headpat session and you were scared off of giving him head pats for a while in fear of having another tiny bird fly out from his hair. Jing Yuan was a sad man that day and would stop fucking pouting until Yanquing asked you to put him out of his misery and give Jing Yuan his head pats, he couldn’t train with a moody general who didn’t get his daily head pats.

Jing Yuan wasn’t afraid of giving out headpats of his own. He gave Yanquing a couple in the past but he used them sparingly. You however, you could have as many headpats as you’d like from him and Jing Yuan wouldn’t complain, especially not as he got the chance to watch you melt under his touch to the point you were practically cuddled into his side with a look of pure content written across your face.

So if he were to see that you weren’t having the best of days he’d immediately start giving you headpats in hopes of making you feel better. Jing Yuan’s logic was that seeing as how your headpats always helped make his day just that little bit brighter. Jing Yuan could only hope that he could pay it forward to you in a way that let you know that he would always have your back, always.

Aventurine leans into your hand as you give him head pats and closing his eyes as he enjoyed any amount of affection you decided to give him.

He needed this, he really did.

At first he was afraid of what the implication meant but now, he would practically sprawl himself across your lap and silently wait until you were done with what you were doing to give him some head pats, whining that you don’t pay enough attention to him.

He wasn’t use to such gentle, loving touch such as yours and now that he’s gotten a taste, he’s become addicted and would always find a way to get you to give him head pats no matter what. He would ask but Aventurine felt as though he was only worth them when he’s done something to earn such affection.

He viewed everything as a transaction and your headpats were no different.

Until you told him one day that he didn’t have to ever ask to receive love and affection, at least not with you and that you would gladly give him headpats just for waking up.

Aventurine cried that night in your arms as you gave him soft, comforting headpats.

Now aventurine demands headpats for practically everything but you didn’t mind as you were more than happy to spend hours on end if it meant spending time with your lover and reassuring him of your love for him. It heals apart of him that he didn’t know needed healing before, you heal him with your unwavering kindness and compassion and he didn’t know how the appropriate way to thank you, other then to give you some headpats himself.

Aventurine’s headpats were soft, gentle, Alamo as though he was scared he was going to hurt you but they were reassuring and encouraging at the same time that made you feel as though you could move mountains.

His headpats were like a silent ‘I love you’ for a singular reason.

He would pat your head three times and linger there for a couple of seconds then patting your head three more times before repeating this a couple more times, even going as far as to adding in a couple of kisses to your face in between. He loved hearing you laugh but he loved it when you shown signs of being comfortable, being safe with him as that was all he wants was to make you feel safe and happy with him because that’s how you made him feel on a daily basis.

Sunday finds your need to give him head pats amusing and will gladly let you do so to your hearts content if it brings you so much joy.

It doesn’t matter if he was busy because Sunday will always make room for you and you head pats no matter what, and will stress the importance to his staff that a specific time slot remains reserved for you and only you because your head pats were pure magic to the Halovian.

His wings would flutter softly and in time with your head pats that you couldn’t help but giggle at how cute the sight was as Sunday tries to get them to stop, but ultimately just accepts that his wings had a mind of their own when it came to you and how reciprocal they were to your touch.

He defiantly needs them after a hard days work and will most defiantly collapse on your lap, wings drooping like a pair of dog ears in tandem to express his exhaustion, and sigh as he felt you begin to softly pat his head.

‘You’ve done amazing today honey.’ You tell him.

‘Thank you my dearest but all I want to do now is relax with you if that’s quite alright with you.’ Sunday said tired and you couldn’t deny him when he was like this, and for the rest of the afternoon you spent cuddled up with Sunday and giving him head pats as his wings tried to match with the pace of your pats.

Sunday does reward you with headpats of your own but they may not come as frequently as you might like but you understood that he was a busy man, when you do get your headpats its mainly when you were on the brink of falling asleep, so often times it felt like a dream. Sunday wishes he could give you as many headpats as you’d like but giving you them while you were half asleep was for the best.

Bonus: when he’s cuddling you from behind, his wings will try and give you headpats but end up hitting the sides of your face, so somethings you’d wake up to a pair of soft grey wings softly smacking you first thing in the morning.

[lushaletta]

the lamb and her wolf / tom riddle

pairing: tom riddle x fem!reader

content: muggleborn!reader, tom is goin a lil mad

summary: have you fallen into the dark lord’s trap, or has he fallen into yours?

a/n: i wrote this at 4 in the morning so enjoy this stream of consciousness grumpy x sunshine esque tom riddle fanfiction or something.

⋆ ࣪.  ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖࣪ ˖࣪ ∗

Tom is in a frenzy of sorts, he’s concluded.

Perhaps it is the sleepless nights and stressful days that cloud his weeks that are causing the weird feeling in his chest. Insomnia-induced hysteria.

There’s a flurry of thoughts swirling around his head recently. All with a common theme; you. The space in his brain that he typically reserved for Ancient Runes or Arithmancy was now composed of you, you, and only you.

It makes him sick to his stomach.

He’s unfocused. And he can’t be, because he’s supposed to be working on the secret that Salazar Slytherin hid in the deep crevices of Hogwarts some years ago.

His fingers tap on the book that he can’t seem to pay attention to as he tries to make sense of this. The disgusting, awful, pleasant fondness he feels for you. For a Muggleborn girl no less.

The only solution to his problem is to kill you. It wouldn’t be hard, he thinks. You’re small and meek and all too trusting of him. Like a lamb to the slaughter.

You are a symbol of everything he despises. Joy. Innocence. You are of the same kind as his worthless father. So why is it that he can’t bring himself to end you? To end your time together? He’s done it before. He’s done it plenty of times and without a second thought.

“Tom!” your horrible, beautiful voice cheers, snapping him out of his thoughts. Oh, great, he thinks. You plague his mind and now you bedevil his reality.

“Hello,” he says after a beat.

You ignore his bothered expression and smile. “I’ve brought snacks! You do like mince pie, don’t you?” He nods weakly. “Good, because my mam’s had some sent. She’s trying out a new recipe. Secret ingredient or something like that. I’m sure you haven’t eaten yet, with your inane study habits, I mean, do you ever have breaks?” You ramble on and he listens with fascination. How could you be talking to him so casually? So endearingly?

You’re far from done. “It doesn’t matter, though. You’ll have a break now. Go on, put your book away, would you?” He does as told. He’s not sure why. You take a seat at his table, fumbling with the paper bag you’ve brought. “Aha! Mince pie! One for each of us. Tell me if you like it, I’ll have Mam send some more. She’d be delighted.”

It’s at this point, where he’s chewing on warm minced pie and watching you do the same, nodding contentedly, that he wonders which life decisions he’d made led up to this. He’s the Dark Lord. A name that the world will soon fear. If all goes to plan, you’ll be reading in terror of all the vile things he’s done in the paper. You’ll be afraid of him, and he can’t help dread it. He dreads the thought of your heartbroken eyes as you realise what a wicked person you’d extended your kindness to.

It’s the frenzy again. What is he even thinking? He dreaded nothing. He looked at his plans with excitement.

“Tom? Hellooo,” you say, singsongingly. He didn’t even realise you’d been speaking. He glances up at you and imagines what you’d think of him once the truth comes out.

“Yes?”

“What do you think? About the pie, I mean.”

He clears his throat, fingers gripping the armrest of his seat. “Good. It’s good.” That draws another pretty smile out of you and he really hates the way it made him feel. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome! Also, Tommy,” He quirks his brow. The nickname was a slip of the tongue. You’d never used it and it made you nervous, but he didn’t seem to mind so much. “Are you busy later? I need some help with Transfiguration.”

He’s always busy. Well, he should be. He’s been slacking recently, too preoccupied with your freshly baked desserts and strawberry-smelling hair.

“I could make time for that,” he says decidedly.

Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot.

You’re immediately on your feet, giddy like how he’d imagine a child to be upon receiving candy. “Thank you! Oh, you’re a lifesaver, truly!” you say, and suddenly a kiss is planted on his cheek.

A full stop. His world pauses and spins on its axis. Your lips felt good. Bad.

What an evil, evil wolf he was.

[eddieschains]

Dream Come True

Older!Eddie X Fem!Reader

credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple for the older eddie edit <3

Word Count: 2.8k

TW// 18+, age gap (reader is early 20s, Eddie is 50s), oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), degradation, face slapping, creampie, let me know if i missed anything!!

It was your parents 25th wedding anniversary. They liked to make a big deal out of it every 5 years, throwing a big party and inviting as many people as they could. You never understood why they couldn’t just go out to dinner alone to celebrate instead of dragging you along to hang out with their old friends. But he made it all worth it.

Eddie Munson. Your dads friend from high school. He was kind of old sure, but he was damn sexy. He had the softest looking long curly brown hair, peppered with just the right amount of grey. The perfect amount of scruff around his face, messy yet neat at the same time. And his arms and chest littered with tattoos.

He played in a metal band that your dad was a part of shortly in college, until he decided he’d rather marry your mom and start a family. Bleh. You had watched all the videos of their shows when he was younger, and while you should’ve been impressed by your dads skills as a musician, you could never take your eyes off of Eddie.

He was still in the band, constantly in LA recording or touring the world. He always made time to visit you and your parents when he was back in Hawkins though. You hadn’t seen him in about 5 years, the last time being your high school graduation, when he could barely keep his eyes off of you. You thought since you were freshly 18 he would finally take you someplace to fuck you raw, but that might’ve just been wishful thinking.

In reality, he didn’t pay much attention to you when he visited. Nothing more than the usual “how have you been” or “how’s school going?”. But, that wasn’t going to stop you from continuing to try and get his attention.

You opted for a short black dress, probably showing a little more cleavage than you usually would, some high heeled boots, and a simple silver necklace. You were in the kitchen of the beach house your parents rented, fixing yourself a drink while you waited for the guests so trickle in.

“Honey, can you greet people at the door and take their coats?” You hear your mom call from the other room. You roll your eyes before taking a sip of your wine and making your way to the door.

You spend the next 30 minutes welcoming all of your parents friends, frustratingly having to answer the same questions over and over and using your best fake laugh to laugh at all of their dad jokes. You were just about ready to leave and scream in the bathroom until you saw the black mustang pull up. Eddie.

You fix you hair and push your boobs up a little more before he makes his way to the door. “Sweetheart.” He bows his head, making his way into the house.

“Eddie.” You do the same. You ask to take his jacket and hang it with the rest. You decide your door duty is over once Eddie arrives, following him into the house. “This is nice. Didn’t know your old man bought a new place.” He says looking around, taking in all the little details.

“Oh it’s not ours, they just rented it for the party. Always need to make a big deal out of their love.” You scoff.

Eddie chuckles, “Marriage is a big deal. You’ll find that out soon enough.”

“No thanks. Marriage is just a big money grab. Why can’t I just spend the rest of my life with the person I love without the governments involvement? Plus it’s harder to get divorced than it is to get married.” You respond.

“You’re a smart girl. What are you studying again?” He asks, genuinely interested.

“Psychology. I graduate in a couple months.” You smile proudly.

“Ah you gonna tug at my brain tonight?” He laughs.

This is your chance to make a move, you think to yourself. “I could tug at something else if you’d like.” You whisper, a smirk on your face.

Eddie coughs, clearing his throat. “Uh i’m gonna go say hi to your parents.” He practically runs away. You would’ve been embarrassed by your boldness if you hadn’t noticed the way his cheeks turned red and his legs shook at your words.

You take your place back in the kitchen, avoiding conversation with the large group of people. You hear footsteps behind you and turn to see Eddie grabbing a beer from the fridge.

“Can’t stand being out there any longer without at least one beer.” You chuckle, mumbling in agreement. “When did your parents become so prissy?”

“Oh you mean they haven’t always been like this?” You laugh. “Dad got a promotion a couple years ago so I guess he feels the need to impress them.”

“You should’ve seen him in college, when he was still in the band. He was wild.” Eddie laughs, recalling the memories.

“As wild as you?” You raise an eyebrow, cocking your head to the side.

Eddie’s cheeks turn red, “I’m not wild.”

“You expect me to believe that the man who’s been rocking girls panties off for the last 30 years isn’t a wild one?” You step closer to him, hearing how his breathing changes. “I’ve seen what those hands can do.”

“Hey… stop.” You know he only says it because he should, not that he really wants you to.

You wrap your hand around his neck, pulling his ear down to your mouth. “But i’m not wearing any panties.”

Eddie lets a soft moan escape his mouth before running off. “I need to use the restroom.” You’re left in the kitchen, giggling and smirking to yourself, waiting a couple minutes before following him.

You put your head up to the bathroom door, listening to him heavy breathing and muttering curse words under his breath. You open the door, locking it behind you.

“What the fuck?!” He whisper yells. “What are you doing?”

“Oh I thought that was an invitation. You know, tell the girl you’re going to the bathroom, she follows…” You jump up on the sink, spreading your legs a little wider. “And then the guy fucks her brains out on the sink.”

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, trying his best not to look you in the eyes. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“But you want to, don’t you?” You jump off the sink, pulling him towards you. “Don’t think I forgot about the way you were looking at my tits at my graduation party. Or the way your eyes immediately went down to my thighs when I greeted you tonight. You’re a dirty old man, and I want to be your filthy… little… girl.” Your words send shivers down his spine.

“Fuck it.” He growls before pressing his lips against yours. His hands immediately reach for your hips, his fingers digging into them sure to leave marks tomorrow. You wrap your arms around the back of his head, pulling on his hair. He lets out a moan, and you take the opportunity to dip your tongue into his mouth.

He taste just like how you imagined. A mix of tobacco and mint, followed with a slight flavor of the beer he just drank. He removes his mouth from yours, moving down your neck, sucking on that sweet spot just behind your ear. His hands travel down to your ass, squeezing and slapping as he continues his assault on your neck.

You twirl your fingers in his hair, pushing him further into you as you feel the heat between your legs growing more and more intense. He backs you up until your back hits the sink, a whimper leaving your mouth. He lifts the bottom of your dress, exposing your naked cunt.

“Fuck. You weren’t lying.” You chuckle as he continues kissing and sucking your skin, moving further down your body. “You did this because you knew I was coming, huh? Or are you just that much of a whore?”

You moan at his words, loving the way he says it. “Oh you like that? Like when I call you a fucking whore?” You mumble an mm-hmm right as he reaches where you needed him the most. “God you have such a pretty pussy, baby. Mind if I have a little taste?”

“Please.” You whimper, and he dives right in. His tongue drags from your entrance, all the way up to your clit. “Fuck, Eddie.” You moan out as his tongue flicks back and forth.

He licks you up and down a few times before focusing on your clit. Attaching his mouth to your aching bud, and sucking it like it was his last meal. You couldn’t speak. It was like he took away your ability to form any kind of words. You’d never felt like this before, never gotten head like this before. He truly was a master, and not just when it came to music.

The filthy sounds of his tongue mixed with your own arousal was nearly enough to send you over the edge. You feel him bring his fingers up to your entrance, playing with it while gathering your wetness. He looks up at you, his mouth still on your cunt, looking for permission to keep going. You nod, and without another word he sinks two fingers into you.

“Oh my- fuck!” You scream out before bringing a hand to your mouth, not wanting to bring attention to what was happening in here. You feel him smile against your pussy, pushing his fingers in and out of you.

His fingers were thick enough, you had no idea how you were supposed to fit, what you assumed, was his even thicker cock. He continues to fuck you with his fingers, not relenting his attack on your clit. He moans into your pussy, sending even more vibrations of pleasure through you. He seemed to really enjoy eating your pussy. Maybe just as much as you were.

He starts to move his fingers faster, flicking his tongue across your clit searching for your orgasm. “Shit, Eddie- Eddie i’m gonna- fuck fuck fuck.” You can’t even make out a cognitive sentence with the pleasure you were feeling.

“Go ahead baby, cum for me. Cum on my face.” That was all you needed to hear before your legs were shaking, closing in on his head as yours was thrown back, cursing his name under your breath.

He keeps thrusting his fingers into you, softly to help you ride out your high. Once your breathing starts to regulate again, he pulls out, placing soft kisses on your thighs before moving up to your mouth. “You okay?” He asks, pecking your lips.

You nod, pulling him in for a deeper kiss. Placing your hand on the crotch of his jeans, you can feel just how much he enjoyed that. You palm at his rock hard cock through his pants, while he moans above you into the kiss.

“Can I suck you off?” You ask, continuing to press into him.

“Not gonna last. I need to be inside of you.” He moans, shuffling his pants off as quickly as possible, and you realize that you didn’t have to assume his size anymore. He was big. The biggest you’ve ever seen. Thick too. If you had to picture the perfect dick, he had it.

“Jesus christ.” You mumble, earning a chuckle from him. He spits into his hand, stroking his cock to prepare himself.

“Can I see your tits?” He asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer. He pulls the straps of your dress off, nearly tearing them, and pushes the top of your dress down so that it’s sitting on your waist. “Oh my god, we’re you created by the gods or something?”

“I was created by your best friend.” You smirk, reminding him of who exactly he was about to fuck.

He groans, twisting his eyebrows up. “Don’t remind me.” He places his hands on your tits, rubbing and squeezing them in circles before catching one in his mouth.

You place your hand on the back of his head as he licks and sucks on your nipple, his hand playing with the other before switching places. Once he’s has enough, he steps back, grabbing onto his cock and sliding it up and down your folds.

“Ready?” He asks as you nod furiously. He slides just the tip in, testing the waters. You wince as he stretches you open. It hurts only for a moment, but the earlier tongue fucking definitely helped you get used to it quicker.

He pushes more of his length in, an inch at a time until his balls hit the back of your ass. “Shit you’re so fucking tight. Could bust right now.” He moans before pulling out slightly, and pushing back in.

You grab onto his biceps for leverage as he picks up the pace. You pull him closer to you, pushing his hair to one side while your lips find his neck. He groans at the feeling, grabbing the back of your neck as he rapidly begins thrusting in and out of you.

“Oh my god- that’s it, fuck. Feels so good.” You moan in his ear. The sound of skin slapping fills the room, along with each of your moans. He moves his hands down to your hips, using them to fuck you back into him.

“Who would’ve thought my best friends daughter would be such a filthy fucking whore? Sucking my cock into her pussy like this? God you feel so fucking good on my cock like this.” His words continue to egg you on. You can’t say anything other curse words followed by moans of pleasure as he fucks into you.

You start to feel your high approaching again, embarrassingly quick and he takes notice. He pulls your head into his, pressing your forehead against his. “You gonna cum for me again? Gonna drench my fat cock with your cum? Hmm, baby?” You moan in response, but it’s not enough for him. “Use your words, tell me how good i’m making you feel right now.”

You still can’t find the words, and that’s when you feel a sharp slap across your cheek. “Say. It.” He growls, his thrusts speeding up as his thumb takes place on your clit. He rubs perfect circles on your clit while awaiting a response before slapping his palm across your cheek once again. “What the fuck did I just tell you? Say it.”

“Feels so good Eddie. Love the way your cock fills my pussy, gonna make me cum- fuck!” Your body goes limp as your second orgasm crashes over you. Eddie picks you up by your ass, moving your body against the bathroom door.

“That’s right, dirty slut loves the way I feel inside of her.” His body is keeping you up against the door as he continues to fuck into you with a hurried speed, chasing his own high. “How would she feel if I filled her up with my cum?”

All you can muster is a moan, receiving another slap across the face. “Use your fucking words.”

“Yes please Eddie, fill me up. Cum in me. I wanna feel you, please please please.” The overstimulation is almost getting to be too much as you feel a tear slide down your face.

Although, it doesn’t last long as he gives you a couple more hard thrusts before you feel his seed coating your walls. “Fuuuck.” He moans out, his head falling into your neck.

He stills for a moment, relishing in the feeling of his own orgasm before lifting his head to kiss you. He wipes your tears away before slowly sliding out of you and placing you back on your feet.

“You’re something else.” He laughs, pulling his pants back up.

“So are you.” You smile, fixing your dress. “Who knew old dudes like you could fuck so good?”

He shoots you a look, making you giggle. “Don’t tell your parents about this.”

You furrow your eyebrows and scoff. “Yeah let me just go down there and let them know their best friend just fucked the shit out of their daughter.” He laughs before exiting the bathroom and returning downstairs to the party.

You wait a couple minutes to follow him, not wanting to be suspected of anything. You make your way to your dad, hoping she didn’t notice that you and Eddie went missing.

“There you are honey. Oh what happened to your dress?” You look down, noticing the tear in your strap. You look over at Eddie, seeing the biggest smirk on his face as he sips his beer.

“Must’ve torn it this morning putting it on.” You respond, avoiding eye contact.

“Well you should go out a jacket on, make yourself look a little put together please.”

You sigh, walking away. “Yes daddy.”

You walk past Eddie as he grabs you arm, whispering in your ear. “Yes daddy.”

[lordsukunas]

jjk men & you: nail appointment!

tldr: gojo, geto, nanami, ino, choso, toji, sukuna + mahito going with you to your nail appointment.

cw: fem!reader. sukuna refers to reader as ‘woman’ once. and mahito.

a/n: this was fun lowk. might do it for jjk boys, depends on my motivation. idk if mahito particularly counts as a man, but he’s here for my mootie. time to sleep now, enjoy!!!

✿ — gojo:

first things first, he’s paying for your nails. which sounds like a good thing, until you realize he’s insisting on going along with you. he’ll pester you the entire time, suggesting colors and styles (how does he know so much?!) and then doing anything to get you to laugh or look at him. sometimes it results in your nail tech getting a little lot frustrated because he keeps making you squirm. eventually, tho, he’ll stop and let the tech finish up your nails.

“they’re cute. would’ve been cuter if you let me pick, buuuut... still cute.”

✿ — ino:

he’ll flex his knowledge about nails like it’s something revolutionary or suggest a style that he swears is completely unique, only for you to correct him and realize that it’s really just basic information. he’ll spend the rest of the appointment scrolling through pinterest and instagram, trying to find inspo for your next set.

“ooh, baby, look. these are nice, right?”

✿ — nanami:

only pays if you want him to, and only goes if you want him to. is content to let you pick whatever style you want, but likes to pick out bold colors and suggest designs based on your interests or adding charms. always tips the tech, and once your nails are done, he gently grabs your hand and kisses the back of it.

“these suit you perfectly, my lady.”

✿ — geto:

at first, he is nawt going in there. unless you find a sorcerer nail tech, he’s going to be slick the entire time. he’ll side-eye everyone else getting their nails done, judge their taste (“why would she choose that shit-brown?”), and stand up the entire time. he doesn’t want the germs. once you’re done, he’s pulling you out of there as quickly as possible.

“here, take this. ... yes, it’s hand sanitizer. you don’t want those monkey germs, right?”

✿ — toji:

only goes because you told him if he tagged along, you’d pay. in reality, he was going to go all along, just to make sure nobody tries anything. he will slap the shit outta somebody, including your nail tech. sits in a tiny chair by your side, massive head resting on your shoulder and arms crossed, absolutely knocked out. he’ll only wake up if you shrug your shoulder or if the appointment ends (he has some kind of sixth sense for that shit).

“huh? ... nah, i ain’t sleep. you cute, now c’mon.”

✿ — choso:

kind of like gojo, clingy asf. he won’t make suggestions (bro has no idea, pls bear w/ him), but he’ll praise any and every decision you make. his arms will be wrapped around your waist the entire time, earning him lots of ‘awhss’ and ‘look at them! so cute.’ tips the nail tech for “making you extra gorgeous.” his words, not mine.

“you look good, i swear. i like the colors, and the shape, and the design, and your hands...”

✿ — sukuna:

has a personal nail tech. you think he maintains them black nails by himself? no. threatens his nail tech to do good on your nails, otherwise it’ll be the last set they ever do. makes minor suggestions, but is content to sit back and let you decide for yourself. he does have a preference color, though, either black, red, or dark purple. gets a weird urge to nibble your fingers once your nails are done. please don’t ask why.

“hm? you look fine, woman. nothing rivals your natural beauty, so quit ya whining.”

✿ — higuruma:

he’s awake for the entire prep process. watching you pick your colors, decide on a design, get settled in the chair. the second the nail tech actually gets to work, though, he’s tapped out. just like toji, he’s sitting in a chair beside you, head either resting in your lap or on your shoulder. if he could sit across from you, his head would be on your chest. only wakes up when it’s time to pay (he tips!) or if something goes wrong.

“... mm? oh, those are nice, sunshine. i like the little designs, very cute.”

✿ — mahito ..?:

a lil shit the entire time istg. doesn’t care what you pick, will poke and squish and pinch and nuzzle you the whole process, annoying both you and the tech. considers getting his done to match yours, but realizes he could probably just morph the shape of his soul instead of sitting there.

“those are, like, so cute! ... no? you don’t like my valley girl accent?”

[bugboioli23]

Swerve x Human!Reader

Disclaimer: I haven't written fic for a few years so my skills are gonna be a bit shit to be honest, any criticism is welcome and id love to hear what you guys think 💚

THIS IS 18+ - size difference, valveplug, oral sex, fingerfucking, doggy style, riding - 2911 words - AFAB reader but no pronouns are used

You and Swerve had been friends since you stepped foot on the Lost Light. Something about his chatterbox personality and sitcom-like humor had you beaming whenever you were around him. The best nights were spent perched on the edge of the bar counter, rambling for hours on end with Swerve. Tonight was one of those nights. It was after the doors had closed, the bar empty and silent aside from the laughter ricocheting from the both of you. 

“Really?!” You yelped, eyes wide in surprise as you stared at the grinning minibot.

“I'm telling you! You wouldn't believe the amount of mechs who come by here asking for you!” Swerve replied with a chuckle, shaking his helm in shared disbelief. “Not only that but they actually think they could frag you! I'm probably one of the few bots on here who could frag you full sized.” Swerve paused, face freezing for a second as he quickly backtracked on his statement. “I mean- not that we would- NOT THAT I WOULDN'T WANT TO- I'm sure you’d make a lovely frag- NOT LIKE THAT- I JUST MEANT- im sorry- ” Swerve seemed to shrink in on himself as he continued to mumble to himself anxiously.

Your face burned red at the idea. The thought of a bot being stuffed between your folds, trembling at the foreign sensation of the wet flesh of your cunt. You wondered about the anatomy that laid hidden under the panels of your metallic friends. How similar are you compared to them? Just how compatible are your species? You already had gotten an enlightening talk from Brainstorm about Cybertronian anatomy after you explained human anatomy to him. (For his holoforms of course. No other reason.) You knew what you could take, but the fresh reality that this could happen left blood rushing south. 

“Uhm…  ____? You good? I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything. I should’ve kept my mouth shut, I’m sorry.” Swerve looked at you apologetically. His light pout and the puppy eyes you could barely see behind his visor brought forth images that made warmth surge through your body once more. How would Swerve act if you asked him to fuck you? He seemed like the type of Cybertronian who wouldn’t mind a little experimenting with humans. He seemed like the type to whimper; the type to beg. 

Heat flushed through your face as reality caught back up to you. You flashed him a bright smile and waved your hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m alright. Just thinking.” You glanced at Swerve, who looked unconvinced. “Hey, weren’t you and Blurr going to open a bar before you came here?” You asked out of nowhere, hoping to turn his attention onto something else. It seemed to work because he was already telling you about how Blurr was secretly his best friend. While the bartender was distracted, you let your thoughts turn back to the ideas at hand. You found Swerve to be adorable, the way he seemed to always work with a smile despite people talking poorly about him. His fascination with your species’ tv and music and how he would light up when you offered another film for movie nights. After tonight’s conversation, you decided it’s now or never to shoot your shot with him.

“Swerve?” You looked him up and down with a smile, interjecting his speech on Blurr’s latest record break. “Do you think fragging a human would be possible?” You spoke sweetly, letting your voice fall an octave to emphasize your intentions. 

“Uhm, wouldn't Ratchet be better at answering that than I would?” Swerve thought he was hearing things. In his mind there was no possible way that you just asked what you had asked. His head must've made that up. It had to be some kind of self inflicted auditory hallucination. The way you smiled softly and rested a hand on his arm before leaning closer must also be a trick of the optics.

“Swerve, darling. I asked you for a reason.” You replied coyly, glancing up at him with an endearing grin. He felt his intake hitch and a sliver of charge run down his frame. 

“Oh.” He choked out, face tinted with the rush of energon. His cooling fans kicked on with just the mere suggestion of what tonight could entail. “I- I suppose we could- figure it out…” He grinned shyly.

“That’s a good mech.” You purred, wide grin never faltering as you hopped down from the counter. You sauntered out of the bar with a new sense of confidence, only pausing to gesture to him to follow before the doors closed behind you. Swerve had to take a minute to collect his thoughts before practically sprinting after you.

Your habsuite was uniquely modified for your species. Instead of a hard metal berth, you had a cushy soft bed adorned with a mass of plushies, pillows and blankets. Soft lighting glowed from lower points in the room instead of one harsh light from above. It had your special charm to it, and Swerve wanted to spend every moment he could in there with you. 

“So,” You started plopping yourself down on the edge of your bed, patting the spot next to you, “I’m going to skip all the pleasantries here, I want you to fuck me.”

Swerve let out a whine, feeling a surge of arousal flooding through his systems. His spike pressurized quickly, becoming heavy behind his panels with an embarrassingly loud thud. “Did you have to be so bold about it?” He hissed through clenched dentae as you gazed at him with desire. 

“I think it’s more fun to watch your reactions.” You hummed contentedly before climbing into his lap, “Can I kiss you? Would that be okay?” You spoke softly, but your eyes never left his face. Swerve nodded hastily, servos hovering above your body anxiously. His intake opened to start a flood of questions but you cut him off with a kiss, exploring the foreign texture of his pliable metallic face. The strange rubbery feeling of his glossa felt wonderfly new against the soft muscle of your tongue. You let out a soft noise of pleasure against his mouth before you were interrupted by a snap of panels retracting and an enticing pressure laying heavy on your thigh. 

“Oh- Slag, sorry I- you’re so- I wasn’t able to-,” Swerve began, but you pressed a finger to his lips as you looked down to study the new part of him. It was about 8 inches long, the red tip of it already leaking prefluids. It was mostly white, with a stripe of red along the underside decorated with biolights which pulsed needily. You trailed your hand lightly along the length, your fingers barely unable to touch around the girth of it. You looked back up at Swerve who was hiding behind his servos, face tinted pink with energon. 

“Listen… I know I’m not as big as other bots but please… don’t stop whatever you were planning to do.” Swerve mumbled shyly, peeking at you between his digits.

“Oh, hun. You don’t have to worry about anything. You’ve got more than enough for me to enjoy.” You smiled, sliding off his lap to kneel between his legs. “May I?” You asked, wanting to explore his anatomy further. 

He let out a shaky exvent with a nod and you ran your fingers along the grooves and panels of the Cybertronian anatomy. It wasn’t until you had gotten eye level with his spike that you had noticed his valve. It was dripping with transfluid and the hooded node was glowing a beautiful blue. You looked up at him from your position, eyes full of lust. 

“Change of plans. Lean back for me, I’ve gotta taste you.” You purred, firmly pushing against his midsection lightly as he rested his back against the wall of pillows. You gently pushed his thighs open and trailed two fingers against the slick folds of his valve, coating your fingers in the sticky substance. You studied your digits before popping them into your mouth. The pink fluid was metallic and sour, but addicting in a strange way. You wanted more. Spreading his folds with one hand, you delved into his valve. Swerve watched, entranced by the way you slid the flat of your tongue against him. The sensation made him let out soft groans, which encouraged you more. You took your other hand and gently circled his anterior node, ghosting the edges of it teasingly. Your tongue dove into his entrance and you felt the inner calipers twitch and throb with need. 

“Oh frag… you’re good a-at this. I’m- hnghh… I don’t have enough stamina for t-this!” Swerve whined as you moved the hand separating his folds and you backed away from his plush valve.

“Don’t worry, you are doing so good. Just lie back and let me take care of you, okay?” You cooed and went back to lapping at the transfluid that fell from his folds. One hand finally gave his anterior node pressure while your other hand went up to stroke at his spike lazily. The result of your combined actions had Swerve clawing at the sheets, his intake falling open as he gasped and mewled out so many words you couldn’t tell what he was saying until it was too late. 

Warm fluid gushed over your face as he overloaded while you were still tongue deep in his valve. His spike throbbed in your hand as you felt more transfluid land in your hair and shoulder. 

“FRAG- Ah- hah…!” Swerve whined as his frame trembled through the aftershocks. “Oh slag im so sorry!” His visor came back online just in time to witness your mouth and jaw covered in dripping pink fluids.

You licked your lips and wiped your face with your shirt before taking it off and tossing it aside. “Hey.. hey no worries. It’s okay. You’re okay.” You kissed his cheek, patting his thigh softly. “You did amazing. I’m so glad I could make you feel good.” 

Swerve let out another high whine, seeing your chest bare before him. He slowly raised his servos to graze the flesh around your nipples. You sighed softly and raised your hands to press his servos more firmly to your skin. Swerve was still panting from his previous overload but he leaned in to press his lips gently against your sternum. His servos wandered up to press and massage at your nipples, circling them like you did to his node earlier. Your back arched, pushing your chest further into his servos as your mouth fell open softly. Swerve looked up at you, visor glowing with excitement and awe. “You’re stunning. I mean- frag, look at you, coated with my overload. Mine…” He breathed out, eyes trailing down your body to rest at your pants. He seemed to swallow before shakily continuing. “D-Do you still want me t-to..you know.. t-”

“I still want you to fuck me, Swerve.” You finished for him, moving your hands to swiftly undo the buttons of your pants, pulling off your undergarments at the same time and tossing them behind you. You grabbed onto his wrist and guided his fingers up towards your wet folds. Swerve got the hint and gently worked one finger into the tight heat of your cunt. He could feel the gentle pulse and pull of your walls around his digit, and he could barely imagine what it would feel like around his spike. After he felt you loosen up a bit, he slid in a second digit. You let out a gasp and a soft groan at the stretch, knowing that this was just the beginning if you wanted to be prepared to take his spike. 

Swerve gently curled and flexed his digits, exploring your sex thoroughly as his processor worked overtime to memorize which movements felt the best for you. His audials turned to max sensitivity to be sure he could hear every whine and murmur of praise that fell from your lips. He could feel the second rush of energon repressurising his spike the more he pumped his digits into you. You glanced down between the both of you to smirk at his array before leaning in and pressing another kiss to his jaw.

“Awh, look at you,” You cooed, lifting your hips up to grind the tip of his spike against your clit. Swerve let out a strained whine as his hips bucked up involuntarily. Your smirk only grew. “You’re such a pretty mech for me.”

“Hnf s-stop…” Swerve whispered bashfully, turning his helm away as energon rushed to his faceplates once more.

“I mean it.” You continued, slowly easing yourself down on his spike as you guided his gaze to meet yours. Swerve’s intake fell open and his spinal struts arched as your body enveloped his length. His servos flew to your hips when he finally bottomed out inside you. The heat of your cunt pressed upon every sensor and node on his spike with such certainty that he could barely concentrate on your words. 

“Hhoh fraggghh, how are you s-so- so-ooHHFRAG-” Swerve had started to speak but you decided that now was the time to lift your hips and slam yourself back down. You started to ride the mech like an animal, your hips popping up halfway only to quickly push him back inside. Swerve let out a chorus of moans and yelps as his servos twitched against the soft plush of your thighs, squeezing every now and then to ground himself. It wasn’t until your legs started to burn that you were reminded of something. You quickly stopped your movements and grinned down at Swerve as he abruptly gasped and looked at you with a beautiful expression of desperation. 

“Wh-why- why’dya stop?” Swerve asked, his speech slurred from the sudden absence of pleasure.

“Sorry, but I just remembered that you’re the one who’s supposed to be fucking me.” You pulled yourself off of his spike and he let out a pathetic mewl at the loss of your body. His pout was quickly wiped from his face when he witnessed you getting down on all fours and slyly shaking your hips at him. You turned to smirk over your shoulder at him as he gawked at you. Not another second had passed before Swerve was on top of you, his spike easily finding its way back into your slick folds. He started pounding into you, the weight of his body pressing down nicely on your back as he mounted you.

“Mnh, there you go, good boy Swerve.” You moaned out as his spike pistoned in and out of you, shoving your body into the mattress. Swerve was brought to a mindless ramble as your pussy sucked him in deeper and tightened around him.

“Ahfraggingprimusyouretight-“ Swerve whimpered as you clenched around him harder. Your body trembled as you felt his spike throb inside you. Swerve hovered over you, intertwining his servos over your fingers as he thrust into you rapidly. “F-Frag, ____ I’m not gonna l-last much longer-“

“Good, keep going. I want you to fill me with your transfluid. Overload in me like the good mech you are.” You grinned against the mattress, turning to look at him smugly, reaching down between your legs to rub at your clit. Swerve leaned down to mewl and whine against the back of your neck as he chased his own pleasure, pushing your hips further up with every pump of his hips. 

“Fuck, Swerve- I’m-!“ You felt your eyes roll back at the drag of his thickness against your walls and you let out a filthy moan as you hit your climax. You felt the slick of your cum coat his panels as your sex tightened  around him. The whimper that left his vocalizer was angelic as he let his spike empty itself within you. Thick ropes of transfluid coated your insides, the warm sensation of sheer fullness bringing you back down from your high. Your body continued to pulse around his spike, milking him of the last of his overload as he gave a few final lazy thrusts. 

The two of you lay there panting for a while before he slowly pulled out of you, watching in awe as his cum started to slide down your thighs. You slowly turned and sat up, feeling your combined fluids seeping out of you and onto the sheets. 

“Ah… that was… let me get you a towel.” Swerve gasped, stepping to the closet to grab a towel to wipe you down with, wetting it with warm water before gently cleaning you. He lifted and placed you on the other side of the bed, putting the used towel over the wet spot after cleaning and closing his panels. 

You stared at the red and white mech with unveiled adoration as he finally sat next to you again. You leaned in and peppered his face with kisses as he gently rubbed your thigh. 

“Swerve, you do know how to keep your mouth shut about some things, right?” You murmured sleepily, hoping the bartender could keep his mouth shut for at least a week or two before word got out that the human is a mechfucker.

“Uhuh, yeah. Definitely.” Swerve nodded with determination. You sighed with a small smile, already accepting that your next appearance in the bar would not be the same after this.

[finniestoncrane]

Old Times Pornstar!Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, multi-part au fic cooper howard is a former actor, novice pornstar, and current wasteland escort. reader mistakes him for a bounty hunter and ends up getting far more entwined in his lifestyle than they intended in a bid to get what they need from the first 'kind' person they've met in a long time🤎

☢️ Chapter 3: Show Time, word count: 4.5k cooper has a little idea that really seems like a win-win-win-win!! reader gets enough money to hire a bounty hunter, cooper gets paid his due, they both get to spend more time together, and hundreds of people will benefit from that!! unless you hate cowboy themed puns, in which case you WILL NOT benefit... Chapter 1 Chapter 2 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: penetrative sex, blowjobs, cumshot, facial, sex on tape, pornography/sex work, rough sex, exhibitionism, puns and bad acting abound, missionary/doggy style/cowgirl, fingering

The bar was open when you woke up, surprisingly selling alcohol as well as some food. No one else appeared to be eating, only sipping out of bottles or chipped mugs in complete silence. So you thought it would be best to join them. 

Once you were comfortable on your stool, you rifled through your bag, finding a few caps in the inside pocket. You asked the bartender for a beer and took a swig, scowling at the taste, but taking another one immediately after anyway. The bitter flavour was waking you up, heightening your senses, clearing your mind with enough of a shock that you could hear your thoughts. About Cooper, about the night before, about how or when you were going to either continue on your mission, or return home empty handed, worse off than when you left. 

It would be a difficult choice. But not one you had to make immediately. You could allow yourself a day, maybe another night here or in the next settlement. A break from reality. From the pain of home. You rifled through your bag once more, making sure you had enough of what you needed, except for caps, which you were now lacking in completely, and finished the last of your beer. You had intended to go for a walk around the town, see what else a big settlement like this had to offer, but as you stood up and turned, you walked straight into the person standing behind you. 

“You leaving without a goodbye then, darlin’? When you owe me money?”

“Cooper! I, uh… I wasn’t actually-”

“You think I wouldn’t notice?” 

He tossed your caps onto the bar, all of them jangling together in their container. 

“I seem to be missing a few.”

“Well, I had to pay for the other room, so I thought-”

“No excuses.”

He tapped the tin with one gloved finger, looking at you intently, never blinking, not once.

“You didn’t even leave me a tip. Was it that bad? ‘Cause it sure didn’t seem like it was.”

“No! Cooper, it was… it was really good.”

You had lowered your voice, aware that there were people close enough to hear your discussion, and not wanting to embarrass Cooper in front of them, or have yourself outed to the entire town as the new girl who was only there to fuck their resident trick pony. In response, Cooper leaned in, whispering, his voice rumbling through his chest as he grinned.

“Well, I suppose I can let you in on my plan. A way for you to keep that pittance for your bounty hunter and to give me my dues, plus interest. Whaddaya say?”

It took all of your focus not to jump immediately at the opportunity. Most of that enthusiasm was down to the idea that you might get to spend even more time with Cooper, something you’d been pining for since you’d left the room the night before. And it killed two birds with one stone, because the longer you were here, under the guise of actually working on the plans you set out with, the longer you could avoid the seemingly inevitable conclusion of having to return home with nothing. 

Maybe Cooper would offer you something new. An opportunity. Maybe, if you prayed hard enough, you could spend the rest of your life doing nasty things with Cooper, having fun, with someone more exciting that anything you had ever encountered before, and then you’d never have to face home or the failure that came with it. That felt like a pretty good deal. 

For Cooper, it was a chance to feel like himself again. He’d spent so long in this new body, this new way of thinking, that he had almost forgotten what values he held close. Before this, before the bombs, before Barb and Vault Tec and the divorce. Until you had spoken simple words of kindness to him, he’d never thought about how much he’d given up. But he realised that with you, he had a chance to help someone, and help himself, his old self, at the same time. 

And it wasn’t as if he was giving up on being a reprehensible bastard cold turkey. Even though he was doing some good, he was lining himself up for a damn good time in the process. He just couldn’t send you away yet though, not when he was feeling a proper connection for the first time in a long time. Not when there was someone he felt something with. 

Both of you were also worried about the same thing, though neither of you would admit it. It felt far too soon, almost cliched, to be so tied to one another already, but there was a tether there between you. Cooper couldn’t face the idea of going back to anonymous, meaningless sex where his body was the focus and his mind and soul were locked in a box until he was finished doing the task he was paid for. He couldn’t bear the thought of feeling the inside of someone else’s body, when he’d known yours so intimately, although briefly. And on very much the same train of thought as Cooper, it pained you to think about him going off and being with other people, forgetting about you maybe, after one or two or three more clients. There was more to your encounter than that, more than could, or should, be forgotten. Fate, kismet, destiny. 

But those felt like very sappy words to throw out so soon after meeting each other, if at all. So you both kept looking at one another until you broke first under his intense gaze.

“Ok then, Cooper. What did you have in mind?”

“Follow me.”

He stood up from the bar and walked towards a table in the corner of the room, shaded and dark, as though he required the atmosphere to drill home the nature of the deal which you imagined was going to be shady, given Cooper’s mischievous grin. Once you were both seated, he leaned in across the table and spoke in a hushed tone.

“Now, I told you I have a way for me to get paid, and for you to make enough money to find a better bounty hunter than you were gonna for that shit budget you had before, but you’re gonna have to hear me out, darlin’, because I don’t think you’ll take kindly to this to begin with.”

You nodded slowly, brows furrowing in a look of concern as you wondered what Cooper was about to say to you. But instead of opening with his plan, he opted to ease you into it, sort of uncomfortably, by reflecting on the night before. 

“Listen… I don’t want to give you any undue credit for what was all my work, but last night… Well, that was really something.”

Swallowing your nerves, you nodded once more, trying to downplay the excitement burning in your throat. It might never happen again, despite how much you wanted it, but at least Cooper had felt the same way. It had been different. Special, if you wanted to use a word that made you almost cringe. 

“I gotta tell you, I haven’t had that kind of chemistry with someone since… well, in a long time. Usually, this work, it’s a means to an end that doesn’t seem to be coming. But I think I know how to get out of it. If you’ll… indulge me.”

Another nod. Still no words. You didn’t think you could speak even if you had anything to say except a shrill, giddy scream. 

“Now, before all of this, and I mean before all of this, I was something of a star. Up on the big screen, and the small screen. Just about any screen they had. And while I’m not particularly proud of some of my work, having had to let my body do the lead role, I can’t deny that it was lucrative. There’s always money in sex, y’know?”

You imagined there was. Already you’d sunk your remaining life savings into it, and you’d only been propositioned once. It was clearly an industry worth something, even though Cooper hardly sold it by proclaiming he wasn’t proud of it. Still, you were keen to know where he was going with this, still unsure, or perhaps not allowing yourself to read too far ahead in fear of making an assumption that would be incredibly embarrassing. 

“See, the kind of chemistry we had - have - is one you don’t come across too often, and it works so well on screen. We’d be foolish not to take advantage of that, don’t you think?”

“I agree.”

Your voice cracked on the last syllable, but you felt you had managed to play it cool as best as you could be expected to when Cooper was smiling at you the way he was, leaning over the table, close enough to you that you could feel his warm breath on your cheeks.

“So I propose that we use it to our advantage. A contact of mine, scavenger, he found some pretty good equipment, and one of his friends figured out how to work it. I bought it from them, nostalgia’s sake. We could make ourselves a little movie, sell some bootleg holotapes at the bar to my vast and varied clientele. Profits for me, profits for you. What do you think?”

“You want us… to…?”

“Make some pornography. You’re familiar with it, aren’t you?”

And of course you were. Who wasn’t? Explicit material was hoarded, traded, treated like high class art because of its desirability but rarity. Hand-drawn, audio recordings, some magazines. But you’d never watched any before.

“And that’s… that’s something people would want?”

Cooper scoffed, settling back in his chair, shrugging his shoulders so nonchalantly at your query. 

“They might not know it, but it is. Any TV out there, provided it’s not blasted to shit, you can connect it to power. It won’t show anything new of course, but they’ll play a holotape. I know we’ve got a market for this. I know it. But you’ll just have to trust me, I suppose.”

You mulled it over. There were so many things to take into consideration, and so few of them were actually permeating past the excitement of getting to fuck Cooper once more. Besides, you needed the money. It wasn’t as if you were in a position to turn down whatever it was he was going to offer in the way of a grand scheme. You still felt like there should be at least an attempt at pretending to think it over, so you asked him the only question you could think of. 

“How will I know what to… do? Or say? Is there going to be a story?”

Cooper grinned wide, his yellowed teeth bared at you in a mischievous expression as he leaned in once more. 

“Oh don’t you worry about that. I had a bit of a hobby, writing scripts. No one ever wanted them, but I always fancied myself moving into writing or directing in my later years. And how much later can we get, I’m already two hundred years after considering that.”

Despite giggling at his comment, you could feel the sudden stress rising up in your chest, and you took a deep breath before asking him the follow up question that was playing on your mind.

“Do I need to like… remember what to say?”

“You know what, darlin’?”

Cooper took your hand in his, patting it condescendingly, but you took the comfort eagerly.

“You don’t have to say a thing except for what comes naturally. You let me carry the scene. I am the actor, after all.”

He winked to you, lifting his glass and downing his drink in one. 

“Shall I show you my script then? You in?”

With an enthusiastic nod you got up when he did, following him back through to the room you had paid for the previous day and sitting down on the bed with him, clutching the frayed, torn papers he had tossed to you from his pocket. Reading over it, you could feel both a desire to giggle and blush, as well as a heat crossing your lower back. It was so corny, so obvious, but nevertheless it was arousing. 

“So, what do you think then, darlin’? Am I good, or am I good?”

“Oh… you’re good, Cooper.”

“You in then?”

Again, you didn’t want to seem too eager, so you pretended to mull it over, looking at the paper so you could avoid Cooper’s gaze, before you set them down next to you and nodded to him.

“I’m in.”

He clapped his hands in excitement, stomping heavily towards the pack in the corner of the room, his own possessions stowed away neatly, a lifetime condensed, dust picking up around him, becoming unsettled in his frenzy. 

“What are you… Oh… Oh, Cooper… really?”

In his hands he held two items of clothing. A skirt that was barely anything, moth-bitten and stained slightly, but still surprisingly white in colour. And a shirt, similarly discoloured, fringe detailing on the collar with frayed embroidery detail the shoulders.

“You gotta look the part, darlin’. Now, you go put that on and I’ll get us set up.”

In the bathroom, you put on the outfit Cooper somehow just had, clearly waiting for an opportunity like this to come up, waiting for someone to fill the role. It made you feel special, like you were the chosen one. And that boost of confidence made you feel all the more attractive in the skimpy skirt and shirt that felt a little too tight across your chest. Upon exiting the bathroom, you found Cooper waiting for you by the side of the bed, the big heavy lump of equipment sitting on the wonky dresser and aimed at the bed. 

“Shouldn’t it look more like… a Western in here?”

“You got the budget for set dressing, missy?”

You raised your hands up, a silent apology for even questioning it, realising that Cooper had quickly been distracted by your outfit and was already forgetting your insolence as he took in how much of your legs were on display. 

Snapping himself out of the fugue state brought on by your body, he swallowed the collecting drool in his mouth and hit the button on the camera, walking over to you and winking. You did your best to recollect the bare bones of the script, enough that it might see you through this. But you were confident that in your excitement, you could play the part well enough.

“You’re safe now, ma’am. Those raiders won’t be comin’ round here no more.”

Standing before Cooper, you hesitated for a moment. But when he caught your eye, he offered you an encouraging nod and a smile that washed away most of your nerves, enough that you managed to get out your first line. And once that was out of the way, everything after it came easily.

“Why, kind sir. How can I ever repay you?”

“Well, little lady, I can think of plenty of ways you could thank me for my valiant efforts.”

“And what might those be, sir?”

Cooper hooked his arm around your back, pulling you into a quick embrace, tipping up the brim of his hat so he could lean into you.

“Oh! Well, sir… is that a pistol in your pocket? Or are you just that happy to do a good deed?”

“It’s my six shooter, darlin’. And if you’re a good girl, I’ll let you unload it.”

“Wow, you truly are a real cowboy, ain’t you?”

Pushing past the urge to cringe at the slight accent you were putting on, you managed to keep up the flirtatious act as you leaned into Cooper, hands behind your back to push your chest out further as you swayed a little. 

“Indeed I am, little miss. Now, let me show you how a cowboy gets his thanks.”

Cooper grabbed your hips, pushing you backwards until you landed on the rusting bed with a thud and a squeak. He was quick to hike up your skirt, pushing the fabric up until you were exposed to him, no underwear on. He pulled at your waist, angling you so you could be seen by the camera, and as you nervously pressed your thighs together he pushed his hand between your legs and spread them back apart.

Two of his fingers began gently stroking at your already wet and aching cunt, diving into it slowly, testing the waters, teasing you, like a glimpse of what was to come as his fingertips tapped right against the perfect spot. 

“You sure are somethin’, sweetheart. A mare to tame, huh? Lucky for you, I’ve done my fair share of ranch work.”

He worked quickly at his belt and pants, letting them slide down to his thighs, freeing his thick, hard cock. No sooner than you had begun to admire it, mouth watering, stomach clenching, he had lined it up with your entrance. He slid the tip against your folds, the head tapping your clit and sliding back down before he shifted his hips and pushed forward, entering you in one smooth motion. 

Your body reacted with a wave of heat, electricity flooding your nervous system, waves of static rushing over you as he began to pump his hips into you. He pushed his arms behind your back and lifted you slightly, bringing you to an angle, bucking up to fuck you deeper. You hooked a leg around his waist, holding him as close as possible, not wanting him to ever slide his cock back out of your cunt. You felt complete with it in there, throbbing against your walls. 

With your body close to his, he pressed his forehead to yours, unblinking as he focused on your eyes. There was an insatiable hunger in them, a ravenous desire for you that wasn’t just a bit for the camera. Cooper was really that hungry for you, greedy in his ruinous pounding as he let his cheek rest beside yours, tugging on your earlobes with his teeth as he grunted with exertion. Your heart thrummed as he teased your skin, working down your neck, biting the skin and sucking it into his mouth with a soft groan. 

But he let up quickly, softening the blow of his sudden stopping by cupping your cheeks in his hands.

“Bend over, darlin’. I wanna ride you like the wild pony I know you are.”

You were up and repositioning yourself almost immediately, his cock slipping free of your cunt with a deliciously wet sound, your thighs coated in your arousal, spreading apart once you were on your knees before him on the bed, waiting to be filled again. 

Cooper watched as you opened yourself up to him, holding his breath as he lined his head up once again with your cunt, pushing in slowly, inch by inch, until he was completely swallowed by your warmth. Setting himself at a brutal pace, he snapped his hips back and forwards against you, biting back his moans, breath hitching as he pulled your hips down onto him hard and fast. His fingers dug into your waist, nails pressing sharp crescents into your skin as he recklessly fucked you.

With a silent scream you arched your back as he rutted into you, deep and penetrating, only becoming more erratic as you writhed under him, squirming with pleasure as the head of his cock pounded against your g spot. Each knock felt like a jolt surging through you, each buck of his hips, the way he rolled into you, a sweet impact of pain and pleasure. You could feel him through you, full of him, happy to take him like this, his co-star, a place for him to bury his cock and make his money.

His legs began trembling, and he slowed his pace with a deep exhale.

“Wanna see if you can make me scream ‘yeehaw’, sweet thing? Why don’t you hop up on my lap. You can ride me so hard they might need to take me out back and shoot me.”

Cooper settled himself onto the bed beside you, patting against his thighs and waiting as you adjusted yourself once more, your legs straddling his hips. He held the base of his cock still as you sank down onto it, your cunt spreading, stretching to fit him once more, taking the entire length immediately, feeling completely stuffed.

He hissed, biting his lip as his cock disappeared into you once more, the pressure around him as you clenched, gripping him, had him whispering out in heated moans, until he was finally accustomed to the feeling. 

“I hope you’ve got good balance there, darlin’, cos I want you riding me bareback like you were a pro.”

His voice rasped on the words, a low, guttural sound that fell over his lips, a threat more than flirtatious joking, and you were happy to see it through. 

Working your thighs, you began rolling your own hips against him, feeling him twitch as you slid up and down his cock. Cooper’s breathy moans only spurred you on, moving faster, harder against him. His eyes were focused on your body, the way your breasts bounced as you rode him.

In a frenzied move that almost had you falling from him, he pulled your neck, bringing your body down to him, your hips moving up and down to keep sliding over his cock, bringing it inside of you, still buried deep within your cunt, but now he could nuzzle against your chest. 

His breath was warm against your skin, his neck stretching so he could catch your nipples in his mouth, worrying the buds with his teeth and tongue, sucking at them with satisfied sounds of ecstacy. Cooper’s own hips had begun bucking to, a syncopated rhythm between you both that led to a wild, frenetic pumping of his cock inside of your aching, fluttering walls. 

“Fuck… fuck… fuck.”

He’d lost all control of himself, and could feel the climax approaching, faster than he had hoped, but he couldn’t have expected it to feel this good. With a smile, he pushed your shoulders back, watching you as you sat on his lap, cock deep within you, pulsing, close to cumming with every little movement you made. 

“Now I know you ain’t a one trick pony, why don’t you show me what else you got up your sleeve.”

Cooper lifted your hips, guiding you off of his cock, your slick coating it in strands that pulled and dripped against your thighs. Following his strong arms, you sank to your knees on the floor in front of him, noting that you were directly in the line of the camera lens, ready for your big finale. 

He began stroking his cock, his palm becoming sticky with your arousal, the smacking sound of the well-lubricated motions so lewd, almost sultry. The perfect addition to the film.

“How familiar are you with ropes? Because I got a few for you here.”

His face was growing warmer, nerves on fire, cheeks burning, as he felt himself reaching his climax. With a racing heart, Cooper began to lose his composure, hitched breaths leading into a loud cry, a choked sob and moan as he came, white, thick ropes of his seed spilling onto your cheeks, against your lips, your neck and chest covered in droplets too.

Standing unsteadily, Cooper began to dissolve into the pleasure of a satisfactory conclusion, but not before he finished up the scene. His hand moved to the side of your neck, stroking around, fingers trailing over the front of your throat before his touch left you. 

“I’ll be on my way now, ma’am. But you ever run into trouble again… I sure would like to be the one that saves you.”

You managed to suppress the giggles until he was standing in front of the old camera, hitting the button again. He started dressing himself, presentable enough that he could leave the room.

“Cooper… that was…”

The words wouldn’t come to you, or rather, too many words came to you. Silly. Fun. Surprisingly hot. But as you watched his face contort into one of anticipation, almost nervous, you knew which one he wanted to hear.

“... amazing.”

His charming, cheeky smile rose back up on his lips as he nodded towards.

“Well, thank you, darlin’. You never know… this sells well enough and I might be looking to find a permanent position for you in this little business venture.”

You hoped he would. Beyond anything else, that’s what you wanted. Somewhere, at some point during all of the fun you were having with him, your subconscious had come to the conclusion that spending more time with Cooper, potentially all of your time with him, was what you wanted now. You could send money back to your settlement. You could hire a bounty hunter to do the work for you on their behalf. You could free yourself from a quiet life. You could find excitement, pleasure and, potentially, love. All of it was possible now. And you suspected that Cooper was certain it was too. Otherwise, would he even have mentioned the possibility of continuing to work together? He didn’t seem like the kind of man who would tease about something like that.

The thoughts remained in your head, too afraid to say them out loud in case you scared Cooper off with your quick attachment and your eagerness to be fucked by him on a long-term basis. You tried to think of something to say. Sharp, witty. Something that would set you on the same level as him, or at least close to it. Something that told him how much you wanted him, how much you wanted to stay here, without actually saying those words out right. But as you pondered over it, you realised you had another burning question, one that actually might work on all the levels you needed it to.

“Wait, don’t I get to finish?”

Cooper turned to you from the doorway, smiling wide, a smirk that made your stomach muscles tighten.

“When this little movie gets us our money and you can afford to pay me, I’ll make sure you do.”

He turned away, walking out of the door with the camera and the pile of holotapes in hand. Once you were dressed, and you had cleaned him off of your face, you followed after him, quick and dutifully, as you expected to, or at least hoped to, for as long as he’d let you.

Just as you finished dressing yourself, Cooper appeared in the door frame, tipping his hat to you as he winked.

“You comin’ then, partner?”

[lunarbuck]

Say My Name (Ari Levinson x f!reader)

thank you @flordeamatista for the beautiful gif !!!! I'm genuinely obsessed and so in love with it😭💕

pairing: Ari Levinson x f!reader (any race)

wc: 3.6k

warnings:  soft dark vibes, unwanted physical touch, kinda yucky man vibes, ari saves the day, beefy!ari, possessiveness, smut (p in v), breeding kink, spanking, pet names [baby, princess]

summary: Your neighbor Ari has had enough of the men you bring home.

a/n: This is my first time writing for Ari, I hope I did him justice!! Please lmk what you thought <3

My masterlist

Josh holds your hand while you lead him up the stairs to your apartment. He smiles at you every time you look back, but it’s not very reassuring. The date hadn’t gone as well as you’d hoped. There’ve been no glaring red flags, but something about him is just… off. 

You stop in front of your apartment, sliding the key in the lock, but you can’t help but let your eyes drift over a few feet to your neighbor’s door. Your mouth practically waters as you think about that man. He’s never said much to you, but every time you see him, all you can think about is his strong arms wrapping around you, his soft lips kissing you, his probably huge– 

Josh clears his throat, and you jump a little, forced back to reality.

You unlock the door and shyly step inside, suddenly unsure of if you want him to come in. Josh doesn’t really give you time to think about it and crosses the threshold, giving you a smile that shows off his perfectly straight, blindingly white teeth.

“Thanks for inviting me back,” he says, closing the door behind him. “You know, I really like you.” Josh leans against the wall beside you, and you take a step back, trying to put some space between the two of you.

“Oh, um… thanks,” you stutter out, not sure how to respond. Josh quickly makes himself at home, dropping onto the couch and beckoning you over. He takes your hand the second you get close enough, and he tugs you down beside him, practically on his lap.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” Josh coos, running a hand up your back. It makes your skin crawl. You kind of feel bad; Josh hasn’t done anything wrong necessarily. The date was just bland. He didn’t seem all that interested until it was over. He’s plenty attractive, you suppose, though his personality could use some work. He was definitely better at flirting over text.

Josh’s fingers massage your shoulders a little too roughly, moving the fabric of your shirt with his actions. Your stomach turns at the feeling of him touching you. You don’t want to offend him or hurt his feelings, but you don’t want him touching you, either.

You clear your throat and stand abruptly, pushing away from Josh’s body. “Look, Josh,” you start, twisting your fingers together as you turn to face him. “You’re a great guy and all, but–”

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that.” You make a face at “baby”. You don’t like the way it sounds coming from his lips. Your neighbor called you that once and now it feels like he’s the only one allowed to say it ever again.

“Watch out, baby, wouldn’t want you bruising that pretty face of yours.”

“I think you should go home,” you tell Josh, stepping backward. Your legs hit the coffee table, trapping you in. Josh stands, clearly upset by your suggestion.

“Why’d you invite me back here if you were just gonna kick me out?” He crowds your space, and you can practically feel the irritation coming off him in waves.

“Honestly, I didn’t really invite you. You kinda invited yourself over.” Your voice is quieter than you want; you don’t sound as strong as you’d like. Josh scoffs and rolls his eyes, placing a hand on your cheek.

“You just don’t know what you want, and I’m here to show you.” Bile rises in your throat, and you act without thinking, pushing Josh as hard as you can and quickly getting far away from him. Josh recovers easily and follows you a second later.

“Please just go away,” you say, louder this time. “Really, Josh, please just go home.” Josh raises his eyebrows but keeps walking toward you, backing you against the kitchen counter.

“Now, why would I do that?”

Ari

I heard her come home with him. Josh. He’s an idiot, not at all good enough for her. Ever since she moved in, I’ve been on the verge of losing control. She’s so beautiful, ethereal, and made of light. The first day I saw her, I wanted her, but she’s quiet, reserved. My life isn’t easy, and I don’t want her to get wrapped up in all of it. All of that’s been changing.

A few months ago, she started dating. The walls in the building are thin. I hear her every time she talks herself through getting dressed for the shitty men she meets with. She tries so hard to please them, to impress them, and they always let her down.

I hear her every time she gets home and crawls into bed, and touches herself. I hear her quiet whimpers and moans.

“Please, Ari, please.”

She sounds so sweet, whispering my name as she comes undone. 

Tonight, her date Josh has pushed her too far. There have been a few times when my princess’s dates have gotten too handsy, they’re overconfident and think they can talk their way into her bed, but she’s smarter than that.

Joshy here is fucking stupid. I seethe with anger as I hear my princess raise her voice at him. “Really, Josh, please just go home.”

I don’t think. I just act. My hand slides to my waistband, feeling the knife I keep holstered at all times. A moment later, I’m outside her door, reaching for her doorknob.

It’s unlocked. She didn’t even lock the door behind her. She has a lot to learn, but I will teach her. Oh, the things I will teach my beautiful little princess.

I step across the threshold, and instantly, Josh freezes. My princess stares with wide eyes between me and her date. 

“What’s going on in here?” I ask, stalking toward Josh. 

“Look, man, I don’t want any trouble,” he says, putting his hands up as if he’s innocent. He couldn’t be further from it. He put his hands on her, on what’s mine. He upset her. He’s made her cry.

Her tears shine so brightly against her skin, and it nearly brings me to my knees.

“It doesn’t look that way,” I say, my fingers easily finding the handle of my blade. I flick it open, the blade glinting in the light. Josh stares at the knife. He looks about ready to piss himself.

“Ari,” she whispers. It’s so quiet I almost miss it, but I don’t. I turn to look at her and feel the pull she has on me. Something deep in my chest connects me to her, and now, standing in her home, it feels even stronger. 

I can only imagine what it will feel like when I hold her. Kiss her. Fuck her.

“Get away from her,” I tell Josh, pointing the tip of my knife in his direction. I’m just a few feet away. If he tries to run, he won’t get far. I find I quite like the idea of cutting him down as punishment for what he’s done, but then I look at my princess and see how scared she is. 

She would never forgive me for making her endure that. “Get away from her,” I say again, practically growling.

Joshy finally makes a good decision and steps away from her, keeping his hands in the air.

I follow the man’s path, leading him toward the door, but the entire time my senses are attuned to my woman. She’s shaking where she stands, tears freely falling down her cheeks. I’ll take care of her the second this rat of a man is out of my sight.

I push Josh out the door, but he turns around abruptly, getting in my face. “Who the fuck are you, dude?” He asks incredulously.

“If you ever come here again, if you ever get close to that woman again, I’ll slit your throat. I won’t hesitate. Do you understand?” Josh stares, jaw dropping as he hears my words. He takes a deep breath and nods.

“Uh, yeah, I understand.” On that note, I slam the door in his face. His footsteps retreat a moment later. 

I hear my woman take heaving, shuddering breaths behind me that snap me back to reality. I tuck my knife away and am at her side in an instant.

“Thank you, Ari,” she whispers. I stand in front of her, suddenly unsure of myself. I want to touch her, to hold her close, but I don’t want to scare her.

“Of course,” I say, trying to match her volume. My voice comes out gruff and rumbly. My princess shifts on her feet nervously. “Are you okay?” Of course she’s not okay; that was an awful question.

“It’s better now that you’re here,” she confesses, looking up at me through her wet lashes. Her cheeks are damp from her tears, but she is no longer crying. I rest my hand on her cheek, letting my thumb brush away the wetness from her skin.

She leans into my touch, seemingly comforted by my presence. 

Electricity courses through my body, spurring me to hold her closer, touch her more. She is addictive, and I haven’t even gotten a taste yet.

“I would never let anything happen to you,” I whisper to her, leaning closer to her. This close, I can smell her perfume. It’s floral, the same one that lingers in the hall every time she passes through. 

“I thought–” she pauses, chewing her lower lip. My thumb that had been caressing her cheek dips down, tugging her lip from between her teeth. It’s pink and slightly swollen as I rub the pad of my thumb along it. 

“You thought what, princess?” I ask, reveling in the softness of her lip beneath my calloused skin. She breathes deeply when I call her princess, and I smirk.

“I thought you hadn’t even noticed me. You’re always cooped up in your apartment or at work, I guess. And I know you’re older than me, so I figured you weren’t interested. I just never thought you’d… want me.” Heat shoots down my spine. Of course I want her; I’ve wanted her from the second I saw her.

I hold her face in both my hands, relishing how soft she is, and take a breath. 

“You’re right. I am older than you. I’m always working, and when I’m not working, I’m in my place. But you’re always on my mind, princess. I hear you sing to yourself while you’re cooking. I hear you talk to yourself when you’re frustrated. I hear you moan my fucking name at night while you touch yourself.” Her eyes go wide, pupils blowing.

“You– you heard me?” My grin widens, and I can’t help but chuckle at her sweet innocence.

“Yes, baby. You know how hard it’s been for me to hear you whimpering, begging for me, and not break down your door? You have no idea how much I want you. Need you.”

Her chest rises and falls quickly as heat rushes to her cheeks. She’s glowing, practically vibrating with need.

“Ari,” she mutters, mesmerized. My grin is now a full-blown smile, and I watch her carefully as I lean in to kiss her. She responds so perfectly to me, arching against my chest to close the distance between our lips.

Our height difference is noticeable, and I love the way she rises onto her toes to kiss me. She tastes sweet like candy and salty from her tears as my tongue swipes against the seam of her lips. She moans and opens for me, tangling her fingers in my hair. It’s gotten long, but I love the way her nails scratch against my scalp.

I devour her, drinking her in. I just can’t help myself. I thought I’d been addicted before, but now that she’s here in my arms, I know it’s so much more than that. To think I’ve gone so long without her…

My hands wander down her body, caressing her neck, her curves, every inch of her skin that I can reach. She responds to each touch with a whimper or a tug of my hair, egging me on. 

“I need more,” I groan against her, sliding my hands down to her knees and hoisting her up onto the counter. Her ass hits the cool marble, and she shrieks at the temperature, making me chuckle. She’s wearing a pair of flowy pants that I easily pull down her body and toss onto the ground somewhere behind me.

Next, I pull her shirt over her head. My woman is a beautiful sight in just her panties and a bra, but I know she will look even more stunning naked and writhing beneath me.

My cock was already hard, but now it’s almost painful.

“Ari,” she whimpers as I step between her legs. I run my hands up her legs, squeezing the flesh of her ass before letting my fingers wander up further to her breasts. I love the way my name sounds when she says it.

“Fuck, princess.” She arches against me and urges me to tug her bra off of her. I rid her of the garment and moan at the sight of her perfect body. Her panties are gone a moment later and I devour her with my eyes. 

My hands rest on her shoulders, thumbs tucked under her jaw to keep her looking at me. Her pupils are blown and her lips open as she breathes heavily. She’s so worked up and I haven’t even done anything to her yet. 

“Ari,” she says again, licking her bottom lip. I lean in and kiss her hard before I tug her off the counter. Her legs wrap around my waist and she gently grinds against my abdomen, seeking friction. I bite her lip and soothe it with my tongue.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” I whisper against her lips. The layout of her apartment is the same as mine, so I already know where her bedroom is. The door is open and I take a moment to look around at her space. Gently, I place her down on the bed and grin at the thought of fucking her here. Of giving her a new memory to touch herself to. 

“I want you, Ari,” she whispers, looking so sweet and innocent on her bed. I cock my head, resting my hands on my hips. She sheepishly looks away but I kneel down and force her to look at me again. She takes a big breath before continuing. “I want you inside me, Ari. I need you.” 

The fact that I don’t immediately rip my clothes off and pounce on her is a testament to my self-control, but she whittles it away with the breathy moan she ends the sentence with. 

I pull my belt off and start to unbutton my pants, loving the way her eyes follow each movement. When I step out of my jeans and pull my boxers down, my princess practically drools. I laugh at her expression, it goes straight to my ego.

“You think you can handle it princess?” I ask, fisting the head of my cock. She nods, in a daze, and crawls toward me. Her fingers wrap around the base of my cock and I bite back a moan when I feel how soft her skin is. She works her hand up and down, replacing my hand with her own, and swipes her tongue over the head gingerly.

“Yes, Ari,” she tells me, sucking me into her hot mouth. I run my fingers through her hair, letting her take me at her own pace. I let her control this moment, knowing that soon all she’ll want is to lose control. She hums around my cock and it nearly sends me over the edge. 

Even though I don’t want to leave the heat of her mouth, I gently push her off me and guide her onto her back. I kneel between her legs and litter kisses along the insides of her thighs. Her fingers twist in my hair as she tries to tug me toward her center, where she wants me most.

I bite the flesh of her thigh before I wrap my lips around her clit. She moans loudly, legs trapping my head. I smile against her pussy as I taste her, my tongue darting out to lap up everything she gives me. I wrap my arms around her legs and hold her tightly, not wanting to let her escape from my grip. She wiggles her hips and grips the sheets tightly with her fingers as I work her up and up. 

I want her to come more than I want to breathe.

She chants my name like a prayer, each time breathier and higher than the last, as she approaches her climax. She pulls my hair harshly, but the bite of pain just fuels me to bring her over the edge. 

“Ari!” She shouts as she comes, grinding against my tongue. I don’t want to stop, but I pull back when she starts to whine with sensitivity. 

“You’re so perfect, princess,” I tell her, kissing up her abdomen. I wrap my lips around one of her taut nipples and suck it into my mouth. Her fingers scrape up my back and tug at my hair. “So fucking perfect.”

I grind against her, my cock slipping through her center and knocking her clit. She shudders beneath me as I give her a taste of what’s to come.

“Ari,” her voice is low and raspy.

“You want me to fuck you baby?” I ask, teasingly, as I give her other breast some much needed attention. “You want me to make you feel good?” She nods quickly, whimpering.

“Please, Ari,” she groans. “Please.” I line my cock up with her entrance and slide in, inch by inch, making her feel all of it. Her hands grip my shoulders and her eyes screw shut as I stretch her. She’s so fucking tight it feels like I’m suffocating. 

“You’re squeezing me so good, princess,” I tell her, dropping my head to the crook of her neck. When I’m fully inside her, I take a second to let her feel how deep I am inside of her. I slide one of my hands between us and press on her lower belly, adding pressure.

“Oh my god,” she whimpers. I grin against her skin as I pull nearly all the way out. I thrust into her, hard and fast, barely giving her time to breathe. I set a brutal pace, one that sends electricity shooting down my spine. 

She clings to me, taking what I give her. She loses herself to me, lets me use her as I please. She’s more perfect than I ever could have imagined. 

“You’re doing so good for me, baby,” I moan, biting her shoulder, “Fucking made for me.” 

I fuck her like it’s the last thing I’ll ever do. I fuck her like she’s killing me.

My beautiful princess writhes beneath me and I pull back, turning her over. She lifts her hips in the air, arching her back to show off her perfect body, and I moan at the sight. She will be the death of me. Such a sweet death, that would be. 

I run my hands over the globes of her ass and smack the right side. She jolts below me but I see the smile that flits over her lips. I soothe the ache before smacking the other side. She moans, but I want more than that.

I spank her again. “Say my name,” I grunt, thrusting my cock between her cheeks. I ache to be inside of her, but I need her to work for it. 

She wiggles her ass and I give her two more slaps. “Say my name.”

“Ari,” she whispers, gripping the sheets below her. Her brow is furrowed, eyes screwed shut. 

I slip my cock into her and thrust all the way in, hitting a new spot deep inside of her. She sucks in a tight breath, squeezing me tighter. “Ari,” she moans.

The way I fuck her is desperate, it gives away how much I fucking need her, how much I crave her.

“Say my name,” I tell her, punctuating each word with a deep thrust. She moans my name over and over again, and each time she says it I spank her. 

We’re both close to finishing, both on the edge of ecstasy.

I grip her hips and drive into her harshly, loving the way my princess goes limp below me. The only thing holding her up is my hold on her hips.

“Fuck, baby, I need you to come one more time.” She nods and I watch one of her hands disappear between her legs. 

“Please come inside me, Ari,” she whispers, burying her face in the bed. Fuck.

“Gonna fucking fill you up, princess,” I grunt, picking up my pace. “Gonna fuck a baby into your pretty pussy.” My words push her over the edge, and I feel her clench around me. She bucks against me and I hold her hips tightly to me.

I come hard, filling her just like I promised to. Every muscle in my body tightens, and the only thing that relaxes me is my princess’s soft breaths as she comes down from her high.

Together, we collapse against the bed, and I pull her into my chest. My cock is still semi-hard inside of her, but I have no intention of pulling out. Not right now, not when she’s so soft against me.

“You did so perfect for me,” I whisper, nudging my nose against her ear. “So perfect, princess.” She settles in, melting into my embrace, and I take it all in.

I’m never letting another man touch her, not now that I’ve felt her, tasted her. Fucked her.

She’s all mine.

Forever.

please message me to be added to a taglist! Must be 18+

general tags: @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @emi11ie @paulasocean @silverfire475 @lovingchoices14 @nekoannie-chan

@raging-panda

[cursedonyx]

can you do a reaction of hlc reacting to mc dying in their arms?

Hogwarts Legacy Characters React to You Dying in Their Arms

You’d had so many adventures by this point that they seemed droll, but complacency can lead to fatal consequences.

⚠️Content Warning for death and body horror below the cut.⚠️

Sebastian Sallow

He wastes no time in ending the poachers that cast diffindo at you. He doesn’t even think about it as he wipes them out. Only then does he fall to his knees beside you, trying to think of a way to stop the blood pouring from your neck. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he already knows it’s too late, and even if he knew proper healing spells, they wouldn’t help you now.

He begs you not to go. He pleads with you. He tells you he loves you more than anything. That he’d do anything if only you’d hold on for just a little bit longer. He’d trade his life for yours. He’d fight gods and win. Just please, please don’t go. Don’t leave him all alone.

You don’t listen. You can’t. You’ve already gone.

Ominis Gaunt

It was supposed to be a nice, simple outing. A walk through the Highlands, utterly boring but completely safe. But Ominis has never been a lucky man. A tree falls, spearing you through the chest with a broken branch. Ominis is unscathed, but in that moment, he wishes he was not.

He holds you as you struggle for breath, blood bubbling between your lips. There’s no one around to help, and he knows it. He can’t apparate, because he can’t visualise where he needs to go. He is completely helpless. All he can do is comfort you, so that’s what he does, speaking softly, soothingly, holding you close and shushing you as your skin pales and grows cold. He tells you Nurse Blainey is on her way, and she’ll make everything better. He tells you it’s alright to go to sleep, because he’ll be there waiting for you when you wake up.

They have to send out a search party when neither of you return. They find him, two days later, still holding you and speaking softly, cupping your chilled face, damp with his own tears. He never speaks again after that.

Garreth Weasley

Garreth’s potions mishaps had always held a kind of whimsical hilarity to them. Nothing ever went seriously wrong, just small explosions or fires. When Garreth asked for your help late one evening, needing to finish an assignment for Professor Sharp, he had no idea how dire the consequences would be.

All it took was a little too much powdered erumpent horn. Barely a gram. Garreth had the sense to duck, his reflexes honed by years of mistakes, but you didn’t. You looked into the cauldron. You caught the blast full-face.

By the time the smoke clears, you’re unrecognisable; just a charred, black thing in the shape of a person. But you’re still moving, weakly stirring, reaching for something, anything to hold. Garreth takes your hand, apologising over and over, the words becoming a meaningless babble as the reality sinks in. By the time Professor Sharp has limped into the classroom, you’ve gone. Garreth drops potions the next day, and never brews again.

Leander Prewett

You promised to teach him how to fly a broom properly. He trusts you, and would rather go to you than Imelda. It takes a while before he’s confident to fly at any great height, but soon the pair of you are soaring over the castle. But then Leander looks down, and all his old insecurities strike him at once. He loses control of his broom. He panics. You swoop in to try and help, but his flailing limbs and grasping hands knock you clean off your own broom.

He tries to catch you. He tries to get his broom under control in time to dive after you. He’s two seconds too late, and the last thing you see is him flying towards you, his hand outstretched. You die on impact, and Leander only manages to avoid crashing by the smallest margin. He falls to the ground and scrambles over, trying to push the pieces of your head back together, trembling and sobbing, but it’s too late.

Poppy Sweeting

All Poppy wanted to do was see the dragon again, to check on the egg and make sure both were alright. She drags you along, convinced that because you helped, you’d both be safe. Minutes later, you’re both running for your lives, and dive into a lake to escape. But your robes get caught on some underwater branches, and you can’t fight free.

Poppy tries everything to get you out. The water is too murky to use diffindo, accio only succeeds in ripping your shirt, and there’s no point casting the bubble head charm if you’re already underwater. Your face is only inches below the surface, and Poppy lies on the bank, her eyes on yours, holding onto you, trying to pull you out, screaming for help. Even after the last bubble of air has risen from your lips, she doesn’t stop pulling.

Natsai Onai

She should have known not to go poking around where danger lurked. She should have been more careful trying to clear up the last of the ashwinder camps. She should have foreseen that Harlow would want revenge. Only this time, when an ashwinder casts a curse, it’s you that leaps into the line of fire, and it wasn’t crucio this time. It was the killing curse.

Natty disarms and knocks out the offender before wrapping her arms around you. She has to get you back to the castle, someone can help you then. She half carries, half drags your body until she just can’t walk any more. She cradles you in her lap, weeping silently, and vowing revenge.

Masterlist

[verxca]

IMAGINE 04 ⟡

➤ warriors crushing on you

includes ; reiner, bertholdt ⋆ ˚｡

⟡ reiner hated himself for it. he was sent here on a mission, after all, and felt sort of immature for haven fallen this hard for a girl. weak, almost.

- can’t be fallin’ for some girl like this…

- gotta marry her.

⟡ you two met when reiner offered to help adjust your odm straps, the orange sunset illuminating your flushed features in the process. he was a real gentleman, cheeks blushing instinctively as his calloused hands slided across your legs, tightening the belts around it.

- stay focused, reiner…

⟡ though, what really opened his eyes was during an incident where you got injured on a mission. it wasn’t anything serious, just a gash to the arm. he didn’t know why he did it, like a primal instinct kicking in, bringing you to a nearby building to help all by himself.

⟡ having such a gorgeous thing so delicate in arms, so vulnerable, yet so trusting over him is what sent reiner over the edge. that final push he needed.

⟡ and ever since, he found it hard to think normally. purposefully, he’d offer to spar with you, even to walk with you. even to carry those creates for you. even write about you in a journal he kept. these ‘evens’ turned into a ritual for him; he just wanted life to be easier for you, happier, not wanting you to suffer that same way he had.

- oh, i got it. no sweat.

- here, lemme’ walk y’a back. it’s dangerous out.

⟡ he always tried to shake these dirty thoughts out his head, but anytime you two would spar, seeing you all sweaty and tuckered… he just couldn’t take it. sometimes he’d be trying to fall alssep in the barracks, asking god why having a crush was more painful than anything.

⟡ he’d try to act like a real man around you, not aware how funny he really looked in reality. purposefully flexing his muscles to bert when you were looking, taking his shirt off in random occasions outside, showing his toned chest.

- c’mon. what? it’s hot out.

⟡ in all, he was more confused than anything. how could a woman be so kind? so beautiful? all while fighting in this cruel world? he just wanted to protect you.

⟡ bertholdt on the other hand knew he was in love with you the second you’d spoken to him.

⟡ it was a simple introduction, you had just stated your name and how you were glad to meet him. bert being bert evidently humbled himself, knowing you spoke out of kindness to your peers, not lust. yet, he still couldn’t stop himself from growing entranced.

- it’s nice to meet you too, yeah…

⟡ you were like an angel to him, something he couldn’t keep his eyes off of. walking past you, seeing you talk with friends, cooking dinner, training hard; he’d just stare, admiring your mouvements and features.

⟡ not in some creepy way, though, it was like a daydream almost. he just couldn’t help himself from giving you a quick glance when nobody was aware.

- she’s so gorgeous…

⟡ and when you spoke to him in person… oh god. he almost hated it, getting beyond flustered and nervous each time. that’s why he preferred to admire you from afar.

- i- uhm- yeah, i agree.

- cool, okay, yeah, perfect to me.

⟡ you thought it was adorable how he’d just go along with whatever you were saying, no matter the subject at hand. even while talking in groups, he would stand up to defend your point, etc.

⟡ on the contrary to reiner’s case, you once ended up helping bert out. when nobody else was around to patch him up after a mission, you lovingly offered, gently scrubbing the cuts on his face with a handkerchief.

- thank you, {name}-

⟡ he stayed quiet during the interaction, like always when you approached. even just looking at your gorgeous figure was enough to send him into waves of euphoria.

[jinkookspencil]

like couples do | knj

you run out of period products at dawn, and there's only one person who's up....

description/tags: namjoon drabble / fwb to lovers / fluff / but mentions the fact that namjoon and reader had unprotected sex (don't do this) and reader is relieved to get her period afterwards / so obviously mentions of period and blood / maybe a bit angsty? / been busy and been working on a request! but it's been a while since i wrote namjoon and, gosh, i love writing for him even though whatever comes to me for him is usually the most random bursts and ideas, like this one i thought of last night / let me know what you think <3

wc: ~1.6k words

+

Your gasp pulls you from heaven to hell.

Extracted from your dream, you’re out of the covers in a flash, dazed as you try to meet your reality. The room was sweltering despite autumn settling in and the fan whizzing away in your room as it always did. The sound you’d grown so accustomed to only made it harder to think, but you didn’t have to. The wet pools at your back and around your body suddenly made themselves known, with your black pajama top sticking to your sweaty skin. With a quick change into a tank top and a sip of cold water, you were ready to escape into a dreamland, far from the hellhole that had been your bedroom...

Only to be met with a small pool of a different kind when you pull away the blanket.

Fuck.

Quickly feeling between your thighs confirmed it - you bled through your shorts.

Well, at least it’s here, you think, your heart settling after days worrying about the sudden delay in your cycle. After all, Namjoon hadn’t used any protection… 

It was hard to put away the mental image of him once you were in the bathroom, remembering that one time he had you propped up on the cabinet, but looking through it now, the panic returns. You were all out of pads and tampons.

This is why people have roommates. Or stupidly organized Virgo boyfriends, you think, cursing yourself while rummaging through every drawer, cupboard, and overnight bag without finding a single tampon for the evening. 

The minutes spent on your phone were quick to squash any more of your hopes - the delivery service app had been shut down for the night after some seemingly catastrophic bug on their end, and your female friends who lived nearby hadn't answered your texts and calls, as expected at this time of day.

Reading the time on your phone, you knew one person who would definitely be up. The person who always showed up. The man worked ridiculous hours, following his ‘late-night creativity’… unless the universe really wanted to torture you and, for the very first time, he’d be asleep as well.

You consider running to the convenience store, double layering your bottoms with black fabrics, and taking a scooter... only for a stinging cramp to shock you at your lower back.

He had to answer.

+

to: joon 🌒[3:58am] - hi are you up?

to: joon🌒 [3:58am] - text asap please it’s urgent

to: y/n🍀 [4:01am] - yes i’m up. are you okay y/n?

to: y/n🍀 [4:01am] - i’m finally done with work for the night.

to: y/n🍀 [4:01am] - are you okay? i’ll call as soon as i’m out of the building.

to: joon🌒 [4:02am] - don’t call i’m embarrassed to say this to you out loud plus i'm in pain

to: joon 🌒 [4:02am] - can you get me some pads and tampons? i got my period (aka the pain) and i’m all out so….

to: joon🌒 [4:02am] - i need em and i can’t get em

to: y/n🍀 [4:03am] - y/n of course. phew i thought this was going in literally the complete opposite way considering…

to: y/n🍀 [4:03am] - anyways, aren’t we past embarrassment? never feel that when it comes to me please.

to: y/n🍀 [4:03am] - safe space just for us, remember? 

to: joon🌒 [4:04am] - yes :) thanks joon 

to: y/n🍀 [4:04am] - :) getting on my bike now. i’ll be there in 10.

to: y/n🍀 [4:04am] - the sky’s starting to change colors. look outside, pretty :) (1 image attached)

+

The knock, though expected, jolts you enough for your new bedsheet to spring away from your grasp once again. Frustrated, a groan escapes you as you walk to your front door, tightening the robe that covered your body and stained shorts.

“Sorry I’m late,” Namjoon giggles at the door, seeing your furrowed expression. “Oh, you’re most definitely on your period, huh?”

“Get in here and shut up,” you groan once more, letting him in. All too familiar with your place, he unpacks one of the bags in his hand, carefully displaying an array of period products on the nearest table. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t send a photo and ask me to choose one,” you say, grabbing one of the boxes.

“I… I grabbed everything in the aisle without thinking. Shit, I should’ve sent a photo, right? Are these not good enough? Are they the wrong size? Will they fit your....? I can go to another convenience store,” he murmurs, head tilted down as he surveys the products before you.

“No, Namjoon, honey, the photo is just a thing boyfriends tend to do when they’re asked to get period products. You asked the same size and fit question, though,” you laugh before quickly realizing you compared his actions to that of a boyfriend. Something he most definitely was not.

“I lived in a dorm full of boys, how was I supposed to know?” he says, scratching his head.

“These are perfect, and I’m stocked for at least the next three months. Thank you, Joonie,” you say, squeezing his arm.

“Anytime, Y/N,” he replies quietly, pulling you closer to him so he can kiss your forehead. It only hits you both when your hand is rubbing at his back in his embrace, and it takes even longer to break away than it did to realize the situation. 

Something shifts in Namjoon’s gaze when he sees you emerge from the bathroom in new pyjama shorts. “Cute PJ’s. I’m not used to seeing them on you for more than five seconds.”

“Enjoy the show, then,” you quip, plopping down next to him on the couch and extending your legs over his lap. You hadn’t really meant it as a command, but can’t help but smile catching the fact that Namjoon had obeyed. His fingers draw mindless circles at your ankles as his gaze travels upwards. Minutes are spent in silence, eyeing your thighs with intent before his eyes rest on your exposed clavicle. His circles stop, gripping your ankle and noting the undeniable rise and fall of your breathing and breasts, swollen and tender against your thin cotton tank top.

“Oh,” he finally says with a cough, breaking the silence and raising his brows. “I almost forgot. I thought you might need these.”

Leaning forward, Namjoon dumps the entire contents of the second plastic bag onto your hard coffee table. Small, colorful circles bounce off of it and onto the floor, long bars land with a thud, and instantly recognizable plastic packages are cushioned by its contents.

“Oh, Joon. I do. I do fucking need this,” you let out, almost as a moan. “You already know what I want.”

Smiling, he tears open a plastic packet of your favorite chocolate-flavored bread and another for himself. The time spent biting and savoring the pillowy snack was heavenly in the comfortable silence -save for the birds that begin to chirp from somewhere outside your window.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten the sticker,” you say, handing Namjoon the tiny square envelope in your now-empty plastic packaging. He’s quick to grab it from your hands, giddy to see whatever Pokemon character was inside.

"Take mine, too," he says, handing you his square, with an illustration of a pink, deer-like creature - not at all like the Pokemon he usually mentioned.

"Oh, she’s pretty!”

"Exactly..." he says. "Deerling, that's her name. She's a new favorite of mine, actually. Her colors change based on the different seasons in the year... and when she evolves, her deer form's antlers are basically how branches are decorated in nature: budding flowers and leaves for spring, greenery for summer, you get the picture. She's the only one that truly encapsulates the beauty of our world..."

"All that for a Pokemon? I'm jealous," you tease, but he doesn't laugh, quietly opening the envelope you'd handed to him.

“Yes!” he cheers. “I don’t have this one yet - Moltres. Ah, you really are my good luck charm, huh?"

"Am I? I guess you should keep me around, then, huh?" you say, leaning back on the couch and poking his shoulder.

"That's the plan," Namjoon says, his eyes still thoughtfully fixated on the sticker he fiddled with, but only for a moment. “Uhm… I… we… should probably get some sleep, huh? I should probably…go. Uhm, should I?”

“Do you want to go?” you ask, feeling a tightening in your chest at the thought. Just like all those nights in bed, it was too comfortable to remember that this wasn't your entire reality but stolen, secret time. Always, one found themselves reminding the other to snap back to reality. It was beautifully torturous, just as you two had liked it for so long… until it began to sink in that the beauty could stand on its own…. if only one of you had the courage. 

“….No. No I don’t really want to go, Y/N. But if you want me to….” 

“I don’t want you to,” you interrupt, nudging his fingertip with yours right over your knees until your hands are intertwined. “I mean someone has to help me fit that stupid sheet onto the bed... and you're quite familiar with my sheets."

“I am,” he smiles, nodding to himself and squeezing your hand with his.

“Then we can get in… and just go to sleep… or cuddle,” you wonder, feeling Namjoon's soft hand under yours.

“Like couples do?” Namjoon asks, finally meeting your gaze for the first time that night.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m thinking like couples do,” you whisper, your breath hitching on the words that spoke your once unthinkable, far-fetched desire while looking at it right in the eyes. 

“Me too,” he smiles, bringing your hand up to kiss it and rest it at his dimples. “Like couples it is then.”

[bunbitti]

dear player

:)

~1k words

tw: mention of trauma, depression, implied suicidal ideation, etc. in both reader and Aventurine, unhealthy coping mechanisms/escape from reality

Ratio had visited the Astral Express several times by now. It was always a nice way to take a break from being surrounded by idiots. Yes, it was his job to educate his students and teach people the value of knowledge, but he didn’t have to be around them all the time, did he? Surely not. 

The company of the Astral Express crew was often pleasant, and looking through their data bank whenever he visited to check its updates was a good way to spend the time. 

And then there was you. Well, technically it was some mix of you and the Trailblazer; he could tell the choices you had made during the course of the travels of the Express had impacted the Trailblazer’s character development and personality, and hearing your voice in the back of his head when you were doing dailies and grinding was one of the main ways he’d figured out that his universe (well, the universe of everyone who existed in the same physical plane as him, at least) was a mere video game in yours. 

It was initially rather disheartening to think that his existence could be reduced to such a thing, but he supposed that after hearing your self-deprecating thoughts about yourself, he might as well continue on with his life and keep someone happy and distracted from the thoughts for at least a little while. The universe wouldn't stop for him just because he'd learned this information. He could tell when you’d logged on and off by the Trailblazer’s behavior, but lately it was getting harder to tell whether you were making them walk at him and circle around him like a puppy or if they’d ended up getting this attached to him on their own. 

And he noticed that lately, whenever he visited, you’d take the phone out and take pictures of him from a rather short distance. Even if they turned out to be similar to the ones you’d taken from last time. And your voice in the back of his head (and, he presumed, the back of everyone else’s head when you were in close physical proximity or using them on your teams) had repeated several times that you’d leveled him to max because you loved him. And Aventurine, apparently; they were the only two who had their levels, lightcones, traces, and relics maxed out (though the lightcones weren’t their signature ones, but he could understand, since you never seemed to spend money on the game and getting the characters themselves was the priority), and you almost always put him and the gambler on the same team.

It was a funny thing, supposedly being loved by a person who couldn’t possibly know enough about him to really mean it, even if you'd gathered his character lore from leveling him up. He knew his personality was often abrasive, after all. You probably only liked him because of his looks and voice and because he was fictional; he’d learned enough from what you said about yourself to know you really were intelligent and talented (perhaps not a genius, but the vast majority of people weren't), but had the misfortune of trauma and burnout and a dozen other factors that kept you lost and unable to find your way and led you to be attached to people who weren't real to you. If he were your professor, he’d likely have to be gentler on someone so fragile. He could tell you were the kind of person who was weak to criticism but would only cry about your self-perceived worthlessness once you were alone in your room. 

The way you talked about Aventurine, too.. it was concerning. You had the same image of yourself as Aventurine had of himself. Sure, you weren’t a murderer nor did you gamble with money or your own life like that Avgin man, but ideally neither of you should be thinking of yourselves as losers, frauds, failures, useless, selfish, or pointless. But you’d gotten attached to the traumatized man because you felt like him, Ratio supposed. 

He later realized that a possible reason you liked him was because you never felt good enough. He wasn't good enough for Nous (though he'd later rejected the very concept of desiring that thing's acknowledgement) and often criticized himself for not doing things impossibly better and faster, and you felt inadequate for yourself, your family, and the rest of the world, no matter what you did or didn't do.

Over time, since he never learned your real name, and supposed your username wasn’t your real one (nobody with any sense of intelligence reveals their names like that in a game, especially one with player-to-player interactions, after all), he’d mentally given you a nickname similar to the one he’d given to Aventurine —

Dear player. 

He’d never admit that he’d grown a bit fond of you, since it was pointless to have that kind of attachment to someone he would logically never be able to meet, but he excused it as the same sense of pity he felt for his blond traumatized colleague. 

It wasn't just pity.

He wanted you to stay alive just as he'd beseeched Aventurine to stay alive with his 'medicine' scroll.

He figured he should keep visiting more often to make you happy, even though you had already received the ten stellar jades as a gift for hosting him on the Express so many times, even though it was likely unhealthy for you to be relying on someone who didn't exist to survive. He’d asked what you and/or the Trailblazer wanted in exchange for letting him visit, and heard you in his mind saying, “a hug, please, I want a hug” before begrudgingly choosing the ‘free life coaching’ option. 

Alas, even though it wasn’t in his nature to be so physically affectionate in public (Himeko and Welt Yang were always present in the main cabin, after all, and oddly enough you/the Trailblazer.. didn’t seem to have your own room on the Express??), he would’ve given you that hug. It sounded like you needed it. But both of you had to settle for the Trailblazer running into some invisible game-barrier around him and every other person in the game to get as close as you could. 

[nocturnalpl4gue]

hello hi hello ! i am an enjoyer of samarie and would enjoy headcanons of taking care of her or whatever else you wish to add on : ) youre doing a great service with this blog !

Of course!!! I agree that Samarie needs someone to help her…as a little treat. Hope you enjoy!!!

𝔗aking care of 𝔖amarie ꒷꒦✧🫀˖°

⚰️ At first when you started approaching her and showing more interest she was very hesitant to say the least, flinching at the proximity.

⚰️ However as you started being patient with her like with a scared stray dog, she slowly became more fond of you, always waiting for the moment in the day where you’d ask her how she’s doing.

⚰️ Because of Samarie being very aware of her short lifespan, she doesn’t really take care of herself, at all. You realised that fact once you were able to be at a closer distance, seeing the mats on her hair and her chapped, pale skin.

⚰️ So of course you go on a mission to help her to take care of herself. One small issue, every time you try to touch her hair, face, or body she flinches and retreats away from you.

⚰️ She winces not out of disgust or fear, but rather she’s flustered over someone actually taking care of her and showing it actively.

⚰️ Once she gets used to your touch she becomes quite addicted to it, always yearning for it, for your warm hands against her cheek.

⚰️ Samarie loves when you hold her face if we stay in topic, and leans on your hand much like a cat.

⚰️ She needs help brushing her hair from how matted it can get, so you not only would need to brush it roughly but also clean it up first to remove any dirt or mat. If you wonder how she gets it so dirty, let’s just say her hiding spots aren’t the neatest.

⚰️ So you’re on your way to the bath, warming up some water for her. You ask her if she wants to wash herself and you’ll wait her outside, but she grabs you with an ever so shaky hand, a bit sweaty you could say, by the hem of your shirt.

⚰️ She has very dry and sensitive skin, making it so you’d need to rub the soap carefully. She gets really flustered by this as she feels a tickling sensation when you caress her arms, shoulders and torso.

⚰️ As a little treat you peck her from time to time whenever you seems nervous about this whole thing, making her turn into pudding.

⚰️ Once all is done she will wait for you to get a towel for her, one which you put around her gently. She snuggles in it while looking at you, a bit shaky because of the cold but mostly because she’s in awe over how kind you are.

⚰️ She will let you braid and play with her hair if you’re close enough. You say you braid it because it’s good so it doesn’t tangle that often, but in reality you just think she looks really cute.

⚰️ Ever since you started to make a routine with her she’ll try to be consistent with it for you. She sees the smile on your face when your beloved Samarie looks clean and healthy, ‘it is what she deserves’ you say to yourself, and she couldn’t be happier about that.

⚰️ Even if she struggles she’ll try to help you clean up as well, maybe indulging in baths together, or in doing a facial care routine as a little house date.

⚰️ Sometimes you buy face masks with funny shapes like those of animals, and even if at first she was embarrassed with putting one on, when she saw you she found it adorable and joined you in the fun.

⚰️ Alas it all comes to an end, and as the sky darkens you two get sleepy. You have some food together, sharing stories (well, you tell stories while she listens nodding her head with shaky breaths) and enjoying each other’s company.

⚰️ She likes to sleep next to you, your presence is very calming and makes her brain quiet, indulging in the silence of the night and the warmth emitting from your body.

⚰️ She’s very hesitant to get closer to you whatsoever, afraid that she’ll cross your personal space and bother you. Of course you don’t mind, and you insist on that, making her face heat up.

⚰️ Next thing you know, the Sun has risen, and a lanky Samarie is wrapped around your body latched to you with no intention of letting go.

[asimplearchivist]

𝓢𝓹𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝓓𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰

𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐗𝐗𝐕

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ you're down in the dumps about the disheartening lack of prospective romantic partners interested in initiating a long-term relationship with you. your ever-helpful coworker amy decides to give you (and a highly interested would-be suitor) a nudge in the right direction—just not in the way you might expect. pairing(s) ☽ steven grant/reader-centric | constellations!verse word count ☾ 4.8k a/n ☽ ⤏ my second entry for the moon knight bingo hosted by @juneknight and @spacecowboyhotch over at @moonknight-events. I will eventually crosspost this to the main fic for constellations on ao3 when it will best fit the chronological progression of the chapters. this takes place post-chapter ii. ⤏ this takes place right before chapter two while steven is preparing for his interview, so before he works up the nerve (courtesy of both his agreement with and coertion from marc) to ask you out. ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ PREVIOUS ENTRY ⤎ ☥ ⤏ NEXT ENTRY [TBA] ☽

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into that, Amy. What was I even thinking?”

“You were thinking of living a little instead of hermiting away in your flat like you do every conceivable chance you get—you look absolutely stunning, by the way! Tell me how it went!”

You hunkered in on yourself, folding your arms around your torso and pursing your chapped lips. The humid, dusk breeze hurtling through the street tugged at the hem of your dress, the cardigan draped over your shoulders doing little to fend off the early autumn chill. You’d texted her while wrapping up business at the bistro a block over and had walked over to the coffeeshop to clear your head after the entire ordeal and to check in before heading home.

“Horribly,” you said flatly. “I took one of my few vacation days and was subjected to an hour-long lecture on the growing value of cryptocurrencies before being asked if I intended to give up my career once I found a spouse—like I’m just spending the money on uni for funsies.”

“...Oh.” Your coworker’s face creased with equal measure of shame and sympathy. “My flatmate told me he was a decent bloke, save for a couple of rocky breakups the last year or so—I had no idea he was a wanker to boot…and probably at fault for those situations to start with, since that’s the case—but I should have given it more thought before roping you into it. That explains a lot about what little I heard about him. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you sighed and leaned against the humming lamppost at your back, “you had no way of knowing how he’d be in person, and you were trying to help me step out of my comfort zone a bit. It was kind of nice to have an excuse to dress up and go out for a bit, if nothing else. He insisted on paying, too, even if it was an underhanded attempt to woo me…so no money was wasted on my part, at least. I was going to buy myself a pint of ice cream on the way home to distract myself from the crushing reality that no one worth the effort could ever find me attractive and want to pursue a meaningful, long-term relationship with me, but now I’m not so sure. I’m exhausted, and I couldn’t even get a word in edgewise for a solid twenty minutes—I just did a whole lot of nodding along and ‘mmhmm’ing.”

“Firstly, you should treat yourself—I’ll even pay for it since you were the one who had to tolerate all that shit, undoubtedly like an angel because I know you and you’re a painfully polite person—and secondly, I’m not going to unpack…all of that statement, but I am going to tell you right now that you are a prize who deserves the best treatment a girl could ask for and shouldn’t have to. You’re worth it, even if you don’t feel like it—don’t try to deny it, I’ve heard all those little self-deprecating comments you’ve made over the months—and I’m sure there’s someone out there just dying for you to grant him a chance at making you the happiest woman alive.”

“I’m sure—he’s liable to just walk around the corner at any moment.” You rolled your eyes, but your expression softened into one of gratitude when you spotted the conviction on the barista’s face. “...Thank you, it helps to hear that occasionally. Maybe one day I’ll believe it, too.”

“Of course. It’ll stick eventually.” Amy opened her arms to offer you a hug, and you accepted it gratefully. Cheek pressed on top of your head, she rubbed and patted your back in a few soothing sweeps before releasing you and stepping back while drawing the shop keys out of her apron with a grin and a lingering gaze toward the main plaza across the street corner. “...But I honestly think you’re a little more oblivious than I thought if you really haven’t noticed.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, brow furrowing as you fiddled with the thin leather strap of your crossbody resting across your chest. Had she changed topics without you realizing?

“It’s a wonder what a little…gentle prodding can do in the long run,” she continued idly, eyes glittering with mirth as she twirled the jangling keyring on her finger and returned her attention to you. “There’s a reason I talked you into all that—well, besides getting you out on the town for an evening, of course. I think primping yourself did you a lot of good—you’re glowing.”

You blinked and opened your mouth to question her further, but approaching footsteps captured your attention due to their familiar scuffling cadence. You turned and spotted Steven’s slumped silhouette emerging into the ambient, watery light casting a cone around the coffee shop’s entrance. He’d already spotted you, evidently, and his face lit up in an infectiously warm smile as you recognized him. You found yourself returning the gesture subconsciously.

“Hello, mate,” Amy chirped, waggling her fingers at him. “How’d the application process go today? Did you pass the assessment?”

“With flyin’ colors!” Steven crooned, his back unfurling as his shoulders pushed back and his chin raised. He came to a stop near you, hands tucked into his pockets as his chest pressed forward against his otherwise gargantuan jacket. “The lady who looked it over seemed shocked that I knew so much, but that just goes to show you—I told ‘em for months that this ol’ noggin’ of mine wasn’t empty!” He knocked his knuckle on his temple with a toothy grin.

“You’ve got a sponge for a brain, darlin’,” you told him with a chuckle, reaching out and squeezing his elbow affectionately. His eyes softened as he refocused on you, his smile smoothing into a closed-lipped one. “I think you could talk circles around all those stuffy professors at the university, honestly—half of them haven’t updated their sources since the nineties. And it’s not your fault that your old manager had her head crammed so far up her ass.”

“Yeah, well,” he responded, color building beneath the high arches of his cheeks and gilding his tawny skin with rose-gold even under the otherwise unflattering fluorescent bulb of the streetlight, “I just like to read, is all. And I haven’t had to deal with her, thankfully—different divisions and all that.”

You shook your head fondly. He certainly didn’t have to remind you of that fact—the countless hours he’d spent in the coffee shop and the bookstore with his aquiline nose buried in books were proof enough of that. “Did you get all the paperwork filled out? It didn’t give you any trouble?”

“Got it all sorted. I, uh—” He cast a furtive glance towards Amy. “—got help when I needed it.”

Ah. Marc likely had to help him fill in the gaps. You often wondered if Marc was the one that got him his job in the gift shop to start with, but…Steven didn’t talk very much about what he was able to remember from the tenuous times he fronted before he met you while Marc was trying to wrap up all of his personal affairs in attempt to flee from his problems.

Steven didn’t go out of his way to advertise their situation to others, as he and Marc were still trying to iron out all of the kinks with their living situation and attending therapy sessions, but you had the feeling that Amy sensed something was remiss with him because of how often she was around him in proximity to you. She hadn’t ever said anything besides the occasionally affectionate, “He’s a little odd, isn’t he?” but you were always able to distract her with a casual, “We’re all a bit strange.”

“That’s good.” Another breeze skated through the street, blowing over your exposed legs and causing you to shiver. You hunkered into your cardigan and glanced up at the pitch black sky. “I’d probably better hit the store and head home. I can hear a hot shower calling my name, and I intend to sleep in after that entire disaster.”

Steven perked up. “After all what, love?”

“Oh.” Heat crept into your cheeks. “I, uh…had a date. It didn’t go so well.”

He blinked, brows inclining upwards for a tick in a surprise that he wasn’t quite able to conceal. “I—oh. I-I didn’t realize. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was sort of last minute.” You cleared your throat. “The guy was an ignorant prick anyway. I was lucky I made it out of there with my intellect still intact.”

That managed to draw a chuckle from him, at least, but you couldn’t shake the way his eyes lingered on you, slowly traversing over your silhouette—you felt terribly vulnerable, laid bare under the gentle weight of his troubled umber gaze. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but you couldn’t quite read the expression on Steven’s face—an unusual occurrence, to be certain, as he was an open book to you most of the time—so you weren’t certain what to make of his reaction.

It didn’t help that you were terribly insecure about the situation to start with, given the fact that you would have much rather had Steven as your date instead.

With that desire, however, came an entire Pandora’s box of complicated emotions. Negative past experiences had left you extremely hesitant to initiate romantic connections of any kind. And, despite how much you trusted Steven, you had an extremely difficult time trying to shake off your doubts. The sliver of boldness in you wanted for nothing more than to grab the lapels of his wrinkled, oversized jacket and kiss him breathless to avoid the awkward song and dance of treading that tenuous line between friendship and romance when it came to people who had grown inextricably close as the pair of you had…but the overwhelming majority of your mentality, insecure and timid and wounded, would rather keep him at arm’s length to secure his platonic affection at the very least. If that was all you could ever have of him, you’d take it gladly—but the heart wants what it wants, and you longed for all of him, as selfish as you knew your feelings to be.

He was in a difficult place, trying to rediscover himself and having to reassess his entire worldview, and here you were pining for him like a teenager with a helpless crush on someone far beyond your league. Steven was everything you had ever wanted—so very smart and sweet and sincere—but who were you to think he’d ever be interested in you of all people? When he could have anybody he wanted, far more gorgeous and intelligent and better than you could even dream of being?

A needlessly poetic notion, perhaps, but…you always had been a romantic.

That is why you had never tried your (admittedly poor) luck. You liked Steven, more than anyone else whom you’d ever before met, but…he’d never made a move. He was naturally open with his affection with everyone, amiable to a fault at times, so you couldn’t assume that his behavior indicated any particular favor on your behalf.

Still…you couldn’t bear it to pull yourself away now. He’d become your best friend within a couple of weeks of meeting him, and he was the only one with whom you felt completely safe in this sprawling, suffocating cityscape. You knew without a doubt that you could rely on him for anything—he had proven himself reliable time and again over the last few months, dropping everything when you needed him. You’d give him everything you had in a heartbeat in return—including your heart, although he’d unwittingly taken possession of it long ago.

“I, ah…” Steven cleared his throat, placing his closed fist over his mouth while tipping his head down to look at you through his lashes, “...would you like me to walk you home, love? It’s awfully late for you to be goin’ to the mart by yourself.”

Although you and Steven had fallen into the habit of catching the bus together on the instances that he got stuck taking inventory before he’d gotten fired, given that you both closed up shop about the same time, that routine had fallen by the wayside. He still offered to almost every night, though, oftentimes texting you to check in around closing time (and he’d held you to a promise to let him know when you got home when you refused his offer). You missed your quiet, late night bus rides, honestly, but the last thing you wanted was to inconvenience him by having him make such a long round trip across London.

Tonight, though, with him standing there with those watery, sympathetic puppy-dog eyes, knowing that he understood poor dates better than most (nevermind the fact that he hadn’t mentioned going on any lately, now that you thought about it)…you couldn’t resist him even if you wanted to. Your self-esteem, already dangerously low, had suffered a severe toll tonight, and you needed Steven’s reassurance more than anything (even a scalding shower to scrub your woes away).

“That would be greatly appreciated, darlin’,” you said, smiling wearily. “There’s a store a block away from my apartment complex, so it’s not too far of a walk from the bus stop.”

Steven bobbed his head, and you turned to hug Amy, who patted your back. “Sorry again he turned out to be a wanker,” she said. “Maybe you’ll have better luck on the next one.”

You pulled back and raised a brow at her glittering eyes. “If there even is a ‘next one’,” you chuckled wryly. “I’m just about ready to give up at this point.”

“Bad luck’s bound to turn into good luck eventually,” she said, then turned with her keys. “I’ll see you Monday—have a good weekend.”

“You, too.” You readjusted your purse strap and glanced at Steven, tilting your head towards the other end of the sidewalk. “Shall we?”

“I think so.” He offered you his elbow, and you took it with a quiet sigh of relief. His frame offered a welcome reprieve of a blockade against the wind, and his warmth seeped even through the plethora of loose layers he favored wearing.

Mutual comfortable silence followed your stroll to the bus stop, and you leaned against his arm when you both settled on a bench near the back of the bus when it rumbled through. It didn’t take long for him to readjust in his seat and you straightened on reflex, embarrassed that you’d done it subconsciously without asking him for permission first.

“No, no, love,” he murmured, lifting his arm over your shoulders, “here. Figured this would be more comfortable for you. You’re still shiverin’.”

“Oh.” You bit the inside of your lip, fighting the flutter of your stomach. “Thank you.”

You accepted his embrace, resting your head upon the cradle of his shoulder and sinking into him. His fingers curled lightly around your arm, squeezing absently. You closed your eyes as the tension drained from your body, taking a deep breath, and—in so doing—drew in a lungful of his cologne.

He had no right to smell so damn good.

“What do you need at the mart?” he asked quietly. “So I can help you look.”

“Just some snacks,” you mumbled. “Ice cream, maybe. I have leftovers in the fridge I was going to reheat since he made a comment about what I ordered.”

Steven’s arm tightened around your shoulders. “...He what?”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter. He insisted on paying, so I guess he was just watching his budget.”

Steven scoffed, and it was one of the only times you’ve ever heard his tone slip into open disdain. “The gall.”

“It’s over now. I consider it a reward for wasting my time, at least.” You turned your head and tucked your nose under his jaw. “I don’t really want to think about it anymore, if that’s okay.”

“That’s perfectly all right,” he told you, tugging you closer. “Just let me know if he gives you any trouble, yeah?”

“Oh, I already have him blocked, don’t worry.” You let out a snort... “I don’t think he was particularly impressed, anyway.” …and a sigh. “Can’t really blame him.”

Steven sucked in a breath. “Now why would you go and say a silly thing like that, love?”

It had slipped out, honestly. You’d meant to internalize that lapse of self-deprecation, but you found it hard to conceal your thoughts around Steven. You had no answer for him, so you attempted a hamfisted effort to divert his attention. “I have enough food for you, too, if you’d like to stay. I figure you haven’t had much to eat this evening, and you can crash at my place since it’s so late.”

“...Do you want me to stay?” he asked softly. “So you won’t be alone?”

You laughed under your breath. “I don’t know how you do that. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re able to read minds, Steven Grant.”

“No telepathy to be had,” he said mildly, the pad of his thumb beginning to draw circles on your bicep over the chunky knit of your cardigan. “Just…I know how it feels.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll be happy to stay, if you’ll have me.”

You wished you could kiss him. You wished you could get away from him before your heart ended up shattered once again by your own helplessness. “Always.”

The supermarket was just short of empty when you both shuffled in, rubbing your arms to wring the growing chill from your extremities. The pop music from a top-forty station gave the aisles a melancholic quality, and Steven trailed you with a basket as you picked up the handful of necessities that needed restocking. A cursory glance at him on the freezer aisle, tilting his head back and staring up at the fluorescent lights thoughtfully, prompted you to grab a pint of raspberry sorbet instead of your normal go-to flavor of ice cream. If he noticed the change from your usual purchase while the sleepy teenage cashier rang up the handful of groceries, Steven didn’t comment on it. You’d rarely seen him so pensive.

Your apartment was blissfully warm when you let yourself back in, locked the door behind you, and turned the television on. You took the paper sack from Steven (having insisted that he carry it even though it wasn’t that heavy) and tipped your head to the living room. “Make yourself at home. There’s more blankets in the coffee chest. I’m going to put these up and grab a quick shower.”

“You wanted a long one, yeah?” he prompted. “Don’t rush on my account. I know where everythin’ is. I can take care of myself, you know.”

You nodded and turned. You were too tired to quibble with him—you knew he didn’t mind you not playing the perfect host all the time. “Okay. Watch whatever you want. My kitchen’s yours.”

“All right.” His hand grasped your elbow. “I mean it: take your time.”

You flashed him a small, appreciative smile. “Yes, sir.”

You watched the color bloom under his cheeks with more than a little fondness. He wrestled the sack back out of your arms. “I know where all this goes,” he blurted. “Go on, then.”

Maybe it was a little selfish of you, but…letting him take care of you just this once wouldn’t hurt anything, right? You chuckled. “Okay, okay—I’m going.”

You retreated to your bedroom and shut the door. Your shoes came off first, then your cardigan and your dress. Everything else followed shortly thereafter—all of it was tossed into the hamper as you tread silently into the bathroom. Frissons broke out over your bare skin as you stepped onto the cold tile, reaching around the glass divider to start the water so it would warm up while you went ahead and started your bedtime routine.

You took Steven’s advice, although with no small amount of guilt at not entertaining him (in spite of the fact that he was a grown-ass man and could very well occupy himself, as he’d said). You hated being separated from him, even through two measly walls, but the urge to get that other man’s lascivious, if critical, gaze off of you as soon as possible was far stronger at the moment.

You stood under the steaming stream for a long time, listening to the music you’d selected to play from your phone. You washed your hair and body with a certain degree of clinicism, doggedly avoiding looking at yourself in the mirror lest your mood deteriorate even more. His skepticism over your ‘generous’ choice of entree shouldn’t have mattered—he’d ordered a meal that would have made bulking bodybuilders jealous—but the subtle comments he’d sprinkled throughout the meal had taken down the carefully constructed walls surrounding your appearance. You’d worked hard to repress your hangups, dammit, and all it took was one lousy date? When he was just an asshole and didn’t even deserve to get under your skin like that?

You growled under your breath and shut the shower off, ringing out your hair and swiping the extra moisture from your skin before stepping out to towel off. You finished up with your skin care routine and went back into your bedroom to put on your favorite sweatpants and t-shirt, topped with a baggy hoodie. When you reemerged into the living room, Steven was nowhere to be seen, but the opening titles of The Mummy were playing on repeat on the television with the case open on the TV stand.

You stepped into the kitchen, following your nose and ears, and found him standing over the stove reheating the leftover vegan shakshuka you’d experimented with the night before.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said softly, lingering in the doorway and fiddling with the ends of your sleeves. “I was going to.”

“You’re dead on your feet, love,” Steven admonished you lightly, glancing over his shoulder with a small, lopsided grin. “I can handle it. Wouldn’t mind a drink, though.”

You wanted to point out the dark circles beneath his eyes and the fatigued slump of his shoulders, but you refrained in order to save his dignity. “Would you like some tea, or soda, or…?”

“A cuppa would be lovely.”

“Is chai okay?”

“Sounds perfect.”

You set the electric kettle on (bought just for him, as you preferred iced tea, but you’d never admit that to him because you knew he’d feel guilty about you spending money on him) and pulled the box of tea bags out of the pantry, as well as a pot of honey, for him to fix it how he preferred. You grabbed a mug from the cabinet, as well, and set it out for him. You opted for a bottle of water, pouring it over ice.

“Think it’s ready,” Steven said, and you grabbed a couple of plates for him to ladle portions of the dish onto. You grabbed some cutlery and napkins, as well as your glass, and followed him into the living room.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, setting down the plates on the coffee table before straightening. “Mind if I borrow the loo first?”

“Go ahead,” you told him, sinking down into the couch with a tired groan. He disappeared into the shadows of your room, and you rested your head against the cushion at your back as your eyes drifted shut.

You remained still, listening to the music coming from the TV and to Steven’s movements as he soon came back and stepped into the kitchen. Water poured, clinking of metal on porcelain, socks scuffing on flooring. The cushion next to you dipped and creaked under his weight, and his knuckle brushed your wrist. “Not hungry, love?”

“Just waiting on you.” Truthfully, you didn’t have very much desire to eat, but your stomach was protesting the insufficient sustenance of the salad you’d opted to order instead of the club sandwich with chips you’d wanted. You sat up and pulled the plate into your lap. The inviting smell certainly helped. “I hope it’s okay, I don’t know if it’s any good.”

“Anything you make is mana on earth, love,” Steven assured you. He grabbed the remote and started the movie before sipping his tea tentatively.

“There’s always room for failure,” you responded wryly, but bringing up a mouthful proved that your endeavor had been successful, thankfully. “Oh, thank God. I ended up snacking while I cooked last night and got full before I could try it. It’s okay.”

Steven tried it himself and hummed with pleasure. “It’s more than okay, love.”

“I’m glad.” You turned your attention to the screen and hunkered against the arm of the couch. “...Thank you for all this.”

You felt Steven’s gaze fix itself on your profile. “...You’re welcome.”

The night outside grew darker, and when the both of you finished eating, Steven bullied his way into taking the dishes and washing them while ordering you to stay put. You paused the film in the meantime, tugging the blanket off the back of the couch and curling up beneath it. He turned off the lights and took the other end when you offered it. Other than the occasional chuckle, neither of you spoke again until the credits began to roll. By then, you’d grown sleepy. Steven had anchored you into his side once again, resting his cheek on the crown of your head. You’d started to doze off when the rumble of his chest roused you.

“...You know you really shouldn’t say such cruel things about yourself, love. You looked extra gorgeous tonight.”

You swallowed, and in the safety of the apartment’s darkness you let your expression fall. “I know.”

“You really are somethin’ special.” His fingers drummed slowly against your arm. “I mean it. I’m honored to know you. And I want you to know that I’ll always be here for you.”

“You don’t know how much I appreciate that,” you murmured, even if that traitorous, if scarred, part of yourself denied his claim automatically. It wasn’t fair to him, but old habits die hard. “Thank you for staying with me.”

“It’s the least I could do,” he responded, “you know, as an apology on behalf of all men for that sorry wanker wasting your time.”

You laughed in the midst of a yawn. “It’ll be a story to tell on holidays, if nothing else.”

“Tired?” he asked.

“Yeah.” You pressed your face into his shirt. “You can take the bed if you want.”

“Now, you know how this debate will end.”

“I do. I still wanted to offer.”

“All right. I will need to shower first, though, if you don’t mind. I still smell like the cleaner they use in the museum.”

You sat up to give him space to stand. The smell of the museum suited him, but you didn’t exactly want to reveal that you’d been discreetly huffing his collar for the last hour. “I don’t. I have your spares in the same drawer.”

“Thank you.” Steven extricated his arm, but after a moment’s hesitation he placed a kiss on your temple. You looked up at him, shocked, and that seemed to be his intention, because despite the outlines of his face matching your flusteredness, he appeared deadly serious. “You mean more to me than you’ll ever know, poppet,” he whispered. “And you deserve all the happiness in the world, bad dates be damned.”

“I…” You swallowed roughly. “Th-thank you, darlin’.”

His mouth opened as though he’d intended to say more, but hesitation won out in the end. He shook his head and patted your knee before straightening to his feet. “Go ahead and go to bed, I’ll take everything with me in there. You need to sleep as much as you can.”

“All right,” you murmured, watching him go. He fidgeted with his hands all the way of his retreat into the bathroom. You couldn’t breathe until you heard the shower whine to a start. Your heart didn’t stop pounding against your ribs until after he exited, curls damp and pajamas draped over his lean form, told you good night, and shut your bedroom door behind him to give you privacy.

When you woke up the next morning and wandered into the kitchen for something to eat, Steven was waiting for you with two bowls of sorbet ready, and you decided then—much to the distress of your frightful heart—that you were in love.