#what if i had changed so completely but couldn't show it to anyone but me

[nightingale-prompts]

God's TV- DC x DP prompt

Accidentally summoning a god from another dimension can happen, especially when cults are involved. However, no can could predict that the not only was the god a teenage boy but also a very bored teenage boy who didn't want to leave.

So he stayed and moved into Titans tower.

Danny is helpful (when he wants to be) but rarely goes out on missions. He says they are boring and nothing is dangerous enough to exert the effort. Instead, he minds the medical bay. Having a healer more than made up for the lack of help.

It's not like anyone disliked Danny or thought he didn't do anything it was just that he was unpredictable. Danny could be nice, considerate, and even sweet if he was working in the medbay. He could also be a pain in the ass anywhere else. He loved pranks and scaring people with his powers. He was harmless though.

No one really knew what he did all day. He was usually in his room doing something they guested. Said room was an anomaly. It was larger on the inside having been made into a pocket dimension. The appearance and organization of the room changed every time you went in.

It was after one mission that the team learned what was in the room.

A rogue had used their invention to erase Superboy's memories and they didn't know what to do. They took him to Danny who was currently rearranging the medicine by color. They hoped that his powers covered mind-altering afflictions. Unfortunately, Danny couldn't wave a hand and fix this.

Instead, Danny took the group to his room. The decor was neon Tokyo meets space right now. The furniture was currently floating and almost hitting Wonder Girl in the head with an end table. Of course, there was no gravity here.

"Stay here while I grab it," Danny said flying up the vertical corridor.

While he was gone the room rearranged itself into a contemporary format. The furniture grounded itself and shifted into a normal living room.

Danny returned with a cart and a headset. He placed a card he pulled out of the cart into the headset and put it on the dazed Superboy's head.

"Wait what is that?" Tim asked.

"It's his memories. I kept a backup in case this happened." Danny shrugged.

Immediately everyone began asking what the hell does that mean and why does he have that.

"Oh please, this dimension has this happened all the time. Amnesia is so cliché and cheap. I saw a pattern and decided the easiest way to prevent you from losing the entirety of your lives was to make save states of your memories." Danny said matter of fact.

Robin pinched the bridge of his nose.

Impulse studied the rack of cases and looking for the card with his name on it.

Wondergirl sighed, she was used to this from Robin but even he wouldn't go this far.

"What? It's not like just anyone can find these. Only you can access your own memories anyways. I just decided to repurpose my RE:Viewer." Danny pouted.

"What is a reviewer?" Wally asked flipping through the cases. Each one had titles like moves or shows with an arrangement of stickers.

"The RE:Viewer is something I created to catalog things I've seen looking into other dimensions. I don't have an infinite memory you know. But the longer I have my title the more I'll lose touch with my mortality. These things help me stay close to people by giving me the chance to remember how it feels. I also have been using them to get the stories of others. Keeping their experiences like you'd keep a TV show or movie. So many stories could have been lost to time but now they are saved. I use them to teach myself." Danny smiled.

The concept genuinely sounded interesting. Like experiencing a movie in 4d.

It had been 3 minutes before Kon took off the headset and back to his old self.

Danny pulled the input card out and it disappeared into another realm with a flick of the wrist. Danny was completely honest that the copies were inaccessible to everyone but him.

"You feeling alright Superboy? Your memory should be backed up until a week ago." Danny said shining a light in his eye.

"I'm fine. I think. What happened?" Kon asked batting the light out of his eyes.

"Explanation later. Take a nap first. You aren't concussed at least." Danny informed.

"What are the stickers for?" Wally said pointing at the rainbow of colors the card cases had.

"Just the emotions associated with the experiences. Orange is comedy, red is action, pink is romance, and blue is tragedy." Danny listed. "That one with the pink is one of my favorites. I meddled a bit in that world. Two people who had never met fell in love at two points at different times. One of them was doomed to die but I worked my magic on a mirror that allowed them to meet once. They shared notes left in different places for the other months ahead. Makes you believe in true love. A real tear-jerker."

"What about the black stickers?" Wally asked.

"Don't touch the black ones," Danny said darkly, smacking his hand away. "You don't need to know about those. I don't like thinking about them."

"So you just take the memories of others and put them inside your machine to replay later?" Batgirl asked. "Isn't that kind of wrong?"

"No, I asked permission. I usually pull them aside at some point and ask. If it's my memories (that's the green stickers) I don't need to. The rainbow ones are simulations. Like a video games." Danny responded patting her on the back for not being to hard on him about this admittedly weird situation.

"So what's the black one with the rainbow sticker?" Wally asked picking up the case that was obviously stuffed in the back.

"STOP TOUCHING THOSE!" Danny yelled pulling him away.

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.171 Happy birthday to ya

When it got closer to party time, Sophia and I moved the couch to the backyard for more seating options. Our parties always end up fragmented with some sims eating in the house and others on the patio. My goal is to keep everyone together, so hopefully this will help. We also moved the picnic blanket and put the portable crib outside to accommodate the little ones. Because we're friendly again, I invited Yasmine and her girls, but she declined. She doesn't know the other guests and didn't want anyone asking questions about Stacey. I completely understood but feel bad for her. This spellcaster business has really trapped her and the girls in their home.

Apart from my baby aging up, I'm most excited about having Dub and his family in our home for the first time. Between the deaths and parenthood, it's been super hard for us to connect lately. I guess I was naïve enough to believe it would be easier being in the same city, but life keeps proving it doesn't matter where we are. Life is going to life, and that's that. I suppose I'll have to be more intentional about hanging with him too.

"You got it smelling good out here, bro," a voice says from behind me.

That Henford accent is unmistakable, and I was so glad to hear it. I turned around and embraced him.

"Wassup, man! Did you find us okay? Welcome! Finally!"

"Right? Took you long enough!"

"Don't even play, man. You know how life is sometimes."

"Sure do. This house is nice! And the view!"

"Thanks. If you're able to stick around later, I'll give you the tour. Hey, where's Maia? Is she coming?"

"Yeah, she's running a little late. She's just finishing up a project for a client."

"Ahhh. See? San Sequoia has been good to you already. I'm glad her business is picking up."

There's no way Dub showed up alone, so I looked around for Tambara, knowing she couldn't be too far behind. I spotted her toddling across the yard, trying her best to catch up with her daddy.

"She's getting to be extremely independent these days," Dub said when he realized I was watching her. "She won't even let us pick her up anymore. I don't mind that so much, but waiting for her really slows me down."

"She'll get faster," I said, thinking about Desiree's determination. "Just give her time."

Tami and Desi look nothing alike, but I see glimpses of the immediate future in her proud face and wobbly gait. I want Desi to grow up and change the world, but I can't part with my little girl. At the same time, I'm anxious to see her continue to grow. I love watching her smash these milestones like the boss baby she is. Ugh. Fatherhood is just a melting pot of contradictions. How can I be happy and sad, proud and scared at the same time?

Tami finally made her way over to us, so I waved.

"Hey there! Do you remember me? I'm Luca. That's a pretty dress."

Her face lit up, and I knew it didn't matter if she remembered me or not. I was currently her new bestie. Flattery works at all ages, hee hee.

"What do you say when someone gives you a compliment?" Dub asked.

"I know," she shouted.

Me and Dub had a good laugh. She's so precocious, and I love it. Kids really do say the darndest things, and I can't wait to hear what Desi will have to say. Hopefully that's not a be careful what you wish for situation, heh.

"That's right, Tam," I said. "You better know it."

"How are you holding up?" Dub asked, wiping the smile off my face.

"I'm good. As good as I can be, rather. It gets a little better every day."

"I'm glad to hear it. I can't even think about what that's going to be like."

"It might sound morbid, but you should start thinking about it, man. It's the shock that's hard to get over."

"You play dollies with me," Tambara shouts.

That was probably supposed to be a question, but she's too excited about her new, big friend and it's too cute.

"Oh, no," Dub says to me. "You start that and she'll never let you go."

She's adorable, looking just like both of them. I hope she and Desi will like each other. It'll be a shame to have them fighting or snubbing each other when we hang out.

"You can play with Desiree later, okay?" he says.

"Speaking of... We should probably get this show on the road soon. Let me finish these ribs."

(makeovers and family photos below!)

Dub and fam by @mysimsloveaffair

[dragonofthemountain]

vent or something

[uniiiquehecrt]

Voice actors are NOT the same as actors.

It takes a specific kind of skill-set and training to be able to warp and meld the voice. It takes a certain kind of talent and dedication to hone that talent into the ability to meld the voice and invoke emotion with one's voice alone. Actors are used to using their voice secondarily to their body language and their facial expressions. It's all mirrored back on camera. They do have nuance. But it's a different kind of nuance and a different kind of training to produce that nuance.

Voice actors might get their likeness transposed on their character's design, and maybe their mannerisms might seep into the character's animation. But when it's all said and done: their presence is in their voice. They are bringing a character to life, showing that emotion in their voice, trying to keep a specific accent, drawl, pitch, tone in that voice and keep it consistent for their recording sessions.

The voice actor is like a classically trained musician who can play first chair in a competitive, world-renown orchestra. The actor (who fills the voice actor's role) is like a moot who played violin in beginner and intermediate high school orchestra and thinks they can get into Juilliard with that 2-4 years of experience.

This doesn't mean that the HS orchestra moot can't play. They can even be really good at it. Maybe they won competitions and sat first chair. But they are not in the same league as the person who's been training their whole lives and lives and breathes to hone their craft using the instrument and all of the training they've ever acquired to perfect it. They are not meant for the same roles. They are not in the same caliber. You do not hire the HS equivalent when you want to play complex music in a competitive orchestra.

Actors are not the same as voice actors.

And furthermore, actors - especially big name actors - taking the roles of animated characters for big budget films or TV pilots makes no sense anyways when - at least in the case of TV pilots - there's not a point to hiring a big budget actors anyways. That money could be used elsewhere (like paying your animators), and the talent that is brought onto the screen for X character could then be hired on to voice said character no recasting required.

I wouldn't say voice acting as a profession is in danger exactly, but it's certainly being disrespected and overlooked for celebrity clout, and this has ALWAYS been an issue. Shoot, even Robin Williams knew that much - which is why he tried so hard not to be used as a marketing chess piece for Aladdin and got royally pissed off when it happened anyways. People shouldn't go to any movie (but especially not animated films) because "oh famous actor is in it". People should go because it's a good movie and the voice acting is good.

People who honest to god think that voice actors are replaceable because "oh well anyone can voice act" or "I like xyz celebrity so naturally it'll be good" ... Honestly I just wish you'd reassess your priorities because you're missing the point and are part of the problem.

Voice Actors ≠ Actors.

[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.

[pippin-katz]

In Defense Of Edwin

Something that has bothered me is that there's a significant amount of people who talk about Edwin being unaware of Charles' pain as if he's oblivious, or like he did something wrong; that is simply unfair to Edwin.

Charles is happy, friendly, and wonderful. That is his personality. That is not all forced.

People are quick to jump on the line that Charles has been hiding his pain from Edwin, but a line people are ignoring from that argument is: "He's probably been hiding it from himself!"

His behavior indicates that he doesn't talk or think about trauma or negativity unless it's relevant to the situation. I doubt Charles even realized how bad his trauma was until the Devlin Murders. His pain was so repressed that he wasn't "feeling" it anymore.

Charles’ Triggers

While I'm not going to say that Charles did not hide his pain from Edwin at all, I am going to point out that this may have been the first time, in a very long time or ever, that they encountered something this close to home for him.

The only real reason Charles discusses his trauma now is because the Devlin House triggers him, genuinely in a psychological way. It's not just the "crazy dad" that gets to him. There are so many details that fit Charles personally. That whole situation is too fucking much for him.

The song Owner Of A Lonely Heart playing in the background; a song that he says he liked enough to get the cassette tape but that it was smashed by his father.

The controlling and restrictive behaviors of the father on his daughters. The eldest daughter writing about walking on eggshells and looking forward to graduation.

The way that the father kills them; he doesn't shoot them, or poison them, or whatever, he butchers them. His attacks are physically direct. He swings an axe, so his movement is the root of the violence. If it had been a gun, it would've been his finger on the trigger, but the bullets hitting them. Charles was abused by his father through the means of a belt, which is physically direct.

The loop, having to watch it over, and over, and over again with no break, no relief, and not being able to do anything, no matter how many times he sees it happen. Charles' abuse seemed to be regular and constant, no matter what he did. It always ended the same way.

All of that is then exacerbated by the Night Nurse forcing him to reexperience his trauma the very next day. That's a lot of specific details and events that lead to his complete breakdown.

Charles hasn't been consciously choosing to hide all of that pain from Edwin. It had been buried to the point where even he couldn't see it anymore, but the Devlin House uprooted it from his subconscious.

Charles’ Parents

Now, he does hide his habit of checking on his parents from Edwin, but that's not fully about his abuse. Charles misses his family, his life, being alive.

It's worth noting that he only shows Crystal his parents because he's trying to connect with her about not being able to go home. He didn't bring that up on a whim. It was relevant to help Crystal feel understood. She's not special; if someone completely different from her did the exact same thing, Charles would've shown them too.

Now, let's talk about him not telling Edwin. Charles may not have a full comprehension of Edwin's experiences, but he knows he's different from "normal" people. Hiding his parents from him is likely just as much about not wanting to hurt Edwin as it is protecting himself.

Edwin does not show any type of longing for his life. Everything he knew about the world from his time is gone or been changed beyond recognition. He doesn't have a family to miss, not that he was close to them in the first place; even if he did have an emotional connection to them, they've been long dead.

And Edwin seems unbothered, but there’s no way for Charles to know that for certain. Watching his parents weekly would remind Edwin constantly that he does not have anyone. He’s worried about being insensitive; he feels like he would be unintentionally taunting Edwin and rubbing salt into the wound.

Edwin has been dead for over 100 years and spent 70 of those years being torn apart by a demon in Hell; how could he even remember physical sensations other than pain and exhaustion? How could he remember the taste of food while running through Gluttony, watching its inhabitants vomit profusely? He never saw the appeal of romance or sex prior to his death, and then he witnesses the bloody masses of people in Lust; how could he be anything other than repulsed?

Charles tells him that pain is not a contest, but he almost without a doubt compares his own experiences to Edwin's. It's something people with low self-esteem do more than others. He feels guilty, like he’s selfish for being upset; Edwin has it so much worse.

How does being abused by his dad compare to being dragged to Hell? He got hit with a belt; Edwin was ripped apart. Who is he to whine about his life to a boy who has died more times than days Charles has existed?

He may not have had the specific details before, but the knowledge of it being Hell was enough. When you don't put your own needs on your priority list, that's one of the first "justifications" your brain comes up with. They already have enough on their plate, and you don't need to talk about it. You're totally fine! So yes, hiding his parents from Edwin makes sense from his perspective.

But his abuse? Charles doesn't even realize how much pain he's in; how could Edwin have realized?

My point is that Charles wasn't actively choosing to hide all of his pain from Edwin for thirty years, so to blame Edwin for not noticing is like blaming a blind person for picking up a red ball instead of a blue one. He couldn't have noticed; there was nothing for him to notice. Charles wasn't wearing a full mask.

The second Charles shows any indication that something is wrong, Edwin does notice!

Edwin may have trouble with people, but he's not oblivious, and he knows Charles. If he's ever been upset like this before, he would've noticed. He notices Charles' change in behavior after Crystal joined in only a day, and he doesn't deny it when Edwin calls him out.

Edwin also follows up on asking if he needs to talk about his father. Charles brushes him off, but Crystal and Niko show up before Edwin has a chance to press a little more, which I think he would've. I don't think Charles would've opened up, but it would've shown that Edwin is aware that all is not well. He is aware, but on top of being in the dark about it, he's got his own shit he's working out and cases to solve. His attention is divided.

I think it's important to remember this fact that has been driving me mental for months now:

Charles and Edwin’s dynamic during the show is a completely different dynamic than the one they've had for the past thirty years.

The introduction of Crystal, going to Port Townsend, meeting Niko, Monty, fighting Esther, the Cat King, etc. etc. etc. Everything about their relationship gets shaken up from the start of the show. They're both acting differently in all sorts of ways, and some they even acknowledge to each other.

What we saw of them in Port Townsend is not what Charles and Edwin were during those thirty years. It's unfair to pass judgement on something we don't actually know about.

I guess what I'm saying is that I'm getting really tired of fics/posts making a commentary about Edwin not noticing being something he has failed at. Does Edwin feel guilty for not realizing it sooner? Absolutely, but please, at least acknowledge that it wasn't his fault if you're sticking to canon. If you want to twist some shit into it to make it more complicated, make it more angsty, go right ahead! I'm absolutely not stopping you!

But canonically, at least I feel after studying these characters under a microscope, Edwin could not have known sooner.

(ko-fi)

[runnning-outof-time]

Talk of the Town | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by @red-riding-wood

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: (Y/N)'s had enough of the whispering that always seems to happen when she's out and around Small Heath.

Warnings: language

Word Count: 2694

A/N: I’m back!! I’m sorry it took so long for me to share this, and I hope it won’t be so long before I’m sharing another story. The two prompts I was given to use are bolded in the fic - I hope you don’t mind how I used them. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! — YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged!

(Y/N) sat down at one of the empty tables, excited to try one of the new menu items at her favorite café. It had been a while since she indulged herself in one of these sorts of treats, so she was more than ready to dig in.

Her peaceful reverie didn't last long. She was only minutes into her lunch when she began to hear whispers from the table of women to her right.

"I think that's her," one of them whispered. "That's Tommy Shelby's girl."

"Are you sure?" another asked, pulling a face as she glanced in (Y/N)'s direction, "she looks too...good."

"Yeah, I'm sure," the first responded, "I've seen her out with him."

"I wonder if she knows about the things he's involved in?" the third woman entered the conversation, pondering aloud to her friend.

"She has to," the first responded.

"I'm not too sure," the second said, "I'm not sure I'd be able to show my face like this if I was going home to a man like that," she reasoned.

"Hmm, I'm not sure I'd mind going home to him though," the first woman commented, a grin forming on her face as she leaned closer to her friends, who were also grinning.

(Y/N) almost lost her appetite when she heard the direction their conversation was heading in. She couldn't believe that they were speaking so candidly about her and her partner's relationship...and that they were doing so while sitting so close to her. They had to know that she was able to hear them.

"I'm going to ask her what it's like to share a bed with a gangster," the third woman announced, ready to get the answers straight from the topic’s mouth.

"No! You can't just walk over to her and ask that!" the first woman hissed, her eyes widening as she reached out to grab her friend's arm before she could leave the table.

That was when (Y/N) focused her eyes back on the plate in front of her. She waited on baited breath and silently hoped that the first friend would get the third to sit down. Thankfully the former's attempts to stop the latter worked, and the women decided to switch topics after that.

She thought that that would have been the last she heard from those women, but nothing could have prepared her for the fact that one of them - the third one that was hoping to speak to her earlier - decided to stop her as she was discarding her trash.

"You're with Tommy Shelby, right?" the voice came from behind, making (Y/N) quickly turn.

"I am," she answered, a bit of surprise laced into her voice.

"How do you do it?" the woman asked.

"What do you mean?" (Y/N) was now confused.

"How do you live with the fact that he's taking directly from the pockets of the poor and doesn't think twice about hurting anyone who stands in his way?" the woman didn't even think about what would be considered proper, and that truly shocked (Y/N).

Had she really said that to a complete stranger? And why was she saying such things about her partner?

It took her a moment to collect her thoughts. She blinked several times before responding, "I'm sorry, I'm not sure what you're talking about. Tommy's family doesn't run their business like that."

There was a moment of pause between the two as the other woman looked at (Y/N) kind of like she was waiting for her to say that she was joking and that she knew exactly why the Shelby family operated the way they did. But (Y/N)'s expression of confusion didn't change.

"You really...you really don't know how he handles business?" there was now surprise in the other woman's voice.

"I don't understand what you're saying, I've just told you that's not how they handle things," (Y/N) doubled down on her previous response.

"He must keep you locked away from certain parts of his life then," the woman stated, stifling her laughter. "Tommy Shelby's a full out gangster, darling."

A bit of incredulousness seeped into (Y/N)'s expression upon hearing the woman's statement. "I'm quite honestly insulted that you would speak of another woman's partner like that. Have you no manners?" she asked with a scoff.

"It's the truth. Everyone around town knows it," the other woman shrugged.

"It's still rude to suggest," (Y/N) responded, pursing her lips together tightly as she tried to keep composed. "Good day," she said then, tilting her chin up as she walked away from the woman without letting her get another word in.

No matter how hard she tried, the words of the woman at the café wouldn't leave (Y/N)'s mind. By the time she reached the home she lived on on Watery Lane, her frustration was just about to the point of boiling over. She didn't even care that she had slammed the door to the home shut.

"Goodness. Hello, (Y/N)," Polly's surprised, but still steady, voice made (Y/N) realize that she hadn't shut the door to an empty home.

"Hi, Pol," the younger woman was terse with her greeting.

Polly was able to feel the frustration as it was practically radiating off of (Y/N). She watched the younger woman carefully as she stood stiff in her spot, balling her fists and opening them in hopes that it would help regulate the emotions she was feeling.

"Well..." the older woman paused, letting out a sigh before continuing, "what is wrong with you?" she asked. She didn't say it in any demeaning sort of way, even though it may have sounded like such. If anything, she was concerned...(Y/N) rarely got flustered like this, so it wasn't hard to pick up that something had bothered her.

"I'm sick and tired of people treating me like I am some sort of animal stuck in captivity! Everywhere I go all I hear is whispers, and sometimes they lead to questions that make me look like a fool when I answer them, and I'm not sure how much more of it I can take!" (Y/N) didn't hold back from expressing what was frustrating her.

Polly pursed her lips. She gave the younger woman a once over, seeing how she was practically shaking with aggravation. She was just about to speak when (Y/N) exited the room.

The silence didn't persist for long though. The younger woman’s exit was followed by a sound of slight struggle and then a crash, which prompted a string of curse words. Polly stayed in her seat, knowing that her assistance wasn't something she would want in this situation.

The door opened again moments later, and this time Tommy walked through it. He immediately picked up on the expression Polly was wearing as well as the leftover tension in the room.

"What?" he asked his aunt, his eyebrows raising in question.

"(Y/N)'s in the kitchen," the older woman responded, pursing her lips after she spoke.

Tommy turned his head to the left slightly and kept his raised brow expression as if to say 'and?'.

Polly also responded nonverbally, widening her eyes and nodding her head in the direction of the kitchen, her way of saying 'see for yourself'.

Tommy sighed, removing his peaked cap and shoving it into one of his suit jacket pockets as he began walking towards the kitchen. It's always fucking something, went through his mind as he crossed the room's threshold. That thought immediately vanished when he saw the woman he was proud to call 'his' on the ground cleaning up a mess of cooking utensils. "What happened, love?" he asked her, his voice making her eyes snap from the floor to look in his direction. It didn't take long for him to see the puffiness surrounding them; she'd been crying.

"I just wanted to fix myself something to eat and when I went to open the drawer to grab a spoon it got stuck, because they're all stuffed into the same bloody drawer even though there are other places for them, and so I pulled on it and the drawer came out," she answered in a rambling mess, her frustration shining through in her words. She then bit on her bottom lip as it began to tremble, the earlier conversation flooding back in her mind as the topic of it was now standing in front of her. Tears began to brim in her eyes and she quickly looked away so Tommy wouldn't catch them.

But, of course, he did. "They're just utensils in a drawer, love. It's no harm done," he tried to tell her that it wasn't something worth crying over.

(Y/N) let out a choked laugh, shaking her head as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. "It's not the utensils, Tommy," she said, continuing to shake her head as she spoke.

"Then what is it?" he asked with furrowed eyebrows.

There was a pause. (Y/N) was unsure if she should bring what happened earlier up, or if she should let it rest. She was no longer angry, just upset that people - whom she'd never met - thought they had her and Tommy's relationship figured out. "I'm tired of defending myself," she sighed, deciding to go right to the heart of it all instead of beating around the bush.

Tommy was still confused. He was still stuck on the broken drawer and mess of utensils to understand why she'd respond that way.

(Y/N) was able to see that. With another sigh, she stood up and closed the distance between them. "There's so many people whispering...about you and I, and about the things that you do. I try my best to ignore them, but today a woman came up to me and asked directly how I could live with what you do. I felt like such a fool being placed in that position because it seems that people have a different opinion on your business than I. I'm just...I'm tired of being the talk of the town."

Tommy listened intently as (Y/N) shared her frustrations with him. He could hear how much these comments had been eating her up inside, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel an anger brewing towards these people. How could they choose the times when he wasn't around to get to the person that meant most to him?

"What type of business are you running?" (Y/N) asked after the silence had prevailed for a few moments.

It was a question that made Tommy clench his jaw and avert his eyes to the floor. He didn't quite know what to feel now. He wasn't angry at the fact that (Y/N) had essentially found out about what was actually happening outside of the betting shop floor…he wasn’t exactly hiding it from her. He was angry at the fact that it was people around town who told her about it. It was always his hope that he could keep her out of that side of things. She didn't need that darkness dimming her light.

"Tommy?" she softly prodded him, hoping for an answer.

"I do what I need to do to get things done, (Y/N)," he finally answered her, his voice flat.

His response didn't give much up front, but she was able to read between the lines of it. She exhaled a breath as his eyes met hers once more. "What happened to being honest with the business?"

"When has bein' honest gotten us anything, eh?" he asked her, his one eyebrow quirked in an inquisitorial manner.

(Y/N) sighed, unable to stop the corner of her lips from raising as she looked away for a moment and exhaled a laugh. She let out a sigh then, bringing her hand up to run it across her face. She truly didn't know what to think now.

"Are you upset?" Tommy's question broke the silence this time.

"Yes..." she paused, looking at him again, "but not at you," she made sure to clarify.

Tommy pulled a face in response to her statement, one that asked for her to continue.

"I'm upset that people feel the need to comment on my relationship with you, and that they..." she paused, dropping eye contact as she turned away from him, not wanting him to see how their words still affected her. She took a deep breath before continuing, "that they see me as too much of a fool to be with you."

She couldn't help but laugh at herself as she finished her statement. Maybe you are a fool because you don't know what he really does, she thought to herself. She thought she’d know everything about someone she’d been with for just about six years now. Hell she helped Polly keep the betting shop afloat while the boys were off fighting in France. She knew how things worked in the business. But these whispers started sometime after they returned. With the start of 1919 came (Y/N)'s wondering of why so many people were suddenly interested in the life of Tommy Shelby.

"Hey," Tommy stepped towards her, reaching out and taking hold of her left arm so that he could gently turn her back to face him. Doing so effectively brought her out of her thoughts and made her focus on him again. "Fuck what they have to say," he told her, a devilish grin forming on his lips as he attempted to lighten the mood.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened upon hearing his statement, and she brought her hands up to softly smack his shoulders. "Tommy!" she gasped, her mouth still gaped slightly in surprise. Could that really be his response?, she questioned herself before voicing her disbelief, "I can't believe that's your response," she said while laughing slightly.

"What they say doesn't matter, love," he told her, snaking his arms around her waist so that he could pull her closer to him.

"But still..."

"But nothing," he cut her off, his eyebrows raised. (Y/N) sighed and let her hands rest on his shoulders. The feeling of his suit jacket's material beneath her fingertips made her relax. Tommy truly felt like home to her. Just being in his arms for these mere seconds was making her feel better. "You and me...we're ok, right?" he asked her then, his voice soft as he waited intently for her answer. She was able to feel his gaze on her, but she kept her eyes fixed on his collar, her fingers running against the lapels of his jacket. "Right?" he asked again when he didn't receive a response, pressing his fingers against her sides as he pulled her slightly closer to him.

His actions made her let out a surprised giggle as their heads touched, and it also made her look at him once more. "We're ok," she affirmed, a smile now present on her lips as she continued playing with his lapels, "I just want you to stay safe."

"Always," he whispered, a smile playing on his lips as he assured her.

"And you'll let me in?" her voice was softer now as she looked at him through her eyelashes.

"I will," he whispered, his eyes flitting down to her lips.

"Good, because I need to have something to tell the women who just can't keep their thoughts to themselves," she stated, placing her hands on his cheeks so that she could raise his eyes to meet hers again. She knew what he was thinking of doing.

"(Y/N), fuck..."

"What they say, I know," she finished his sentence for him, smiling as he exhaled a laugh, "maybe..." she trailed off, a bit of a mischievous smile playing on her lips, "maybe I'll just tell them how good this is..."

"What's that?" was all Tommy was able to get out before (Y/N) closed the space and pressed her lips to his.

And if she did tell the whisperers about that, she'd indeed have them wondering.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @theshelbyslimited

@peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss

@alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl

@emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife

@anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08

@insanitybyanothername @depxiety @justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter

@cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable

@thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo

[ladyempty]

"Do you think you can just deny me? No, the answer is no"

° | This is a yandere work and may contain triggering behavior. I'm not in favor of that in real life.| ° | pairing: Yan!Maegor Targaryen, o cruel x Wife! Reader ° | !English is not my first language!|

You were certainly a cursed woman for arousing the almost immediate interest of the cruel king after his bloodthirsty ascension to the throne.

Maegor already had three wives at that time, two wives he liked and one he despised with increasing hatred.

But you were different, it was an overwhelming feeling that caught you off guard in the first contacts.

There was something fascinating to the king in his every little gesture and movement. Her so easily adorable personality and impeccable looks.

So this was love? This flame that burns without being seen? That feeling he despised when bards sang softly on banquettes and celebrations, and now it had taken over his body.

Already convinced of the strength of his feelings, the king did not delay in a proper court, he thought he had already made his obvious interest clear. The king's way of showing interest was something... Peculiar... Certainly constantly chasing you, ordering guards to follow you and always so fixedly analyzing your slightest movement, it wasn't the most gallant way.

In any case, the engagement was not long in consideration, with Maegor coldly threatening you father:

"I will have your hand beheaded or I will have your daughter's hand in marriage" His tone was as cold as the blade of his sword held firmly at his hip.

The wedding was only in Valerian traditions, the king's warm crimson blood mingling with his own and the taste of copper on his lips.

Maegor would never stoop to marrying in the faith of the seven. An action that only caused more chaos and anger from the religious.

The wedding night was certainly not a fairy tale. The king was focused on creating an heir and finally freely exploring his body. His touches were rough, strong and not at all gentle.

You better not consider moontea...

As a husband, Maegor is not the kindest. His displays of affection are not delicate and he does not demonstrate his love through words at all.

But compared to his treatment of other people, he is much softer on you.

He will still punish you if you disobey his numerous and strict rules.

Jealous and possessive are an understatement to describe feelings and behavior. You are His in every aspect of the word. Your body and soul belong to him and him alone. And not even his other wives have the right to take their You attention away from him. Your world should revolve around him the same way his world revolves around you.

Maegor is simply crazy about you, he loves you in a way he's never loved anyone else, even if it was in a distorted way, he doesn't want anyone to get close to you, touch you or even breathe and look in your direction. Anyone who approaches you will regret it bitterly when the blade of your sword pierces the person's neck without mercy.

He admired strength... But you couldn't get hurt, he liked your bravery, but there is no way he will allow you to get hurt. Never.

Maegor will not change your reason if you don't trust him. He will even think you are smart. For a while. After your patience runs out, he will simply demand your complete trust in him.

"I am your lord husband, who is more deserving of your trust than me?"

And things only got worse after Alys's deformed stillbirth...

Tyanna's whispers in her ear about infidelity and the child being nothing more than a bastard only served to increase her paranoia. The mere thought of you cheating on him was enough to make him simply lose his mind.

He imprisoned you in your private chambers, no one was allowed to enter unless authorized by the king. Guards guarded the door to his quarters.

Then, in an act of desperation, Maegor took three wives at once. But all three had deformed stillbirths just like Alys… Tyanna had lied and the king simply didn't know what else to do. He was desperate for the first time in his life.

But like a ray of light... Were you pregnant? For the first time in almost decades... Maegor smiled widely.

[fleurhcss]

Channie being a proper dom like really intimidating n stuff- when you first signed a contract w him you kind of just misjudged him as more of a sweet guy

That's sound so interesting so I'm taking this request very happily 🤍🤍 let's make this as a sort of fifty shades 🥰🎀

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚. 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐒𝐨 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 - Chan x FEM Reader!

cw : something like 50 shades ??, contractual sex, co-workers/boss, possessive hard dom chan, naive reader, you though he was a sweet guy but he's an actual daddy

sw : hair pulling, choke kink, anal, blowjob, scratching, hard dom, little mention of blood, spanking, size kink, thigh humping, breast playng, biting, marks, fingering

wc : 6.6k

synopsis : You always did your work with dedication and diligence, your boss Bang Chan always complimented you for every job you completed on time. He was always very kind to you, always smiling and helpful when you needed help. You never expected that one night, when you were working overtime, he would approach you and ask you to come to his office to sign a new contract that would give you a promotion. Too bad, maybe not too bad, it was a completely different contract. This led to a new kind of passion that you never thought you'd get caught up in. And that Bang Chan was not as sweet as he showed you during the day.

a/n : hii, i'm back with another fic ! This was a request so I hope anon can enjoy this like all of u 🩷 it was so exciting to write and i hope u could like it - im obsessed with dom but apparently sweet Chan 🫣🫣 Enjoy 🫶🏻 I opened a ko-fi account, i will post there some stories and drawings, if you want to support me i will be grateful to anyone who wants to give me tips, ITS NOT OBLIGATORY

[ HARD SMUT ]

It was another typical working day for you, you were sitting comfortably in your chair, going through the last of the papers your colleague had sent you for final checking. You had gotten a little hungry and had started to munch on some carrots, taking them out of your lunch box. You worked as a secretary for a big company, so you had to check all your colleagues' work and correct any mistakes before sending it to your boss: Bang Chan. A lot could be said about him as he was truly a man of gold. He was always kind and helpful to all his subordinates and to you, his secretary, he was no less, always greeting you with a smile and a pat on the back. You couldn't even deny how attractive he was, you were really lucky to have such a boss. Bang Chan was like the forbidden dream of every employee in the company, even the older ladies. He was a not so tall man, well built and very muscular. A distinct sense of style and elegance and a face like few others. Simply gorgeous, you thought.

Nothing had changed that day either, Chan had arrived smiling, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, no tie and his jacket in his hands. He had walked up to you and patted you on the back, smiling as if you were good friends. "Good work, Y/N, I want you in my office tonight to discuss a new contract." He said as he squeezed your shoulders and walked into his office. You were almost out of breath when he touched you. His hands were warm and you felt as if he wanted to hold you. But it was all in your head and he was your boss, certain things were not appropriate. You wondered what kind of contract he was talking about, since you had been promoted just two weeks ago - and with it a pay rise. Now you were very curious. It didn't take you long to ask your colleagues if Chan had been giving out raises lately. The man never ceases to surprise you.

You could see him making himself comfortable at his desk, taking off his jacket to give you a good view of his blue shirt, which clung well and perfectly to every single muscle. The man was truly amazing, a walking constant provocation, and of course you felt a little guilty having certain thoughts about him, which did nothing but show you sweetness and dedication to his work, as well as respect for you. You spent your morning working hours before your lunch break reviewing documents and glancing at your boss as he received corporate clients in his office with a beaming smile. Sometimes you wondered how he could smile so sweetly at everyone....

You could hear your colleague muttering things like "but what's he smiling about" or "why does he always have that happy expression on his face", well bless him? Chan had never shown his employees that he was tired or angry, except once when your company was fined for a cheating customer. You remember Chan's angry expression as he shouted in his office, the vein in his neck throbbing. And it was typical of your colleague to sulk about everything, wondering what he was doing there if he hated the job, when his boyfriend, Chan's childhood friend by the way, had suggested he go to work with him. But that was how Hyunjin was, you remembered when he described the pain in his bottom after sex with his friend Changbin in his dramatic way.

"You know what Chan is like, Hyune, he never gets tired of doing what he likes," you chuckled, catching a small, pouty smile from your friend. "Are you busy tonight?" he asked as he approached you with his chair. "Chan asked me to come to the office to review the contract, I have no idea what it's about," you threw your head back in frustration. "That sucks, I wanted to get something to eat, Changbin is busy with Jisung in a new group they are producing," you smiled at Hyunjin's adorable pout and tussled his hair, causing another pout.

Time seemed to fly from that morning, so much so that you found yourself sitting at the cafeteria table with your best friend Ryujin and Hyunjin, having lunch as usual and gossiping about your colleagues. Unfortunately, you weren't sure where the conversation was going when your best friend opened up about none other than Chan. "In my opinion he fucks hard, I mean look at him," she said, causing you to choke on a vegetable thread. You looked at her in a mixture of shock and bewilderment, then at the man himself, who had rolled up his shirt sleeves to show off his buff arms. "He gives me the impression of a vanilla with all those sweet smiles he gives out, although Bin says one of his exes left him because she couldn't sustain his sex life," at which point you also choked on water. But were these conversations to be sustained over lunch?

"Why exactly are we talking about how Chan fucks, in the cafeteria and with him just a few steps away from us?" you asked, quite confused by the situation. Your friends were out of their minds. "You haven't said a word, what do you think he's like?" Ryujin asked cheekily, leaving you speechless for the umpteenth time, and you let out a long sigh before answering. "In my opinion, he's sweet, I don't see him doing dirty things in bed or in general," Ryujin burst out laughing and you blushed at your own words. "But have you seen him? That minimum will destroy you!" she said, convinced of her words. You swallowed the last bites of your lunch before choking again. Sure, you had some thoughts, but certainly not in a place where the whole company you work for could hear you. You left each other laughing and went back to your desk, where you stayed until closing time, when your friends said goodbye to you.

You were reluctant to knock on your boss's office door, you could see through the glass walls that he was concentrating on printing out various papers and wondered why he had not asked you as his assistant, then he raised his head and smiled at you, signalling for you to enter his office, there anxiety pervaded you. You did as he asked and were greeted with a warm smile and a gallant invitation to sit down in front of his desk, which he leaned on. "So, I've called you in to discuss an exclusive contract as my personal assistant, let's say I've upgraded it a bit: I'd like you to move into my house from Tuesday to Friday and also to accompany me on my business trips, which will become more frequent as I've expanded our partnerships, and I'd like to discuss a much more... delicate side of the contract over dinner, perhaps over a nice glass of wine. I just wanted to let you know today. Come to dinner at my house on Saturday, you will have the correspondence, you can sign the contract extension and know the rest," he smiled.

But your brain had been given too much information to digest and process, you had stopped at the moving out in his house part... You didn't know how to react to the news, it had all been so unexpected that you still had to process it, and he understood that well from your expression, which was a mixture of confusion and disbelief. He laughed - and no, Chan, there was nothing to laugh about - "Well, I understand it's a lot of information, you don't have to answer me right away, we'll talk more about it on Saturday, like I said," he gave you another sweet smile and you nodded, trying to return it and getting up from your chair you saw that he had already started to turn everything off and had followed you to the exit. "Good night, Chan," you whispered with a small bow, which he returned with a smile and a pat on the head that made you blush. "Good night, Y/N."

Ryujin and Hyunjin would have liked that.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪

"He proposed to you WHAT?" Hyunjin almost shouted when you told him what Chan had told you in his office that evening. You were still in a state of disbelief; in short, living under the same roof as your boss was not exactly the best ... Especially when you felt guilty about fantasising about him after he had been so nice to you. "Yes, I'm still in shock and I have exactly three days to think about it, because he wants to have dinner with me at his house on Saturday," you whispered as if you were intimidated, and well, you definitely were a bit. So much so that the three days went by quickly and you were still standing in front of your boss's house. Hyunjin had been kind enough to be your stylist and you were sure that he had done his best to make you sexy, had even advised you to throw yourself into the experience, Chan certainly wasn't going to eat you up.

Or so you thought.

But Chan was a man of many surprises, and he was about to prove it. When he opened the door, you saw an Adonis, an ethereal Greek god smiling at you, opening the gates of Olympus. He was magnificent and uniquely beautiful, a man like few others, you thought. The tight white turtleneck accentuated every single muscle in that chest - from the pecs to the belly, you could count them one by one - and the dark denim trousers wrapped well-trained thighs, and you let your mind wander a little too much. You wore jeans that were a little tight from the thighs down to the ankles, a black lace top that allowed a glimpse of your bra - damn you, Hyunjin - and a simple jacket suit of the same colour. Your shoulders were crossed and you watched as Chan invited you in with a beaming smile. "Please, come in and give me your jacket, the dining room is that way, I'll be there in a few minutes."

It was certainly a nice apartment, modern, bright and very spacious for one person, so much so that you wondered if he might sometimes feel lonely in this environment. Then you remembered his suggestion and blushed. You made your way to the well-appointed dining room, where the food was well served and covered with special thermal lids to keep it from getting cold. "Here I am, Y/N, please have a seat, I went to get the paperwork for later. How about we start with a good glass of red wine? This is very good, a friend of mine sent it to me from Italy, imagine that," he chuckled and then moved your chair and made you sit down. He really was such a kind, decent, gentle man. So sweet. It suddenly occurred to you that it might be a good idea to share a roof with him. He sat across from you, sipping some wine and putting a piece of steak in his mouth. What lips, you thought. You looked like a maniac.

"I'm sure everything will be delicious, and besides, I love red wine," you reassured yourself, unaware that he knew the detail because he had asked Changbin to ask Hyunjin, who, being scatterbrained as he was, had not suspected anything. "Oh well, lucky shot. So, have you thought about my proposal these days, sweetheart?" for a moment you forgot how to speak in front of the nickname. "Um, yes, I'm very much inclined to accept your proposal," you told him as you drank some wine, you needed it, and a lot of it, otherwise you wouldn't have survived the evening. His eyes lit up and he smiled at you, he was really handsome, damn. "I'm very happy that you accepted, there's just one more... delicate additional clause that I'd like to talk to you about. You're not obliged to accept it, of course, and it won't affect the contract I mentioned before, it's a separate thing, let's say another contract", you were confused, what else could he want from you? With your glance you encouraged him to go on.

"That's it, I've been alone for a long time without a woman by my side and the physical needs are starting to kick in. My last serious relationship ended because she was, so to speak, unable to support me in bed. So I need a woman who I consider to be strong and stable as well as beautiful like you, and since we will be together most of the time, I thought we could take advantage of that. Of course I have inquired whether you have someone at your side or not, I would never allow myself to ask such things of a taken girl, much less are you obliged to accept. I also want to emphasise that I do not see you as an object to vent my sexual pleasures, I have great respect for you. Having said that, I look forward to hearing what you think."

Your face was indescribable at that moment, your fork hanging in the air, your mind urging you to accept such an absurd proposal. It was amazing, by the way, how he was such a sweet gentleman and so respectful to even ask you such a thing. It almost made you hate him. But the truth was that you were quite tempted, even though you shouldn't be. "Excuse me, I have to go to the toilet," he said, understanding your surprise and not being hurt by it, he took a sip and wiped his lips before showing you where to go. Where, by the way, it didn't take you long to make a group video call and tell your best friends what you had gotten yourself into.

"I'd love to accept, I mean have you seen him? He's definitely going to fuck like hell," said your best friend. "Accept, what have you got to lose? You're sexually frustrated and haven't had sex in ages, not to mention that your taste in men sucks. He's a gift from heaven right now," Hyunjin said, since when was he so wise? And he was right, after all, neither of them had anything to lose.

When you returned to where you were sitting, you drank the Goblet in one go: "I'm in, what do I need to sign?" you said. Chan's eyes lit up, a mixture of disbelief and satisfaction. "I've got all the contracts over there, calling me by my name, and you don't know how happy you've made me. Obviously we're not starting tonight, I'll help you get your things over here, and if either of us feels like it on Monday, maybe we can try something," he smiled broadly at you, and you really couldn't help but smile back.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪

When you arrived at work on Monday morning, your best friend gave you a sly look because you had texted him about the rest of the evening with your boss - now boss with benefits? - who, after dinner, had accompanied you to his office to sign the rest of the contract, not forgetting to caress your skin or wrap his arms around your waist. You had noticed that he was a man who sought physical contact and was very affectionate. Ever since he had promoted you to be his personal assistant, he had not missed an opportunity to pat and squeeze your back as a sign of encouragement.

He had offered you more wine and shown you around his apartment, which was very large indeed, he had a sort of library room, you were surprised to see how many books he had, and most of them he had read. He had taken you into his garden where he had a small vegetable garden and small flower beds and finally, after showing you what would be your room, he had taken you into another study where there were musical instruments and other tools whose names you did not know. He had just confessed to you his passion for music, which he practised on his days off, sometimes in the company of Changbin and his friend Jisung.

You were shocked that one man could have so many passions and still find time for everything. He looked like Clark Kent, but without the glasses and the weird superpowers.

By the time you had taken your seat, Hyunjin had given you another look, pointing out a beaming, smiling Chan in his office - which was not much different from the usual one, but he had a different aura than his usual working days. When he saw you, he gave you a smile and a wink that made you blush and even earned you an elbow from your friend to tease you, you had not yet settled into your new job, but already that morning some of Chan's employees had come to pick up your things, you would not be there for a whole week, so you did not have to bring everything exactly, but the essentials you would surely need, after all they had also brought suitcases and bags full of personal belongings, clothes and things like that.

He signalled you to follow him to his study, and as soon as you turned on your computer, you proceeded to him. The question, "Good morning, sweetheart, how are you?" was somewhat unexpected, although not because he could not ask you the question, but because you were expecting a different kind of question. However, we were discussing Chan, and he was still the sweetest guy you knew. This prompted you to consider whether there might be a side of him that he had yet to reveal in private. "Um well, you?" you rocked back on your heels. "I'm fine. So we're going home together tonight, my boys have finished bringing your things, you just need to get them set up in your room. I would like to request your assistance in my home office for a few additional hours. A significant contract must be negotiated with a German company. Additionally, I would like to spend some time with you." He whispered this last sentence, and, besides blushing, you experienced a physical sensation of goose bumps. His gaze was different, more penetrating, with a different light, and his voice had dropped an octave. You observed what you believed to be a change in his eyes, which appeared darker and more intense. This observation was accompanied by a sensation of trembling in your legs.

Your underwear was visibly moist; however, if he had observed your state, it was unclear how he would have react. He dismissed you by returning to your usual work room after you nodded off, and when Hyunjin saw you in such a state, he did nothing but tease you until lunch. That was when Ryujin joined in. Your expression was comically pathetic, and the two of them would not stop teasing you. At this sight, Chan , who was directly involved in the aforementioned incident, joined in. He approached you with a kind smile and patted your shoulder, which caused you to shiver. "Have a good lunch, Y/N, guys..." he said. It was evident that Hyunjin was attempting to restrain himself from laughing in Chan's face.

"Should I inform him that he caused your panties to become wet? It would undoubtedly make the entire situation more epic”, Ryujin jested, causing you to laugh slightly less due to the presence of Chan, who was behind you and had overheard every word. This resulted in Chan giggling. You were in a difficult position, both literally and figuratively. You were forced to thank your best friend... You observed Chan direct a gaze at you that you were unable to identify, yet you were certain that he licked his lips in anticipation of capturing them between his teeth. You were compelled to concede that you were entertaining the notion of engaging in the same act. Hyunjin's interjection served to disrupt your train of thought. You were, in fact, digging your own grave, having already initiated the process by falling into it. You were now merely attempting to cover yourself with dirt.

The day passed more rapidly than you had anticipated, and you found yourself in the evening having to bid farewell to your friends, who were still laughing at you. As you were tidying your belongings, two arms wrapped around your waist, and it was evident who it was. His warm breath brushed against your skin, and you were certain you would not be able to endure much longer. The man was the end of you. He commenced to bestow wet kisses upon your neck, and without intending to and realising it, a small moan escaped you. You were now definitively ruined. He chuckled against your skin and turned you towards him, smiling. It was incredible. "So, my dear, are you prepared to return home?" he whispered. It was as if, when the office emptied, he became another person. He was inches from your lips and they were too inviting and full to remain that way. Consequently, you set aside your shyness and initiated a kiss.

The kiss was markedly different from any previously experienced. It was passionate, as if the man had not kissed a woman in years. Chan was passionate and engaging in his every move, and it was as if melting in his arms was inevitable. He was just as physically attractive as his body suggested, and he was an impressive individual. His hands tightened on your waist, massaging your hips. You could feel his thumbs enter your skin as his full lips pulled yours into a kiss that seemed to last an eternity. In your stomach, you experienced a series of unusual sensations. His tongue penetrated your mouth, and gradually, his lips began to move along your jaw, down your neck, and to your shoulder, where he focused a little more. You were certain that he was going to drive you insane very soon.

He grasped your thighs and positioned you on your desk. The mere possibility that the janitor might have entered the room at any moment and discovered you aroused you considerably. "You have no idea what I would like to do to you right now, sweetheart," he whispered into the crook of your neck as his hands went up your thighs, squeezing them. Your lips emitted a series of gasps as your hands made space for themselves in his now disordered curls. You uttered a curse. This was undoubtedly the end of you. "Why don't you do it then?" you sneered, gaining some confidence. You observed him return that grin as he took tufted hair and tied it in a vice, pulling it backwards to reveal your callus, which was far too clean for his taste. In point of fact, I did not employ the use of molt to inflict marks and bites upon him. "I would suggest that it is time to return home, or do you wish to remain in these wet panties for an extended period? It has been several hours, has it not?" he laughed, recalling your conversation with your closest companions that afternoon at luncheon.

You blushed and placed your hand on his arm, indicating that you wished to compose yourself. He took you in his arms and you observed that he was also experiencing a similar problem, as evidenced by his obvious erection. He smiled at you and, after saying goodbye to the janitor who was about to enter the office, you proceeded together to Chan's house. The car ride was an ordeal, as his hand remained on your naked thigh and squeezed it. You had by now admitted to yourself, while lying down, that the only thing you wanted was for him to insert his fingers into your panties and then into you. What was the man doing to you?

Upon your arrival, he did not allow you the opportunity to remove your jacket; instead, he took care of it himself, with great eagerness. His lips followed yours as he whisked you to the door, taking your legs and tying them around his waist. You felt his erection pushing against your clothed pussy. You longed only for him to undress you. He swiftly removed his shirt, and you were captivated by the beauty and musculature of his physique. You felt as though you were experiencing a hallucination. Was there truly such a flawless man? Not to mention the extensive tattoo that extended down his right arm. You lingered for a considerable period of time, admiring it, before running your hands down his chest and arms, caressing his warm and velvety skin. You could perceive the degree of physical conditioning he had achieved merely through touching his arms. "Do you like it, my dear?" he inquired, his voice a mere whisper in your ear. It was a rhetorical question, of course, but one that could be answered in the affirmative by anyone.

"You have no idea how much," you replied frankly before initiating another kiss. You believed you had merely provided a sort of addiction to the latter. He giggled before leading you down the hallway to the kitchen table and setting you down on it. "Good because I'm really ridiculously hungry so allow me to satiate myself," he said, his tone indicating a change in subject. From that point on, you were no longer in earnest. Passion and lust had evidently overpowered you. You observed him disappear between your thighs, spreading you wide as his nose pressed against your still-clothed but completely soaked centre. He left it a kiss and then pulled the fabric with his teeth. You were convinced that you felt them sink into the flesh of your clitoris as well. By this point, you were no longer holding back, as there was no point in doing so. You were a moaning mess.

"You smell very pleasant; I imagine your taste is similarly agreeable." This was the most dirty image you had ever seen. He removed your underwear and began licking your labia minora, which caused you to close your eyes. Your left hand descended from your hair to your shoulder, where you dug your nails into her skin, certain that you had done so.

He emitted a moan, which surprised you, given that you had always considered him to be a sweet guy. However, given his reaction, you increased your grip and scratched deeper into his now reddened skin. Meanwhile, he was working his way between your walls with his tongue, sucking on portions of your skin before penetrating you with it and fucking you with his tongue himself. This caused you to lose your breath. It was evident that the state of your body would not withstand the prolonged stimulation. Your own sensitivity was already considerable, and the fact that you had not had a relationship for a considerable period of time, coupled with Chan's unexpected skill with every touch he gave you, was driving you to the brink of insanity.

Your prediction was correct as you freed yourself in no time on his skillful tongue, which totally cleaned you up, even licking your lips. The experience was so intense that you were overwhelmed. "It was exquisite, and I may never get enough," he said as he approached you, who were now panting and short of breath. However, you noticed that his problem remained unresolved. "Take off your pants," you intimated, pulling him by the belt. He was perplexed by this turn of events and clenched his fists on your thighs. "Are you attempting to issue commands, princess?" he inquired with a hint of amusement, then proceeded to remove his belt and tie your wrists behind your back. However, he was uncertain as to the purpose of this action.

"You are not able to touch me, as I am in control of the situation. Should you wish to cum again, you will do as I say. However, I will not have sex with you at this time. I wish to cause you suffering first" he sneered. This is contrary to the image of the sweet boy that he presented. He undressed you completely, admiring your body from a distance once you had nothing to cover yourself and then disappeared to get something. He returned with a bottle of wine in his hand and a full goblet from which he was drinking. "You know I love wine. I wonder what it tastes like if I pour it on you. What do you say? Shall we try it?" He bit his lip as he moved closer to you and kissed you with the same frenzy as before. The wine tasted like red wine, the same one he had offered you nights before. What remarkable coincidence was that ever? You felt a liquid, which was not particularly cold, run through your breasts and the rest of your body. The liquid had made its way up your stomach to your thighs, and Chan was gradually descending with his lips, as if he wanted to consume you.

His lips fixed themselves first on your collarbones, which had been previously treated with a little bit of wine. He proceeded to drink the liquid and begin to leave bites and kisses on your breasts. You were certain that he was consuming you and that you would find purple marks all along the way, particularly around your nipples. With one hand, he was holding one of your breasts and massaging it, while playing with the nipple that was stuck between his index and middle fingers. His mouth was on the other breast, licking, biting and sucking the nipple. It was clear that nothing could be more pleasurable than the experience at that moment. The head was thrown back in response to the intense pleasure. "What a delight you are, princess," he said, his remaining hand clutched at her throat. All she could produce were disjointed sounds devoid of meaningful words. He proceeded to descend with his tongue, licking the wine from your stomach to your thighs. He then proceeded to bite and leave hickeys all the way to your groin.

Upon raising his face, one observed a smug expression. Saliva was observed to be dripping from the sides of the lips, and the subject was perceived as a potential meal. In contrast, Chan had never known a woman like you, and your every move drove him crazy. Your scent and beauty had been the first thing he had noticed when he first became interested in you. The sensation of your vaginal walls constricting around his tongue was a profound experience, one that sent him to a state of rapture. He contemplated the sensations he would experience when he penetrated you with his penis. You observed him grin repeatedly, and you gasped when he was completely naked in front of you. Perhaps you understood why his former girlfriend had found sexual intercourse with him to be an unbearable experience. It was a complex array of sensations. He was of considerable girth and possessed a notable degree of vascularity. You observed him for a few moments, during which time he elicited a sarcastic chuckle.

"I can see you quite like what you see, sweetheart," he laughed, only to have you spread your legs and begin rubbing his length over your thigh, grazing your clitoris with the tip. This was a spot to which, by the way, he was the subject of the torture of his thumb moving quickly over it. He was fucking you until you were dumb. And not in the literary sense, unfortunately. "Chan...please..." you implored him, this being perhaps the third or fourth occasion on which you had reached orgasm that evening, with the intervals between the events being relatively brief.

"Be patient, my dear," he whispered in your ear. The speed with which he was rubbing his penis had increased significantly, and seeing him moaning like that, with those expressions contributed greatly to accelerating your orgasm, which occurred a few minutes before the one that Chan released on your thigh. With two fingers, he took some of the semen and brought it to your lips as he squeezed your neck, indicating that you should open your mouth. He engaged in oral stimulation of your tongue until his fingers were clean, then withdrew and proceeded to clean you. He then inquired as to your preferences for dinner. He proceeded to bite his lip and extend an invitation for you to take a bath with him.

The duration of the cohabitation would be long.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪

The last thing you ever imagined in your life was living under the same roof as your boss. Yet here you were, in the car with him, driving back to "your" home. It had been two weeks since you had signed that contract, Hyunjin and Ryujin were doing nothing but trying to extrapolate information and gossip to you about how Chan was fucking. But no, you didn't know either - you weren't always doing something, every day, there were days when you were really busy or days when Chan didn't go out except to go to work from his studio. But when he was in the right mood, he didn't hesitate to call you into his studio and drive you crazy with his touch. You experienced things you had never tried before, like wax play, and one night he even tied you up with a rope that was thicker than you thought. Not to mention the first time he had fucked you in the mouth. He had been so rough - not that you had minded - that you had trouble moving your jaw for the next two days. But Chan had been very kind to look after you.

Now he tightened his hand around your thigh, almost as if he were angry, and you wondered what was going on in the boy's head at that moment. When you got home, he gave you a look that you could not decipher and took you in his arms - at which you let out a cry of surprise - and took you to his room, where you had never been before.

"Get ready because you'll be up a lot tonight," he said as he tossed you into bed. From then on you understood that this was the moment after two weeks when he would not feel pity for you, and in the end you were not so sad. He laughed at the sight of your face, which was a little confused and shocked at his sudden disappearance, but you wondered why he looked so angry. "Did something happen?" you innocently asked the boy who was now towering over you. He laughed as if you had just said the funniest thing ever. "It really bothers me that the typist won't stop looking at you, trying miserably to get your attention. I have to do something to let others know you're mine," he whispered in your ear, making you shiver. You had no idea what he was talking about, but you were sure that seeing him so possessive of you had had an unexpected effect on you.

"Do it Chan," you said as you tugged at the collar of his shirt; you were going crazy for this man and seeing him like this only made you more vulnerable to his mercy.

You didn't even notice how he unzipped your clothes, how the room had suddenly become extremely hot, as if someone had lit a fire or a stove. Chan didn't need to move to show you what was hidden under his clothes, what a wonderful god he was under those now useless and discarded robes on the floor. You had seen him walk away and take something from the cupboard and were almost surprised to see handcuffs in his hands. You hated being touched when he was in charge, you had learnt many things about him in those weeks, one of which was that Chan loved to feel in charge, to be in control. And how he loved it. And you didn't mind seeing the smug look on his face when he knew he was having an effect on you. He grabbed your hands and brought them behind your back, stopping them with the metal object, his expression was something indescribable. He was so attractive, you could have come just by looking at him.

He positioned you with your head dangling from the foot of the bed and lowered himself to your level, stroking your red lips with his thumb as you gasped. All this was already having an effect. "Look how beautiful you look," he whispered as he moved his lips closer to yours, "so beneath me, at my will, ready to receive all I have to give you... you are a feast for the eyes. "If you only knew you..." she whispered through his lips, boosting his ego and pushing him even further to initiate a ravenous, almost violent kiss. He pulled his tongue out with his teeth and sucked on it. "Chan... please..." you said almost imperceptibly, which amused him greatly as he loved to see you like that.

He stood in front of you, his figure was imposing, statuesque. You could see his full length. He winked, made you open your lips with his thumb, played with your tongue. If only he had put a finger between your legs, you would have known immediately the effect he was having on you. "Be a good girl and take it all in your mouth, princess," he chuckled as he began to work his length down your entire throat, the fact that you were upside down on the bed making it even more exciting. But it wasn't like Chan to stand still while you gave him pleasure. And while he held your hair in a tight grip, he enjoyed using his other hand to caress your breast and play with your nipple. This drove you crazy as much as it drove him crazy that the moans he was making you make his cock quiver in your throat. This really drove him out of his mind.

His hand went all the way down your chest to your belly as he mercilessly fucked your throat. He squeezed your side and reached down to lick your navel with his tongue. His hand wanders to the naked centre of your intimacy: "Look how sensitive we are today. Two fingers begin to make small circles over your clitoral hood and this immediately makes you moan again along its length. He inserts one finger and then a second, fucking you with them first. You throw back your eyes as he reaches your sensitive spot and begins to curl his fingers. But he doesn't go for it, he doesn't want to come like that, he doesn't want you to come like that. "I'm going to fuck you mercilessly, princess. Don't scream too loudly, you don't want the neighbours to complain," he whispered in your ear after leaving your lips and towering over you.

He brought your knees up to his shoulders and paused to watch your hole shrink around the nothing. "It's going to be really wonderful to fuck you." And he entered you. "Ah!" you moaned, unable to stop yourself. You felt full. Good. Filled. "'Damn darling, you're so tight, even after my fingers... I'm going to start moving now, okay?" he groaned, then pulled out of you and suddenly thrust back in. You moan. "You like it, you want more baby," he chuckled then watched as you begged him pleadingly with gestures and disconnected words. And if he only knows how much you wanted it.

He begins to move without stopping, trapping you between his elbows as if to let you know that you are his alone. At first he pushes himself into you slowly, until you get used to it and start to want more, pushing your hips against his. He speeds up and you almost lose your breath, your moans now a poor diastro. You feel like you could come at any moment and he can tell by the way you tighten around him. "Come for me, Y/N," he says hoarsely into your ear, then takes you in his arms and kisses you roughly until your lips bleed. But he doesn't miss a drop and licks up to the end of your chin when, without warning, you come and he's inside you.

He slowly leans you back into the mattress and gets off on top of you. But you are not tired, you want more. "What is it, Princess?" he says, looking at you. You have noticed his gaze. "I want to do it again," you whisper breathlessly. He looks at you amused and chuckles, towering over you. "You really are insatiable," he says, turning you over and letting you rest on his lap, your hair quickly clenched in his fist and pulled towards him, making you moan immediately. "Now I'm going to fuck you from behind, baby," he whispers in your ear before he enters you. It was slow and almost excruciating but you loved the feeling of him rubbing inside you, maybe you loved the feeling of just having him inside you. "Inside you is like being in heaven," he whispers in a rough voice as he increases his thrusts, making them almost animalistic, everything moving with you, even the bed. You moan, loudly, and once again you clench around him. "Come for me, baby," and with just one word you scream his name and come on his hand, which had reached down to your clit to collect your fluids.

He makes you lie on your side and smiles, then caresses your cheek and leaves a bite on your shoulder before licking your fluids away.

"I could go on until dawn."

"Fuck me."

In the end he wasn't so sweet like you thought, not in bed.

TAGLIST 🎀 : @yongbokkiesworld @gloomy-k @raindropsondragons @linocvp1d @iiamthedramaa @snowyquokka @pynchkilledme @y4kie @ihrtlix @hyunjinnnsgirl @sugarsweetsugarsweet @reader1221 @bubblebisk @palindrome969 @resi4skz @trulymadxoxo @captainchrisstan @yyfka @boldy-49 @skzruby @mxmokoa12 @hyunjinhoexxx @lilalustig13 @tinys0ftie @xxstrayland @ilovejeongin007 @idontevenknow75 @strayywayy @lurking-coconut @brojustfknkillm3 @beautyinhypnosis @klyde06 @yessssssooo @cgnab @neyangi @miinhoo @moonlight-the-writer @meilix @felixismybf @gabriellacasteel @chrizzztopherbang

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

It's a bit long - maybe it a two-parter? But reader is in love with Eddie and tries to show him, sending him love notes in his locker but he thinks (hopes) they are from Chrissy so she decides to just give up, thinking he will never see her like that so she distances herself completely and he doesn't understand why - she even changes direction when they are about to run into each other in the corridor - and when he finally manages to confront her she just tells him "You won't ever love me like I love you so I am just trying to move on" and he's like "well, how do you know that, you've never given me a chance to love you, you just bailed when I didn't realize you were the one sending the notes!"

Request by @somethingvicked 💞

Angst, fluff, pining.

💞

For the last two weeks you had a secret. It was something you hadn't told anyone, not even Robin.

The note in your pocket is carefully sealed in an envelope that you are going to try and sneak in Eddie's locker.

In the last few weeks you have been leaving love notes for your long time crush Eddie Munson. You had poured your heart out in the notes, it was cathartic. A way to express your feelings that were bursting to be let out and it was nice to watch the sweet smile on Eddie's face when he read the notes.

They were all signed anonymously and you disguised your handwriting just enough so that Eddie wouldn't notice it was you. To be honest you were trying to build up the courage to confess to him.

Cautiously you look around and there is a rare occurrence where the hallway is pretty much empty so you quickly rush over to Eddie's locker and slip the note in.

Heart hammering you hurry away from the locker and feel nerves swirl in your stomach. This note was different, a lot more detailed and lovey dovey than the others, you couldn't help it. You were head over heels for Eddie and even though the notes were anonymous, it felt cathartic to say how you felt.

When Eddie finds the latest note at lunch time, the whole of Hellfire is gently teasing him. His cheeks are pink but his eyes are full of excitement, and an anxiousness to know who they are from.

"Who's going to send this doofus love notes though really?" Gareth jokes and ducks to miss the pretzel thrown at his head while laughing his head off.

Then Eddie perks up, smiles dreamily and sighs. "Hey maybe they are from Chrissy?" He looks so hopeful and the words immediately crush any thoughts that you had in which he might feel the same.

Chrissy. He wanted it to be Chrissy, of course he did. She was the sweetest and prettiest girl in Hawkins High, there was no way that Eddie was immune to her charms.

It hurt you though. All this time he talked about not conforming and yet he falls for the beauty queen. Not that you could be too mad at him, it's not like anyone could help who they fell for. You wish you could have that power, to erase these feelings you have for Eddie.

The thoughts still make you feel faintly nauseated and you get up suddenly, "Sorry guys, uh headache'' it's all you can do not to run out of the cafeteria while blinking away tears.

Thank god no one saw you crying. Then you'd really have no way to explain yourself.

That night you're laying in bed and listening to the most angsty music you can find, your thoughts racing about what happened today and stomach churning at what it meant.

You knew deep down that Eddie might not feel the same and at least that was confirmed. It was time to stop indulging in dumb fantasies, it felt like the small bit of hope you had clung onto had faded and now you had given up. Eddie was never going to see you as anything more than a friend.

Maybe it was the push you needed to move on? Or at least distance yourself a tiny bit until these feelings faded.

But how long would that take? The thought of not seeing Eddie every day is awful, you don't know what to do and the worry and despair keeps you up all night.

By the morning you feel numb but full of acceptance at what you need to do.

💌

Distancing yourself from Eddie was hard. He was so ingrained in your usual routines, you were so used to seeing him practically every day that there was this ache in your chest that he wasn't around.

It didn't help that Eddie looked at you like a lost puppy and it shook your resolve every time. You missed the guys at Hellfire too, instead of your usual spot at the table you talked to Robin or Nancy, aware of eyes on you when you didn't sit down beside Eddie.

It was a catch-22, you desperately wanted these feelings to go away so things were back to normal but you missed Eddie like crazy, it felt like a piece of you was missing.

When you saw him in the corridor today, you froze and went in the other direction but you didn't miss the look on his face when you did. It was so hurt and it crushed your heart even more.

You couldn't leave things like this, you would have to say something. Eddie must be so confused and you didn't want to hurt him. But how could you explain how you felt about him, that you're the one who sent the notes?

What if finding out how you felt ruined your friendship? What if what you were doing was ending it, honestly your mind was racing a mile a minute.

Shit you haven't sent any notes in over a week, you didn't want Eddie to get his hopes up wishing it was Chrissy only to be disappointed that it was you.

Obviously you and Eddie really need to talk. Eddie must be thinking the same thing because he shows up at your house around an hour later with a determined look in his eyes.

He's angry and you can't blame him. If the situation was reversed you would feel the same. His furious gaze softens as he takes in your tears.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" His tone is gentler than you'd expect and that makes you feel worse. God you've missed him, you've really missed him.

"I'm sorry" you murmured and made your decision to tell Eddie about the notes, hoping that he wouldn't hate you. "Eddie, I-" he speaks before you can get the words out.

"I know it's you sending the notes" oh...oh shit. You're nervous so that makes you babble and grow even more flustered because you don't know how Eddie would react.

"How?" is the last question you ask and he smiles, all dimples. The smile that you love.

"When you started avoiding me after I said I hoped the notes were from Chrissy, the look on your face...I'm not stupid sweetheart, it became pretty obvious" so much for thinking that you had covered up your feelings, you should have realised eddie would figure it out.

He could be annoyingly perceptive. "I know you don't feel the same Eddie, you're panicking now so you're basically word vomiting, "I've been trying to get over these feelings so that's why I've been distant, I'm sorry"

He frowns, "Sweetheart, I don't want you to avoid me" you bite your lip, emotions rushing to the surface. Frustrated you wipe the tears that are building in your eyes.

"I don't know what else to do Eddie! You won't ever love me like I love you so I am just trying to move on, I'm trying to do that so I don't mess up our friendship" you choke on the words and try to stop the tears that are blurring your eyes. he stares at you looking absolutely stunned.

"You love me?" his voice is so small and you swear there's a hopeful edge to it but you must just be imagining it.

"Yeah, I'm the one who's been sending the notes, but you wanted it to be Chrissy and like I said you don't love me like I love you so I need to move on" Eddie groan exasperated and runs his hand through his hair in frustration. It tugs on his unruly curls and he groans, once his hand is free, he's gesturing widely.

"Well how do you know that? You've never given me the chance to love you, you just bailed when I didn't realise you were the one sending the notes" he snaps and you're seriously frustrated.

"Because you wanted it to be Chrissy! And give you a chance to love me? You either love me or you don't Eddie. I can't just sit around on the off chance that you might feel the same way when you obviously don't"

Tears roll down your cheeks and you wipe them away shakily, you're emotionally spent and you just want to have some time for yourself.

Eddie softens and his hands are on your shoulder, soothing and tender. "You're not listening, I want a chance to love you because I am in love with you"

Oh... "You do, you reply hopeful and he nods, keeping his gaze on you. What about Chrissy?" he shakes his head and his hand moves up to caress your cheek, his gaze is soft and full of adoration.

"Just a dumb crush. I'm over her now. What I feel for you...you're all I think about sweetheart, shit I think almost losing you helped give me a uh, knock on the head" you giggle and he ducks his head looking almost shy.

"Can I kiss you?" you nod eagerly and it doesn't take long for his lips to meet yours. Eddie pulls away after a few seconds and looks completely blissed out. It's exactly how you feel. Wow.

"Shit, I am an idiot, could have been doing that for a while now if I wasn't so oblivious" you stifle a smile and he's grinning too, smiling as he kisses you again.

And again. Showing you how much he loves you.

💞💌

[riki-riks-chick]

hii!!! can i please request how each member would punish reader after wearing a short skirt? (spanking, face sitting, edging, ykwim!!)

═════════════

Heeseung:

He would pissed when he came to pick you up and you were wearing the shortest skirt you owned. He didn't say anything because he knew he couldn't make you change, but he'd be sure to "scold" you later on. He's watching how you react to male attention for the remainder of your time in public together and the more you feed into it, the more his blood boils. "You wanna act like a little fucking whore? Hm? I'll treat you how a whore should be treated."

He'd have you bent over his lap, ass up and your skirt lifted as he strikes your reddened skin after every degrading sentence, soothing his hand over your ass cheek afterwards just to smack it again. You're soaking through your panties, moaning and whimpering into your hand as he continues to talk down to you. He'd make you count as he spanks you, starting over every time you fuck up the numbers, and only stopping once you're crying and begging him to stop, coming completely untouched just from him hitting you.

Jay:

Jay had planned to meet you at a party, unable to have picked you up himself, but fuck did he regret it. You were in the shortest skirt you owned, hanging around all of his friends as they stared shamelessly at you. He was apoplectic. He immediately grabbed you by your wrists dragging you to the bathroom as he locked the door before forcing you onto your knees. "You wanna act like a fucking slut, showing your ass off to those dickheads?.. Huh? Is that what you want?"

He'd force his dick into your mouth, fucking your throat as a means of punishment. You're gagging and moaning around him, tears stinging in your eyes as he fucks into your mouth relentlessly. His hands find purchase against your scalp, tugging hard on your hair as he cums, making you swallow because "good sluts always swallow." After using you he'd leave you wet and horny for the remainder of the party, waiting until you get home to fucking ruin you.

Jake:

Jake loves when you wear short skirts, but not in front of his friends. His best friend had been staying with you guys for the week and day by day, your outfits got more and more revealing. Jake had reached his final straw when he came home to find you laying on the couch, ass up in your shortest skirt. The fact that his friend could've seen you like this at any given moment had him fuming. He immediately dragged you to your bed room, tossing you onto the bed. "Are you trying to piss me the fuck off? My friend stays with us and now you're acting like your cunt is free?.. You're mine and you need to get that through your head."

You'd feign ignorance at his words, only angering him further. Rather than arguing he decides to fuck some sense into you, slowing his hips whenever you grow near climax. He's enjoying watching you fall apart with the need to cum, and you're whining and moaning, begging him to do so. He spends over an hour edging you until you're crying out an apology and begging him to let you cum.

Sunghoon:

Sunghoon would let you wear your shortest skirt, knowing that you were going to be at a party with a bunch of other preying men. He knows how horny you get when you're drunk, so he waits, letting you whore yourself around, giggling with any guy who shows you attention. Once he's worked himself up enough, he drags you back to his car, driving you home.

"Did you have your fun? Acting like a goddamn slut?.. I'm surprised you didn't let anyone else fuck that pretty pussy of yours. It wouldn't have taken much effort with skimpy ass skirt you're wearing." He doesn't even let you talk once you're inside, he makes you sit on his face, his hands gripping your thighs as he sucks and licks at your clit. He's tugging you closer the more you squirm, wanting to pleasure you until it's unbearable. He continues lapping at your perforation no matter how many times you cum. He doesn't stop until you're crying and begging him to, and he still fucks you dumb afterwards.

═════════════

[alltimefail]

Okay gang, I noticed something super intriguing in my recent weekend rewatch of Dead Boy Detectives!

In Episode 4 when the night nurse goes into Charles' mind there's a consistent detail in his memories that I haven't seen anyone point out: not all of Charles' five schoolmates throw stones at him when he's in the lake.

Two boys are positioned slightly off to the left side of the screen, watching and making no move to stop the others, but they do not directly harm Charles at any point.

I know this doesn't seem particularly interesting in and of itself, but it quickly becomes more interesting when the Night Nurse asks Charles "What could possibly have made [his] friends turn on [him] like this," and we flash forward to the next memory, a visual response to her question. In this memory, we see Charles standing up to all of his so-called "friends" who are senselessly beating up on a boy from Pakistan and...

Wait - actually, no - not all of his friends...

Yet again, two boys have been intentionally set apart from the group and yes, it is the same two boys who stood off to the side and watched Charles be harmed (ultimately killed) in the previous scene. The juxtaposition of these scenes begins to feel even more intentional when the perspective flips and we see the scene how Charles was seeing it, with the passive boys on the left and the boys engaging in violence on the right.

This scene is much brighter so we get a really good look at their faces here, but both of them go through a myriad of facial expressions/reactions in quick succession that are challenging to discern with 100% certainty. But with the blocking for the group being the same in both shots and the roles the boys play being the same in both shots, I feel like this had to be an intentional choice made to convey something implicitly to the audience.

That leaves me to wonder - did these boys know, deep down, that what was happening was wrong? Did they want to resist, walk away, or try to stop the violence like Charles did earlier but felt powerless to do so? It would be remiss of me not to acknowledge how one of the two "passive" boys was black: did that otherness, the same otherness that Charles felt and that boy from Pakistan surely felt, keep him from speaking up out of fear for his own safety (a valid fear, considering what we know).

Whatever the purpose, it's a really sad detail to me. Heartbreaking, actually. Edwin is 100% right when he says that the living are messy, and Crystal is right when she says that she and the boys lost their lives to boys who went too far (hers temporarily in the form of her memories, the boys completely in the form of their literal lives) because that's just it, isn't it? This show is full of moral and ethical conversations surrounding the limitations of labels like "good" and "bad" people; about capability and willingness to change; and about how our actions, whether rooted in good or bad intentions, can lead to unintended or undesired outcomes. Perhaps none of Charles' "friends" believed they would kill Charles that night; perhaps they just wanted to "rough him up" or "teach him a lesson." Perhaps none of Edwin's bullies could have anticipated that the ritual sacrifice "prank" would do anything more than scare a boy they perceived as different, effeminate ("Mary Ann"), and they certainly couldn't have known it would lead to years of torture and suffering in hell for not just Edwin, but for themselves as well. But it doesn't matter, and it doesn't excuse what they did. The boys who stood to the side and watched Charles die, and who watched their fellow "mates" beat on another boy prior to that, may not have thrown a single punch, but it didn't matter - the damage was done. They still were complicit in that violence, and therefore played just as much a role in Charles' death as the boys who were throwing stones and punches. To be alive is to deal with mess, complications, baggage...to insinuate otherwise is to diminish the nuance and intention put into every choice not only in this show, but in some ways, the world at large as well. It may be a small moment, but it struck me as something that said so much without having to explicitly say anything at all. Art is a good mirror on society in this way; it makes us face the reflections of messy, complex characters and situations that we could just as likely find ourselves a part of (maybe as the "good" guy, the vicim; maybe as the "bad" guy, the bully; or maybe as the guys who just... did nothing at all. The ones who watched, who were complicit in the suffering of others for what could be a multitude of selfish or self-preserving reasons).

All that being said, the TLDR here is: considering it's the same two boys who behave the same way in both instances it feels like an intentional detail. I wonder if there's potential for one (or both) of these boys to reappear in Charles' (after)life in the future? They are likely both still alive today, in their 50s, just as Charles would be had he not been murdered. Perhaps one of these boys could die and come to the agency with regrets or unfinished business (directly involving Charles or regarding something unrelated). Maybe Charles will run into them, alive, through a different case or just on the streets of London and be overwhelmed with a sense of "That should be me, too. I should have gotten to live." I imagine he would recognize them, even in older bodies, and it would understandably affect him to have to face anyone who played a role in his death, whether they threw stones or just watched.

Orrrrrrer it could be a totally pointless detail! 😂 I'm always open-minded to the fact that after 30+ rewatches I could be overanalyzing at this point. Either way, it confounds me nonetheless and I so desperately hope we will get to explore Charles' trauma more in season 2 (🤞)... so I thought I would share my thoughts! 🖤

(Last note: please excuse the bad photo quality!! I searched meticulously for the exact screencaps I needed but couldn't find anything, so I just took pictures of my tv screen with my phone lol.)

[dearhargrove]

Reassurance

summary You comfort Evan after he has to deal with his parents over the course of four days.

word count 730

tags fluff, just someone being there for my bb buck, short and sweet

a/n So basically I was watching the Buck Begins episode and died every minute where his parents neglected him and generally every second of that episode :( so expect some more Buck fics to come (Eddie too tho !!)

masterlist

You didn't know but you were probably the sole reason Buck wasn't completely breaking down every day he wakes up and has to deal with the two people that call themselves his parents.

After the first dinner he had felt bad, but he'd felt like he usually does with them. Alone, unwanted and never enough. That day he'd come home to you, quiet and dull.

You hadn't made him talk about it when he didn't start explaining himself, instead you simply wrapped your arms around him and held him close. That's when he'd felt loved. That night he waited until you had fallen asleep before letting himself cry.

What did he expect? For some reason he had hoped they'd changed. Or at least that they would be proud of him. After all, he'd saved a lot of people and does so every day. Instead he is reminded that they hadn't bothered to check on him when he almost died twice - first by being crushed and second because of the blood clots - and then laid in the hospital.

Those were the people supposed to love him no matter what and all he got was constant criticism.

That night you had woken up not long after him because of his missing warmth. With a worried expression you'd found him and once again, held him close. He had melted into your arms, tears starting to fall again as he clutched you close as if scared to lose you.

After reassurance you would gladly give any day you had gone back to bed, your hand on his cheek and caressing his birthmark.

Today you hadn't even known Buck would see them or be confronted by their doings. The last time you'd heard about them was when he explained that he had a brother. That he was only conceived to be a match for a bone marrow transplant.

That night had been harder than the one before. You're quite sure no matter how much you tried to show him that he wasn't just a failed way to save someone you don't think it got completely through to him. And you didn't blame him; you couldn't imagine living with something like that weighing you down.

You're in his kitchen trying one of Bobby's recipes when the door opens and Buck comes in. You could read him like a book; there wasn't a moment you weren't able to tell what he was feeling. But now? You genuinely didn't know.

He was frowning but there's a smile resting on his face and his eyes are red.

“Buck?”

He looks up, seeing you there in his sweater with a knife in your hand as you chop vegetables for a recipe from Bobby he loved, and he breaks. But instead of simply crying he chuckles, too.

“Buck, what's going on?” Your voice is worried and he just shakes his head as he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his forehead to yours. You put the knife down and reach up to cup his face and your index finger soothes over his birthmark, something you'd made a habit over the year of being with him.

“I think they're finally accepting me for.. me.” He only says and you sigh but nod. He notices your slight apprehension and quickly adds on, “But I don't want them to. I don't need their acceptance. They don't decide how much I'm worth.”

Your mouth forms an ‘o’ in surprise but you laugh breathlessly and nod, “Exactly. You're saving lives on the daily, you don't need anyone to tell you how good you are. Not your parents, not your friends, not me.”

He nods along until the last part where he cocks his head and looks at you with his signature half smirk. “I do need you to tell me how good I am, actually.” That makes you smile as well and you sigh, “That's not what I meant and you know it.”

He just shrugs and unlike when he first came in you can see pure happiness and love on his face.

“God, I love you so much, Evan Buckley.”

He grins and surges forward to kiss you passionately, his hands gripping your hips as if you'd slip through his fingers any moment.

[daydreamerwoah]

Love Through It All Pt. 1

tw: cheating, mentions of divorce, hurt, angst, anger, crying, sadness

I don't condone cheating at all. But I know every marriage and even relationship is different. What one person might do in a situation, another might not do it..... Every time I write something, I'm always writing with the thought of the main goal being OC or in this case 'Y/N' ending up with the man I'm writing about (in this case it's Ghost). So this is going to be angst... but Y/n & Ghost are going to stay together at the end of this little story....

If this upsets you, pisses you off, or you hate it... I'm sorry :( Sort of my first time writing angst like this, so send me the feedback plsssss.

5 years.

A lot can happen in half a decade... especially in a marriage. Anniversaries, babies, a huge vacation, or a new house can happen in five years.

Or nothing at all can happen in five years. Nothing except the same thing almost every day; go to work, see your husband off on his next mission, and welcome him home with loving arms when he returned. But it wasn't like you didn't enjoy it. You loved being married to Simon. He was everything and more that you could ever dream of, even if he was the complete opposite of you.

The mysterious, brooding, and intimidating of a man falling for you - the bubbly, sweet, and nice woman that you were. The only two things that you both had in common was that when he first met you, you were quiet. It was only because you were a shy thing, nervous to meet anyone. But when the two of you developed an interesting, yet odd, friendship you opened up like a social butterfly; asking him about his job and his past - two things he would never talk about much - and his teammates which you had met shortly after.

Simon was never one for commitment, and he truthfully told you that the moment you began tearing down his walls; his shields. Did it hurt? No not really... you already had an idea he wasn't into being in a relationship. But he never seemed to be able to stay away from you. Always texting you, awkwardly asking to hang out or go grab food and drinks somewhere. He knew you were the woman he'd spend the rest of his life with the moment he laid eyes on you for the first time..... and when the moment came that he finally showed you his face, there was no turning back; you two had fallen for each other.

So where did it all go wrong? Was it when he asked you to marry him and you cried out "Yes!"... or was it after he returned from one his dangerous missions?

You couldn't figure it out... but something had changed in your marriage as of a few months ago. Simon would text you, letting you know he'd be late coming home, often walking through the door well after you were fast asleep. Or when he did come home early, he was more tired than usual, telling you he was taking a shower and heading to bed; leaving you alone to eat dinner by yourself. Even conversations with him had changed, where he once gave all his attention to your rambling about work and friends, he now zoned out, eyes lost in thought somewhere.

You thought it was work..... because that's what it always was. Nothing could have prepared you for the moment you received an email at work on your lunch break; that email. Thankfully you have been sitting in your car before opening it. With the long and weird letters, you knew the sender had to have either created a fake email or set it to where you couldn't respond or trace back to who it was. But that didn't matter..... what mattered was the videos inside.

The moment your finger clicked on the first one, your heart stopped.

Simon...your Simon... was in an unknown room, naked, standing behind a woman who was on all fours on a bed while he fucked her from behind. Even with his mask on, it was so easy to tell it was him - even when your initial thought was that it wasn't him. His tattoos were an instant giveaway, but you didn't look at that... you could always spot your husband on his build alone.

"Y'like that?" You heard him say as he pulled on the woman's hair, arching her back further into him.

It felt like your world had stopped. Your husband who you thought could never do anything like that, was cheating on you. The instant prickliness in your eyes burned as tears threatened to fall, but you found yourself continuing to look at the video.

"Answer me," He commanded, making the girl moan out loud when he slapped her ass hard.

"Y-yes Ghost," Her pitchy answer made you cringe.

You clicked off the video, shutting your eyes as tears began to fall. You wanted to scream, to throw the damn phone out of the car, but you couldn't..... there were five other videos in that email. And you watched all of them; each one lasting a little longer than the first; taken from different angles, you could tell that the camera was placed in different spots in the room and you wondered if Simon even knew if they were there. The tiny numbers at the corner of the screen showed you that the videos were over the span of a couple of months..... the same time frame when you started questioning what changed in your marriage.

What hurt you the most was the way Simon fucked the girl - who had to be the one to who you sent the videos since the bitch took the liberty to blur out her face. He was rough with her; calling her a good slut for him, choking her, pounding her harder every time. He had never done that with you; to you. Was he into rough sex? Why didn't he tell you?

You knew why... and for a second you lied to yourself pretending you didn't. But you knew.............. Simon was a big man, and that even included the size of his cock. And he knew that. But did he think you couldn't take him in the way she could? That you were fragile? You two had made love plenty of times, and not once had you ever told him to ease up or slow down... but you also never told him to go harder or faster either.

If you had to be honest with yourself, sex with Simon was... vanilla. And you felt a sob escape your throat when you realized that you had mentioned to Simon in the past that you really loved slow and passionate sex; lovemaking and soft. And your husband was one who listened and executed everything. Whether that was an order from his Captain or a request from his wife. You wanted soft and slow, so you got it.

But dammit that didn't mean you weren't open to trying new things!

And now... you probably would never even get to try any of that. If Simon was so into her, what did he need you for?

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

That night you found yourself crying in the tub as you took your bath. Simon had texted you saying he would be home late, and your mind instantly went back to those videos from earlier. He was with her.

You wanted to call him and lash out about how could he do this to you; to both of you. But doing that felt too....familiar. It was the same as it always been right? You'd get into a relationship, thinking everything was going great, only to find out that the guy cheated. Your last relationship taking the biggest toll on you when you first found out he did. This time you felt numb, confused, and envy. You were envious at the fact that she got to see a part of Simon he hadn't shown you, confused because he was your husband and you wanted to beg him to come home, and numb because you knew no matter how much you tried to give love out to the world, you'd always be the one who got hurt; whose heart was stomped all over.

Those tears steadily fell as you got out of the tub, put on your pajamas, and crawled into your side of the bed. You couldn't sleep. You tried, you really did. But how could you?

It wasn't until after 11pm that you heard the front door open and close followed by heavy boots. Simon was home. You shut your eyes, pretending to be asleep, when you heard footsteps get closer to the bedroom. Simon made his way into the room quietly, making sure not to disturb your 'sleep', and heading to the ensuite bathroom. As soon as the door shut and you heard the shower turn on, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

"Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry." you kept telling yourself in your head. You almost wished you had the guts to get up and go sleep on the couch, but if you did, you knew he would come to ask what were you doing. You could leave the apartment fully, and go sleep at a hotel... but that was even worse.

As you kept going back and forth in your head, Simon finished his shower and was getting ready to walk back into the room. You quickly turned over so your back would be facing him whenever he got in bed and shut your eyes once more when the door opened. He carefully walked around the room, grabbing a pair of sweatpants from the dresser and putting them on before easing his way into his side of the bed.

Your heart skipped a beat at just the thought of him going to sleep next to you; like nothing was going on. But what really shocked you was when he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you into his chest as he gently kissed your neck.

"I love you, sweetheart," he whispered, "so much."

You did everything in your power to not let your heart skip another beat; to not have your body tense at his words. It hurt so much.... but you snuggled back into him and faked a soft snore so he would continue to believe you were asleep. And that's how the two of you fell asleep that night... even if it was only until 3:30am when your eyes opened again and you found yourself sliding out of bed, leaving a sleeping husband in bed while you made your way to the living room.

Pacing back and forth you continued to think about everything. The videos that you wanted to watch again because it's like you needed to be sure it was Simon fucking that woman roughly. The fact that he told you he loved you last night despite not really loving you anymore. Who loves someone yet breaks their hearts?

Somehow you found yourself sitting outside in one of the chairs on the patio. The early morning air was cold, and you welcomed the shiver that ran up your spine as a distraction. At least it was a true and honest feeling; the cold wind brushing against your face was real. And you stayed out there even after your body felt numb, but you ignored it as your mind swam in different directions. It wasn't until Simon's groggy voice pulled you back to the earth.

"What're y'doin' out here sweetheart?" He asked as he walked up and squatted down in front of you. You looked at your husband. Really looked at him. How was the man that had given you so much had become someone you didn't even recognize in that moment. Why was he acting like he cared? You didn't respond, and that caused his eyebrows to draw together as he reached out and grabbed your hands, "Everything alright love?"

You sucked in a breath, eyes prickling as the tears threatened to fall, "I-I think we should get a divorce."

Simon's eyes widened and you saw his entire body tense under the dim light of the moon in the sky and a deep frown on his face as he looked at you in utter confusion. "What?" You pulled your hands from his grip and stood up, making him stand up out of your way. You didn't even give him the chance to say anything else as panic set in and you walked back into the house. Of course, he didn't let you get far as he walked in after you before gently pulling your arm so you'd face him again. "What do y'mean you want a divorce?"

If the floor could swallow you up, you'd let it. You didn't want to have this conversation, but you had no choice. You couldn't hold back those feelings anymore. You let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed your hands down your face to wipe away the fallen tears, "We should get a divorce, Simon."

His jaw tensed as he looked at you like you had grown two heads or something; eyes widened and mouth slightly agape in shock. "Why?" He couldn't help the tightening of his hand on your arm. Like he was afraid to let you go.

Your gaze fell on his chest. You couldn't look him in the eyes, "Because.... you don't love anymore Simon."

"That's not true."

"Is it?"

"I do love-"

"Do you?-" You raised your voice as you pulled your arm from his grip and hand immediately going into your robe pocket to pull out your phone "-if you do then why would you do this?" You pulled up the email, clicking on the video before showing your screen to him.

"What is-" He tried to ask, but before he could finish his sentence his eyes landed on the video. The video of him and the woman; on that bed; fucking. You didn't even know which video you clicked on, but by the way his eyebrows furrowed deeply and the deep frown on his face was even more downturned, you knew what he was looking at was himself.... cheating on your.

"Wanna see another? I got six," you sourly chuckled before pulling the phone from in front of him and clicking on another.

"Where do you get this?" He asked, his voice somewhere between frustration and sadness.

You glanced up at him, pausing the video and seeing that he was looking down at your phone in disgust. "I wish I fucking knew... because I hate-" a sob left your mouth "- I hate that I had to get an email at work from whoever the fuck sent this to me just for me to find out that you cheated on me! No that you've been cheating on me!" your voice raising after each sentence as you shoved the phone back in your pocket.

Turning away from him, you damn near slapped your hands over your eyes as you cried. Now, Simon had seen you cry many times before... but crying in front of him right now made you feel horrible; feel weak. And you didn't want to show him how weak you were. Even when he reached out and touched your arm again, you stepped away because you knew if he did, you'd crumble.

"Sweetheart," he said. His voice was soft, low, weak, like he was trying to understand his own emotions, but also to understand what was happening to your marriage. You didn't acknowledge him, and that just made him walk around to stand in front of you, making you lower your head, "Y/n.. Listen, I fucked up-"

"Stop." you cut him off as you shook your head.

"Please."

"Don't."

"I'm sorry love." he pushed, taking your head into both of his hands as he raised yours to look at him.

You pulled away from him once more, "Simon I can't do this," you backed up putting some distance between you and him, "You don't love me anymore. I get it-"

He closed the gap between you two instantly, "I do love you."

"I just wish you would of told me," you kept going, "Wish you would have said you didn't want me anymore." When he opened his mouth once more you kept talking, not allowing him to get a word in, "I know it's more stuff for you on base, but just get the divorce papers and I swear I'll sign them. I'll leave. I'll let you be happy Simon."

He wasn't listening. The fact that he had let his fucked up mind get between the two of you, and him being weak and dishonest to cheat on you was crashing his world right in front of his eyes. Usually, it's the cheater who is sorry they were caught, but Simon was feeling both. He had been dealing with the thoughts of being honest with you for a couple of weeks, but here you were telling him you found out about his infidelity and you wanted a divorce. His eyes were watering and red from his own tears threatening to spill. He was an idiot to think you'd want to stay, even if he had told you the truth himself.

But Simon was also selfish. He didn't want a divorce. He was on the brink of cutting the woman off who had flirted her way into his pants on more than one occasion, and he wanted to tell you the truth... tell you how sorry he was and make it up to you in any way he could. And you two would move on....... maybe not happily at first, but you would still be his. Not divorce him.

"No." He pulled you by the waist, trapping you as he looked at you, "No divorce."

Your eyes widened as you looked at him like he was crazy, "Si-"

"No. I'm not doin' it." Pushing on his chest, you tried to wiggle your way from his hold, but he only gripped tighter, "I'm so sorry Y/n. I fucked up sweetheart."

"Simon please!" you cried out, your thoughts crumbling, "I can't do this."

Everything crumbled as you pushed on him more, but he was stronger; always stronger. And his touch alone was making you bawl as you weakly hit on his chest. You hated him so much... so much that you knew deep down no matter what you always would love him. And that just made you cry harder. He was manipulating you. He had to be. It always went that way, didn't it? Your ex-boyfriend saying how sorry he was only to hurt you more. Simon wouldn't be any different, would he?

After what felt like minutes of your weak attempt at pushing him away, your arms gave up as they hung by your side. Simon hadn't let you go the entire time, his own couple of tears falling down his cheek as he listened to you almost wail in anger.... anger because of him. He wanted to take one of his guns and shoot himself in the head because of the pain he was causing you.

When he eventually pulled back a little for you to look at him, you couldn't help but nervously bite your lip. You wanted to believe him, but you couldn't, "Please go get the papers, Simon."

Depending on how you all like this, I may post part 2 when I'm finished with it. Currently working on it.

[kpop---scenarios]

Charmer (1)

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader x Suprise!

Genre: fwb, ex fwb, semi enemies to lovers

Warning: Heartbreak, small smut [18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT READ]

Word Count: 2k

“Why do you do that?” You scoff, slamming the front door closed before you throw your purse down on to the table. You stare at your.. Minho as you take off your jacket, angrily hanging it up in the closet. You can hear him scoffing and mimicking you behind your back, stopping awfully quickly as you turn around to face him.

“What Y/N?” He asks. “What did I do now?”

“You flirt with every single fucking girl that's around when I'm right beside you. Aren't we kinda like..” You pause.

He rolls his eyes again. “Friends with benefits, I guess ones who like each other?” He chuckles.

“This. This is where you confuse the hell out of me. You say you like me, you fuck me, we go out and do shit but then you do shit like this and say shit like this.” You say. “I don't get it. Either you wanna be with me and are gonna ask me out officially, which means you stop flirting with other girls.. or..” you pause.

Minho puts his hand up to stop you. “I'm just being friendly to them. It's not flirting.”

“If I weren't there, you would have kissed her. And don't tell me you wouldn't have.” You deadpan.

“So what if I would have? Kissing isn't cheating. Hell, sex isn't even cheating. It's not an emotional attachment, Y/N. I don't love them. But we're also not dating so what does that matter?”

“Have you slept with other women?” You ask. Your stomach sinks as you watch his face, his void of any expression, showing such a lack of empathy or sympathy, face.

“No.” He yawns.

“Please, Minho. Just stop flirting with other girls. I'm not joking. I don't like it and I've told you that. So you need to stop it or it's done, whatever this is, is done.” You say.

“This really isn't anything though, Y/N. I don't know how many times I have to remind you of that. We're not dating, and to be completely honest, we probably won't date.” He tells you.

“So this is really going nowhere then?” You ask. You didn't know if you wanted to hear the answer to this. You didn't want everything to change, it only takes a split second for your entire world to do a complete 180.

“I wouldn't say nowhere.” He chuckles. “I mean we have fun and stuff, but then we can also have fun with other people. I'm not looking to settle down right now, okay?” He says, placing his hand on your shoulder. “When I want to settle down, I'll let you know.” He smiles, taking his shirt off, then his pants before crawling into your bed. You didn't want to crawl in next to him, but you knew you would because when it came to Minho, you felt like you were addicted. Ever since you first saw him at some college frat party in your third year of school. He caught your eye immediately, and you couldn't look away no matter what you did. Even though he was with another girl, you paid her absolutely no mind as you watched the way his body moved when he danced, or how his eyes crinkled when he laughed. He was the most handsome man you'd ever seen and you wanted to know more.

When you finally had the courage to speak to him, he asked you out for a drink, and of course you said yes. You had a great time out with him, you drank, laughed and danced, it had been the most fun you'd had in quite a while. It was almost like he was bringing your spark back and you loved him for it. As the months went on, you fell more and more in love with him, but he was always very casual with you. Casual in the way he spoke to you in public, in the way he treated you in public but when the two of you were alone, on occasion, it felt like you were dating. You would eat dinner together, snuggle while you watched movies, he fucked you so good, when he didnt want it to be quick. He honestly made you confused and feel like you were dating when he was so sweet to you.

And now, two years later, the two of you are still doing the same thing. You hadn't been with anyone else other than him in the last two years, and even though he said he hadn't been with anyone else, you weren't sure if you completely believed him, and you didn't know how much longer you were going to be able to do this, which is something you seemed to say quite often to yourself but never did anything to change the situation, mainly because even though you weren't dating and he didn't treat you the greatest, you didn't want to lose him. It was demented. You knew you were demented but you couldn't resist him.

Minho rolls over, his arm draping over you as he grinds his hard cock into your ass.

“Mhmn.” He groans, pulling your panties down. You didn't say a word, instead scooted back, closer to him. He grabs your leg, putting it over him as he shimmies his boxers down, letting his cock out. He sucks his fingers before pushing them into your cunt, making him groan.

“You're already wet for me, huh, baby?” He says, pumping his fingers in and out a few times before using your wetness to coat his cock. He lines himself up before pushing into you. You gasp loudly, as you do each time he shoves his cock into you.

“You feel so good.” He whispers, his lips touching your ear. He quietly moans into your ear, sending shivers down your spine as he slowly thrusts in and out of you. “Play with your clit.” He groans. You reach between your legs, touching your already throbbing clit. You were so desperate for his touch, his emotions that you were willing to do as he says.

“Shit.” You gasp, clenching yourself around him as you rub yourself faster, Minho also picking up his pace as he fucks you. He brings his hand up, cupping your clothed breast, flicking your nipple over your shirt while he rams himself inside you.

“Cum baby. It's gotta be quick.” He gasps. It didn't matter how close you were or not, whenever he told you to cum, within seconds you would. You swore he had some kind of magic when it came to making you cum when he was around.

You cry out loudly as he moves faster but with shorter strokes, his impending orgasm building up quickly. He pants loudly in your ear, lightly groaning until he finally finishes, dumping his warm cum inside of you.

When he was done, he pulled up his boxers, rolling over to go to sleep. While you had to get up, get cleaned up before crawling back into bed

and you fall asleep that night, feeling guilty.

When you woke up in the morning, you looked over and Minho was already gone. This wasn't unusual for him, usually he'd fuck you, fall asleep and then leave really early around 4 or 5 in the morning to go home. Never waking you up, never saying goodbye. If he was feeling nice he would leave you a note but even that was rare. You got up for the day, doing your usual morning routine, if anyone asked you if you thought anything in your life would change today you would have absolutely said no. You lounged around for the day, not hearing anything from Minho, which was a little weird, he usually asked you to go for drinks with all your mutual friends but today you hadn't heard a single thing. Instead, Changbin had texted you around 8pm, telling you to come out and meet up with everyone. As you're finishing getting dressed and ready, your phone rings. And it's your favorite person in the world.

“Hello?” You answer.

“Bitch.” Jihyo yells into the speaker.

“Bitch yourself, it's 10am.” You laugh.

“No, seriously. Bitch.” She harshly whispers.

“What?” You gasp.

Years ago you and Jihyo had started saying bitch whenever you saw something you couldn't believe but you didn't want others to know you noticed it.

“Get down here. Now.” She says, hanging up the phone. You quickly finish up your look, grab your purse and head out the door. You were only a few minutes drive from the bar, so you hopped in a taxi quickly and made your way there. You paid your fare, rushing out of the cab and into the bar, where Jihyo was waiting at the door for you. She grabs onto your arm, pulling you towards the table of people you all recognized, all people you were friends with.

“Hey Y/N.” Changbin smiles, taking a sip of his beer.

“Y/N! Finally!” Hyunjin yells. You look around the table unsure of what Jihyo was telling you bitch for.

“What's going on?” You lean over to ask Jihyo.

“Just wait.” She urges, sipping her cocktail while her eyes dart around the room. You order a few drinks and shots to make sure you catch up to the rest of them. You were feeling fine and confident until Jeongin started to talk.

“I thought you and Minho were dating?” He asks, drinking his beer.

“It's complicated.” You say. “He's not ready to settle down.”

“Then why..” Jeongin starts before Jihyo cuts him off.

“Why what?” You ask, glancing around the table. They all look down, each one of them refusing to look you in the eyes. “You guys..” you start, until you see it. You see what Jihyo was saying bitch for. You watch as Minho struts towards the table, a woman wrapped around his arm.

“Long time in the bathroom.” Changbin mentions.

The girl giggles, hiding her face in Minho's shoulder as you glare at him. “Things take time, Bin.” Minho chuckles.

“Ah, Y/N. Who invited you?” He asks.

“Changbin.” You deadpan. “Who's the girl?” You ask, motioning to her.

“Ah, this is Jennie. My girlfriend.” He grins.

You choke on your drink.

“Girlfriend?” You gasp.

He nods his head.

“As of when?” You ask.

“This morning. We met up for breakfast and made it official.” He says.

Your heart sinks. He had just had his cock in you hours before, not to mention tells you he doesn't want to settle down, but then gets a girlfriend? Was it that he didn't want to settle down, or just that he didn't want to settle down with you?

“So what about our talk last night?” You yell. Your rage is consuming you. Why weren't you good enough now when you had been good enough to play the role for the last two years?

“What talk?” Minho laughs. He was looking at you like you were crazy.

“The one where you said you didn't want to settle down?” You yell.

“I'm sorry, Y/N.” He starts. “I was trying to be nice to you, you know, letting you down gently. But it seems that I need to be a little harsher with you now.” He says, giving you a pitiful side smile. “I just say that to women when I don't want anything more than just sex from them.” He says, shrugging his shoulders. You look around the table, everyone's mouths are hanging open.

“Minho..” Changbin starts. “That's fucked up, man.”

“What!?” He gasps. You can yell he genuinely doesn't think he's said or anything wrong.

You stand up abruptly, your chair falling back.

“Fuck you, Lee Know.” You spit.

“Y/N!” Jeongin and Jihyo call out. You dont hear them, your ears are ringing with fucking rage as you storm out of the bar, determined to cut off all kinds of contact with him. You wanted to, you really did. This had to be the last straw for you. But was it?

[themultifanshipper]

Here's a lil blurb based on this post

Warnings: ferrari!reader, disgusting levels of fluff, then a bit of oral because I couldn't help myself, very cringe, Fred is a 3rd wheel lmao

You and Charles were coming up on your three year anniversary.

You'd known him for a while, having met him when he moved to ferrari, the team for which you worked, and he was currently in the process of winning his 3rd world championship following Max's retirement.

It was bliss.

One day you'd been having a drink with Fred and Charles during the summer break, Fred had been passing through Monaco and he'd decided stopped by.

He reminisced about how much Charles had changed since the Sauber rookie he'd worked with all those years ago.

“You know, back in those days Charles was known to randomly stick his head into office doorways and say "it is I, Leclerc" and walk away laughing like a maniac...”

Fred and Charles laughed together at the memory but your jaw was on the floor.

Charles mistook the look on your face as bewilderment so he started clarifying.

“It is a reference from a show, a character named Leclerc who always-”

“I know what it's from!” You cut him off, “I'm shocked at the fact that you've even heard of ‘Allo ‘Allo at all… I've never met anyone who knows about it! Much less a French pers- sorry a Monegasque person!” you looked at him guiltily before continuing “ I was basically raised on that show… wait, we've know each other for 10 years now and been fucking married for 3 of them, how the hell have we never talked about this??”

He giggled into his champagne while Fred looked on, amused by your ranting.

“I don't know, mon amour. But if you are this worked up about it we should probably watch it together at some point”

Your eyes softened as you looked at him, melting at his rosy cheeks and bright smile.

“I'd love to, baby. That's the best idea you've ever had”

You leaned in to kiss him tenderly but he leaned back in avoidance.

“Even better than when I got the idea of marrying you?” he teased, lips staying only centimeters from yours.

You huffed, breaths smelling of champagne mingling between you.

“Okay, second best idea” you giggled and he let you finally kiss him.

Your arms went to his face as you nipped at his lip playfully, completely ignoring Fred who was sitting a meter away and trying his best to pretend you and Charles weren't there.

He sipped on his own champagne and looked over the deck at the sunset just coming over the horizon.

“Yeah” he thought to himself “These two idiots are made for each other”

**

It was a few days later and you'd completely forgotten about it, courtesy of the amount of bottles of champagne the three of you had gotten through.

You were in bed, reading your last chapter before going to sleep when Charles popped his head in the door.

“ It is I, Leclerc ” he purred smoothly.

You gasped and dropped the book as you grinned at him.

“You sure are! But you're definitely my favourite Leclerc” you slid your book onto the bedside table and patted the spot next to you.

He stalked over to you.

“Oh yeah, I'm your favourite?” he purred from the foot of the bed, leaning over it and starting to pull the covers away from your body, uncovering your bare legs.

“Well you are also my favourite Leclerc, mon coeur” he said seductively as he crawled up the bed.

“Oh shit” you gasped “I am a Leclerc”

You giggled as his hands slid up your calves to rest on your thighs, just below the hem of your oversize shirt.

“You had forgotten? This is not good… I guess I need to remind you then.” His dark eyes stayed on yours as he lay his head on one of your knees.

“Spread you legs for me and let me show you how much of a Leclerc you are…”

You blushed and a hand went to his cheek, thumb stroking it as his hands went to slide up your thighs and move your shirt upwards.

He did so and gasped, revealing your bare skin as he realised you weren't wearing anything other than the shirt.

“No underwear? Naughty girl…”

His lips trailed up the inside your thigh until he got to the sensitive skin just above where your folds were quickly dampening with need.

He slid his tongue down, over your clit, through your lips and groaned.

“God, you drive me just as crazy as the day I married you…”

And with that he dove in, using his expert tongue to bring you to the edge over and over again until you were shaking, using his intricate knowledge of your body to his advantage.

A few weeks later, when the season resumed, he was in his driver’s room getting ready for the race, putting his fireproofs on and absent mindedly humming the theme tune to ‘Allo ‘Allo.

You walked past and heard it, recognising it instantly, and it gave you an idea.

You popped your head through the door.

“It is I, Leclerc!” you said and he laughed, glancing at your frame coming through the door.

“You ready to get another win?” you hooked your arms up around his neck and he picked you up, sitting down on the sofa and settling you on his lap.

“Much better now that Madame Leclerc is here” he whispered into your ear and kissed you on the cheek “Although, I am a bit restless. I always have some energy to spare for my wife”

You both knew where this was going.

You slid onto the carpeted floor between his spread legs as Charles threw his head back with a gasp.

You'd seemingly managed to pavlov your husband into getting turned on by the use of your shared last name.

My god this couldn't end well…