#come get yalls trash fic
Text
plot twist – k. sunwoo
pairing: kim sunwoo x gn! reader
genre: coworkers au, enemies to lovers au. fluff, a poor attempt at comedy. movie theatre! worker sunwoo and reader. bitch boy sunwoo. the reader has anger issues. owner's son! sunwoo being annoying about everything. winter themes, sunwoo is a little kid about stuff but mostly the snow.
wc: 21k
warnings: swearing, a heated make out session. y/n's inner monologue is just my own feelings about this man im sorry. i watched too much of the office when writing this can you tell. also i made sunwoo's sister underage for plot reasons deal with it.
working with kim sunwoo has so far been the worst experience of your whole entire life. just his existence alone is enough to make your day completely miserable– though, one would think that working with movies on the daily would prepare you for the biggest plot twist of your life.
a/n: this took me SO LONG to write woah. i have a humble playlist for this fic if any of yall wanna listen to it while you read <3 a huge thank you goes to my best friend @csenke for being my biggest motivator and hype man when it came to this fic. thank u for being my first ever beta reader hihi i couldn't have done this without you i am forever grateful ily. also im tagging @heemingyu because whe told me to
ho ho ho! this fic is a part of the secret santa event by @deoboyznet ! @kimsohn maya, i was your secret santa this year, i hope you enjoy the fic i prepared for you
TONIGHT'S PREMIERE – UGLY TRUTH (2009)
If anyone ever asked you about your job in the movie theater, you wouldn’t really know what to say.
You see, what may had seemed like your dream job when you were little, acquiring the fairytale vision after going to the cinema for the first time to see the Horton movie when you were just 7, quickly turned into reality one ordinary day during your junior year of university. And it wasn’t even that hard; you just dropped off your CV at the movie theater on the corner of the town's square when you saw the sign that said ‘looking for part-timers’ in a messy, giant handwriting on the glass door– and soon enough, you found yourself in the depths of the vintage-looking cinema, wearing the red uniform the owner gave you, selling movie tickets to teenagers and taking out the trash. It’s hard to enjoy the job when you’re on bathroom cleaning duty, though, and the fact that this is what you once imagined to be the most exciting job in the whole entire world turns twice as boring when you realize just how mundane it really is.
Still, you can’t bring yourself to quit, well, because you need the money.
Do you hate working in the cinema? No. Not really. Sure, it’s kind of boring– especially on the nights when you’re selling tickets at the front and nobody comes in for hours– but it’s not that difficult. It’s not physically or mentally demanding, so you’d say that you’re still on the better end when it comes to work environment. Your boss isn’t a dick and you get paid on time– so really, if anyone asked you if you hated it, your answer would be no.
Until one fateful day, of course.
You’re met with a person that’s going to efficiently change this opinion around in one swift bat of their eyelashes and a drag of their hand through their messy hair.
“So… you’re the new part-timer?” a tall boy asks you one day when you arrive at work. You’re already wearing your uniform when you come through the front door– since you don’t really feel like changing in the toilets that are not staff-exclusive here– and frankly, his voice startles you on your way in.
“Yeah,” you nod, furrowing your brows at the stranger. “And you are…?”
“Sunwoo,” the boy says, matter-of-factly, as if you’re supposed to know who exactly he is now that he’s introduced himself to you. The look on your face may show that you’re still clueless, and see, that’s something that must have played with the boy’s ego. “Kim Sunwoo,” he snickers, “the owner’s son..?”
Blinking a few times, trying to remember if Mr Kim’s ever told you about having a son– he hasn’t– you gasp like a fish on the dry, nodding. “Oh… Hello..?” you mumble, not really knowing what to do with the information.
“Hi,” he says, face stone cold and motionless. Something’s wrong, but you can’t quite put your finger on it….
Well, you’ll have to deal with that later. “My shift starts in 5 minutes, so I gotta find Mr- your dad, and ask him what’s on my to-do list today, but it was nice meeting you,” you try to force out a polite (maybe even warm) smile before you turn on your heel and march towards the staff room, where Mr Kim usually resigns unless he is helping you out with something at the front. See, on not busy days, working at the cinema requires only one person. On Fridays, though, it can get tough. That’s when the owner makes the popcorn while you both sell and scan the tickets at the same time– sometimes you wonder why he doesn’t hire another person to help out with the job.
“Wait– newbie–”
The nickname startles you, again, as you turn around and squint at him. You have a name– and although he has no way of knowing it (other than his father telling him, but seeming that you didn’t even know about his son, Mr Kim isn’t big on sharing information)– but still, you’d love to be called by it. “It’s Y/N, actually.”
“Oh, right…” he hums, “well, Y/N, dad’s not here tonight, so… I’m… kind of in charge,” he says, nodding as he gets the words out, trying to prove his point, “he had other things to take care of, so he sent me down instead,” he explains, watching as your face morphs into one of quick understatement.
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” he nods, sucking on his teeth.
Thick silence overtakes the atmosphere. You feel awkward and out of place.
“So…?” you hum, waiting for him to tell you what to do.
Because a guy your age ordering you around at work is already embarrassing enough for a university student just trying to pay for their groceries. You’re not gonna ask for the orders yourself. You still have some dignity.
“So… I could take the ticket booth and you can clean the screening room, since there are no movies on tonight?” he suggests, rocking on his heels. The boy seems a bit shaken with the new sense of responsibility, but you figure that even his undoubtful awkwardness still doesn't put you above his position.
You mentally sigh. Cleaning is your least favorite part of the job.
Still, you’re not gonna talk back to your boss’ son. You’d like to keep your job for a while longer. At least until you find something better.
“Alright,” you nod, turning on your heels once more and preparing to disappear into the depths of the cinema.
His voice stops you again, though, frustration flowing through your veins. “Don’t forget to mop the floors! Oh, and the bathroom could use a clean as well.”
“Alright,” you nod again, your back facing him.
“Also, you need to get the gum off the chairs, I know it’s kind of disgusting, but there��s a-”
“I know how to do my job, thank you,” you turn, smiling ironically over your shoulder.
You don’t know what it is about the man that makes you so, so incredibly irritated. Maybe it’s the fact that every bit of information coming out of his mouth sounds like he’s mansplaining everything to you. Maybe it’s the fact that you feel humiliated to be told what to do by a man that’s your age. Or maybe, it’s just the sheer fact that you hate cleaning– the one thing he just told you to do.
Still, you go and get the vacuum. You go and mop the floors, you go and take the gum off the chairs and scrape it into a bucket you keep in the pantry in the back. You go and clean the bathroom, even though it’s 10 minutes until the end of your shift (you only work 4 hours on Wednesdays) and you spent almost your whole day cleaning the whole screening room by yourself (the screening room that’s giant and Mr Kim helps you with on most days). You go and wipe the mirror in the bathroom, as well as the windows in the hall.
You say that your work in the cinema is not physically demanding, but by the time you’re out, your back hurts and your knees are all bruised up from getting on the ground so often.
What really sets you off, though, is the sight of the owner’s son sitting in the booth, both legs up on the table and chewing on something, his phone in his hands as he watches, what you presume from the language resonating from the speaker, a silly anime. At least someone had fun during their shift, you think as you leave without saying goodbye to him, slamming the door behind you with a loud bang on your way out.
Quite frankly, you didn’t know what set you off so bad this time. Maybe you just had a bad day. Maybe it could've been fixed with your next shared shift with the guy– you never know.
Little did you know that it was only going to get worse from now on, though.
TONIGHT'S PREMIERE – PALM SPRINGS (2020)
If you knew your boss’s son would play the role of your supervisor from time to time, you probably wouldn't have taken the job when it was offered to you.
Why?
The reason is quite simple– while you go to work to make money, Kim Sunwoo goes to work to make your whole life a living hell. Ranging from always giving you the more difficult task of the day to making unfunny jokes about your performance (he once asked if you ran a marathon after you mopped the whole hall, his grinning figure staring at you from inside of the ticket booth), you’re starting to think that Kim Sunwoo is mentally stuck with the brain of an 11-year old boy.
More so with his recent endeavors. You don’t really know what he’s trying to achieve with all of this, but you’re starting to despise going to work even when you know he’s not on the schedule– somehow, you’re afraid his silly pranks and jokes will follow you and surprise you even when he’s not present. Is this his way of asserting dominance? You really don’t know.
It all starts one day before a movie premiere when Sunwoo walks up to you and introduces you to a new concession item to sell in the snack booth. While you don’t really know why one would even think of new combinations to sell at a cinema, since everyone’s just gonna get popcorn or nachos, you don’t really question the idea much further– Sunwoo’s father owns this place, so he must know the best marketing strategies for his business. The reality only downs on you when you’re forced to promote the “Ultimate movie mix” to every customer– which wouldn’t even be that strange, if the mix didn’t include the weird combination of pickles and candy.
Running on two all nighters and half an energy drink, you didn’t realize the snack stand doesn’t even hold pickles. You were notified the day after by your boss, though, and that wasn’t your best experience.
The terror follows when Sunwoo’s father decides to run a Star Wars marathon one weekend. The flood of customers wouldn’t be as hard to manage when you run the snack stand, but it does get more difficult when your coworker running around with a lightsaber knocks over all the buckets of freshly-made popcorn you just put on the counter for the customers to take.
He doesn’t even say sorry. Or help clean the spilled popcorn up from the floor. Or help you make a new batch.
He just laughs.
Sunwoo just loves to laugh at you. Like that one time he made you wear a giant popcorn costume and stand in front of the cinema for the entirety of your 4 hour shift on Wednesday to promote the new movie airing on Friday. Hardly anyone took the fliers you were desperately trying to force into their hands and when you came back, you saw Sunwoo pointing his camera at you from the big glass window.
The next shift, his dad asked you how Sunwoo did when promoting the movie. You didn’t have the heart to tell him he forced you to do the dirty business instead.
Another time, Sunwoo informs you via text in the middle of your shift that you should clean the bathrooms. The fact itself already makes you furious, but you follow the order nonetheless– because, well, what else can you do? You’re used to cleaning the toilets, since it’s a part of your job. It’s just the fact that a guy your age told you to that’s making you rethink all your career decisions.
The trip to the bathrooms quickly turns traumatizing when you step inside of the tiled room and have the door behind you close with a loud bang, followed by the light switching off. Screeching, you jump and try to escape the room with fear making your heart run faster than Usain Bolt, however, you find the door seemingly locked– the sound of Sunwoo’s snarky laugh coming from the other side making you recognise what just happened and how he’s pulling another one of his childish pranks on you again.
When the door finally opens, you throw the toilet brush into his chest and scream out a “I’m going to fucking quit if I see your face one more time!”. You’re over all formalities.
That doesn’t mean you’re not scared every time you enter a room in the cinema when you work with Sunwoo, though. Your reaction was strengthened very abruptly, you see.
Sitting in the ticket booth, door ajar to monitor your surroundings, you plop your head on your hand and glare at Sunwoo, chewing on your gum. If anyone saw you right now, they’d think you were trying to kill him with your stare, but the opposite would actually be the truth tonight– you were quite enjoying the sight of him wiping the sweat off his forehead and scowling at the neverending flow of customers.
The beauty of having ticket booth duty on premiere night is that everyone bought the tickets beforehand already, meaning that it wasn’t usually busy. Scanning the tickets and running the snack booth were the more difficult parts of the shift, and since Mr Kim decided to show up to work today, Sunwoo was graced with the snack booth duty– something that warmed you up from the inside and made you want to kiss your boss’s feet in gratefulness.
There’s just something about seeing Kim Sunwoo in misery that makes your stomach turn and do cartwheels. You’re in love with his pathetic, tired face.
His eyes meet yours when he takes a moment to breathe– the look behind them is pleading, almost embarrassingly hopeless as he internally wishes he was in your place. You think this serves him right for the weeks of torture, and when he becomes you to come over with a motion of his hand, you just shrug at him and bat your eyelashes in faked innocence.
It’s not your fault he’s on duty tonight. What does he want with you?
His lips mouth “Come here,” which makes you battle a satisfied smile. Poor Kim Sunwoo is helpless in his task. The rush just won’t stop and he’s asked of more than he can handle. You kind of feel sadistic when you truly think about your sentiments, but you think you’re only valid for feeding on his misery.
“Help!” he mouths again, and now you truly can’t battle the laughter anymore. His hair is tousled and sticking to his forehead. His uniform is dirty. The tie around his neck is loose. The sight makes you utterly satisfied.
As he mouths “Please,” accompanied by clasped hands and a pleading look that would work on most women, you finally decide to stand up from the uncomfortable chair in the ticket booth and shake your head in disbelief. You can’t even count how many times Sunwoo left you alone in the rush before a premiere, but you can’t really risk his father finding out you didn’t come to rescue his beloved son, since however you might hate this job, you still can’t lose it in your current living conditions.
Sighing and closing the door to the ticket booth after you, your legs take you to the snack stand. Eyes of enthusiastic customers looking almost high on coca cola and the smell of salted popcorn are on you when you finally reach Sunwoo’s side.
“So I’m supposed to help you with your work whenever you ask, but when I’m left cleaning the whole theater completely alone, you can sit around and play on your phone?” you jab, annoyed with the turn of events. You find a spare apron and tie it around your waist, not really wanting to dirty your uniform as you pour caramel into some buckets of popcorn, hearing your companion chuckle next to you.
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“Okay, so I’ll be back in the ticket booth after serving this customer-”
“My dad’s watching.”
“This is blackmailing,” you snap back, smiling ironically at your coworker.
Sunwoo grins at you when he hands two cokes to the teenage girls behind the counter, shrugging to himself. “Not my problem.”
You learned long ago that fighting with Kim Sunwoo is a battle you can never win. Logically, you know you’re always right, but the boy always thinks he should have the last word in everything, which makes ending an argument with him pretty much impossible. That’s why you stopped trying to prove your truth. In your heart, you know how it is, and no amount of snarky remarks from the feisty boy will change your opinion.
You two work alongside each other in silence for some time. You’d even say it’s efficient– you make the popcorn and he makes the nachos, both of you taking turns behind the coca cola machine, and after a few minutes in his proximity when he’s not being the butt of the Earth, your brain starts to question why you two can’t operate like this on a daily basis.
Oh, how foolish of you.
You’re quickly brought back to reality when you walk over with the grande size bucket of popcorn towards the counter, meeting halfway with Kim Sunwoo’s chest.
It takes everything in you not to scream, but the restraint is deleted as soon as you feel something cold dripping down the front of your uniform, your white button-up suddenly sticking towards your chest in a big, dark-brown pool around your waist area. One sharp look into his eyes is everything it takes you two to come to a mutual understanding of what your next action is gonna be– Sunwoo quickly puts the now empty cup of coca cola onto the counter and puts a hand towards his head in self-disappointment.
“Kim Sunwoo, are you fucking incompetent?!” you scream out, the sensation of your cold shirt sticking to your already sweaty skin making you want to crawl out of yourself and scratch your coworker’s eyes out with the claws of the demon he wakes up in you.
“Look, you don’t have to-”
“I just washed this yesterday, there’s a line of people waiting for their snacks up to the fucking front door, you just ruined the popcorn I made so now I have to redo it, and you just decide to spill this onto me?!” you continue with your rampage, not really caring about the eyes of everyone on you, just letting out all your built-up frustration that creeps inside of you every time you see his face.
“As if I did this on purpose…” he grunts as he turns around in his place and reaches for napkins, not really putting much thought into his actions as he presses the material into the damp place sticking to your skin.
The image startles you– Kim Sunwoo almost in physical contact with you, a paper napkin soaking up some of the coca cola flooding the surface of your skin– and as you watch his slender palms run over your front, your eyes falling to the fluffy hair at the crown of his head, you feel heat rushing to your insides, making you jump away from him.
“Sorry-” he mumbles out as you forcefully pry the napkin out of his hand, gritting your teeth.
“I’m starting to think you’re making me do everything just because you’re useless,” you spit at him.
Rolling his eyes, Sunwoo pokes his cheek with the tip of his tongue. “It was an accident.”
“Don’t care,” you grunt, walking away from the booth, “I’m going to change in the back, you better not burn the place down with the popcorn machine before I’m back,” you comment, sending him a sharp glare over your shoulder.
All that accompanies you to the staff room is Sunwoo’s loud sigh and a sugary-sweet tone he offers to one of the customers as he throws the ruined popcorn into the trash. “I’ll be right with you, miss!”
If anyone asked you if you hated your job now, you think you’d say yes.
Who are you kidding?
You’d definitely say yes.
TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – THE HATING GAME (2021)
You were quite pleased on your way to work today. It’s Wednesday, which usually means it’s not as busy. The weather is cloudy– good enough to not make you gloomy, but not quite sunny enough to make you wish you were outside instead of being stuck in the cinema the whole afternoon– and you packed a home-made sandwich with you to eat on your lunch break. Which is whenever, since you’re on ticket booth duty today– another great news.
The best thing about today, though? Kim Sunwoo isn’t working today.
That alone is good enough to make your whole entire day better. The sun shines brighter, your breathing is lighter, the air is clearer and the birds chirp louder when you know you don’t have to interact with the hellspawn that day. It’s like his absence alone is enough to heal all your wounds and delete all your worries– who cares about the fact that you’re barely getting through your Biology class when you know you won’t have to stare at Sunwoo’s face as you contemplate dropping out of university during your shift?
Maybe you should thank him, in a way.
And with all of this knowledge, a smile plastered on your face as you’re prepared to sit through your 5-hour shift in silence with an occasional swipe through your social media and a well deserved chicken-mayo sandwich towards the end of your shift, it’s quite natural for your smile to freeze and your spirit fall the moment you see the mop of dark brown hair walk through the doors of the cinema.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” you mourn as he walks by, only realizing you said the sentence out loud when the boy looks at you with a scowled face, a scoff escaping his throat.
“Didn’t know we were speaking to each other in third person now,” he says as he stops in his tracks and plops his head into the door to your booth, infesting your calm abode with his presence.
Deep breaths. In and out, Y/N. In and out…
“Hello to you too, Y/N,” he smiles, irony dripping off his tongue, “having a good day so far?”
“It was better without you here, thank you,” you snap back, rolling your eyes at him when his eyes flash with something akin to a victory– it seems you both take joy in making the other one absolutely miserable with your presence.
“Sweet,” he nods on his way out, grinning to himself. “Well, I won’t be long, so don’t let your mood drop too much.”
With that, he’s out of the ticket booth. All that’s left behind him is the smell of his cologne– the tingle of lemon and bergamot filling your nostrils in a way that makes the fine hair at the back of your neck stand up all alert– and silence. It makes you wonder about his whereabouts– you can never know… what if he’s setting up a trap for you somewhere? You wouldn’t be half surprised. You make a mental note to yourself to be twice as cautious when going to the bathroom next time. Just to make sure.
Before you’re able to think of any possible situations that Sunwoo could get himself caught in (while completely ignoring the fact that his father is somewhere in his office in the back– for all you know, he might just need to talk to your boss, like a son does sometimes), the woodworm of your thoughts appears in your view again, two rolled-up tubes under his shoulder as he walks over to the front door.
“Wait! What are those?” you ask, eyes zeroing on the very clear posters in his grip. The shiny white back of the big posters you have to sometimes put up in the front of the cinema are unmistakable to anything else.
“Posters,” Sunwoo replies, calling over his shoulder, already halfway out of the building.
“I know what those are–”
“Then why are you asking?” he huffs, shaking his head in disbelief as he takes a few steps towards the ticket booth, eyes meeting yours. His figure fills the door frame as he towers over you, still sitting on the chair. His eyes have a different kind of twinkle in them– you think, no, you know it’s mischief– making the blood in your veins boil at deadly temperatures.
“Because– well,” you huff, already frustrated, “we’re not allowed to take these,” you say, pointing to the two posters under his shoulder like a kid in the candy store. You try to ignore just how embarrassing you must look right in this moment.
“Oh,” he pouts, taking the posters from below his shoulder, unraveling one of them and resting the other one against the doorframe, “so you’re telling me… I can’t take those two amazingly big, shiny, cool posters of the latest Spiderman movie home for me and my friend Juyeon?”
You’re only half-aware of the fact that he’s teasing you right now, sighing at his innocent face. “No, Sunwoo. You can’t.”
“Hm,” he hums, looking at the poster from top to the bottom, seemingly sad about the news, “that’s terrible. Says who?”
“Your… your father, Sunwoo. He told me when I asked him the other day if I could take–”
“You wanted to take posters home from the cinema?” he gasps, looking at you with big eyes. He looks stupid. So, terribly stupid. Dumb. No thought behind his eyes. You want to smash his head against a concrete wall.
…He’s teasing you. It finally dawns on you.
Now, you want to smash your head against a concrete wall.
Still, you admit defeat with a solemn tone in your voice. “Well, I really wanted the Enola Holmes poster to put up in my bedroom…” you mumble.
“And my dad said no?” he asks, eyebrows quirking up towards his hairline.
“Yes, Sunwoo. Your father said it’s prohibited to take posters home from the cinema, that’s exactly why I’m stopping you right now,” you say, tone filled with annoyance. You know he’s enjoying your face full of misery. But still, if there’s one thing you’re good at, it’s following the rules and orders– if Mr Kim says you can’t take the posters home, you’ll go in the back and tear them into pieces before throwing them into the bin like you’re told to.
If things were going your way, you’d advise Sunwoo to do the same.
A day with Kim Sunwoo in it never goes your way, though. You should’ve been prepared.
“So I can’t take those posters home because my dad said no?” he clarifies, looking like a dummy. Like one of those kids that ask the most obvious questions during exams. Like one of those kids you want to sucker punch in the face.
“Sunwoo–”
“Well, Y/N-ie,” he purrs, the nickname making your hands curl up in fists, “that’s too bad… because I am the owner’s son, so… the rules don’t really apply to me, you see.”
And with that, he sends another sickeningly sweet smile your way before he turns on his heel and marches towards the front door again– not responding to any of your annoyed, infuriated calls of his name. He doesn’t stop at your warnings. He doesn’t care.
And just like that, he disappears just as fast as he appeared. The interaction didn’t last more than 10 minutes, but you consider your whole day ruined.
Fucking Sunwoo and his fucking privileges. And his fucking annoying face.
It’s not even that important. It’s just two posters that would get thrown out to the dumpster in the back at the end of your shift anyway. You don’t even care about those posters in particular– you just with equal rules applied to all workers in the workplace.
It’s not like Spiderman Homecoming is one of your favorite movies… not at all.
You could’ve had that poster. You deserved that poster. You sold tickets for it and served the snack booth when it premiered– not Kim Sunwoo and whatever his friend’s name was.
You kick the wall with your sneaker. It leaves a dirty mark.
You should’ve known the day felt too good to be true.
TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING (1993)
There’s a new thing Mr Kim is trying to lure more customers into the cinema. He calls it ‘Rewind Thursdays’, where he picks a movie from the past and airs it in the theater again to bring out nostalgia in the whole town. You think it’s a good idea– you remember when the Harry Potter movies had a rerun back when you were little, ecstatic that you finally got to see them in the cinema because you missed out on the experience when they were coming out for the first time. You went even though you saw them all before, and you had a blast. So in your books, this was the best thing that could happen to the little, old movie theater on the corner of the town’s square.
You were overbeared with joy when Mr Kim went up to you during one of your slow Wednesday shifts in the ticket booth with a paper and a pen, requesting you to write down your favorite movies. He informed you that he’d prefer it if they were older, to, quote, really get the nostalgia going, and you were happy to have some say in the list of movies to play for multiple reasons. One, because it meant he valued your opinion, and two, you don’t usually work on Thursdays, so if your favorite movie is on that day, you can go and relax in the cinema while watching it.
This all happened a few weeks ago. You gave the list back to your boss at the end of your shift, smiling brightly just thinking about it, and he told you he’ll get through it and see what he can incorporate.
The plan gets to you on one uneventful Wednesday. You are stuck in the ticket booth again. Today is one of the Wednesdays where Sunwoo is in charge, because Mr Kim is out of town. You hate those days most of them all, but recently, he’s been giving you your freedom and letting you work in the ticket booth instead of cleaning the already clean cinema, saying he has stuff to do in the back. You suspect he just sits around in his father’s office with his legs on the table, chewing on his obnoxious strawberry mints. The image makes you furious only the tiniest bit, because the fact that he’s out of your sight and isn’t ordering you around is enough to calm your nerves. It could always be worse, you remind yourself. It could always be worse.
“I have the schedule of ‘Rerun Thursdays’ all done,” Sunwoo says as he walks up to the ticket booth close to the end of your shift. His eyes look a little tired when he holds up a thick card to you, the design of the poster making your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Did he do that?
“It’s ‘Rewind Thursdays’, actually,” you note, pointing towards the very obvious mistake on the top of the poster.
“Oh fuck– you know what, not anymore,” he scowls, taking the poster back from you and pointing glares at the title he mistyped, “I spent 3 hours on this, I’m not remaking it.”
“It looks like a kindergartener did it,” you note, eyes scanning the bubbly font and the orange-yellow combination used throughout the whole design when he offers the paper back to you. It looks like a Winnie the Pooh convention is taking place instead of an event full of nostalgic movies, and you would tell him that, but he beats you to it with a tired remark.
“Well, if my father wanted this to look professional, he should’ve hired someone to do it,” he mutters, obviously hurt by your harsh words, “I used Canva. I don’t know how Photoshop works and my dad can barely operate the computer, so this is what we’re going with, okay?” he says as he explains, big eyes suddenly bearing into yours. “Unless you wanna redo it yourself…?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then this is the final poster,” he says, “I’m gonna hang those outside when we close,” he notes, watching you scan the movie titles. The event will take place in 4 weeks from the middle of November to the middle of December (right in time for Christmas movies to air, since you’re certain Mr Kim has another Christmas-themed business tactic up his sleeve).
“Did any of your movies make it?” Sunwoo asks, surprisingly friendly. You can’t remember a single casual conversation with the male– all you two do it either give each other the silent treatment or scream at each other (more like you scream at him, but he always deserves it…), so you’re kind of surprised at the change. Not pleasantly surprised. Just surprised.
Eyes falling to the second movie on the list, you feel yourself nodding as you smile. It’s like a dream come true– you can finally see your favorite movie in the cinema for the first time. You don’t know who to thank for this miracle, but something in your insides feels very grateful.
“Yeah,” you say, trying to seem unaffected. You’d rather kill yourself than to show any signs of emotion in front of Kim Sunwoo. All he deserves to see is your stone cold face.
“Which one?” he asks, seemingly interested.
“National treasure,” you hum, pointing to the movie on the list, having Sunwoo nod to himself. You expect him to say something to you– perhaps engage in a conversation like a normal person would– but suddenly, he gasps and takes out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket, offering it to you and playing the role of the manager again.
“Oh, by the way,” he starts, watching as you unfold the paper, “I know we don’t usually work on Thursdays, but since my dad decided to do all of this, we kinda have to, since he wouldn’t be able to handle the premieres on his own, so… Here's your schedule for the next 4 weeks,” he says, clasping his hands together in front of him.
It takes everything in you to not correct the male and tell him that those are technically not premieres, but when your eyes land on the little Excel table Sunwoo printed out for you, the feeling is overpowered with one of deep disappointment.
“I work the second week?” you ask, as if the question might magically change the schedule.
“I mean, I think you can read…” Sunwoo hums, shrugging to himself.
A heartbeat passes by of you staring at the schedule, a pit opening in your stomach at the realization. You only work 2 Thursdays out of 4, noticing the fact that you rotate with Sunwoo (with him somehow taking the first week, much to your surprise), but for some reason, one of those days had to be the day when National treasure is on.
And sure, you might think this is good– you can just watch the movie while you work!
Wrong.
Working means either staying in the ticket booth the whole time in case a customer comes, working the snack booth the whole time in case a customer comes, or cleaning the bathrooms. Working means also standing in front of the screening room sometimes, making sure no one is going in without a ticket in the middle of the movie.
There is no time for you to watch National treasure if you’re working.
Sighing, you decide to do something you always prohibited yourself from doing– you ask Kim Sunwoo for a favor. “Listen… my favorite movie is airing the week I work, so I was… wondering if we could exchange shifts? So I could go and watch it?” you ask, looking at your coworker with what you presume are pleading eyes. You hope it works on the boy– he looks like the type to fold under a tender gaze.
“So you want to get out of work only to still come?” Sunwoo clarifies, snickering.
“Pretty much, yeah,” you nod, tapping your fingers on the table.
“Well, the schedule is set,” Sunwoo shrugs, “I can’t do anything about it.”
Eyes sending darts to the very middle of Kim Sunwoo’s forehead, you take a few calming breaths before you speak up again. You don’t want to blow up on him when you’re asking him for a favor– you don’t think this approach would help you much in the situation.
“Why?”
“Because,” he shrugs.
“Because?” you repeat. “That’s the reason?” you say, a weak laugh dragging out of your throat.
“Pretty much, yeah,” he mirrors your previous response, the blood in your veins already growing hot from the confrontation.
“Sunwoo, you– come on,” you say, “just this once, please? I’ll take the first week. We can just switch, what’s the difference?”
Sunwoo tongues the inside of his cheek, eyes pointing towards the paper. “Schedule is schedule, Y/N. You have to follow it,” he says, an innocent look glazing his big fuckass boba eyes. Oh how you despise that look. It’s the look that tells you he finds this all so, so amusing, but won’t laugh in your face in hopes of teasing you some more.
“Oh, amazing,” you say, throwing the schedule to the table, “I knew I could always count on you ruining my day, Kim Sunwoo. And I bet you did the schedule as well! You knew it was my favorite movie, so you made me work that week. Very nice of you, you dumbass. Thank you very much,” you grunt, annoyance flowing through your brain and making you truly merciless– you have no proof of Sunwoo even knowing which movie of yours made it in, or proof of him making the schedule– you don’t care, though. All you want at this moment is to claw his eyes out and pop them in between your fingers to ease the anger on your insides.
You can’t do that, though, so a screaming match will have to do the job.
“Stop being so dramatic,” he scoffs, eyebrows furrowing. “I didn’t even know which one your favorite movie was, so how could I do this on purpose? Plus, I didn’t even make the schedule, my dad did–”
“As if I would believe that,” you roll your eyes, huffing. “You’re all owner’s son privileges this, owner’s son privileges that, but when I ask you for one thing, one! Single! Fucking! Thing! You can’t do it,” you bite, words dripping in spite.
“Look, I really can’t-”
“You can’t do this one thing for me?” you cut him off, the question sounding like an ultimatum.
“No,” he shakes his head, seemingly unaffected by the conversation.
“Because…?” you demand a valid reason.
“Because I just can’t,” he shrugs, casual and cool.
The world stills for a moment. You calculate your next move. Blood rushes in your ears, you see red. Your eyes fall on the clock– it’s 4 minutes after your shift. That’s it.
You take your coat draped over the chair, stand up from the chair and dash towards the front door. You can’t stand being around this man any longer– all he does is bring misery into your otherwise, already boring life.
Speedwalking out of the place, you yell out a harsh “Go fuck yourself!” over your shoulder, leaving Sunwoo to close the cinema by himself. You don’t even change out of your uniform before you go– your head is too clouded with anger to remember to do so. Cursing out your coworker isn’t the best thing you could do in this situation, more so when he’s the owner’s son, but suddenly, you don’t really care about losing your job at the cinema anymore.
Maybe you should quit yourself, actually.
TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS (2003)
In your books, there aren’t many things worse than working three days in a row. You can only think of so many even when you try hard enough: like going to school in your pajamas, getting sick on the day of an important event, ripping your pants on the metro, standing outside of the cinema in a popcorn costume for 4 hours…
Yeah. Not too many.
So naturally, on the third day of your work week, putting one sweetened coffee into your stomach after another, barely keeping your head up from the lack of sleep you’re getting in between classes, work, and writing your essays until 3 in the morning, you beg god for a calm shift. It’s Wednesday, the first week of Mr Kim’s ‘Rewind Thursdays’ event, and it just so happened that you were set to work the first half of the week while Sunwoo got the other half.
The only thing keeping you going is the fact that you and Sunwoo will now basically not see each other’s face for the next four weeks– with the exception of Fridays and Saturdays, the premiere days. You’re getting a lot of shifts this month, but hey… Christmas is coming. At least you’ll have plenty of money to buy gifts for everyone this year. (Or not. You’re very underpaid.)
Entertaining yourself by watching the world outside of your window and mentally betting on the race of raindrops falling down the glass surface– because your phone battery almost ran out during class this morning and you forgot to bring your charger with you– you hope you don’t fall asleep right in this moment. Your boss is somewhere inside and if he oh just happens to check up on you (which he never normally does, but you can never be too sure), you’re certain you’d lose your job after taking a nap in the ticket booth. Some things just can’t be accepted.
Cat fights with his son? Perfectly acceptable. Sleeping on the clock? Not so much…
Eyes drooping when the third raindrop race doesn’t go the way you bet on in your head, you figure you can just rest for a second or two… Eyelids shielding your irises from the orange hues of the lights inside, your brain already turning off and preparing a happy dream for you, you think that taking a nap is not such a bad idea right now…
Wrong.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” the noise of a thunder– actually, no, that was just someone’s voice– wakes you up and makes you jump in your chair, your knee hitting the bottom of the table making you hiss in sharp pain.
“Fuck, man–”
“Didn’t know taking a nap was in the job description,” Sunwoo grins at you through the glass window of the booth. His eyes twinkle in amusement as you drag your hand through your hair, trying to smoothe it down after tousling it in your weird sleeping position.
“I wasn’t sleeping,” you mutter, not even meeting his eye.
“Oh?”
“Yeah… just had… my eyes closed…” you hum, scratching the back of your neck. Clearing your throat, you look back up at him with an disinterested look on your face. “Anyways, what do you want? You’re off today.”
Scanning his figure, fully taking in his appearance– the fabric of his dark gray hoodie a little stained with raindrops (you bet he ran from his car into the building without an umbrella. He seems like the type to be embarrassed about umbrellas.), the fabric of the garment enveloping his head and shading his face a little from the ugly yellow lights. His face is a little flushed– you presume it’s from the running– and his hair is falling into his face. You can barely see his eyes behind the curtain of chocolate locks– he really needs a trim.
“Damn, didn’t know you hated me so much that you can’t stand seeing me on my off days,” he jokes, leaning on the counter as if to stick his face as close as he can into yours. Thank god for the glass shielding you two– you think you’d give him a fist to the nose if you ever felt his breathing on your skin.
“I do,” you agree, impatiently drumming your fingers on the top of the table, “so tell me what you want so you can disappear again,” you say.
“I just went to check up on whether you were sleeping or not so I can tell my dad to fire you–”
“Kim Sunwoo–”
He puts his arms up defensively, eyebrows raising at your threatening tone. “Okay, not really. I don’t actually care that much. Besides, you promised to quit yourself anyway, so,” he explains, shrugging to himself, “believe it or not, I’m here to buy tickets for a movie.”
You shoot him a stare, the look in your eyes dead, stone cold as you ponder on his words. It’s cold outside, it’s raining, and Kim Sunwoo just happens to decide to buy tickets for a movie today. In a cinema that he works at. In a cinema that he works at tomorrow.
“You work tomorrow…?” you mirror your inner monologue, kind of confused at the turn of events.
“You know my schedule? I’m flattered–”
The irritation is slowly creeping into your bones again. Actually, it has been since he arrived, but the more he talks, the more agitating the whole encounter feels. Maybe you should tape his mouth shut the next time you see him– you bet the day would be so much better if you don’t have to listen to him talk.
“Why don’t you just buy the tickets tomorrow when you work? Didn’t have to walk here in the rain,” you explain, sighing to prove just how annoyed you are with his presence.
“Because I kinda need them today,” he says, clarifying to you with the tone you use when you explain mundane things to a child.
You don’t know what he did in his past life to get the ability to annoy you each and every time you meet him, but you’d like some of it to get back at him in your next life. Why you’re even thinking of past lives and the possibility of meeting Kim Sunwoo in your next one, you’re not really certain, but if it helps you to not smash the glass separating you two, you guess you can get behind the thought process.
“Okay,” you nod, painfully calm for the amount of screaming you’ve been doing internally, “what movie?” you ask, turning your body to the computer on your right and breaking eye contact with him. If he’s a customer, you’re going to treat him like one– no small talk and no arguments. You won’t ruin your day even more over a man that doesn’t know what chapstick is. (You don’t stare at his lips, just for the record. It’s just painfully obvious when he talks. Sometimes you want to reach over and pluck away the dead skin with your fingers– you won’t, though. That would be weird.)
Sunwoo straightens his back as he fishes for his wallet in the front pocket of his jeans. “National Treasure,” he smiles, making you break into cold sweat, “two tickets, please.”
Like a scene in a horror movie, your head turns without moving the rest of your body, eyes twitching when you see him standing at the other side of the booth, calm and collected. Suddenly, the scene makes sense– he bought the tickets to see your favorite movie on the day of your shift. Of course. He just has to rub it in your face.
Not only are you working that day. You will also most likely serve popcorn to him as he goes inside with whoever he is buying the second ticket for. And you will try not to trip him on his way inside the screening room.
It was a smart move for him to not go inside the ticket booth with you, even though he has all the right to. You bet he knows you’d claw his eyes out if you had the chance.
“You have to be kidding me.”
“What? I can’t buy tickets for a movie?” he asks, innocence dripping off his tongue.
Breathing deeply– while trying to contain the demon that’s begging to crawl out of your insides and tear him into 25 different pieces– you smile ironically at the male, gulping before you speak. “That would be 12 dollars, please,” you say, your customer service voice turning kind of eerie.
Not even letting the male choose his seats– he lost the privilege when he decided to come and buy the tickets for your favorite movie– you print out two tickets with the worst possible view (the ones in the first row, far right. If Sunwoo loses his neck because he has to look up at the screen for the entirety of the movie, well, who are you to hate that) and offer them to your coworker.
Like a mind game, the male slips them into his pocket without even looking at them, not breaking eye contact with you sitting behind the booth.
“Have a nice day,” he says as he takes two steps back before fully turning and escaping through the front door, figure dashing towards the old Prius parked in front of the building.
Bawling your hands into fists, you try the breathing exercises you found the other week. Calm your body and your mind, the title said. You knew you’d need those when you saved the post into one of your boards on Pinterest.
Still, you can’t help yourself. You simply cannot. You let it out– it’s not healthy to keep negativity inside.
He can’t hear you, but you still mutter a spiteful “I hope you choke,” under your breath as you settle back into the uncomfortable surface of the chair.
TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – YOU’VE GOT MAIL (1998)
Remember the time you said you didn’t really mind having more shifts in November, because it meant a bigger paycheck? Yeah… that was true. For a few days.
Until you got a phone call one day from none other than Kim Sunwoo– whose number you didn’t even want to save into your contacts, but after his insisting that it’s for work purposes, did so under the name ‘dumpster raccoon’– telling you that you have to get to work immediately, that his dad said so, and that it’s an emergency.
Do you believe him? No. Absolutely not.
His tone of voice was too calm to be in an emergency. If his dad wanted you to come to work today, he could’ve called you himself instead of making his son do it. And also, you really don’t know what’s so important to take care of on a Wednesday, since it’s the slow day of the week, but still– you angrily took off the facemask from your face before the timer even went off, shut your laptop with a half-watched episode of The office in your Netflix window, changed out of your comfy clothes and marched towards the cinema.
Because you never know. He might be saying the truth, after all. And if that was the case, you didn’t want to be caught disobeying your boss.
You get to the old movie theater on the corner of the town center at 4 in the afternoon. The sky is already getting dark and you feel the coldness of November seeping into your bones, and so you waste no time in getting inside and chasing the heat of the vintage-looking interior. Your boots make a thudding sound as you walk across the hall, seeing Sunwoo sitting in the ticket booth in his usual habitat: with his phone in his hands and his feet up on the table, chewing on his favorite strawberry mints. Now this sight screams emergency if you’ve ever seen one.
“What was so important for you to call me to work and then chill in the ticket booth all afternoon?” you ask, spite slipping off your tongue with every word you speak.
Sunwoo looks up at you from under his eyelashes, hair still slightly shielding his eyes. He doesn’t even have his uniform on– there’s a gray hoodie enveloping his torso (you swear he lives in this garment. You wonder if he even washes it sometimes) and black jeans hanging off his hips– and the more you stare at him, the more you feel like punching him in the face.
“Oh,” he hums, stretching out his limbs from the hours of sitting on the chair unmoving, “dad said to tell you to clean the screening room. Since it’s Thursday tomorrow, and all.”
The look on his face is innocent. He looks like he just told you the most casual piece of information– and truth be told, he kind of did. The whole thing is just not making any sense right now.
“I should clean the screening room today? You’re on the clock, though, why don’t you do it?” you ask, frustration clearly written all over your face. You were looking forward to having a self-care day today, so you can only imagine how tired of his endeavors you are right in this moment.
“Yeah, but I am on ticket booth duty, so I can’t,” he shrugs, frowning a little to prove his nonexistent point.
“It’s Wednesday. It’s not busy. You know you can do both.”
“Look, it’s not me, it’s my dad–”
“Is it? Is it, Sunwoo?” you huff, arms flying into the air. “Or are you just using me to do the work you don’t feel like doing? Because it really does seem like that right now,” you bite, running your hand through your hair in exasperation.
“Do you want me to call him?” Sunwoo asks, tone of voice suddenly threatening.
A heartbeat passes. You continue to have a staring contest with him. The fury inside of you rages like a storm. Still, you nod to the feeling of authority coming from your actual boss, and so you wordlessly turn on your heel and march towards the screening room, ready to clean the place in the least amount of time so you can go home and back to your selfcare endeavors. (You’re adding printing out Sunwoo’s face and throwing darts at it to the list of activities. You think you really need that right now.)
The screening room is dark when you come inside, and as you reach towards the lightswitch, you almost fear something jumping at you. See, the traumatic response from being locked up in the toilet from your coworker is still very present in your bones. When you stop working here, you’re going to ask for financial compensation for all the damage this boy did on your mental health.
You walk down the aisle of seats and try to inspect the damage. No movies air on Wednesday and there was only one kids movie going on Tuesday, so you can either expect it to be almost clean, or full of snacks that fell off the hands of grabby children during the cartoon. The more you inspect the place, though, the more it seems like… somebody already cleaned it before?
The floor is clean. The laminated surface under the seats has no smudge of dirt on it, like someone already mopped the place. And when you think back, the bins were empty as well.
The screening room was definitely cleaned before.
Which means that Sunwoo brought you here for absolutely nothing.
Suddenly, the lights go out. The whole room falls into darkness, and the anger inside of your veins very quickly mixes with panic as you try to climb up the stairs on the side of the screening room and escape. Your throat gets dry as you yell for your coworker, not really caring if your next outburst is going to get you fired or not.
“Kim Fucking Sunwoo, why the fuck did you call me to clean an already cleaned screening room?!” you yell, not really knowing if he hears you or not. Doesn’t matter– it feels cathartic to do so anyway.
Your feet stumble on the awkwardly-long stairs, your figure almost falling to the ground. Managing to hold yourself up and steady your body before your head hits the sharp corner of one of the stairs and makes you die, you continue on with your small tangent. “You really think this is funny? You’re having fun pranking me all the time? I hate your guts, Kim Sunwoo, and I hope you burn in hell!”
A bright light suddenly illuminates the screening room, coming from somewhere behind you. When you look over your shoulder, the screen is white for a few moments before the opening credits of a Jerry Buckheimer film flash on the big surface, halting you in your movements. The sound is a little too loud in the speakers, but it gets adjusted the moment you almost lose your hearing. The moment you see Nicolas Cage appear, it’s clear as day.
There’s a movie playing. And the movie playing is National treasure.
You think you’re hallucinating. This is surely a fata morgana.
Standing in the middle of the screening room, your mouth hangs agape and your eyes go wide as you watch the first few scenes of the movie. Ben Gates already learns about the hidden treasure passed down through American history when you feel a slight nudge to your shoulder, making you turn your head to see a tall figure staring you down with a bucket of popcorn in their hands.
You are confused. So utterly confused. The movie was on last week. You’d know– you worked the snack booth that day. The screening room is empty and it’s Wednesday– what’s going on?
“Can you sit? Or are you just going to watch the movie standing in the aisle,” Sunwoo grunts, balancing the big bucket of popcorn and two drinks in his large hands, the sight comical and almost making you want to watch him suffer some more.
Caught off guard, though, you let him back you into the aisle of seats, your figure slouching into one of the red cushions like a rag doll. Sunwoo takes place next to you, placing the big bucket of popcorn into your lap, before he settles into a seat as well and focuses his eyes and attention on the movie.
“What… what is this?” you ask, frozen in the seat.
“Hm?” Sunwoo frowns, looking at you. “National treasure,” he hums, “I thought you’d know, since you threw a scene about it that one time.”
“I- I know that, I just…” you trail off, still surprised at the turn of events, “what’s going on right now…?”
“We’re watching National treasure,” he notes, talking to you as if you were slow.
“What…?”
A sigh escapes Sunwoo’s lips at your utter confusion, his hand coming up to the bucket of popcorn in your lap and throwing a handful of the snack into his mouth before speaking. “Look, Y/N. You said you wanted to watch your favorite movie in the cinema, so that’s what you’re doing. Enjoy my owner’s son privileges for once,” he shrugs, watching as your face morphs into an unreadable expression.
That explanation satisfies you for a bit. The shock in your insides, though? Still present.
There’s something about the whole gesture that makes your stomach feel uneasy. Sunwoo did something nice for you– out of the kindness of his own heart– and you really don’t know why he would even think of something like this. You two aren’t on the best terms either, after all. Maybe he finally went crazy.
Or maybe you did and this was all the result of your imagination. Either or.
Yeah, you must be the one that’s gone batshit insane. Surely. You’re certain of the fact when you reach for the popcorn and accidentally touch his hand, the two of you deciding to get some at the same time, and your stomach does a flip and your brain makes a sign for you to quickly retract your hand– but the feeling of his slightly cold hand against your fingertips is now engraved into your memory and won’t leave and let you focus on the movie no matter how hard you try.
“You wouldn’t have to do this if you just let me switch schedules with you that time,” you note, “just saying.”
“I couldn’t,” he shrugs.
“Huh? But you bought two tickets..?”
“Yeah, but those were for my friends. I had to drive my mum down to grandmas that day, so I couldn’t go or take your shift that day,” he hums, not once breaking eye contact with the screen.
“If you would’ve just said so, I wouldn’t have made a scene about it–”
“Yeah… but I enjoy watching you make a scene,” he grins, shifting his attention towards you for a second with that lazy smirk playing with his lips. His hair is falling into his eyes and you have the urge to get it out of his face with a motion of your hand while also scolding him like a mother to finally get a haircut, just so you could see the twinkle in his mischievous orbs.
“You need to get serious help, then,” you grunt, pointing your gaze back towards the screen, unable to look at his face for any longer. He’s being annoying again. You’re annoyed.
“Probably,” he admits.
You two sit in silence for a while, the only sound accompanying you being the movie playing out on the big screen in front of you. You think this is the calmest you two have ever been around each other, and you’re starting to think that if Sunwoo just didn’t talk, you two could even get along.
Something touches the side of your thigh in the darkness of the room. Eyes darting to the source, you notice Sunwoo’s thigh pressing against yours, the cause of his obnoxious man-spreading, and something about the closeness of his body and the smell of his citrusy cologne makes you feel like your chest is heaving in on itself. You can’t stand him around you. You two can’t share this close of a space.
“Are you not leaving?” you ask.
“No,” he hums, “should I be?”
“Well, you’re on the clock…”
The man snickers, shaking his head in disbelief. “Y/N, you and I both know that the possibility of someone coming to buy a ticket on a Wednesday afternoon is close to zero. Me being there makes no difference in today’s sales.”
His hand knocks into yours again as you reach for more popcorn. You gulp, nodding. “Right…”
“And I wanted to see the movie to see if it’s really that good to make a scene about it,” he teases, another playful look sent your way from the corner of his eye.
You grunt, rolling your eyes. Oh how you hate his guts…
And even though you love the movie, you pray for it to end quickly. The more time you spend with Sunwoo forced into your zone of comfort, the more uncomfortable you feel– even the slightest movement of his body affects you and makes your brain turn on overdrive. It’s strange and it’s weird, and you don’t understand how hatred for a person could manifest in such reactions.
It’s better that you didn’t notice you two sitting in the love seat. God knows you wouldn’t handle that well. You’d rather die than to hold on to that knowledge.
TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – CLUELESS (1995)
They say that you only start realizing just how stupid people can be when you work in customer service. As one of the only three employees of the small, vintage cinema on the corner of the town’s square, you can only agree with the sentiment– you have a lot of stories to tell about the wonders of the human brain.
Like that one time you got screamed at because the movie tickets were ‘too expensive’ – because naturally, you should be able to change the price of them when asked. Or that one time you got screamed at because the movie tickets were sold out– because naturally, you should add more seats to the screening room just for the two middle-aged women to sit on during the premiere of the newest Orlando Bloom movie. Or when somebody yelled at you for the toilets being full after the movie– naturally, you are supposed to throw people out in the middle of them peeing. Or build new stalls. Either or.
They say that you only start realizing just how stupid people can be when you work in customer service, but truly, you also realize just how rude they can also be for no reason at all.
Much like today. It’s Friday, which means it’s premiere night. The tickets to all movies this week are sold out already, so no one is on ticket booth duty, and much to your relief, Mr Kim took the snack stand himself. Your responsibility for the day is scanning the tickets and then making sure no one is getting inside during the movie without a ticket.
It’s not a hard job. Not at all– you would even say nothing about working in the cinema is hard, when you don’t have an annoying coworker trying to make your whole life a living hell– but you see, customers love to make your job harder just by being unreasonably rude about things that are clearly out of your control.
“Sir, I really can’t let you in, I’m sorry,” you say, tone of voice polite despite screaming on the inside. In front of you is standing a tall man, maybe a few years older than you, the expression on his face full of anger and vexation. They say a customer is always right. You agree only when the customer looks like they could wait for you after work and beat you up in the bushes. Sadly, that still doesn’t mean you can let the man inside without a valid ticket.
“What do you mean? Little one, I’m telling you I bought the ticket here, so if you don’t let me in–”
“All tickets purchased for the screening should be able to scan through this, sir, and if it doesn’t work, I am not allowed to let you inside of the cinema,” you try to explain, getting kind of desperate. The line behind him was forming and the movie was supposed to play in a few minutes, so if you wanted to scan all the tickets in time, you had to be quick.
He wouldn’t budge, though. His eyebrows are furrowed and the guy behind him seems to be getting angry as well, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up alert, like a cat when it senses danger. You try your hardest to keep your tone firm, hands clasped politely behind your back. “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir, or maybe check in with the owner about the issue? I don’t have the competence to–”
“Listen, I won’t be talking to anyone, because you will let me in, okay?”
“Sir, I can’t-”
Your sentence is cut off by the man again, his fury making you take a step backwards in fear. “And if you don’t, you will see the consequences.”
Gulping, you try to think of a way to get out of this situation. Mr Kim is too far away for you to call, and he is also busy– the line is long and Sunwoo isn’t working today. It’s just the two of you today, so your options are getting slimmer. You can’t let that man in without a working ticket– it seems like the one he’s showing you is either a fake one, or bought in another cinema– but it seems like if you don’t, he’ll have you dead before the next morning.
“So?”
Opening your mouth to answer (although your brain is still empty and you don’t even know what more to say), a low voice coming from behind you startles you in the middle of your crisis. “Is there a problem here?”
Turning your head to the source of the voice, you’ve never been more relieved to see Kim Sunwoo in your close proximity. You watch as he puts a rolled-up poster to the ground behind you before he takes another step closer towards your figure, his expression stone cold and glaring at the man in front of you.
“Your coworker here won’t let me in to watch the movie,” he complains, hand waving around in a threatening way.
Just having Sunwoo around makes you more confident. Clearing your throat, your eyes dart to your coworker, seeing his face morph into irritation. “It won’t scan his ticket, so…”
“If it won’t scan your ticket, it means it’s invalid and we’re not allowed to let you in,” Sunwoo says, tone of voice way less polite than the one you were using before.
“That’s ridiculous-”
“You are ridiculous,” Sunwoo grunts, annoyance clearly written all over his face. “You were asked to leave, so maybe you should.”
Truth be told, you’ve been in a couple of arguments with Sunwoo before. In none of them has he ever looked and sounded like this, though. You and Sunwoo argue with spite– sparks flying waiting to start a fire, curses and harsh words thrown around carelessly in moments of heated hatred. His tone is stern, but never threatening. Never mean. Not in the way he’s being right now.
It makes you stare at him wordlessly. He seems to be taking the lead in the situation, reacting territorially to the man in front of him. You can’t say you don’t feel safer with him around– you would be lying.
“Maybe you could just let me in and get this over with–”
“And maybe you could fuck off,” Sunwoo says back, something in his tone making your stomach feel all light. He looks serious, standing his ground, and the man finally seems to get the memo that he’s not watching the premiere tonight, because he backs off and grits his teeth at the male.
“Your boss will hear about this,” he threatens, making Sunwoo chuckle.
“I’m sure he will.”
Sympathetic looks are thrown your way from the women in the line behind that can finally come up to you so you scan their tickets. You smile at each one and try to seem unaffected by the exchange, but the memory of it still lingers in your brain and doesn’t make you rest easy as you greet the rest of the customers.
You didn’t even realize Sunwoo was still standing next to you, watching you work. He seems to recognise your shaken-up composure, tone of voice sympathetic and quiet as he asks: “You okay?”
“What?” you ask, surprised by the question, “oh. Yeah, I’m fine. He was just… being a bitch, the usual.”
“Yeah,” he snickers, “why didn’t you just scream at him like you do to me? I bet that would scare him away,” he notes, making you roll your eyes at the comment.
“Because he looked like he could beat me up, Sunwoo.”
“And I don’t?” he gasps, suddenly offended.
You scan the boy up and down, pretending to think it over for a few before you shake your head. “No,” you shrug, “I could beat you up.”
“Excuse you?” he gasps, crossing his arms at his chest in a defensive stance, the shock on his face mixing in with amusement.
“Don’t believe me? Wanna try?” you test, the conversation suddenly flowing freely, without you even noticing. You don’t pay it much thought, but you guess getting along with Sunwoo is easier when he’s on your side. Most of the time, he’s not, though– and maybe that’s the problem.
“Okay,” he nods, “meet me in the back when you’re off. No weapons allowed, we’ll do it the street style. This is a battle of fists,” he points a finger at you, the sentence making you sigh dreamily and point your eyes towards the ceiling.
“You can’t even imagine how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.”
Sunwoo smiles at that– that dumb, boyish smile you usually so despise– and shakes his head at your antics. The conversation dies down a bit after the exchange– with you scanning the tickets and trying your hardest to make it through the line before the movie starts, when your coworker, dressed in none other than his signature gray hoodie and black jeans, nudges you with his elbow. “Want me to stay for a bit, or are you good now?”
“I can take care of myself, Sunwoo,” you sigh, “you can go about your day.”
“Well, it didn’t seem like it a few minutes ago–”
“I can take care of myself when I’m not confronted with a tall muscled man that is threatening me, Sunwoo,” you repeat, looking at the rest of the line, “so with him gone now, you can go about your day. What are you even doing here, by the way? I thought you were off today.”
“I am,” he nods, rocking a little in his place, shifting weight from his heels towards his toes, “I was just… here to drop off something for you,” he says, clearing his throat and pointing towards the poster he was holding when he first approached you, the shiny tube now resting against the nearest wall.
You shoot the boy a curious look, eyebrows furrowed in question. You don’t get to ask for clarification about the character of the poster, because he abruptly cuts off your train of thought, speaking fast as if to avoid making any more conversation with you. “I’ll see you in the back after you’re done for that fist fight, then. Bye!”
And before you get a chance to say anything back, Sunwoo swiftly turns on his heel and awkwardly marches towards the front door. You don’t have much time to inspect the thing he dropped off for you, but after you’re done with scanning the tickets and have time to breathe when the movie starts, you allow yourself to peek inside–
only to see a National treasure poster staring back at you, surface glossy and glimmering, as if you just opened a chest full of gold.
As you take the poster to the staff room with you (while also wearing a huge, embarrassing grin on your face for someone staring at the face of Nicolas Cage), making sure it’s safe and sound until you can bring it home with you, you wonder why you haven’t been civil with Kim Sunwoo before.
It’s good to have a taste of his owner’s son privileges sometimes.
TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – ME BEFORE YOU (2016)
The day is Friday, the 1st of December. Mr Kim’s ‘Rewind Thursdays' event is over and while Fridays are always the premiere days, meaning you usually have to work the evenings either in the snack booth or in the ticket booth, your boss told you you can have the night off under one condition– you come in the morning (since you told him your classes are done for the semester, he’s been keen on making you work at random times of the day) and help Sunwoo with Christmas decorations in the cinema.
And, well, who are you to say no to a free evening? Maybe you can finally have that self-care time you’ve been needing before your exam season starts.
“Can you get the ladder from the back?” Sunwoo asks, tone of voice not at all interested. You don’t know what the reasoning behind his mood is, but you figure it’s either the fact that he had to get up before 12, or the fact that he doesn’t really seem like the type to like decorating.
“Why don’t you get it?” you huff, wiping your forehead off the sweat that’s cumulated on it over the time you spent bringing out all the boxes full of decorations out of the staff room. “I brought everything in, maybe you can do some work for once.”
One would think your dynamics with Kim Sunwoo would shift after he’s been nice to you on multiple occasions. And sure, you don’t really fight with him as often and he hasn’t pulled a prank on you in a while, but some days, his whole presence is still just as annoying to you as it’s been for the past couple of months. There’s not really much you can do about it– especially not when he’s bossing you around and not doing any actual work himself.
“I built the christmas tree,” he grunts, opening one of the boxes full of ornaments, squinting at the contains with disgust on his face. “And I put up all the other useless stuff before you got here too,” he says, pointing a glare at you.
Looking around the theater, you notice various types of decorations all over the place. There’s some mistletoe hanging off the ceiling (which has you wondering how he even got it there in the first place) and garlands framing all the doorways– the greenery making the whole place decorated in a very vintage tone. It’s fitting to the theme of the cinema, though, and you can tell that Sunwoo really can’t be arsed to do any better, so you don’t mention it out loud in favor of avoiding another one of your petty cat fights.
Admitting your defeat, you storm back into the staff room and carry out the tall ladder, struggling to fit through the doorways and to cross the corners, praying to all higher forces that you don’t accidentally scratch off pieces of the wall on your way to Sunwoo.
You put down the metal construction with a loud thud, making the boy look up at you from beneath his bangs, the silent curse evident in his eyes. You don’t know what’s up with him, but again, you won’t ask. You try to tell yourself that you don’t really care either, but with every glance towards his direction, the question keeps bugging you and dancing around your brain.
You force yourself not to care.
Watching as he tries to untangle the Christmas lights, struggle evident in the frustration written all over his face, you sigh and walk over to him, taking the bundle of wire out of his hands and threading your skilled fingers through the lengthy cable. You’re an expert in untangling– you don’t own bluetooth headphones, so you do this pretty much every day before listening to some music. Your headphones love to tangle in your pocket no matter how neatly you try to keep them in your pants– it’s a mystery. Almost like the Bermuda triangle.
“I can do it myself,” Sunwoo huffs, eyebrows furrowing when he watches you work your magic.
“You seemed like it too,” you ironically note, letting the spiteful side of you win, enjoying yourself when you’re rewarded by the snarky roll of Sunwoo’s eyes– everything is back to normal. You two aren’t friends, you don’t like to be in each other’s presence, and no number of shiny stolen posters and private sessions in the screening room will ever change that.
“Hold this,” you say, thrusting the end of the cord into his hand, walking a few meters away from him as you detangle the lights, watching as he impatiently stomps the floor with his heel, reminding you of Snowball from The secret life of pets movie.
When you’re done and the Christmas lights are now a straight line of wire, you slowly walk over to the tall tree in the middle of the room, wrapping the lights around the fake forest-green needles. You’re glad that the lights are long enough to cover the whole thing and you don’t have to untangle another ones, and when you’re done, you watch your coworker plug them in, examining the small, colorful light bulbs.
“Okay, now the ornaments,” you say, more to yourself than to anybody in the room, as you waltz over to the boxes and take out the decorations varying in shapes and sizes. You don’t really know what color scheme Mr Kim wants you to go for– and you doubt Sunwoo is aware either, so you just take out the ornaments you find the most pretty and hang them all over the tree, making sure each branch is covered.
Sunwoo stands around for a while, unmoving as he watches you, before he sighs to himself and finally decides to help. You leave him be, thinking that it’s for the best if you two don’t speak today when he’s in such a bad mood, but you break that promise almost immediately when you stare back at the tree after retrieving some more ornaments from the box to your right and notice the almost painful clash of colors.
You should’ve known you can’t trust a man with decorating. The beautiful contrast of the baby pink and brown ornaments you put on the tree is now ruined by the green ones you intentionally left on the bottom of the box. The colors don’t go together at all and you want to claw your eyes out every second you have to stare at it.
“Sunwoo, those colors don’t go together at all,” you say, point and blank– no sugarcoating, no offensive words, just straight facts.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, that tree looks terrifying, and it’s all because you ruined it,” you say.
Okay, maybe you are overreacting just the slightest. But isn’t there fun in making your coworker completely out of his mind? Is this your roles being reversed for the first time? Are you finally winning this little game?
Nevertheless, you are enjoying the outburst that follows from Sunwoo. Mainly because he looks like a child throwing a tantrum as he huffs and takes off the green ornaments he put on to the tree and throws the handful back into the cardboard box, not really caring if they break or not. You’ll be replaying this scene in your head forever before you go to sleep, for the absolute frustration and annoyance on his face is one of your biggest trophies. Right now, though, you’re battling the urge to laugh.
“Fine, do it yourself, then,” Sunwoo says as he walks away from the tree, choosing to sit on the floor cross-legged, taking out his phone and scrolling through social media.
Again, you don’t know what’s gotten into him today, but you force yourself not to care. You have a job to finish here so you can go home and enjoy your day, and that’s why exactly you just shrug and finish putting on the pretty ornaments, admiring your work every once in a while when you take a break and stare on the tall tree, kind of breathless from the beauty.
You’re not really big on Christmas, but you must admit that this is fun.
The sound of Sunwoo swiping through Instagram reels is the only thing accompanying your actions, and as you look over your shoulder and see his almost sad face, you bite your lip just to not ask him what’s the matter. You’re not supposed to care. And you don’t.
“Can’t you put some festive music on?” you ask instead, your lips just begging to have a conversation with the male, despite your best judgment.
“No,” Sunwoo barks back, not even taking his eyes off the phone as the sound of the reel changes into another one, a swipe of his thumb across the screen showing him another video.
Nodding to yourself, you carefully try to pick out your next words. Not really sure how to address the male, you choose to approach him with a hint of humor you’re not sure he’ll appreciate. “What’s up with you? You’re bitchier than usual,” you say, scanning the male with cautious eyes.
Sunwoo stops for a while– a millisecond of him halting his scrolling, an action you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t trying to see any shift in his composure– before he speaks up again. “Nothing,” he shrugs.
“Okay,” you say, a tone of voice full of doubt.
When you conclude that you’re not getting more answers out of him, you nod to yourself and dart back towards the Christmas tree, making sure you make more eye contact with the glossy ornaments than with your coworker sitting behind you on the ground. Not much time passes by before he speaks up again, though, tone of voice quiet and hesitant.
“I’m just not in the mood today,” he sighs, “I have a final next week and it’s stressing me out, I haven’t slept well in quite a few days, my dad’s making me work more than usual and on top of that, I absolutely hate winter.”
“You hate winter?” you choose to focus on the least serious topic of the little rant, not really knowing when your boundaries lay in discussing the more serious ones.
“Yeah,” Sunwoo chuckles, “it’s like a shittier fall. It’s cold and dark all the time. It would be different if it snowed, though. I love it when it snows.”
Snickering at his sudden confession, you shake your head. “You’re like a little kid.”
“I remember you calling me a child once,” Sunwoo hums in agreement.
“That was different,” you say, hoping to cheer the male up at least a bit with your usual quarrel.
“I figured by the way you threw the toilet brush to my chest,” Sunwoo laughs, the memory of torturing you fond in his brain. The poster he gave you almost made you forget about the fact that he managed to make your life a living hell for quite some time– maybe you should consider this a wake-up call.
The conversation quiets down for a bit, even the sound of Sunwoo’s Instagram reels discontinued as you two marvel in the now much more comfortable silence. Testing the waters, you clear your throat before speaking up again. “Don’t worry about that exam, by the way. I’m sure you’ll do well.”
“How would you know?”
“You’re clever. You need to be clever to come up with all various ways to make my life more miserable,” you say, smiling when you hear him let out a breath of air through his nose, signaling a silent laugh.
“Any advice on the sleepless nights?” he asks, tone of voice light and humorous.
“Less things in your head,” you hum, putting the last ornament onto one of the branches, satisfied with your work. “Or melatonin.”
“Noted,” he nods, sharing a smile with you.
Walking over to the boxes stored a few feet away from the male, you open up the slim one thrown on the side, holding up the star. Your eyes meet his, a carefree twinkle in your orbs when you try to cheer up the boy’s inner child by doing a child's favorite activity. “Do you want to put the star on?”
He fails you, though. “No.”
“Why not?”
“You decorated it all yourself, so you can do the star,” he shrugs, not really into your idea.
“Oh come on–”
“I don’t feel like standing up,” Sunwoo grunts, the joy on your insides finally dying down when you get a taste of his usual composure– the one that really can’t be arsed with anything.
Sighing to yourself, you waltz over to the tall ladder, and despite your biggest worries, you continue climbing up the metal construction even when it wobbles and makes you fear you’re gonna fall. The whole thing is kind of unsteady and makes your heart thump in your throat, but you choose to get it over with and finally climb to the very top, outstretching your arm and putting the star on top of the tree, the decoration process now done and freeing you off your today’s work responsibilities.
Something akin to satisfaction beams in your insides as you climb down the ladder, and now, you’ll write this off to you being a little too excited with the vision of a face mask and popcorn at home– but your leg slips on one of the steps and despite the ladder being now magically steady, your body comes crashing down to the floor.
A yelp fights out of your throat, hands go flying in a desperate need to steady yourself or hold on to something that would make you not fall hard against the marble floor, when a miracle straight down from heaven comes to rescue in a form of flesh holding you up and shielding you from the fall, a grunt landing in your ears when your body settles into soft fabric of dark gray.
Head snapping to the source of the arms around your waist, surprised at the person’s strength used to balance you two on your feet as you fell (well, your knees buckled, but still, they haven’t yet hit the ground), you notice a pair of chocolate orbs staring down at you through a curtain of dark hair, wide eyes scanning your face and breathing out a puff of air.
“Look where you’re stepping next time, for fuck’s sake,” Sunwoo huffs, watching as your brain tries to process the near-death experience.
Registering his arms firmly placed around your waist (now realizing the soft fabric was the hoodie he’s been living in for the past few months), the citrusy scent of his cologne makes your head spin, eyes scanning his face in quick motions, as if not aware of who was your savior. You wonder how he even got to you on time (not really noticing him walking over to the ladder as soon as he saw it wobbling under you, holding it down to keep you from toppling over), and when your eyes curiously gaze at his chapped, yet plush lips, the warmth in your stomach makes you finally snap out of it.
Untangling yourself out of his limbs, much like you did with the Christmas lights a few minutes ago, you clear your throat and try to get your breathing back to normal. Your knees are a little weak, but you write that off to the shock of falling.
“This wouldn’t have happened if you just agreed to put the star on,” you complain, straightening your clothes as you walk over to the empty boxes nearby, stacking them into one another and avoiding all possible eye contact with the male.
It’s working– at least that’s what you keep telling yourself– up until you hear him chuckle and see a pair of hands taking the tower of boxes out of your hold, a charming grin sent your way as he walks away from you to the staff room. “If you say so.”
Okay, so it’s not working.
You’re fucked.
TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – THE PROPOSAL (2009)
“So… I was thinking,” Sunwoo starts one day, a bundle of rolled-up posters stacked up in his arms like a pyramid, puffs of cold air making clouds appear in front of his face as he speaks, “would you want to go see a movie with me?” he asks, tone of voice casual, as if he was asking you about the weather.
The poster you’re currently putting up into one of the glass holders outside of the cinema almost slips out of your frozen fingers out of shock, your heart skipping a beat. “Huh?” you hum, taking out a container full of pins out of your coat pocket and securing the poster to its designated place. “You want to bring money to your father’s competitor?” you joke.
“What? No,” he quickly replies, furrowing his brows as he shakes his head. “I meant, like, here,” he says, nodding towards the building to prove his point, taking a step aside when you close the glass door of the poster holder and move towards the next one, 3 more movie banners left to put up outside of the cinema.
The wires in your brain work on full force, trying to clear out any confusion caused by his sudden invitation. Sure, you two have gotten closer ever since you talked with him at the Christmas tree a week ago, but still, you didn’t know it was enough to hang out outside of work hours.
Instead of focusing the conversation on this unpredictable development, you turn towards clearing out the logistics instead. “How would we even do that? We either work at the same time or you work when I don’t and the other way around,” you say, taking the next poster from him and putting it up.
All of the movies airing the next two weeks are Christmas movies. Some of them are old, some of them are premieres, but still– you can’t really imagine watching a festive movie with your coworker. Up until last week, you thought of him as the next reincarnation of Grinch.
“I could get my sister to switch with me on a day you don’t work,” he hums, sheepish about his preposition. There’s something bashful in his tone, something shy in his gaze as he watches you put up the movie poster, but you try your hardest to ignore it for the sake of your sanity. You’re already having a hard time dealing with the fact that he appeared in your dreams twice since he caught you in his arms last week. You don’t need to add the switch in dynamic to the mix.
“Isn’t she underage?” you ask, snickering.
“Yeah, and?” he shrugs. “It’s a family business, Y/N. Everyone has to be included, underage or not.”
A laugh erupts out of your throat at the comment, shaking your head at the boy in disbelief.
“What would you even wanna see? Those are all Christmas movies,” you say, moving along and focusing your attention to the glossy material in your fingers.
“I don’t see how that’s a problem,” he says.
“Oh, it is,” you mutter, “I don’t like Christmas movies.”
Sunwoo grunts. “Well, I don’t really care. I saw your favorite movie with you, so you can return the favor and see my favorite movie with me,” he speaks up, making you roll your eyes at his words.
“There’s no way any of those movies is your favorite,” you note, doubtful tone haunting the boy.
“You wouldn’t know,” he laughs, making your heart do cartwheels at the sound, his teasing making you feel warmth despite the cold breeze trying to make your bones freeze into blocks of ice.
“I won’t go unless I believe you,” you say, grinning as you close the glass box and take the last poster out of Sunwoo’s hands, watching as the boy puts his frozen fingers into the comfort of his warm jacket, shielding them from the cold.
“Not fair.”
“Very fair, actually.”
“Oh come on,” he sighs, shaking his head in disagreement, “I thought we could watch a Christmas movie as a celebration to the end of semester,” he says, tone of voice almost pleading.
Securing the last banner into its designated place, you turn towards Sunwoo with an examining look on your face. He seems to be completely serious, eyes big pools of honey as he watches your face morph as you think. Something in your stomach makes it feel like it’s flying, making you clear your throat as you avert your gaze towards the line of Christmas movie posters on the brick wall. “Fine,” you gulp, “so what do you wanna watch?”
“The Polar Express,” he says, pointing towards the A3 scale you put up last, showing one of the movies that were older, but Mr Kim decided to air anyway– as if he was aware.
Fuck, you think. That’s my favorite.
“Absolutely not,” you cough, “I hate that movie.”
“Huh? How?” he sighs, face full of disappointment.
“Just because. It’s too long.”
“It’s not even two hours?”
Eyes quickly darting towards the poster, pupils shaking as you look towards the airing dates at the very bottom, you chew on your bottom lip, trying to find a way out. “You’re working on the 18th.”
“Okay, then we can go on the 19th,” Sunwoo says, determined to make you watch the movie with him. Why? You don’t even want to know at this point.
“I go home for Christmas break on the 19th,” you say, shrugging. “See? It wasn’t meant to be.”
“Y/N, come on–”
“Listen, can’t we just go back to hating each other instead of you annoying me about this stupid movie?” you sigh. In the whirlpool of events, you forgot just how insistent Sunwoo could be– who knows, maybe this was the real reason why you were so irritated with him in the first place.
Slowly walking back towards your workplace, hearing Sunwoo’s sneakers hit the ground behind you as he trails after you like a lost puppy, a sense of momentarily victory flows through your veins when you recognise that you found your way out. There was no way Mr Kim would let his underage daughter work instead of Sunwoo, and you truly were leaving home the evening of 19th. You already had a train ticket– you’re not gonna change your plans because of a man you despised just a few days ago.
“I never really hated you, by the way. Besides, you’re only saying that because you hate the movie,” Sunwoo grunts, chiming in front of you– making you think he’s being petty and doesn’t want to talk to you anymore, surprising you when he opens the door for you and offers you a solemn gaze, waiting for you to walk through the entryway and go back to work. (For you, it’s sitting in the ticket booth in silence. For Sunwoo, it’s pretending to work in the back, since his dad is absent today again)
Reciprocating his gaze, noticing the disappointment behind your coworker’s eyes, you feel something in your stomach drop, the weight of it so heavy you quickly avert your look.
“Maybe,” you shrug.
And maybe, the true reason is something completely else.
The words resonate through your brain– ‘I never really hated you, by the way’. Funny. Then what were all those months of torture all about?
You decide you no longer want answers.
TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – WHEN HARRY MET SALLY (1989)
You can’t believe you’re doing something nice for Kim Sunwoo.
Shoes hitting the gravel, your scarf pulled up so it covers your nose from the ice cold air, a hat hugging your head in warmth and shielding you from the aggressive weather, you start to contemplate your choices and your next moves. A sigh escapes your throat when your eyes land on the marquee above the entrance of the movie theater, teeth chewing on the inside of your cheek as you shift your weight from one foot to another.
Pulling out your phone to check the time, a shiny 7:24PM stares back at you, pushing you to walk up to the door of your workplace on your day off, 24 minutes after the beginning of The polar express.
You feel silly. You feel oh so stupid when you push the door open and your body is immediately engulfed in warmth, the yellow dim lights of the cinema making your eyes slowly adjust to the brightness contrasting the darkness of the outside world. You feel like you must have gone crazy, especially when your insides start to get all light and bubbly, hints of nerves tingling at the tips of your fingertips and the deepest corners of your stomach. There’s no turning back now, you tell yourself– and when your feet automatically take you to the ticket booth, gaze landing on the boy with his bangs in his eyes and an expression worthy of a kicked puppy on his face, you suddenly feel like your trip to the cinema was all worth it.
Clearing your throat, you notify your coworker of your presence, his big, doe eyes staring at you in surprise. Sunwoo’s mouth goes agape, shock overtaking his features when he takes in your appearance. (You bet he thinks you look laughable– your eyes teary from the cold and your figure stoic, numb limbs hanging by your side.)
“What are you doing here?” he asks, the question not as aggressive as it sounded out of your lips every time he paid a visit to the cinema on his days off for all these months.
“Uh… I forgot some things in the back and I wanted to take them home tomorrow, so I came back for them,” you hum, the practiced excuse slipping out of your lips with ease, “can you come help me?”
Sunwoo looks even more surprised at your question– although there is now a hint of confusion in the mix. What could you possibly have in the back to need his help with? For as far as he knows, you only ever kept your work uniform in your locker. “What? Can’t you get it yourself…?” he asks, noticing as you shake your head in disapproval.
“It’s… it’s on the top of the lockers and I can’t reach it, so-”
“Grab a chair…?”
You didn’t really expect to have Sunwoo question your half-assed excuse. Truly, you thought this was going to go smoothly– but knowing Kim Sunwoo, you should’ve known it was never going to go the way you planned. You’re determined to win, though.
And so it’s the time to bring out the big guns– men never say no when you praise them and make yourself look incompetent.
“Please? I don’t feel like bringing a chair and you’re tall enough. It will only take a second…” you pout, watching as the male in front of you sighs and stands up from his seat, nodding at your humble request.
Sunwoo follows you as you walk down the corridor, your heart thumping with the start of your little plan. Your steps are calculated and your movements carefully programmed, the nervousness in your stomach making you even more giddy with every meter of distance you two cross.
Before you two get a chance to make it to the back, you make a swift turn and open the doors to one of the rooms on the left of the hall, dragging Sunwoo by his hand and tugging him inside. His body stumbles against yours, but the door closes behind him faster than he can react to the impact. Steadying the boy back to his feet, you watch him with anticipation, awaiting his reaction.
The truth is, you haven’t thought the plan out this far. The depiction of it in your brain always ended with you sneaking him into the projecting room and his curious eyes peering into yours. Something about the image of the events always made you feel too overwhelmed– you never dared to imagine the situation further. (That would mean admitting some hidden desires to yourself, so you never even tried. That all makes this situation twice as nerve-wrecking, though.)
“What… are we doing here?” he asks, eyes darting around the darkness of the projection room, the only light illuminating his pretty features being the movie playing behind the glass of the small booth.
“Didn’t you say you wanted to watch The polar express with me?” you ask, voice a few octaves higher than usual.
“I… did…” he mumbles, confusion making him stumble over his own words.
“Well, you are working and I leave tomorrow, so I figured I had to find a way…” you shrug, watching as Sunwoo looks at you a little frozen, big eyes staring you down, gears turning in his head. You can’t really read him– you don’t really know if he’s going to laugh at you or send you home for ruining his shift. You don’t know if he appreciates the gesture, or if he thinks you’re being embarrassing. You don’t know if he registers the slight tremble of your hands and the lightness of your breathing, you don’t know if he realizes how much his reaction could make your day or completely ruin it (just like always), and so, you panic– and when you panic, you ramble. “I know we are technically not supposed to be here– well, me, at least– but I think that being with the owner’s son could make my boss let me off even if he somehow finds out, which I doubt he will, but–”
Sunwoo’s face starts slowly morphing, the slightest of shifts slowly adding up to a change of expression, having the male break out into the biggest, happiest grin you’ve ever seen him sport. His eyes light up and glaze your features in the softest of touches, his head shaking in disbelief. “Oh, you’re adorable.”
“What?” you ask, your heart doing seven somersaults and five cartwheels, eyes a big pool of surprise.
“You did this for me?” he beams, his grin so big and pretty it takes your breath away. Butterfly wings tickle in your stomach at the sight, having you mentally curse yourself– hold it together, Y/N.
“I- I mean, I didn’t really do anything, we just sneaked in–”
“This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me,” Sunwoo hums, the teasing tone making its comeback in his voice, “actually, this might be the first sweet thing you’ve ever done for me–”
“Well, okay,” you roll your eyes, an embarrassed laugh dragging out of your throat as you turn on your heel and walk closer to the little table in the opposite end of the room, needing to avert your gaze from the boy for at least a second. The air is suddenly too heavy and it’s hard for you to breathe, heat rushing to your cheeks.
Eyes focusing on the screen in front of you, your brain tries hard to focus on your favorite Christmas movie. Failing, your head running thoughts full of conflicting emotions and erratic exclamation marks screaming the name of the boy behind you, you ask yourself how and when exactly you’ve gotten yourself into this mess.
Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten this job in the first place.
Ears painfully alert, listening to each sound heard in the small projecting room– the shuffling of Sunwoo’s feet as he nears your figure, the muffled noise of the movie playing in the screening room in front of you, the resonance of your own heartbeat in your ears as Sunwoo’s hands suddenly sneak around your middle, your jacket squeaking from the contact of his limbs as he hugs you.
“What–”
“Don’t fight me, Y/N. Just this once,” he hums, voice deep, but still a bit hesitant. It’s like he’s walking on unsteady land, cautious of his movements in fear of making you run away. He’s in a new territory, in your personal space– the scent of his cologne fills your nostrils again as his head settles itself on your shoulder, the two of you silently watching the movie for a few seconds, not really knowing how to proceed.
There’s something intimate in the way he holds you, in the way the movie is a mere background noise to the marathon of your thoughts, the blue light illuminating your faces as you both try your hardest to keep your cool.
A flashing thought of just how much you from a few months ago would hate the position it’s in right now passes by your brain, making you instantly feel foolish. Oh how much you’d love it if you stood here unaffected right now– there’s no way to battle the warmth flooding your insides right at this moment, though.
“This is nice,” he mumbles, voice barely louder than a whisper. “Thank you,” he says, your insides squeezing at the sincerity. It’s not often you get to see this side of Sunwoo– the sweet, patient one, the side of him that makes you feel safe in his arms and appreciated with the soft tone in his words. And while you realize you don’t hate the playful side of him just as much as you thought you did, you must admit the novelty of the situation makes you feel a bit more joyful than you’d like to admit.
The weight of his head disappears from your shoulder, making you feel momentarily disappointed by the action. You expect him to pull away and take a seat on the chair, to finally focus on the movie playing in front of your eyes, the thought alone making your spirit fall. The fire in your inside lights up like a match thrown into a pool of gasoline just as fast again, though, when you feel soft lips come in contact with your cheek.
They stay only for a second before they disappear, an airy laugh landing in your ear a second later. “Please don’t run away now,” he says, tone of voice uncertain, telling you that now the ball is in your court– your next actions could either make him the happiest man on Earth, or completely break him.
The choice is yours.
Your head turns his way, eyes instantly locking with his brown orbs searching for any signs of discomfort in your face. Slowly, as if still processing the events of before, your eyes trail over his features– the awfully handsome way his face was sculpted, the softness of his eyes and the sharpness of his jaw, the slope of his nose and the plushness of his lips. They’re not as chapped today, making you wonder if he started wearing vaseline, and before you get a chance to stop yourself, you start wondering of the way his lips would feel on yours, imagination running wild.
He heaves out a shaky breath, your eyes darting back into his– as if to ask for approval, see if he’s okay with it. There’s a dazy look in them, gaze pressed to your lips, then to your eyes, then your lips again– a look you take as an invitation as you act against all your best judgment and lean towards him, pressing your mouth against his.
As if testing the waters, you make the kiss short. It was long enough to engrave it into your brain, though– to remember the way his perfectly shaped lips pressed against yours, the way the world stopped just for a moment, the way he tasted of the strawberry mints he always eats at work whenever he has nothing to do.
Sunwoo seems to find liking in the action– lips glazing yours again, pressing another peck to them before he deepens the kiss, the tingling in your fingertips intensifying and the excitement bubbling in your frame making you turn in your position, front facing him and pressing up against his chest. His hands quickly adjust, slipping under your opened jacket and settling on your clothed waist, the slightest contact making your knees weak and settle your bottom against the table behind you, hands grabbing the fabric of his sweatshirt.
He pulls back to catch some air, a boyish grin breaking out on his face, forehead knocking against yours in a sweet, giddy manner. “I’ve wanted to do this for months,” he huffs.
The sentiment makes a thousand question marks appear in your head– why did he make your life a living hell, then? Why did he pull pranks on you and make you hate every second spent with him? Why did he make you so furious each time and argued with you about the smallest things? How could Sunwoo possibly have wanted this for months, when you just only started noticing his attractiveness a few weeks ago?
“Why–”
“I’ll tell you later,” he says, cutting you off as he presses his lips against yours again, your mouth automatically welcoming his presence. Brain erased of all previous questions, his kisses working like a spell, you focus all your senses on the man in front of you.
Having your hands feeling up his abdomen, Sunwoo hesitantly asks for entrance with his tongue, running it along your lower lip until you welcome him in. You like this type of power battle much more than the one you had going on until now, and with each new movement, you feel yourself falling apart under him.
His fingers tug down on the sides of your jacket, pulling it down. You don’t need it anymore– with how heated you’ve gotten, you are actually kind of happy that it is gone. One of his cold hands sneaks under the hem of your jumper, fingertips trailing up and down your side, the other one tugs down the hat from your head, discarding it somewhere on the table behind you before it finds its place on the side of your jaw, angling your head in a way that allows him to deepen the kiss even more, the contact of your lips growing firmer as seconds go by.
Your scarf is swiftly untangled off your neck, Sunwoo’s skilled lips blindly trailing down the side of your mouth towards your jaw, feathery kisses ticking you before he gets more bold and sucks on the side of your throat, a shaky breath shyly escaping your lips.
“Sunwoo…” you say, tone of voice not really present, no real intention behind the call of his name.
The boy hums against your neck, having you gasp again when he lightly bites the softness of your skin, your hands shooting up to tangle in his hair when he licks the spot to soothe it after. Threading your fingers through his locks to ground yourself, you can’t believe you ever hoped for him to get a trim.
His hands firmly hold the underside of your thighs before he hoists you up on the table, continuing his confident attack on your neck when you’re sitting comfortably on the hard surface. It’s not like you didn’t feel excited, the tiniest bit thrilled at the mental image of his possessive marks all over your throat, but you were glad it was freezing outside and you could wear a turtleneck to hide the bruises from your family tomorrow. He nuzzles his nose into the hot skin of your neck, the action making you grin in ecstasy and endearment.
Getting lost in the way he was handling you, his touches firm, yet delicate, acted out in a way that makes you feel safe and comfortable with his passionate ministrations, you almost don’t notice the door swinging open, the figure of your boss like striking like the lightning in the doorway of the screening room.
“Sunwoo!”
The boy jumps, his body quickly ungluing itself off yours, as he listens to his father scolding him. “I don’t care what you two have going on over here, but you’re on clock! There’s a line waiting for the tickets for tomorrow’s movie and someone has to sell them right now.”
The boy clears his throat, voice a little hoarse. “Coming,” he says, trying to keep his composure. His hair’s a little tousled, cheeks rosy and lips puffed– the image that will haunt you in your sweetest nightmares now– and before you get a chance to say anything or let your brain process the events of the last few minutes, your panic works faster, making you act.
Quickly scattering for your things, you run out of the projecting room without saying goodbye to either Sunwoo or your boss, never once looking back.
You think of what you’ve done on your way home, bones freezing now that they weren’t in his presence. You try hard to regret your actions, but you don’t find it in you to do so– it’s kind of hard with the feeling of his lips still playing with yours.
Even though you’d hate to admit it just a few weeks ago, you must do it now.
Kim Sunwoo does make a really good kisser.
TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – PRIDE AND PREJUDICE (2005)
There are many thoughts swimming around your brain as you walk through the coldness of the town the next day, your duffel bag hanging off your shoulder. There’s a conflict between the actions of your body and your thoughts – feet on their journey to the train station, but head stuck in the small projection room of your workplace, your coworker’s kisses occupying your every sober thought.
It’s not surprising, but you haven't heard from Sunwoo since you left the cinema last night. Not a single text or a call– but you figure that this is just your dynamic. Sunwoo’s never been much of a texter when it came to you. He’s never had the reason to text or call you, unless it was work-related, and you think it will stay that way, even though you did make out with him just last night.
Maybe he regretted it. Maybe he just didn’t feel like pondering on the events any longer– maybe it was just a one-time thing for him and he didn’t put much significance to it. You wouldn’t know– it’s not like you’re suddenly an expert on the way he feels and operates.
You, though? How do you feel about the turn of events? Despite not wanting to admit it to yourself, the answer came to you the second you tried to fall asleep last night, every soaring thought in your brain showing you the reflection of his dazed look, desires of wanting him to look at you that way all the time oh so skilfully infesting themselves into every crevice of your neocortex. You want Sunwoo to like you. You want Sunwoo to want you. You want Sunwoo to be so enchanted with your existence that he thinks about you before he goes to sleep at night– just like you have done for the past few weeks.
The answer comes to you again when you feel something wet fall on the top of your cheek, making you turn your eyes towards the sky. Your breathing comes out in puffs of air as you watch the magic happen right in front of you– and as you watch the snowflakes scatter all around the place, you are in another inner argument. While the rational side of your brain is screaming at you to keep walking to the station so you don’t miss your train home, the delirious side is cooperating with your feet for once, your figure crossing to the other side of the street and walking over to the place you could get to even with your eyes closed at this point; all because you suddenly remember the conversation you had with Sunwoo when you were putting on ornaments to the Christmas tree.
It’s the first snow of the season.
Kim Sunwoo loves it when it snows.
Speed-walking towards the vintage movie theater at the corner of the town’s square, you feel something akin to childish excitement bubbling in your insides, a hint of nervousness inviting itself into your insides when you push the door open and aim straight towards the ticket booth, where you know Sunwoo will be sitting, wasting another shift away.
He’s there– eyes pressed towards the window, gaze following the snowflakes kissing the cold ground. You expected more excitement in his character, more childlike joy in his figure– and after taking in his composure: shoulders slouching and fingers picking at the skin of his cuticles, you suddenly feel silly for coming.
Well, here goes nothing, you think.
“Sunwoo,” you call, making the boy snap his head towards you in surprise, big eyes meeting yours the moment he recognises your voice.
You don’t receive a verbal response for a while. The boy just stares at you, a bit hesitant and clueless. His face reminds you of a small puppy trying to take in the new situation in front of it. His lips are formed into a small pout, gears in his brain turning and trying to process the reality of having you standing there, face beaten from the cold.
Clearing your throat, you try to take charge of the situation. “It’s snowing outside,” you say, eyes peering out of the window, all thoughts suddenly escaping your brain, words blanking off your tongue, “and, well… you said you like the snow, so…”
The boy’s mouth hangs agape, a twinkle in his eyes slowly appearing once again when he stares at you, your nervousness doing wonders to your conversation skills. “I- I don’t even know what I wanted to say with that, it’s just- I don’t know… I saw it was snowing and I automatically came here, so-” you stutter, the sentence cutting off as Sunwoo jumps to his feet and grins, wordlessly taking your hand into his and dragging you outside.
The duffel bag falls off your shoulder somewhere in the middle of the hall, discarded to the floor, before Sunwoo sharply halts in his steps and runs back towards the ticket booth, still dragging you with him by the hand. The boy grabs something off the table, the item not visible in your rear point of view, and before you have a chance to register what’s happening, you’re outside of the building again, coldness instantly slapping you in the face.
It’s dark out, but the heaviness of the snow provides enough light in the silent evening for you to see where you’re going under the yellow lampposts on the street. Instantly noticing the lack of Sunwoo’s warm hand in yours when he suddenly lets go, you turn your head to look at the male.
Terror fills your veins when you notice him gathering snow from the ground and pressing it into a tight ball, a screech escaping your throat when you watch him swing it at you, a playful, boyish grin playing with his features. The male chases you around and most of the snowballs don't even hit your running figure (he does have an awful aim), but you still duck anyway and try your hardest to win your snowball fight.
Numb fingers creating snowballs and halting them at his tall frame, but missing most of the time due to his fast reflexes, you laugh and let go of all the worries and questions clouding your judgment. Sunwoo looks enthusiastic, so much more lively than when you found him in the ticket booth just a few minutes ago– but that’s still not enough for you to let him win.
Gathering the icy texture into your hands, you run towards him, taking advantage of his inattention as he’s bent over and taking more snow into his hold, and halt the whiteness into his face just as he straightens his back and wants to prepare for his attack.
More laughter bubbles out of your chest when you watch him drop his snowball to the ground, admitting defeat. The snow is all over his face– slowly running down his cheeks like teardrops, redness tinting his nose and the sides of his face.
The male shudders from the cold, and you instantly start feeling bad. Only now you realize that he ran out without a coat, a gasp escaping your throat. “Oh god,” you mourn, hands flying towards his frozen face to wipe off the snow from his cheeks, fingers carefully tracing over his cold skin. His eyes open as he watches you, something in his gaze so tender you feel yourself melting even in the middle of the snowstorm.
The male shuffles his hands into the front pocket of his gray hoodie, taking out the item you now recognise to be the hat you accidentally forgot in the projecting room yesterday (and already mentally paid goodbye to), his frozen fingers tugging the fabric onto your head.
“Why are you putting this on me? You’re the one that’s freezing over here!” you scold him, shaking your head at the male.
He rewards you with an amused grin, watching your next moves. Acting on auto-pilot, not really putting much thought into your actions, you unzip your jacket and step impossibly near to the male. Holding the jacket open, you hug him around his middle, making sure you are sharing the warmth with him and keeping him as close as possible, shielding him from the cold with both the fabric of your puffer jacket and the heat radiating off your body.
Faces just inches away from each other, you peer at his face. He wears a warm expression, eyes peeking out from behind his dark bangs. Clouds of breath escape his mouth when he speaks, voice quiet, as if to not ruin the atmosphere. “I thought you would regret it,” he says, making you break out into a foolish smile.
“I thought so too,” you nod.
“And you don’t?”
Shrugging, you reply. “Not really.”
“Why?” he asks, suddenly doubtful. “You said you hated me. Which was odd to hear, honestly, since I did all this to get your attention anyway and I thought it was just how our dynamic works, but… I could see how it could be annoying to you…”
Chuckling, you roll your eyes at the sudden revelation. It’s sickeningly sweet how endearing he looks when he doubts himself, explaining himself to you in a nervous blabber. “I don’t hate you. At least not anymore.”
“You don’t?”
“No,” you shake your head, a tender gaze shared between the two of you, “I actually quite like you, I think…” you mumble, a little bashful to admit it out loud.
“You do?” he asks, the twinkle in his eye glimmering twice as much as ever before, tone of voice playful, yet laced with honest joy and surprise at your confession.
“I do,” you nod, voice barely louder than a whisper as you watch him lean closer towards your face, cold nose bumping into yours before he angles his head, breath mixing in with yours in the few seconds before he dares to kiss you again, capturing your lips with his.
The kiss is sweet. The kiss tastes of strawberry mints and the first snow, of unsaid confessions and longing looks sent your way every time you weren’t looking. The kiss makes your stomach fill with a thousand little butterflies, it melts away the ice around you, the two of you like a spark of a fire in the middle of a snowy land.
His actions have your composure faltering, hands untangling from behind him and moving up to cradle his face. He melts under your touch, leaning into you as your fingers trail over his cheekbones. Holding on to him, thumbs padding his soft skin, you’re reminded of the cold only when he breaks off you and shudders again, teeth clattering from the freezing temperature.
“Let’s get you inside,” you say, planting a short peck to his lips, “before you turn into an icicle,” you giggle, watching as he scrunches up his face.
“I won’t,” he shakes his head, “love warms me up,” he grins, making you roll your eyes at his bold statement.
“You’re so cheesy.”
“But you quite like me anyways, no?”
Sighing, moving away from him and tugging him back inside the cinema, you shake your head at the boy. “I’ll think about it on my train home,” you bite back, opening the door to the theater and aiming towards the duffel bag you dropped on your way out.
Sunwoo watches you with a warm gaze, an adorable smile playing with his lips. His figure seems to be visibly taking in the heat again, his face adorning a flush, pink color.
“So I take it as you’re not quitting anymore, then?” he teases as you walk back to the door, both of you ignoring the customers waiting for their tickets in the line in front of the forgotten booth.
“We’ll see,” you shrug.
“I’ll text you the schedule for January?”
“You better text me about something else too, Kim Sunwoo,” you bark back, opening the door towards the cold landscape, “or you’re gonna have a very uncomfortable return back to work in January!”
The boy laughs, the noise like a Christmas carol to your ears. “Noted.”
Slipping outside, you watch as he waves at you goodbye, your feet dragging through the snow towards the train station having more pep to their step now. You don’t even know if you can make it to the train on time, but you surprisingly have no regrets– you can always catch the next one, right?
Mentally wanting to slap yourself for the lovesick grin playing with your lips, you sigh.
The male that once made your life a living hell is now the one you look forward to seeing the most once you come back after Christmas break. It’s kind of strange, really.
One would think that working with movies on the daily would prepare you better for the biggest plot twist of your life.
#dbn: holiday party#deoboyznet#sunwoo#kim sunwoo#the boyz#tbz#sunwoo fluff#sunwoo scenario#sunwoo x reader#kim sunwoo fluff#kim sunwoo x reader#kim sunwoo imagine#sunwoo imagine#the boyz fluff#the boyz x reader#the boyz fic#the boyz scenario#the boyz imagine#tbz x reader#tbz fic#tbz fluff
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only for you
18+ smut!
AN: this is my very first smut fic, EVER! so i apologize if its bad or not what you expected.
summary: jack noticed you had been spending a lot more time with urban, jack gets jealous and tries to argue with urban.
requested by a lovely anon🌸
jack had been in the studio for over 6 hours, the only time he has came out was to get some water and snacks and would head back to the home studio.
at this point you were getting bored so you went to go knock on the studio door.
when you knocked you heard a loud huff and an aggressive, “come in”
“hi baby, you need some food?” you started walking towards him and started playing in his hair.
“no but i need you out because i cant fucking focus.”
“uhm jackman!!” “what now!?” “i.. never mind, sleep on the sofa. i dont want to see you tonight.” “yeah whatever.”
you left the room with tears brimming in your eyes, you went straight to urbans room and knocked and urban said a quick “come in”
once you walked in urban immediately asked you what was wrong.
“jack has been being the biggest dick, i get hes working but he yelled at me because i asked him if he wanted some food..”
“its ok mamas come here”
urban pulled you into his chest and he let you lay there and cry.
after a few minutes of you crying urban put on a tv show he knew you loved and your attention went straight to that, forgetting about jack.
after a couple hours of you and urban talking, you and urban were laying in bed, urban had his shirt off and you had your sweatpants on and an undershirt, you were both just watching tv.
until jack walked in.
“hi ba-“ “what the fuck!” “what??” you looked at urban in hopes he could answer your confusion.
but of course.
he couldn’t.
“jack whats going on baby??” “why the fuck are you in bed with urban??” “you were working so me and urban were just watching tv?? its not like we’re cuddling or naked or anything.”
“y/n come here” you slowly got out of the bed and made your way to jack.
“y/n go upstairs to your room” urban told you not wanting you to watch your boyfriend and your best friend about to argue.
you quickly went back upstairs and on your way up you heard jack and urban screaming at each other.
after a little while you heard a loud thump.
you immediately ran back downstairs to find jack and urban fighting.
“JACKMAN AND URBAN!!”
as soon as they heard there names they stopped fighting.
“jackman thomas. go upstairs and go take a shower i’ll be up there in a minute.”
jack hesitated but went upstairs and when you heard the water running you started talking to urban.
“what the fuck happened??” “he started yelling at me talking about how i was trying to get in your pants or whatever, we started arguing then i guess we fought.” “..when jack gets out go take a shower please.” “alright.”
“i swear im like yall damn mother.” you said under your breath as you walked out of urbans room.
you walked back upstairs into the bathroom, “jack hurry up and get out the shower, yall i act like yall have no fucking home training.”
once jack got out you started putting bandages and bruise cream wherever he gotten scratched or whatever he had gotten hit hard.
once you were done you started putting your things back in the box and gathering the trash to throw away.
“i’ll be back im going tale care of urban.
“hes a grown ass man he can take care of himself.” “jackman! stop acting like a 13 year old, hes still your best friend, he did nothing wrong, and your lucky im even letting you sleep in the bed ‘cause you were supposed to be sleeping on the couch. now like i said, i’ll be back.”
you went upstairs to urbans room to find him in her sweatpants smoking.
“let me hit” “you’ve never smoked before, maybe another time” “yea whatever.”
you searched urbans body for any scratches and bruises, once you found some you put some bruising cream and bandages on them.
“thanks mamas” “your welcome urban.”
you went back to the bedroom and found jack laying on his back, one hand behind his head and the other one him strolling on his phone.
you climbed into bed and jack quickly placed his phone down to cuddle you but you were quicker and pushed him off.
“ma..” “no jackman, you acted like the biggest asshole in the world, tomorrow your going to apologize to him by the way!” “WHAT!!?” “you heard me loud and clear.” “fine but lose that fucking attitude.”
“i dont have one.”
“you clearly do. lose it for i fuck it out of you.”
“jack leave me alone fuck.”
jack raised up and grabbed you by your neck squeezing it lightly.
“lose it. now.” jack voice was getting raspy, you could tell he was getting impatient and was ready to fuck you until you couldn’t even say your own name, and you couldn’t wait, so you played the game with him.
“jack, fuck me. please..” “dirty ass slut.”
jack let go of your neck and watched you scramble to take off your clothes.
once you were fully naked jack took your chin in his hand and pulled downward so your mouth was facing right were his cock was, covered by a thin piece of cotton.
with his free hand he lowered his pants enough for his cock to spring free, lightly slapping his stomach.
“suck.”
you put his tip in your mouth using your tongue to draw light circles around it.
you reached you eyes up to look at jack whos head was all the way back, after a while jack got sick of your teasing.
“stop trying to tease me and suck this dick.”
you put as much as you could fit of jacks cock in you mouth and grabbed the rest with your hand.
jack was quick to pop your hand away though.
“nuh uh, put that pretty little mouth to work, suck the whole thing. without your hands.”
you took his whole cock out your mouth “its to big, i cant fit the whole thing in!” “i dont care.”
you huffed and tried to place the whole thing in your mouth, jack was grunting every so often. you could tell he was trying to hold back moans.
jack noticed you struggling and took his hand and pushed your head further down his cock, jack let out a loud moan as you gagged on him.
“faster.”
you immediately started sucking him faster, jack letting his sweet moans eco all around the room, his hand found its way into your hair, jack twitched in your mouth, you got ready to swallow knowing jack wouldn’t let you up until you he knew you swallowed ever drop of his cum.
“FUCK!” jack threw his head back and came into your mouth.
you took him out your mouth and swallowed the cum, showing him your tongue when you were done.
“good girl, face down ass up.”
you got into the position jack just had told you to get into, jack went behind you looking at your glistening pussy, jack ran his fingers through your folds making you shiver.
jack chuckled at the way you looked, he knew he had full power over your body at this moment.
and you knew it to.
jack took his thick cock into his hand and rubbed in through your folds, teasing your throbbing entrance.
you wiggled your ass on him to try and slip his cock in, but all you got was a harsh smack on the ass.
“what have i told you about trying to rush me huh?” “hurry uppp!”
jack pulled your hair, pulling you up to his chest. “stop getting fucking smart with me, im done playing with you.”
“sorry jack.”
jack let go of the grip he had on your hair and roughly rammed into you.
you grabbed into the sheets as your face duh deeper into the soft fluffy blanket.
jack waited a few seconds to let you adjust to his size.
once you were ready you wiggle your ass back and forth while jack put his hands on your hips and started to thrust in and out of you.
“mm jack..”
jack took his hand off your waist and but a harsh smack on your ass, making you whine and jump from the sudden contact.
“whats my name when im inside of you?” jack asked thrusting into you harder, letting a few grunts slip out
“baby please”
“i asked you a question answer me slut.”
“DADDY!”
“act like you got some sense when im inside of you.”
jack thrusted into you harder, she sounds of sweet moans leaving your lips as jack grunted into your ear.
your face was pushing harder and harder into the sheets as jack pounded into you.
“fuck, you have such a smart mouth to have such a good pussy, i shouldn’t even let you cum. when i tell you to lose the attitude, lose it.”
“jack please.”
once again jack stopped moving in and out of you and pulled you back by your hair into his chest.
“y/n, you got one more fucking time to call me by my name. next time your dumbass won’t cum.”
“yes sir.”
jack pushed you back down letting go of your hair, pulling completely out of you.
“get on your back.”
you quickly started to get onto your back, you propped your legs up and jack started holding them to make sure they would stay.
jack let your legs rest on his thighs as he rubbed his cock against your glistening folds.
you wanted to whine or push back but you knew jack would just punish you for it.
jack roughly pushed into you, jack didnt give you anytime to adjust, he kept ramming into you, your perfect tits bouncing up and down every time jack thrusted.
jack reached down to take one of your tits in his mouth, he played with the other one with his thumb and index finger.
“daddy please. its to much!” jack released your nipple from his mouth “you can take it mamas, be a big girl for me.”
jack put his head in the crock of you neck, jack was becoming unable to control his moans, he was panting and whining in your ear, and you loved every second of it.
you felt yourself about to cum. “FUCK! jack im about to cum!!” “let it go mamas, cum all over me.”
jack lifted his head up so he could look at your face while you came on his pretty cock.
after 7 more thrust, you came all over jack.
jack knew he wouldn’t last longer, the feeling of you clenching all over him, and him looking at your pretty face whine and moan had him in a trance.
jack started to twitch inside of you, you got ready to take his cum, jack came inside of you but kept thrusting, trying to keep your and his high going.
you tried running from him, but of course he pulled you back.
“nuh uh, where you going?”
after a few more thrust jack pulled out and collapsed on your chest.
you both laid there for a few seconds looking around till you felt jack get up.
jack came back with a wet wash cloth and some water.
jack handed you the water and started to clean you off.
“i love you mamas.”
“i love you more jackie.”
you drunk half the water and put it on your nightstand, jack lifted you up and brought you to the bathroom to pee while he cleaned himself off.
jack brought you back to the room, he put his hoodie on you and walked back to the bathroom, you laid there waiting for jack to cone back.
you seen the lights switch off and seen jack walk out, he only had on a pair of boxers.
jack laid down next to you and kissed you goodnight. he laid on top off you and fell asleep to your chest rising up and down with every breathe, making him feel more comfortable.
#jack harlow x reader#jack harlow#jack harlow fluff#jackman thomas harlow#jack harlow imagine#jack harlow x y/n#jack harlow x you#jack harlow smut
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trust me
pairing: bang chan x reader
rating/genre: comfort, fluff, sprinkle of angst
summary: you're having a bad day and your boyfriend chan is there to try and make you feel better.
warnings: reader is low key hella sad in this (take care of yourselves yall <3) + a steamy kiss (very self indulgent ik i'm sorry)
word count: 2.7k
song(s) to listen to while reading: steamroller by phoebe bridgers (reader is hella sad so are we surprised lol), renee's song by bazzi, fall by chloe x halle
note: while i try to tame some bigger fic ideas into submission i'll occasionally polish up + share some of my more decent smaller pieces from years past. pretty sure i wrote this one in the throws of the p*ndemic while struggling with college and feeling hella touch starved...so yeah...enjoy lol <3
————
It was one of those days - one where that funny feeling had bubbled up inside of you, seemingly out of nowhere. You knew it all too well by now, knew its signs and its symptoms. One moment you’d be fine, and then it would happen - a dreaded phone call for an appointment that you could no longer put off, a tedious task at work, a much needed item that you’d misplaced and couldn’t find - sometimes it was all of these things in one day and more, and suddenly you weren’t ok. And as much as you’d try to not let all the frustrations of life get to you, as much as you’d try to hold on to the good, to the light, sometimes bit by bit it would still slip from your grasp until you were tired of trying and there was nothing left inside of you but a dull gray.
You hated when you got in these sorts of moods - used to think there'd be some stage in life, some milestone you could reach, thing you could achieve that would make them go away forever, but you’d survived enough of them by now to know that it was a lifelong battle. There were highs and lows, and today just happened to be one of the lows.
Today also just happened to be one where your boyfriend Bang Chan was supposed to be coming over. His presence was one that so often brought light into your life - fun and laughter and a smile to every situation, but despite having accepted that you were in a sour mood, the thought of him seeing you this way made you feel worse instead of better - like a recluse undeserving of such sweet affection. As if he could hear your thoughts from afar, your cellphone began ringing on the kitchen table, temporarily snapping you right out of your self pity.
“Am I still good to stop by in an hour?" You could practically hear the excitement in his voice, imagining his charming smile immediately, but the warmth in your chest only lasted for a second before you just felt even more upset with yourself. You didn’t wanna burden him with your feelings - tramp all over his joy with your frustration.
"Hey Chan. I'm sorry, but I'm kind of feeling like trash right now." You thought maybe that would be the end of it, hoped that he would read between the lines, but he was completely oblivious, a caring tone seeping into his words as he tried to help you instead.
"Are you sick? I can pick up something for you and bring it by if you want.”
"No, that's not exactly it," you began, struggling to find the words. There was a long pause on the line, and you could hear Chan shifting, as if he was sitting up. You cursed in your head. There was no way he was gonna let this go now - not when you were being so distant.
“Babe, you know you can tell me anything right?” His use of the nickname made your heart flutter again, gently coaxing you to open up to him - to be honest.
“I know.”
“Then talk to me.”
“I just…I don’t know, it’s stupid.”
“Nothing you say is stupid,” Chan said immediately. “Tell me what’s going on.”
You let out a sigh before nervously continuing. “It’s just…sometimes I’ll get in this really weird headspace and it makes me feel like crap and...I'm just annoyed with myself. I'm sorry if that doesn't make any sense...I think maybe I just need to be alone right now," you tried to get the last words out but began to break down a little as you really thought about what you’d said. Something about hearing it out loud made it feel all the more real, your eyes beginning to water and throat beginning to dry up.
“It sounds like you're upset. You sure you don't want me to come over?”
You took a big breath, trying to calm yourself before speaking again, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find it in you to say anything else. It felt paralyzing - being stuck between the part of you that just wanted him to be with you and the part that was afraid you’d scare him away forever with your feelings. The more you thought about it the more emotional you got, and you felt a tear run down your cheek before you started to sob silently into the phone.
"Babe? Y/n?” Chan asked, voice becoming laced with concern.
"Yeah?" It was all you could manage to sob out.
"I'm coming over right now," he said quickly, making the decision for you. You could already hear shuffling sounds in the background as he presumably scrambled to grab his things.
"Give me like twenty minutes ok? And just stay on the line with me please? Can you do that for me?"
"Yeah. I'm sorry."
“There's nothing to be sorry for," Chan said softly.
————
In less than twenty minutes you heard a hurried knock on your door. Hanging up on your phone, you pulled yourself off of the couch and shuffled over to the entrance of your apartment, unlocking and pulling open the door to reveal your boyfriend's slightly panicked face.
“Hey…” he whispered gently when he saw you. You moved out of the way and he quickly stepped inside, setting down a bunch of bags before he turned back around and immediately enveloped you in his arms. The warmth of his body pressed against yours easily disarmed you, walls falling down so that all you could think about was his sturdy embrace.
"I'm sorry,” you mumbled into his chest, trying to look at him. “I didn't mean to worry y-"
"Hmm. Shush. No apologizing. Just let me hold you for a minute, yeah?"
You nodded your head against him, silent as you slowly relaxed all the muscles in your body and let yourself really feel his warmth, feel all of the love radiating from his body into yours. He smelled like his shower gel, a hint of spearmint seeping into your lungs as your breathing began to slow and your eyes closed, whizzing thoughts in your head beginning to dissipate one by one. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his black sweater, holding on as if you never wanted to let go, and he let you - staying wrapped around you for an entire minute, just like he said. One of his hands stayed firmly wrapped around your waist while the other went up to start rubbing all the way from your head to the middle of your back, repeating the motion leisurely. You released a sigh of content as he did this, feeling yourself start to calm down, heart rate beginning to slow. Eventually he loosened his arms just enough to pull back a little and look at your tear-stained face.
"Let's sit down and I'll get you some food to eat hmm?" he said quietly, thumb wiping across your wet cheeks. You nodded, feeling a bit like a child as he lead you to your couch and wrapped a blanket around you before getting you some food from one of the bags he brought. When he came back you noticed his hair was a bit wet, presumably still drying from a shower he must have taken right before calling you, strands curling from the dampness. And as you looked down at the container of food he’d placed in your hands you realized it was your favorite meal from your favorite place. He even remembered how you always asked for extra sauce.
Chan stayed silent as you slowly picked up your fork and began to eat, still sniffling a little. He easily found the remote to your tv, switching it on in a practiced familiarity, and put on one of your favorite movies, letting it play softly in the background before digging in to his own food.
When you’d both finished eating, he silently patted his lap, and you knew without any explanation that he was asking you to lean yourself back into his embrace. You did so shyly, Chan grabbing the blanket and draping it around the two of you before he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you even closer. Finally you relaxed, leaning your head into the crook of his neck and turning slightly so that you could shamelessly wrap your arms around his middle, no longer even focusing on the tv at all. It felt so comforting to be in his arms that your eyes immediately began to close, his embrace luring you to sleep.
————
When you woke up it was dark outside. You blinked a couple times, shifting slightly before realizing that you were still completely wrapped up in Chan’s arms. To your embarrassment, you caught him peeking at you with the softest look on his face, your heart beating a little faster because you’d never been this close to him for so long before.
“Better?” he asked you simply, thumb moving to rub against your elbow gently.
You opened your eyes a bit wider, immediately beginning to shift up on the couch.
“I’m sorry, I didn't realize how late it was," you said quickly instead of answering his question, feeling guilty as you shifted a little from his embrace. You’d essentially used him as your own personal pillow for who knows how many hours. “I didn’t mean to keep you here like that for so long,” you continued to ramble, but Chan only shook his head in response.
“Y/n. Hey - look at me,” Chan said with a soothing tone. You stopped your shuffling and did as he asked.
“Do you feel better?” he repeated his question from earlier, and you finally nodded a little before picking at the blanket on your lap.
“Yeah. I’m just sorry I wasted your time because of some dumb mood I was in," you responded, annoyed with yourself as you pushed your hair out of your face roughly.
“You know it’s not a crime to feel sad, right?” Chan started gently after a couple beats of silence, clearly trying to find the right words as his thumb continued to lightly rub against your skin. “Even if there isn’t a clear reason - that doesn’t make how you’re feeling any less real.”
“I guess.” You dismissed his words easily, clearly not taking them to heart.
"Why do you always do that?" he asked lightly.
"What do you mean?”
"Talk yourself down. Dismiss how you're feeling,” he elaborated, a little concern in his voice once again. “It makes me worry about you.”
Your eyes widened in surprise before you looked off to the side.
“I don’t know, I guess it’s just out of habit.”
Chan tapped your elbow, silently asking you to look at him again.
"Can I tell you something?” he whispered into the quiet. You nodded curiously.
"I care about you - so much that it scares me sometimes,” he said earnestly, raking a hand through his hair. "You're so thoughtful, so kind, such an amazing listener - you make it so easy for me to be honest about how I'm feeling, and I've never felt more comfortable talking to anyone else,” he continued, looking down a little as he said that last part.
His words made you feel shy all over again, not expecting him to be so open with you. You willed yourself to keep looking at him.
"I guess what I'm trying to say is that…I wanna make you feel safe too - safe to share how you’re feeling with me, the good and the bad. Because that’s how you make me feel.”
“Chan…” you said, lightly smacking his arm in jest as you looked away from him, tears flooding your eyes for a different reason. But he just leaned forward and kissed your temple, pulling you back into his arms gently before continuing.
“Trust me, ok?” Chan asked as you nodded into his chest. “I want you to know that you can always share how you’re feeling with me - even if it’s sad or you don’t think it makes any sense - even if I can’t fix it for you - I’ll always at least be here to listen, I promise. Just don’t hide from me, yeah?”
Tears were falling from your eyes now - not because you were sad, but because Chan’s care for you felt so unconditional, so devoid of judgement - and you’d never known care like that from a partner before. You didn’t have any words to respond in that moment - all you knew was that you wished the two of you could stay on your couch, just like this, forever.
"I didn't mean to make you cry again," Chan said, a little worried as he saw your expression. "Let me get you some t -”
But you leaned up and kissed him gently, cutting off his words. This wasn't your first kiss, but it was definitely the first that you had initiated. Usually you would just stare at his lips longingly or give the tiniest of hints until he finally caught on to what you wanted, but this time you couldn't hold yourself back. You just felt this boost of confidence, an unrelenting need to express a feeling that words couldn't define.
Chan was shocked at first, but he quickly fell into it, closing his eyes and immediately wrapping his hands around your waist oh so gently as his lips began to move against yours slowly, lightly, with the utmost care. You each tilted your heads instinctively to opposite sides, still not coming up for any air as you maneuvered yourself back into his lap and brought a hand up to caress the side of his face before combing your fingers through his hair instead, a tiny noise of contentment leaving you in that moment.
“Y/n…” he groaned softly against your smiling lips.
"Hmmm?" you responded, still in a feeling of utter bliss. Your other hand was rubbing across his upper chest and shoulder soothingly, and you leaned in and kissed him again before he could even muster enough sense to respond, unable to stop yourself. Chan’s lips began moving against yours again, and he started to lean forward until your back was against a pillow on the couch and he was hovering over you completely. It felt as if he was trying to reach your heart with just the movements his warm, pillowy lips made against yours.
His thumbs started rubbing soothing circles into your waist and you felt like you were floating on a cloud, mind becoming hazy as your head became filled with thoughts of him and only him. He left three final pecks on your lips, finally mustering enough self control to pull back before things got even more heated. His hands slid from your waist all the way up to your cheeks, caressing them softly.
You were smiling softly but genuinely, in complete bliss as he leaned in and kissed your forehead sweetly before finally saying, “I love you, you know?"
“I love you too,” you whispered quietly, just enough for him to hear.
He rubbed his thumb near the corner of your lips, eyes crawling all over your face before he said a little regretfully, "I hate for this to end but I don't wanna keep you up any later than it already is."
“Then just stay over for the night. Please?" you begged a little bit and put a pout on your face. He immediately kissed it off of you and you couldn’t help but laugh a little.
"Are you sure?"
Neither of you had ever spent the night at each other's place, so it was completely new territory and you could tell he didn’t want to seem like he was taking advantage of the entire situation. You shifted up a little to kiss his forehead back.
“Chan, I want you to. I promise. Please?”
You meant every word. You wanted nothing more than to hold him all night long.
"Ok," he said quietly, grin growing on his face until you saw that cheeky smile you loved so dearly.
————
That night was one of the most peaceful you’d ever had in recent memory. Buried deep under your sheets, nestled under the stars, you curled yourself into his arms - so close that you could feel his heartbeat against your cheek, slow and steady. And you fell asleep just like that - sweet dreams eventually melting away into the morning sun.
#bang chan imagines#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#bang chan fluff#stray kids fluff#skz fluff#bang chan x reader#stray kids x reader#skz x reader
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The Captains Daughter Chapter 11
A/N: kinda rushed this one but a lil more action for ya. Thank yall so much for reading my fic!!
1.5k words
Reader pov:
The next morning at breakfast you were extra groggy. The single off day had thrown off your sleep schedule. Dark circles hung under your eyes, you squinted at the bright light in the mess. You felt a presence behind you, you turned around to reveal Ghost.
"Listen Y/N..." he said in a monotone voice.
"About the other day, at training. I'm sorry." He let out a breath as he said the last word.
You raised an eyebrow.
"You... your sorry?" heat flooded to your cheeks.
"Yeah I... shouldn't have pushed you so hard." This was very unlike him. It felt like the walls were down. You took this opportunity to slip in a joke without getting yelled at.
"You have a heart?" you smirked.
"A cold one" he grunted.
You smiled, you felt like he opened up, like there was some understanding between you two now. Like you were closer. He didn't appear to reciprocate as his face had the same stone cold look. Your mind was taken off of it as everyone else began to gather at the table, talking loudly. Price quickly quieted them down as he cleared his throat to make an announcement.
"Meeting room, right after breakfast. Mission today," he kept it short and sweet.
You finished your breakfast while listening to Gaz and Soap debate on a variety of topics.
"Pineapple belongs on pizza!" Gaz shouted.
"No. It. does. NOT!!!" Soap said, standing up.
Things were just getting interesting, but then your father scolded them. At that point, you decided to throw away your trash and head towards the meeting room. You walked down the corridor and stopped for a moment to look out the window. Snow whirled around, the pine trees outside had icicles dangling from them. It was a truly picturesque scene. It brought you back to years ago, when outside your living room window was a landscape just like this one.
It was a beautiful morning, just like this one. It was a dreamy white Christmas, one you would only see in movies. The family, gathered by the tree, basking in the comfort of each other. The mother, recording the kids opening the presents. The father, just as surprised at the gifts as the kids are. Except, this was not the movies, your mother had left that summer, and your father was slowly recovering. He managed to put together a breakfast for you, the pancakes were burnt, but you knew better than to complain. At this point, you understood that mommy wasn't coming back, and daddy needed his space. Today was especially hard for him, even at your young age, you knew to be extra cheery to try and bring up his spirits. You opened the gifts he bought you, thanking him after each one, until there was one remaining under the tree. He squinted at it.
"I didn't put that one there" He said suspiciously.
"I did!" You said with a grin.
He looked at you, puzzled as you placed the wrapped present in his hands. He tore off the wrapping paper and it almost brought him to tears. He held up a framed picture of the two of you standing together at thanksgiving at your grandparents house. You had on the adorable long sleeve with a cartoon turkey on it, your father wore a polo and nice pants. It was one of the first times he had genuinely smiled since your mother left. The frame was decorated in a kiddish fashion, you had made it yourself at preschool.
"Y/N..." he choked.
"I love it."
You broke into a smile as he was at a loss for words. To this day, that picture sits on top of your mantle. After that day, Price's mood improved tremendously. He no longer spent long hours in his bedroom alone. There were still tough days, but from that moment on, things got better.
Your trance was broken by Gaz's voice, "Y/N come on! the meetings about to start."
"Coming," You said, as you made your way into the meeting room.
The second you sat down, your father began to speak. He talked about today's mission. Your head perked up at the word mission.
This is my chance to prove myself to Ghost, you thought.
Price droned on about the details and you listened intently, not wanting to mess anything up.
"Today's task is simple. Take out a person of interest, and head home. Lets try not to cause a ruckus in the town, alright"
A picture of the man's face was broadcast on the screen at the front of the room. He was quite ugly, with a long scar running down his ghostly pale, blotchy face. If you weren't so focused, you would laugh at that man being considered a threat.
When it was time to board the helicopter, you triple checked your gear, this earned you a laugh from Soap. When you reach the designated area, you follow protocol exactly as you are supposed to. You act exactly like a young, green, recruit, which is slightly embarassing, but hopefully it will pay off when you do something right. Last mission you weren't exactly impressive, this mission, you will prove yourself worthy of working with the 141.
Everyone gathers around as the helicopter drops you off.
"Alright listen up" Price commands.
"Trusted intel says our guy is in a house about 5 miles from here, I had us dropped off here so we can make a discreet entrance. We don't want a repeat of last time around."
"Gaz and Soap will enter through the back when we get there. Ghost, Y/N, and I will go through the front. Understood?"
Everyone nods a yes. You all begin trekking through the woods. Gaz and Soap continue their arguement from earlier.
"YES you can put ranch on pizza!" Soap yells.
"NOO!" Gaz yells.
Everyone chuckles as they carry on, their bickering passes the time.
Hours later, you finally reach the house. It is on the outskirts of a small town, only a few people mill about in the streets. Your group crouches at the edge of the woods to avoid being seen by civilians. Once the coast is clear, You, Ghost, and Price run to the front door, while Soap and Gaz do the same in the back. The team moves almost in sync with each other. They break down the doors on both sides immediately taking enemy fire from the occupants inside. You are severely outnumbered, but this is nothing that the 141 hasn't dealt with before. You do an impressive job, taking out many combatants and helping advance further in the house.
Once the first floor is cleaned out, the team moves up the stairs, there are a lot less soldiers so the next few floors are quick work. When you reach the door where intel says the POI is, it is of course, locked. Gaz takes a step back, winds up, and kicks the spot next to the lock, effectively breaking it. You wait a moment before opening the door, listening for how many are inside.
You find yourself at the front when the door is finally opened. Swallowing your fear, you rush inside, there are multiple soldiers. You fire three rounds, three enemies fall backward onto the floor, blood pouring out of their chests. Soap and Ghost take out a few more.
"Where's the POI?" Price says.
Everyone looks around uneasily.
"He has to be in this building, there's too many soldiers here for there to be nothing of value," you answer.
Everyone backs out of the room through the broken door, but you feel like you're being watched. You decide not to say anything out of fear of being mocked. You decide to bring up the rear of the group so you can watch your six without being questioned for turning around so often.
You give the room a last glance, you are startled by a tall, lanky man, possibly in his early 50's. He points a pistol at you with his finger on the trigger.
Your eyes widen, "DOWN!" You scream.
Without questioning, everyone hits the deck, flattening themselves to the weathered floor as a shot whizzed by overhead. Like lightning, everyone is on their feet again in a flash. Returning fire to the man. Multiple bullets hit him, his body convulses, then crumples to the ground.
"Fucking hell," Ghost sighs as he catches his breath.
Price claps a hand on your shoulder, "Way to watch our backs kiddo." he says with a proud smile.
You release a pent up breath and smile. You slightly relax as Gaz identifies the body as the POI you were after.
"You've done well today, kid," Soap exclaims. Everyone nods in response.
He was right, you did well today. Maybe tomorrow Ghost wouldn't go so hard on you in training. Maybe you could even share a moment together like this morning. Your heart fluttered at the idea of his praise, since it was so rare.
You went to bed happy that night. Exhausted, but happy.
Taglist: @abbiesxox @n30n-j3lly @weird-katthing @kayoyamamegame
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LOVE - Chapter 4
After getting back together, Janelle finds out thats she's pregnant. Follow along with Josh and Janelle as they deal with the highs and lows of her pregnancy.
I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS
Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤
Janelle is played by Justine Skye
Hopefully this is only 2 chapters but you know me lol it might be more.
Sequel to All I Need Is You: Read Here
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
TAGLIST: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci24 @jeyusos-girl @jeyusosgirl @melaninsugababy @baconeggndcheez @bemybabiibish @jstarr86 @nbanenefrmdao @purplehairgawdess @arination99 @alyyaanna @m3llowww @gomussy @jeysbae @hennyyybarb @babysyhsy @bebesobrielo
Janelle was now 8 months pregnant and she was loving every single minute of her pregnancy. Her dad was done with rehab and had moved into one of their guest rooms. Janelle was literally on cloud 9 and nothing could bring her down.
“It’s Josh’s mom's birthday. Do you want to come with us?’ Janelle asked her dad as she, Josh and Xavier were about to head out the door to Josh’s mom's house for her birthday party.
“No, it’s okay. I don’t want to intrude.” Josh sucked his teeth and passed her dad his shoes.
“Come uce. You family.” Janelle’s dad smiled at Josh and followed them to the car.
“You sure your mom won’t mind me being there?”
“I’m sure, now come on”
Janelle had just walked out of the bathroom when she bumped into someone. “Shit sorry.” He said as he grabbed her arms to steady her
“It’s okay.” She said as she tried to walk around him but he grabbed her arm to stop her.
“Damn you are beautiful” Janelle smiled awkwardly and thanked the man. She had never seen him at any of the family functions before. She tried to walk away again but he moved in the same direction she was trying to walk, blocking her. “What’s your name?” He asked and she narrowed her eyes a bit. Either he didn’t see that she was pregnant and wearing this big ass engagement ring or he just didn't care. “Damn you scared to talk or somethin’?” She tried to walk around him again but he gripped her arm.
“Ow, what the fuck.” She said, trying to snatch her arm away from him.
“Yo!” Josh yelled and stepped in between Janelle and the mystery man. “The fuck is you doin’ here?!”
“Ohh, this the new baby mama.” He said looking Janelle up and down, his gaze lingering on her breast.
“What.are.you.doin.here” Josh repeated, pushing Janell behind him.
“I’m here to see my nephew and I have a message from my sister.” He said pulling a folded up envelope out of his back pocket and handed it to Josh. Janelle was even more confused now. “I’ll be seeing yall” He said, giving Janelle one more lingering gaze before turning on his heels and walking away.
Josh waited until the man was out of sight before turning to Janelle. “You alright?” He asked checking her wrist and arm for bruises.
“I’m fine. Who was that?” She asked, watching as he pulled out his phone to send a text.
“Ximena’s brother.” He muttered, clenching his jaw.
“Xavi’s mom?!” Janelle said with wide eyes. “What the letter say?” Josh handed her the letter.
“I don’t even care.” He stressed. Janelle opened the letter and her mouth hung open in shock. Ximena was taking Josh to court in order to get Xavier back in her care. When she handed the letter over to Josh he bawled it up and threw it in the trash can in the bathroom. She was not taking his son away from him.
When Janelle and Josh returned to the party Trinity and Maya ran over to them.
“Are you okay?” Trinity asked the both of them. “Jon and Sefa just threw his ass out. How’d he even get in here?”
“I’m fine.” Janelle said as she looked over at Josh who was looking around the party.
“Anybody seen X?” Josh said.
“Yeah, your mom has him inside. He’s fine.” Josh nodded and looked over at his brothers when they walked over to the group.
“He said nobody invited him. Said he didn’t know it was a party and was just dropping off the envelope.” Jon said and Josh started to rub his temples. He didn’t feel like dealing with Ximena and her families bullshit.
Josh stayed on alert for the rest of the night. He made sure to keep Xavier close to him. Ximena and her family were shady ass people.
“Dad. I just wanna play with Jay.” Xavier pouted up at Josh. Josh went to tell him ‘no’ but Janelle stood up and grabbed Xavier's hand.
“It’s fine. I’ll go over there with him.” Josh tried to stop her but she just shook her head and walked Xavier over to the bouncy house.
“You gotta relax Josh. She ain’t gon come here and kidnap him.” Jon said, passing his brother a beer. “And like you said earlier. She doesn’t know where y’all live at now. So everything is gonna be fine.” Josh didn’t say anything. He just sipped his beer and watched Janelle and Xavier. He knew that Ximena and her family were about to become a huge pain in the ass.
“He’s gonna sleep in here with us?” Janelle asked as Josh was carrying a sleeping Xavier into their bedroom. Josh nodded and laid Xavier down next to Janelle. “Josh, it’s gonna be okay.” Josh sighed.
“Is it though? That’s his mom. You know how the court system is.” Janelle didn’t say anything because she knew he was right. Her mom had done the same thing and living with her mom was hell. She didn’t want the same for Xavi.
“So what are we gonna do?” Josh shrugged.
“I don’t know Nelle.” He laid down and pressed a kiss to Xavi’s head and her belly. “But I’m gonna keep the three of you safe. No matter what.”
Janelle woke up the next morning to an empty bed. She already had a bad feeling about today and she just wanted to stay in bed all day.
Xavier smiled over at her when she entered the living room. “Morning mommy.”
“Morning Xavi, where’s daddy?” He pointed towards the backyard. Josh was getting done with a phone call when Janelle walked outside.
“Thanks Paul, I'll see you next week.” Josh hung up the phone and walked over to Janelle, sitting down on the lounger with her.
“Everything okay?” Josh nodded
“Yeah, I talked to Paul. He’s letting me take the week off.” He sighed, “I’m going downtown tomorrow to talk to my lawyer to see what I can do.”
“Do you want me to come?”
“Nah. You 8 months pregnant. I need you to just stay here and relax.”
“J, come here.” She said as she scooted over so that he could lay next to her. “I know you’re scared and I don’t know what you and Ximena have been through but I’m here for you, you're not doing this alone." She felt her heartbreak as some tears slid down his cheeks.
“I don’t know what I would do If I lose him, Nelle.” She reached over and wiped away his tears.
“She just left him on my momma's porch. Didn’t say nothing to nobody. Now four years later she wants him back. I won’t let that happen.”
Thank you for reading ❤️
#wwe#jey uso#jey uso imagine#jey uso x black reader#whatdoeseverybodywant writes#main event jey uso#jey uso smut#the usos#jey uso one shot#jey uso x reader#jey uso fluff#jey uso fanfiction#jey uso x oc#wwe x black reader#black reader#wwe imagine#wwe fanfiction
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CHAPTER 4
what was supposed to be a fun weekend away with friends turns into a sinister game of hide and seek where their lives are on the line. trapped in a lake house cabin with only six hours on the clock, can y/n figure out who is behind the mask and manage not to get caught all before sunrise?
PAIRING. soobin x gn reader ; beomgyu x gn reader ; yeonjun x gn reader
GENRE. college au ; mystery ; thriller ; escape room ; angst ; horror ; humour
WARNINGS. character deaths (quick, act surprised) ; injuries ; blood ; swearing ; stabbing ; guns
WORD COUNT. 7k
A/N. FINALLY! she is here! after 300 years the final installment of the here i come series is out GOD BLESS. never have i been so happy to finish something in my life. very big thank you to everyone who continued showing interest in this fic even though this chapter took forever, this is truly for u I LOVE YALL! some of u have kind of guessed the killers so kudos to you, big brained people. i cant think of anything else to say just here you go, thank u, enjoy!!
TAGLIST. @tsupuffs @ren-chib @yjwfav @mykalon @junityy @iyeonjuni @fallingforhoon @fairybinie @enhacolor @cheorei @jjhmk @acciomylove @yeonjunsgf777 @soobin-chois @chosoluvr @odxrilove @soobisms @strawbrinkofdeath @etherealcherrie @maemarahuya @1-800-ryujin @wisecheesecakecloud @fairyofshampgyu @i-haewon @cottontvil @minthicons @bettyschwallocksyee @glyxiebear @calumsfringe @luvrboygyu @clyspm @celestialgyu @fallingforya @gyumie @ihsmarat @wooseoft @tatansoobin @wccycc @hello0i @prodsputnik @yotser @yhawnnzz @najaemin138 @ljnfav
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When you come to, you are laying in a bed, an overhead light shines glaring harshly in your eyes. You blink blearily, trying to get used to the brightness of the room and getting your vision to focus.
Movement catches your attention at the foot of your bed. You see Lia moving around the room, picking up your dirty clothes to do the laundry because you always forget to put them away, humming under her breath as she works.
Saturday was always laundry day.
After you got out of bed, you would be the one to take out the trash and go shopping for any groceries you needed. By the time you’d get back, Lia would have already finished with lunch.
You’d watch a movie or two, maybe play a game if you could convince your roommate, and order take out for dinner.
Right about now, she would tsk her tongue and throw a dirty shirt at you, telling you that you need to start cleaning up for yourself. You’d roll your eyes fondly and promise to be neater. Lia would accept it even though she doesn’t believe you and the process would be repeated all over again the next week.
You wait for the shirt to hit your face. It never comes.
Instead, the illusion is shattered when your eyes finally focus on the person you saw and see that their back is way too broad to be your friend’s and that, looking around curiously, this was not your apartment.
Everything comes rushing back then.
The game. The killers. Lia.
You’re laying down comfortably but you feel dizzy. Raising a hand to your head, you feel cotten where your temple should be and find that pressure causes a sharp sting to shoot up to your forehead. You let out a low curse at the pain and the other person finally takes notice of you.
He moves to your side, relief written on his face. “Oh, you’re awake, thank God.” You try to place the boy in your memory but draw a blank. “You passed out sometime between the lake and here and didn’t wake up for half an hour. I was starting to get worried.”
Yeonjun, your brain supplies when all the recent events catch up to you.
Now that you could see his face illuminated properly, pretty seems like an understatement. His dark hair is pushed back, revealing his forehead and you didn’t think that could be attractive, but here you are.
Yeonjun is still watching you. You clear your throat. “Um, thanks. For helping me.”
“You’re welcome,” he says smiling. “You looked like you needed it.” You suppress a scoff. If only he knew. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
His sudden question snaps you back. He has his hand up in your direct line of vision. “What?”
“I’m checking if you have a concussion. I dressed your wounds as best I could with zero first aid training but I need to make sure you won’t pass out again on me.”
His fingers are really pretty. You blink. “Oh. Three.”
Yeonjun smiles, satisfied. “Okay. Good, that’s good.”
He walks around the bed and disappears behind through a door. You use this opportunity to look around the room Yeonjun put you in, not finding it familiar at all.
Knowing that it is not far from Soobin’s lake house, you think that this house must be on the same level of extravagance, or at least close to it, but this room gives no indication of that. It’s smaller than the bedroom you were going to spend the night in before but still larger than the one in your apartment.
There is indications of use around; a t-shirt hanging on the back of a chair; shoes spilling out of the closet; and the faint smell of cologne lingers in the air. It all seems so boy that the only conclusion you draw is that this is Yeonjun’s room.
The boy in your returns with a glass of water that you accept gratefully. You hadn’t realised how thirsty you were until you downed the drink in seemingly one gulp. Yeonjun watches amusedly as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and you feel your face heat.
“Where are we?” You ask, holding the glass in your hands.
Yeonjun looks around the room in thought, humming. “About ten minutes away from where I found you.”
“Do you live here?”
“Nah,” he denies easily, taking a seat ay the foot of the bed, being careful to avoid touching your legs, “I’m just house sitting. The family that lives here is away at their other vacation house. In Japan.”
At your stunned look (you’re pretty sure that your mouth is open wide), Yeonjun nods hugely. “I know. Rich people, am I right?”
You scoff. “You could say that.”
It goes quiet. Yeonjun watches you curiously, his heavy gaze makes you avert your eyes to the glass in your hold. You clear your throat. “Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?”
He winces. “Can I?”
You shrug, feigning nonchalance, before launching into your recount of the night’s events. You watch his face as it goes from curious to shocked before finally settling on what is a mixture of disbelief and disgust.
Which, sums it up pretty nicely.
“That’s…Fuck, I-I don’t even know what to say. Who would do that?”
It feels oddly reassuring hearing this surprise from someone who has zero knowledge of the fucked up party you were just at. You inhale sharply. “Don’t know yet. But I’m gonna find out.” And you were. You couldn’t sit here forever.
“And the rest of your friends? You said you think they’re…” Dead. The word hangs between the two of you, too scared to be spoken aloud for fear they might be true.
“Well,” you start decisively, “they might not be.” With that, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, holding back a cry at the pain that erupts from the sudden movement.
Yeonjun’s hands shoot out to steady you, eyebrows creased with worry. “Woah! What are you doing?”
“I’m fine,” you grit out, pushing off the taller boy.
“You’re quite literally not. You might not have a concussion but fuck, Y/N, you’ve been stabbed. You can’t go out there. You need rest.”
Continuing out of the bedroom, you find yourself in an enormous foyer, almost as grand as the Choi family’s. “I need to make sure my friends are okay. I need to make those bastards pay.”
Your path is blocked by a very tall wall standing in your way. You roll your eyes, knowing that he used the fact that he doesn’t need to limp to pass you. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that?” Yeonjun stands defiantly, arms crossed and displeasure clear in the hard set of his jaw. You are getting quite sick of boys telling you no.
You stop in your tracks, thinking.
Then, “Do you have any knives?”
2 HOURS LEFT
The trek up the hill is hard with your injuries and takes longer than it should have had you been in full strength. The ground is soft beneath your feet, gives way every few feet and you have to readjust yourself carefully to avoid slipping.
A knife, so graciously given to you by Yeonjun, is hidden under your shirt. You walk in a way that it won’t accidentally nick your side. It feels awkward but it works.
Nearing the house, light spills out into the night, the grand chandelier still on. It is jarring almost, how the trees go from being cloaked in darkness to being bathed in bright light.
The front door is deserted.
You feel the warmth from the fireplace rather than see it, noting how it is still on, despite everything. That someone was stoking it.
You enter cautiously. Hand hovering over where the knife is, you stalk your way back into the kitchen and the sight of your altercation with the seeker leaves a sour taste in your mouth. The kettle remains strewn across the floor, a puddle of water mixed with blood spilled across the wooden floor.
Heart hammering loudly in your chest, you approach the door to the wine cellar, hand clutched to your waist. You know there is a possibility that the seeker could be there, could jump out and surprise you at any moment, but now that you have your own weapon to defend yourself, you wouldn’t let that fear stop you from finding Lia.
A crash.
Your head whips around frantically at the sound. Straining your ears, you listen carefully for any indication of where the noise came from. Quietly, you duck behind the kitchen island into a crawl. The knife nicks digs into your stomach but you ignore it, focusing on controlling your breathing so as to not bring attention to your location.
There is a slam as something collapses against the ground.
“Get away from me!”
Your heart stutters.
Soobin.
The sound of heavy footsteps gets louder with every passing second as someone walks closer to your hiding spot. Peaking your head around the side of the island, you try to get a glimpse of who it is, but the wall of the kitchen obscures your view. Clenching your teeth, you steel yourself to take the risk and reveal yourself to see who it is.
Slowly moving from your crouched position, you rise to your feet and are greeted by the back of the boy you have liked for two years, the boy who went through all this trouble just to try and create a night you’d enjoy.
“Soobin.” Your voice cracks around his name. Tears well in your eyes and threaten to spill.
He turns and your heart soars. “Y/N?” Relief washes over his features as he takes you in. He barely gives you time to respond before he crosses over to you and engulfs you in a massive hug.
Immediately, your shoulders relax and all the tension in your body melts away when his arms wrap around you. “Oh my god, Y/N, I’m so glad you’re okay. I was so worried, you just disappeared and I couldnʼt find and there was blood everywhere I, I thought—”
Pulling back slightly, you press a gentle hand to his face to stop his rambling. “I’m okay, I’m okay.” His eyes search yours and he nods numbly, bringing a hand to cover yours.
Soobin laughs mirthlessly. “Some game night, huh?”
Your chuckle comes out wet. “Not exactly what I had in mind, no.” You chance a look over his shoulder, expecting to see one of the seekers pop out and ruin the moment. Focusing your gaze back on Soobin, you graze your eyes over his face, going through a mental checklist of injuries. There’s a cut above his eye and dried blood crusts his cheek. Aside from that and a split lip, he’s fine. You exhale in relief. “They didn’t get you,” you breathe, more of a statement than a question.
He’s in front of you, face beneath your fingers, real and alive.
Soobin nods once. “They tried to, but I got away in time.”
“That’s good. Have you seen Beomgyu? Lia?”
“No, I’m sorry,” he admits solemnly and you feel your heart constrict. That doesn’t mean anything, you remind yourself, stopping yourself from thinking the worst. He must read your mind because his eyes rove over your face and he kisses his teeth. “Y/N…” he warns carefully, but your mind is up.
You tell him as much, but he’s still against it. “You don’t have to do anything, Y/N. The doors are open–we could leave! Get out of here right now.”
While what he is saying sounds appealing, there is nothing more that you want than to get as far away from this house as possible, you couldn’t—wouldn’t—do that without your friends. “I came back here because I couldnʼt leave you guys. I found you and I’m not leaving until I find the others. I’m not leaving without them.”
There is a possibility that you are in over your head. That even if you did manage to get past the seekers, the chances of you finding your friends alive was slim. You know that’s what Soobin is thinking, that he’s just trying to be rational. You expect him to argue, but instead he just sighs. Glances up at the ceiling. Locks eyes with you again.
“Okay.” Even though he agrees, you can tell he’s still apprehensive. “But I’m going with you.”
You nod, offering him a grateful smile that he returns. Your mind flits through the faces of the other people who were at the party, a drop in your stomach when you remember all the people who died. “What about the others? Yunho and Wooyoung?”
At the mention of their names, Soobin’s eyes darken and his jaw sets.
Cocking your head to the side, you ask, “What is it?”
It takes him a moment to respond, a myriad of emotions passing on his face as he considers whether to tell you whatever it is or not. He comes to a decision when he inhales sharply and pinches the bridge of his nose. You watch him curiously. “They…fuck. They’re the seekers, Y/N.”
You blink owlishly. “What?” you question, barely above a whisper. There’s no way. It can’t be. You saw them, you, you played with them, you might have even gone as far to say you could have become friends. They couldn’t have…
But Soobin’s mouth is set in a hard line and suddenly the room seems too small. “But how could they…in the screening room, they were with you. How could they…?” You can’t get the question out but Soobin understands anyway.
His face softens as she shakes his head. “They joined us later, before I found you. And then, after you left, so did Yunho. He came back as the seeker and killed Jongho right in front of us, and we all ran. I saw Sumin’s body at the top of the stairs and I was just attacked. It’s them. They’re behind all of this.”
You feel sick. Bile creeps up your throat and threatens to spill out, but you swallow it down.
Shutting your eyes tight, you exhale shakily. It didn’t matter. It didn’t change the fact that your best friend was missing.
Squaring your shoulders back, you lock eyes with Soobin.
“I’m getting Lia back. And those bastards are gonna pay.”
His eyes widen in shock at your concoction but he recovers quickly. Nodding once, he grabs one of your hands and leads you out to the living room where the couches have been turned over and the coffee table lies on the carpeted floor in pieces, splinters of wood littering the ground.
You chance a glance at Soobin. He really put up a fight, huh?
“How are your parents going to feel about you trashing their house?” you ask, going for a joke.
He responds with a cheeky grin. “Great, if I never tell them. I’m sure I can convince them to spend a couple winters in Jeju and they’ll be none the wiser.”
Whether or not he’s kidding, you can’t tell. The thought of his family owning yet another holiday home—in Jeju no less—is…strange. You think that if you try to comprehend just how rich Soobin is, steam would start coming out of your head. You personally had never travelled further than the places you’ve lived, let alone had houses purely for the purpose of visiting during specific seasons.
But this must be normal for him as he doesn’t even bat an eyelash. Okay. Cool. You’re just going to assume that Soobin has a house in every major city of Korea at this point.
The two of you barely make it past the staircase, past Isa’s lifeless body that has since turned a ghostly pale yellow, when a voice yells from behind you, thick with malice and so raspy it sounds as though it ripped through their throat, “Soobin!”
Simultaneously, you and the boy in question’s heads turn, hands still clasped together, and come face to face with the seekers. Masks still donned with the same cloak they’ve been wearing all night, you wonder who is who.
One of them steps towards the two of you, and you surprise yourself by planting your feet firmly in place. “Soobin,” he says and with a chill down your spine, you find that it is, in fact, Yunho, his voice familiar to you after all this time. Why he’s decided to ditch the voice modulator, you don’t know. Your eyes narrow.
Next to him, Wooyoung practically seethes. Closing the distance between you, he stalks over, knife brandished like a sword, crying, “We’re going to fucking kill you—!”
BANG!
Wooyoung stops in his tracks. His head drops to the center of his chest where you notice a pool of red spilling through the cloak and spreading outward. At the same time he drops the floor to his knees, you turn to look at Soobin. With a gun in his hands.
ONE HOUR LEFT
Soobin gives you a sidelong glance out of the corner of his eye. “Make them pay, right?”
You swallow, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. Right? That is what you said, this is what you wanted, but—fuck. He has a gun? Has he had one this entire time? He knows how to fire one? The knife pressed against your stomach burns against your skin.
Soobin doesn’t acknowledge your apparent discomfort, he doesn’t even look at you. Instead he watches Wooyoung clutch his chest desperately, blood seeping through his fingers. Watches Yunho rush to his friend’s side, distressed as he yanks off the mask from his face. Watches as his friend’s name falls from his lips in between a string of “no, no, no, no”s that sound something between a plea and a prayer.
He watches all of this impassively. His face barely twitches. He looks almost bored.
In the past night you have seen more people die and be killed than you would care to count, and yet, seeing the boy you’ve cared about for years put a bullet in someone so easily, without so much as a flinch, makes something ugly curl in your stomach.
Revenge is what you wanted, but something about this feels wrong.
Yunho crouches over Wooyoung and removes his friend’s face, brushing the shorter boy’s hair away from his forehead. “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” he repeats, a mantra as he rips off a piece of his cloak to press against the wound, over the sound of Wooyoung’s laboured wheezing. He turns to glare at the both of you, something heady and full of hatred. “What is wrong with you?” he cries out, voice thick with anguish.
You find yourself wanting to defend yourself, to tell him that you didn’t do anything, that you never knew Soobin would do that. But you stop when you remember that they hurt your friends, they hurt you; you have the wound on your your leg to prove it and—
Oh, god.
You’re going to be sick.
Masks thrown to the side on the bloodied floor, you can see their faces clearly. Soft light rises from outside as the sun makes its ascent over the horizon—Has it really been that long since this fucked up game started?—and casts a glow across their features. Their unmarred features.
You slammed a kettle of boiling across one of their seeker’s faces; you burned him. And yet, here they stand, skin as smooth as a baby.
Eyes blown wide, you exhale shakily, “It’s not them.”
“What are you talking about?” Soobin asks through a scoff. You take a step away from him, hands trembling at your side at your revelation.
“I-I hit one of them. Neither of them have any scars or anything. It’s not them. Soobin, they’re innocent.” He looks at you for the first time since firing his gun, one that is calculated, like he’s assessing you, and has his jaw clenching. He’s never looked at you like this before.
From the ground, Wooyoung laughs mirthlessly through gritted teeth, catching your attention. Blood spittles from his mouth and you wince. “You think this fucker doesn’t know that?”
Yunho nods in Soobin’s direction. “He’s the one who knocked us out and put us in these clothes to frame us and forced us to pretend to be seekers. He threatened to hurt that Beom—”
With a tired sigh, Soobin rolls his eyes and aims his gun at the two boys. “This is tedious.”
Two shots.
One through Yunho’s head and another to Wooyoung’s chest, right where his heart is.
The shots rings out in the expansive living room, reverberating in your ears. You think you flinch, but you can’t be sure. Not with how your body feels as though it’s been doused with cement. You can’t move.
“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?”
Your mind was spinning. Soobin just shot two people. Two innocent people. Two innocent people who just accused him of—oh, god, you can’t keep the bile down anymore.
You heave.
“Oh, don’t tell me you believe them. Those guys?” Soobin asks disbelievingly, waving the gun around like it’s like a toy and not a weapon that just killed two people.
“You shot them,” you say, arms shaking at your sides.
“Yeah. After they killed my friends.”
“I just told you they didn’t!” Your voice cracks around the last syllable and Soobin’s face softens. He takes a step towards you, arm reaching out for you, but you step back, putting as much distance between the two of you. “Don’t touch me.”
He tries to stop you by saying, “Hey, don’t be like that,” but you just shake your head, trying to wrap your head around the last few minutes, but you find that you can’t. Nothing makes sense.
Nothing about the boy you liked being a gun carrying murderer makes sense. Nothing about the weekend that was supposed to be a fun time with your friends turning into a bloodbath made sense. The whole situation was making your head and you were so tired.
You just wanted to leave and go home to your tiny apartment with your best friend and watch a movie and complain about your classes over beer. You wish Soobin never planned this stupid party in the first place.
Your heart stutters in your chest.
I planned this whole thing for you.
The room tilts, like the world has been shifted on its axis. Moments from the night start slotting together like puzzle pieces in your mind as you recall the way Soobin wanted you to hide together at beginning of the game, how he just so happened to find you after Sunghoon was killed, how even though he claims to have gotten into a fight with the seekers, he barely has a scratch on him.
How he killed Wooyoung and Yunho despite you telling him they weren’t the seekers.
That ugly thing in the pit of your stomach grows and spreads throughout your body wraps itself around your throat.
Tears prick your eyes, sick and disbelief clawing up your throat. “You…” The words lodge themselves under your tongue.
Soobin’s face morphs just then.
Gone is the look of boyish care you have grown so familiar with, that you have fallen in love with, and is overtaken by a smug, snakelike grin. The sight chills you.
He claps. Actually applauds as he looks at you with something akin to pride. “God, you’re so smart. I knew you’d get it, you know? I always believed in you,” he admits, awe lacing his voice. Checking his watch, he whistles. “And with forty-seven minutes to spare! Wow. Your intelligence is one of the things I like about you, you know?”
What the fuck was happening right now? Was he confessing to you? Right now?
“What the fuck is wrong with you? You were fucking timing me? Why the fuck would you do that?”
“For you, obviously.” He says it matter-of-factly and it gives you pause. “You know,” he starts, walking around the base of the stairs with the air of someone giving a seminar, “when I told the guys that I knew you’d figure it out, they didn’t believe me. I said ‘That Y/N? She’s smart, she loves riddles. She’ll put two and two together.’. But they were adamant that the stress of the situation would be too much for you to handle and you wouldn’t be able to think clearly, blah blah blah. Psych majors. You know how they are.” He says it like the two of you are in on a joke together.
You want to wring his neck.
“And I guess they were right, kind of, but you pulled through in the end. Just like I knew you would.” Soobin flashes you a smile that before tonight, would have left your knees weak, but now the sight just makes you angry.
The fact that he thinks you should be flattered that he apparently thinks highly of your deduction skills in a situation he orchestrated that ended with so many people dead makes you sick. He bet on you.
With the seekers, you think abruptly. It has to be.
Your mind works quickly, trying to figure out who they really are and you gasp at your revelation.
His smile widens and you have half a mind to punch it right off. “I think introductions are in order, don’t you?”
As though summoned, two dark figures walk towards the both of you from a secret door in the walls of the living room. The seekers. One of them pushes someone along roughly—Beomgyu, your brain supplies—, a knife pressed against his throat.
A wave of relief washes over you as you lock eyes. “Y/N,” he exhales, breathlessly, eyes raking over your body. “You’re okay.”
“So are you,” you nod, voice dripping with relief, then you wince. “All things considered.”
He chuckles at that. “I suppose it could be worse.”
“Shut up,” the seeker holding Beomgyu snaps, the same voice modulator that has been tormenting you for six hours crackles.
The other one regards you lowly, through the black eye holes of the mask they don. “Y/N!” they announce dramatically, but Soobin raises a hand to stop them.
“You can ditch the voice now, guys. She figured it out.”
“God dammit!” they curse, ripping the mask off in an angry huff. “I can never have any fun around here.”
Finally, the identities of the people who have made your night a living hell is revealed to you. The boys standing in front of you are two you have only seen in pictures, heard about through anecdotes, the who, up until six hours ago, you had so wanted to meet.
Taehyun and Kai. The fucking seekers.
“What the fuck?” Beomgyu curses incredulously, staring at the faces of boys he used to pass in the halls at school.
Earlier that last night Soobin had told you that his two best friends were away at a yacht party.
We were having so much fun but you just had to go and rock the boat!
Jesus Christ.
You hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now, it clicks in your mind perfectly. You barely hold back a scoff. What a terrible clue.
Kai’s mouth spreads snakily across his face, in an unnerving imitation of a smile. “Hey, Y/N. Nice to finally meet you.”
You snarl.
Off to the side, Soobin is practically vibrating in place, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a little kid. “You figured it out, right? I was worried that telling you about the yacht party was too much of a throwaway comment and then there was the issue of trying to find a way for Kai to slip in something about a water or a boat—Have to thank you, Beomgyu, for that stunt you pulled. Really appreciate it.”
Your childhood friend physically recoils at that. Taehyun grunts and presses the knife against his throat deeper. Beomgyu winces.
Shaking your head, you turn and confront Soobin. “So what was the point of all this? You guys killed all these people for what?” A tremor goes through your hands so you ball them into fists at your side.
Soobin cocks his head to the side innocently. “For you, Y/N. You love game nights. You love riddles and puzzles and mysteries, so I came up with the biggest one just for you.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Beomgyu exclaims. “You’re telling me that you did all of this, killed all of your fucking friends because you have a crush?”
Behind him, Taehyun shrugs noncommittally. “People who experience traumatic events together are inexplicably bonded for life.”
A beat.
“You were trying to fucking trauma bond with me?”
“You make it sound so simple,” he complains, waving the gun dismissively. “I made rules, people, there was structure. You know the order people died was the order they knew each other? Of course you did, you probably realised. But what you didn’t know is that Beomgyu—” he points the gun at him— “was supposed to go first. But you guys screwed it up! How the hell do you guys even know each other?”
“Your mom introduced us,” Beomgyu hisses defiantly. Blood trickles down his neck in response.
Soobin squints his eyes as if bored. “Real mature. Anyways, I saw you two talking in the kitchen at the beginning of the night so I had to do some emergency rearranging. So, in a way, Sunghoon dying first is kind of your fault. Granted, he would have died anyway, but, you know. Semantics.”
The same sweet boy who used to walk you to class and take you out for coffee after stressful exam weeks, the same boy who helped you out with homework and made you feel like the sun was bursting in your chest by smiling was the same one who hurt you, your friends. And he didn’t even feel an ounce of remorse for it.
“Fuck you,” you spit menacingly but you are just brushed off.
Soobin waves a dismissive hand in the air. “Plenty of time for that later. Now, we have to address the elephant in the room. The elephant, of course, being Beomgyu. Killing him now would mess up the order and I’m kind of a stickler for the—”
He doesn’t get to finish because out of the corner of your eye, Beomgyu elbows his captor in the stomach hard. Taehyun keels over, releasing him and you spur into action. Surprised, Kai takes a moment to recover before he is slashing at Beomgyu’s arm with his knife. Beomgyu hisses in pain, clutching his shoulder.
Rushing to Wooyoung’s body, pain flaring up your leg, you pry his knife from his fingers and say a silent apology in your head. “Beomgyu!” you yell. He turns to you and after a split second decision, you throw the knife in his direction.
Miraculously, he catches it by the hilt and, before you can blink, he’s lodged it in Kai’s throat.
The first seeker splutters, hands flying to press against the wound but it proves futile. Blood gushes from his neck like a burst pipe. Kai chokes as blood gets into his throat, coughing up red.
It’s a gruesome sight but it fills you with satisfaction, watching as he, too, succumbs to the same death he subjected your friends to.
Kai let's out a final wheeze before he falls to his knees, one arm reaching up to Beomgyu who watches on, face blank and chest heaving. Finally, Kai’s body goes limp and hits the floor with a thud.
“Well,” Soobin starts with a clap, turning to Taehyun, “guess I owe you that island.”
His friend grunts weakly, still recovering from Beomgyu’s assault. “You shouldn’t bet against me,” Taehyun admonishes when he rises to his full height.
Soobin nods sagely, chuckling. “I have learned my lesson.” Beomgyu steps back towards you and you reach for him instinctively. Soobin tracks the movement and something downright evil sparkles in his eyes. “Tell you what,” he says, addressing Taehyun, though his eyes never leave you and Beomgyu. “Do one more thing and I’ll throw in another.”
“An island?” you question incredulously. This was just getting ridiculous.
Taehyun shrugs. “It’s part of his inheritance. But now, it’ll be part of mine.” He stalks closer to the two of you causing you to back up to the stairs, nearly tripping over Isa’s body.
Knife pointed, he draws nearer menacingly. He’s after Beomgyu, you know. In some twisted form of logic you know that he won’t hurt you, not with Soobin right there.
Beomgyu tries to stand up straight but you can see the pain clear on his face as he clutches his injured arm. Taehyun grins at that, and lunges—
A wine bottle swings against his head from behind.
Taehyun’s body stills. He crumples to the floor in a heap of black fabric, head hitting the ground with a loud thud.
“Fuck rich people,” the assailant spits, chest heaving and your heart squeezes.
Lia.
She notices you and she lets the bottle drop from her grasp and the two run to embrace the other. All the tension you were holding in your shoulder eases, your body physically sagging against hers in relief.
You don’t even realise you are crying until damp spots start forming on her shoulder. Tears rack through your body at the feeling of your best friend in your arms, alive just like you believed she would be. Her grip around you tightens as she clutches the back of your shirt as though she fears you’ll disappear if she lets go.
“They attacked me in our room when I was grabbing my book, then tied me up and left me in the cellar. Told me that it wasn’t my turn yet. I tried to loosen them but whoever tied them used some kind of fucking boats knot. Broke one of the bottles and cut the rope with a glass shard—and my hand, too.”
It is her only injury, you note when the two of you finally pull apart. She has ripped off the left sleeve of her shirt and wrapped it around her hand as a makeshift gauze. It is stained with a giant blotch of blood but she’s alive.
She nods to Beomgyu appreciatively and he responds with a two finger wave. As she takes in the scene, all the blood and mess and bodies littering the floor, you see how her jaw tightens and eyes narrow. When they settle on Soobin, she spits in his face.
He recoils in disgust and wipes it away with—he’s got to be fucking kidding—a handkerchief from his pants pocket.
“You fucker,” Lia sneers.
He merely rolls his eyes. “Oh, great the band’s back together,” he drawls unenthusiastically. “There’s still twenty minutes left of the game, can we wrap this up?”
Aiming his gun between Lia and Beomgyu he pretends to ponder who he’s going to kill next. Lia stares him dead on, defiance dancing in her eyes and you have never been more in awe of your friend before.
“Y/N?”
Everybody’s heads whip around to the front door where Yeonjun stands in the threshold, confusion dancing in his eyes as he takes in the scene.
He came.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Soobin exclaims haughtily, arms going up in annoyance. “Who the fuck is this guy?”
“The guy who called the cops,” he reveals, jutting out his chin as he walks towards you. “They’re on their way.” The last part is directed more to you than Soobin and you have never been more grateful to see a boy you just met.
“Good,” you say nodding, eyes narrowed as you stare down the boy you used to look at only in administration, “you’ll be dead before they get here.”
Soobin has the nerve to gasp in faux shock, clutching at his heart as though you’ve wounded him. “Okay, ouch. That’s hurtful, babe, how could you say that?”
“You tried to kill me. You made me think my best friend was dead.”
He holds up a finger to stop you and you have half a mind to slice it off. “Point of correction: I never tried to kill you. I would never hurt you, Y/N. I did all of this for you! I ruined my favourite holiday house for you! Now I’m stuck with Jeju and fuckass Tokyo. Do you realise how much I’m giving up for you here and you think I’m the bad guy?”
“You’re insane,” you say incredulously.
“Insane for you.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Oh, come on.” He sounds like a petulant child. Which, you suppose, is exactly what he is. “I killed for you! You think, what, fucking Beomgyu can say that? You think you’d be happy with some asshole from across the lake with a terrible dye job? No way, baby! I’m it!” By the time his spiel is over, his arms are outstretched on either side of him, chest heaving like he’s just ran a marathon.
Lia grimaces. “Did you just fucking quote Gone Girl?”
“Ben Afleck rents out his L.A. house to us, of course I did.”
“What the fuck, man?” Beomgyu expresses, face pinched.
“And this isn’t a dye job, dickwad, this is literally my hair.”
Your best friend turns to Yeonjun and stares like he’s an idiot. “Time and place, dude.”
“Y/N. Baby.” You feel yourself cringe at the pet name. He holds out his hands and takes a step towards you. “You can’t tell me you don’t want this.” Soobin’s voice takes on a sickly sweet lilt, one that would have had you melting if you didn’t find out he was a psychopath.
Thinking about your friends, a wave of protectiveness and a pang of guilt pass through you. They’re here because of you.
With determination coursing through your veins, you step forward. “You’re right.” Behind you, your friends all verbally express their shock. You ignore them. “This is what I want.”
Soobin’s smile drops into an ‘o’ shape as he inhales sharply. When he glances down at the space between the two of you, he is greeted with the sight of a knife—Yeonjun’s knife—sticking out his abdomen.
“Huh,” is the last thing he says to you.
“Go to hell,” is the last thing you say to him.
Hand still on the hilt, you withdraw the knife only to stab him again. And again, and again, and again.
Over and over until you lose count, you plunge the knife into his body, piercing his skin. Blood splatters all over your face and front but you don’t care. You are moving on pure rage at this point. Rage at this boy who turned your favourite thing in the world against you, who put your friends in danger, who has more money in his left pinky than you’ll ever see in your life.
Finally, you slow, and watch as his eyes roll to the back of his head. His body falls to the ground and, for the first time since Sunghoon died in front of you, you smile.
A real, genuine smile spreads across your face as you turn to take in your friends.
“You look like shit,” Lia comments, her own grin growing on her face.
You lift a noncommittal shoulder, teeth bared. “You should see the other guy.”
Beomgyu laughs at that, hearty and full, taking over his whole body and the rest of you aren’t far behind.
Turning to Yeonjun, you find yourself growing shy. “You came.”
“I couldnʼt in good conscience let you walk into a murder house, now could I?” he asks with a tilt of his head and an easy-going grin.
You huff out a laugh and gesture to your blood covered body. “I’d hug you but I’m kind of a mess right now.”
“I don’t know,” he drawls, eyes raking over you appreciatively. Your skin flares wherever his gaze lingers. “I think the blood and guts is working for me.”
Somewhere next to you, Lia fake gags. “Oh, god, Y/N, your new boyfriend is gross.”
“Shut up, Lia,” you admonish without turning to look at her.
Yeonjun chuckles good-naturedly. “How about we reschedule that hug? Possibly after a shower. Preferably over breakfast.”
Feeling your cheeks warm, you nod. “I’d like that.”
“Great. I’m craving pancakes and I could use a hug, too.” You turn to see Beomgyu standing with a cheeky grin on his face.
There is a low grunt from behind you. Slowly rising to his feet is Taehyun having recovered from the wine bottle to the head. Steps staggering, he glares daggers at Beomgyu. “The only hug you’ll be getting is one from death. I’m getting that island—”
A bullet lodges itself in his head and he falls back, eyes blank. Soobin’s gun in hand, Lia stands with it aimed out in front of her.
You don’t even know when she grabbed it.
She exhales heavily. “I needed that.”
Despite everything, you laugh. “So. Breakfast?”
Everyone grunts in affirmation and starts talking over each other about where they should eat when they get back to the city. Obviously, you need to wait for the police to arrive so that you can give your statements. Someone needs to talk to everyones’ parents, let them know what happened. But you’ll cross that bridge when you get there. Together, of course.
Trauma bonded and all that.
#txt x reader#klibrary#choi beomgyu x reader#beomgyu x reader#beomgyu imagines#beomgyu reactions#beomgyu scenarios#choi soobin x reader#soobin imagines#soobin x reader#soobin reactions#soobin scenarios#choi yeonjun x reader#yeonjun x reader#yeonjun reactions#yeonjun scenarios#yeonjun imagines#txt imagines#txt scenarios#txt reactions#🖇️ — ijhyo works.
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Ghost Of You
Park Jisung
Genre: Angst. Just sad
Warnings: Mentions of character d3ath, mourning, mentions of a car accident, Jisung is hurting, lmk if I should put anything else :)
A/N: I wrote this on a whim when Ghost of You by 5SOS came on. I'm on my period so I'm feeling emotions rn yall.
Fic under cut 🫶🏾
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Three months had passed since the accident. Jisung remembers it vividly, as if it happened yesterday. He woke up in a cold sweat, just as he’s done every night for the past month that he's been home from the hospital. Instinctively reaching for you just to find the bed empty, he couldn’t help the tears pricking his eyes as he swallowed the large lump in his throat. He slowly sat up, staring at the wall for what felt like an eternity, before turning his legs over the edge of the bed. With a deep sigh, he grabbed his crutches and slowly stood up.
After a short struggle, Jisung managed to make it to the kitchen. On the island sat a vase of withered flowers. Placed there by his friends shortly after the funeral, he never had the energy to care for them. ‘Just another death,’ he mumbled to himself, grabbing the vase and tossing it in the trash. He propped his crutches against a wall before hobbling around the kitchen to make himself some breakfast. He tried to make sure he ate throughout the day. “Take care of yourself. It’s what y/n would want.” He could hear Chenle’s voice echoing through his head.
Hearing the phone ring pulled him out of his thoughts. He scrambled with his phone, a faint hope that it would be you, but the sensible part of his brain told him it wasn’t. “KING HEAD” flashed across his screen. With another sigh, he swiped his thumb across the screen to answer. “Hello?” It was the first time he’d spoken to anyone other than his mother in weeks. "Oh, dude, you actually answered! Guys!! He answered!!” His best friend’s voice resonated loudly in his ear, causing him to pull the phone away with a slight cringe. “How are you feeling, man?” Jeno’s voice came through the speaker. “My leg hurts.” Jisung stated, looking down on the cast starting just below his knee. He knew that’s not really what they were asking about, but they allowed him to evade the question. “Have you taken your meds? Do you need me to bring you a new prescription? Do you need anything from the store?” Mark’s voice came through next, worry evident in his tone even though he tried to hide it. “No. I’m good. Mom stopped by a few days ago.” Jisung said softly. Turning his attention to the food on the stove, he absentmindedly responded to his friends while they spoke to him.
The phone call didn’t last long. Jisung ended the call abruptly when he couldn’t hold back his tears after finding your favorite mug while searching for a cup to pour his coffee in. He held the mug in his trembling hands as he choked back quiet sobs, caressing the mug with his thumb. He had gotten you the mug for your first anniversary, with both of your initials printed in a big red heart. He remembered the way you tackled him in a tight hug when you opened the gift. A sad smile formed on his lips as he recalled the memory. He carefully placed the mug back into the cabinet before grabbing his own and wiping his tears. He poured his coffee and took his plate to the couch, sitting down to eat. He mustered up enough energy to turn on the TV. He was hardly paying attention to the screen while he slowly fed himself. Getting bored with the show he wasn’t even paying attention to, he decided to open Netflix. He found himself habitually turning on your favorite movie.
Jisung was proud of himself, having made it through half of the movie before he couldn’t bear it anymore. He forced up the courage to turn on the playlist you’d made for him on your third date. Just his luck, a slow song would come on. ‘Easily’ by Bruno Major. It was one of your favorites. You loved it when he sang it to you. Food was long forgotten as he stood up, walking to the picture frames hung on the wall. He pulled one off the hook, looking at your smiling face. His body began to move to the music, mimicking the dance moves you two did together as best he could in his condition. A smile etched itself onto his face, matching yours in the picture he was holding. He softly sang along to the song, just as he would if you were here in his arms. He moved slowly to the rhythm of the song as tears began slowly running down his cheeks. “I hope you’re resting, my angel.” He mumbled, his smile dropping as a sob escaped his chest. He clutched the picture frame to his chest as he dropped to his knees. Loud sobs shake his body, tears flowing out of his control. He longed to see you, even if it was just the ghost of you.
#nct jisung#jisung park#kpop smut#nct smut#nct angst#angst#jisung angst#jisung#nct soft hours#kpop fluff#kpop scenarios#nct 127#nct x reader#nct dream#nct fluff#nct haechan#nct jeno#nct mark#mark lee#jeno lee#haechan lee#na jaemin#jisung x reader#enhypen fluff#enhypen smut#chenle zhong#huang renjun#lee heeseung#sim jaeyun#jake enhypen
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hey my birthday is coming up, im on my period and im overall a big ol mess so i wanted to make a list of lil things that yall have done the last few months that make my heart get all warm🩵🩵🩵🩵
ask me for my opinion on well written in character hotch fics
agree with my trash opinions
tell me i was one of the reasons you began writing again (or at all!!)
partake in my lil event so we can love hotch together (also!!! YALL CAN STILL PARTICIPATE!!!! im like 20 days late on it lmao)
see hotch stuff and send me bc it reminded you of me!!!
thank me for my hotch posts??????
anyway i feel very warm and embraced here and as im feeling kind of—lost lately (normal Mentally Ill Gal Moments) its really nice to feel like this 🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵
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Chapter 34 up kids
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u were looking for prompts soooo… cove step 3 with a sick reader 🤲
In this cove is mc boyfriend.
First sick fic I've written.
Like most my stuff not proofread or beta read so let me know if yall see any errors
Hope yall like it
Staying in bed was your mom's prescription for your flu. It wasn't a hard task to follow, as your body did not feel up to do more. Your small trash can was full of used kleenex. Your bedside table had a little empty medicine cup along with a Gatorade bottle and a water bottle.
You were miserable. Laying there , your brain felt slow. You hated being sick, and who gets sick in the summer.
Your self loathing is cut off but a quick series of knocks.
You brain rushes as you realize the window is unlocked and in second Cove would be coming out or well in through your window
You try to be quick, but the flu slows you down. Before you know it he's in your room.
You stumble out of bed and try to push him away
" what- "
Confused by your slightly aggressive approach, Cove questions you. Yet he doesn't retreat as you basically fall on him.
" you can't be here Cove"
Your voice sounding strange and naselly because of the congestion in your nose
"Why?"
A blunt response. It sort of warmed your heart to hear Cove be Cove.
"I'm sick, I don't want you to get sick."
Cove helps you back to your bed.
" I don't mind, if I get to spend time with you"
You become visible upset
" I care though."
Coves face distorts , his classic scowl. He was clearly some form of sad, probably disappointed. But either way he just nodded and began to leave
" ok"
And he was gone.
Though you were the one so adamant about him not being here, but him listening to you wasn't something you weren't prepared for. It was a little hurtful. Which made you feel bad, it wasn't his fault. And yet it still hurts.
And yet with the flu it was still easy to fall asleep. It was like the only thing you could do.
You wake up groggy, a knock coming from your door. It was the same pattern as the one that comes to your window almost every day. Cove. It felt deja vu.
You gave an answer, a small quiet grunt , but Cove heard it. He entered , you sat up in your bed , and with blurry vision you looked at Cove. And all you saw was a greenish blue color…. But It wasn't his hair. After blinking a little you're able to see a blue mask Covering his face.
"Can I- I'm protected so it should be fine?"
He was cations but as soon as you gave him the go ahead. His excitement fills his expression, even if all you could see was his eyes and those squiggles he had for eyebrows.
Yet excited he was careful
" I brought soup- from the store. I mean it's still warm. I promise I could ev-"
" it's okay Cove"
His body calms down a significant amount. He started to get himself comfortable. Not wanting to cross a boundary, he sits on your rolling office chair. He sets down the store bags he had on the floor, except for the bag that is only holding a container of soup. He set the container on your desk before he looks around, then at you
" I - I don't have a bowl… or a spoon."
His face says sorry to him. No words needed. Before you could offer a solution he jumps up and begins rushing out of your room, shakingly explaining himself
"No. I've got this ill- don't worry. Stay there."
And then he's gone,but this time you just smile at his antics.
You listen closely as you hear your mom's laugh at Cove , rushing around the kitchen, you hear drawers being harshly opened and closed.
Eventually you hear footsteps running up the stairs but before he enters your room again there's a pause. When he enters he's 'calm'
" got it"
You hide your little chuckle, understand this is how he wants you to see him while you're sick. He wants to be the calm, helpful boyfriend.
He sets up the soup, even making sure it is not too hot or cold for you. When it is ready he slowly cares it over to you, he literally looks like he's walking on a tightrope with how stead he moves.
" thanks Cove"
" yeah it's no problem"
Then he sat back on the office chair. He doesn't seem to know what to do next as you take a couple sips of your soup, which you now realize is your favorite. Cove takes a couple looks around your room, as if trying to find something unfamiliar. When he doesn't find anything on the walls or shelves , he looks to the ground. He makes a ' ohhh yeah' face when he sees the bags he brought. Once again he's excited to share.
" I got some other thing"
He starts pulling out a colorful box of fruit snacks
" I got these- not for now, it's not really good to have sweets when you're sick but- well if you really want it- it can't hurt that much. But I actually bought it because I saw it and remembered how much you loved them."
He put them to the side before moving on to the next thing
" I got Gatorade and uhm some water but- well I see you have some already. But this is a different flavor. I mean I have that one too- I got a couple flavors, and don't worry if you don't want or finish them i'll take them. They're good for exercise too."
"I'll take one right now"
Cove's eyes brighten up knowing he did something right. You set down your soup and he hands you the bottle.
He grabs the last thing, he himself seems a little confused by the item before he flips it around to see the front
" oh, this is like a little puzzle game, it was in that check out area and I grabbed it."
He tore the wrap off and moved to your bed, kneeling as he started to show you how it worked
" I thought it was a good time consumer. I know you could use your phone or something but i mean, when i'm sick I get headaches looking at a screen so I figured"
He motioned the item
" here , give it a try"
You take the item and begin exploring how the pieces work. Then you start trying to solve it. Cove watches over you, he makes noises almost every move you make, you can tell when he agrees and when he disagrees with a pieces place. After five minutes you can tell he's itching to do more than watch.
" Cove"
He looks at you confused why you stopped
" would you, join me"
You scout over in your bed, he clearly wants to jump at the opportunity but he stops himself
" Are you sure?"
You smile
" I think cuddles are exactly what I need"
Cove has no problem listening as he climbs into your bed. You weren't lying when you said you wanted to cuddle but you had other motives, this angle made it easier for Cove to play with the puzzle himself. You hand it to him , and begin to snuggle into his chest
" I'm starting to get a bit tired. Could I just.."
"Of course!"
You smiled at his excitement. As your eyes droop. You quietly say one last thing.
" If it's uncomfortable, you don't have to wear the mask, we're already cuddling. I'm not sure it'll do much at this point."
You figured the mask would bother Cove's sensory issues a bit and honestly you knew that even if he got a little sick he wouldn't hold you accountable.
Cove didn't say anything, but you could feel the relief in his chest as he shifted and removed the mask. Once settled again, he slowly left a lingering kiss on your temple.
#fanfic#our life#our life beginnings & always#our life cove#cove holden#olba cove#olba mc#cove x reader#cove x mc#sickfic#comfort#fluff
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20 Questions for Fic Writers
thank you so much to the lovely @tllgrrl for tagging me! without further ado ...
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
as of this one, 197! i have been on these fanfic streets for roughly ten years, it all tends to accumulate
2. What’s your total AO3 word count?
1,056,672 ..... do with that what u will
3. What fandoms do you write for?
yall, this is a prolonged list. i dont think theres been a source material ive written for once that i dont randomly write for again every so often. i have 1-2 big phases per year, usually. just go look at my ao3 dashboard sdlkfjldskf
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
to the surprise of absolutely no one, all five are from the age old skywalker happy trash family au. thanks for being so consistent star wars fandom, ur all real ones <3 but also my writing has improved so much since then that occasionally the hingeless urge to go back and re-write every fic in that verse is real
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
i try my best to! every so often life gets in the way, but especially in the last few years, i really try to engage with comments as much as i can. ive also been lucky enough to write in pretty small fandoms for the last couple years (ironically, given ive been in my second m*rvel era) so replying to comments has been a lot more intimate and friendly anyway
6. What is a fic you've written with the angstiest ending?
i was going to say "i dont know" because for the most part -- and especially my more recent fics -- everything ends up pretty consistently bittersweet. then i remembered vintage phil: "we want to live by each other's happiness", or the b99 captain america au
7. What’s a fic you've written with the happiest ending?
i tend to very consistently write things with shades of happy and sad. that said, some of my favourite purely "happy ending" fics include:
"easy, easy (my man and me)"
"i found a dream"
"hark the bluebells"
"i believe in you and in our hearts"
8. Do you get hate on fics?
eh, not really. i dont generally write chapter fic with controversial enough plot points and the unresolved nature of updating chapters to generate true "hate". i have gotten some really bizarre comments where one has to wonder what was going through the commenter's head when typing it all out, but most of those are not things that stick.
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
not me feeling emotional abt my ao3 tenure .... 15 yr old me would have such a different answer ...
i write often and (i hope) as authentically as possible about lived-in romantic relationships, and as ive gotten older it has felt more and more organic to include scenes in and around sexual intimacy where appropriate. i dont think most people would classify that as "smut", though.
10. Do you write crossovers?
if i am writing an au, it is a true au, with the single and sole exception of the force sensitive claire au, which is, on a technicality, a crossover
it also is, on much less of a technicality, unfinished ...
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
not that i know of and i certainly hope not!
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
not to my memory
13. Have you ever co-written a fic?
the closest ive ever come to this was, actually, writing the b99 cap au with maya Back In The Day. our tumblr messages used to just be draft upon draft of scenes evolving in real time. but never formally. friends are an integral part of the fic writing process tho
14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?
the world should know i am an anne-gil truther. blueprint if there ever was one
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?
sadly, probably "happiness, like those palaces in fairy tales"; my beloved small time constance-centered parks-flavoured musketeers au .... my writing style has just changed so much since, and it was such a huge undertaking. i still have half of the unpublished anne/aramis flashback chapter saved in my google docs though.
16. What are your writing strengths.
ive been told im good at prose! and writing from childrens' pov, which i am fond of doing, though in a tragic turn of events i havent done much of it recently
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
as i see it, sometimes i dont know when less is needed for a fic to be more. often, this comes from a lack of clarity on my end re: what the fic is trying to be -- OR when im trying to write about something i dont really know. at the end of the day, though, this problem recurs because fanfic is supposed to be fun, so something being a bit too messy and a bit too long is not a huge deal to me. hopefully its also not a huge deal to my readers!
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic.
u can pry doing this from my cold dead hands. & are also always free to criticize my phrasing and translations, lol, except for that one time i made bucky barnes speak farsi, which is a language i actually know
19. First fandom you wrote for?
star trek aos, baybeeeee
20. Favorite fic you’ve written.
IMPOSSIBLE QUESTION. i love many of my children equally!
here are some all-timers from those fics which i have not mentioned yet:
hopeful./summertime
and there's a keepsake my mother gave me
then she'll be a true love of mine
just to hear the nightbird singin'
my daddy was a prominent frogman
**
thank u so much for the tag my friend! i had heaps of fun. tagging @firstelevens, @sesamestreep, @sennenrose and @flyinghome-againstthewind as well as anyone else interested!
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"Do you like my Boyfriend" Fic
Chapter 8
"you like him don't you?" Dabi had pinned himself overtop the lizard in the cornered-off alley filled, with trash, and the smell of weed. the bricks were ragged and sharp moss and mold grew in between cracks, the ambiance of cars rushing past, and people walking outside the alley filled the background. He waiting for an answer, a huge grin on his face.
"The fuck Dabi!" spinner sneered, looking around to see if anyone was watching, "What are you talking about!?" Shuichi pushed away Dabi forcefully, taking a step forward, stuffing his hands back into his hoodie pockets.
"You. You like Tomura don't you? " Dabi stated, looking over the lizards quickly changing expression.
"N-No I do not!", Spinner took a step back. now panic going over his face. What. is it that obvious? was Dabi going to ban me from ever even glancing an eye at Tomura?! Is he going to tell Tomura, is Tomura gonna fucking hate me? he would be grossed out that I even had a crush on him. fuck. fuck. "Dude look. I don't like your damn boyfriend."
"Yes, you do. I see how you blush all over him, every time he accidentally feather touches you while walking by. You fucking like uhm. being poetic is your shit. but your eyes seem to glisten every time he smiles that creepy big smile." Dabi explained. looking over Shuichi, chuckling slightly.
"Okay fine! I do like him!" Spinner confessed, now in full-on panic. "Please don't tell him! Please don't like- ban me from playing games with him and shit, I know he's your boyfriend, it was just a stupid little thing I've had for like, way before yall started to date. Fuck okay!?!" Spinner looked down, looking like a sad pathetic wet kitten, but a lizard-
"Even more perfect." Dabi grinned even wider, Shuchi was surprised he wasn't bleeding from how strong the facial expression had come. "Buh-Bye Chamilian"
"Im a Gecko you asshole!!" spinner gritted his teeth, quickly fast-walking by him, in some sort of competition to get out faster, while still attempting to look cool.
-
Spinner was pacing around his apartment, panicked as he thought about so many things, what would happen once Dabi told, him how he got this stupid crush. why he failed to hide it well enough.
I've had a crush on Tomura for a while... He was always so crazed, but yet focused on a goal... I was one of the last people he had interviewed. He seemed to judge me, hard. My mind immediately went to the thought he was quirkist... but the more I think about it. The more I believe he wasn't actually. He was just naturally rude to new people, well. people he decided he didn't need to care for too much. And he only became harsh when I mentioned a devotion to stain, which he still will growl if ever mentioned. but the more I was around the more I realized he wasn't... too bad. We bonded over games and stuff. and the more we played these games, the more I actually realized I had a friend. And then a stupid crush. I tried my best, to kick it down. to make sure it never showed. in which clearly did, due to the previous interaction with Dabi. the fucking guy who started to date him. When he heard the news, he felt happy that Tomura had someone less of a freak than him. but also jealous. He was just glad that Tomura never distanced away. But now Dabi was going to ruin that. In no possible way was he NOT going to tell. make Tomura disgusted about how an overgrown lizard had a fucking crush on him.
Spinner gave up. falling onto his bed as he checked his phone, glad but also nervous about no texts from Tomura. No known evidence that he was shunned.
-
Tomura's door was loudly slammed, Tomura no different as Dabi rushed in "I have good news for your single misfortune" Dabi grinned, quickly pressing the doomed Alt-f4 on Tomura's game, finally gaining his attention.
"the fuck asshole. and I'm with you. not single" Shigharaki gritted his teeth, spinning in his gaming chair to face Dabi.
"Yeah but you know, we ain't like- set stone- so I'm getting you an extra fuck buddy so you ain't missing out." Dabi flicked Tomura's forehead, too much of his dislike. "Hope your a monster fucker or dater or whatever shit but your lizard player two like ya" Tomura looked at him, a blank expression on his face.
"What?"
"Spinner, gecko man. he likes you" Dabi grinned.
"No, he doesn't." Tomura scoffed, grabbing his phone. "stop fucking around"
"I'm not, swear on my dad's life"
"You're planning on killing said Dad." Tomura rolled his eyes and started to scroll on Tumblr.
"Bad, example. but no. Confront the man. maybe take a vid, it be fucking funny his reaction" Dabi laughed manically. Tomura is now the one to flick Dabi's forehead. then elbowing him. making him fall onto the floor. still laughing like a madman. which he is.
"Fine. but if he never talks to me again, we're over."
-
Tomura started to watch Spinner every day of that week, The first two days with Spinner in the bar, he seemed to try to avoid Tomura, but Tomura persisted, finally being able to have a conversation, and then he seemed to be normal again. in which Tomura realized how much he would become flustered when Tomura accidentally brushed past him. How when talking Spinner would stare into his eyes seeming to fall in love over and over. not looking away, Ready to change conversation whenever Tomura decided he was bored. how he seemed to become a notch sadder, frowning slightly when Tomura would leave. before leaving to do his own thing. it was quite obvious now. The next three days Tomura had invited Spinner over, where he became even more sucked into Tomura. sitting as close as he could, his tail swaying every time Tomura said a 'good job'. Tomura even noticed that Spinner stared. every chance he could while Tomura was looking away, he would stare, watching him. the last two days, were full of Tomura thinking. Thinking about how he should approach this on Monday.
-
Spinner felt the eyes watching him. He knew Dabi had spilled the secret. Now Tomura stared at him, not letting his gaze turn away. Probably thinking about how he could get rid of him, either kicking him out or killing him. Spinner could only imagine the scene. Tomura reached for a hand, grasping all five of his slender fingers on him. Slowly turning into meaty chunks. Or if Tomura felt any empathy, then immediately dust you would brush off items on your shelf. He tried to avoid his boss. Not wanting to deal with whatever embarrassing or life-threatening. Until Tomura had forced out a conversation while cornering him. It wasn't about him. It wasn't about Spinner having a crush. It was nothing embarrassing. It was just a simple gaming convo. And then he was invited over. Where he was sure he would be confronted. But again, not. Maybe Dabi was as shitty as he thought...
-
I'm going to confront him. now or never, text then wait, then game, then ask. Whatever he says is the final answer. Tomura grabbed his phone.
'Come over 4 games, also night stay, bring stuff.'
'kk be there soon
-
Shuichi entered the apartment, phone not bothering to look up from his phone, as he closed and locked the door. walking over to the bed to sit down "Hey dude, why such a sudden hang-out time? " he dropped his backpack about to sit down before Tomura stopped him.
"You get bean bag today" Tomura pulled the bean bag to be under where he sat on the bed. It wasn't uncommon for this arrangement so Spinner just shrugged while sitting down, grabbing his designated 'Tomuras place' Controller. starting the game up as he was player one.
Tomura stared as SPinner got comfortable, already starting up the game of Rayman that was on the screen, Grabbing his own controller he started to do the soccer mini-game with him both playing back to back, the ball only getting into one of the goals Five minutes later, then again Three minutes later. They were competitive. making sure they wouldn't do a losing kick, or a dumb block, leaving them both with few points, but more gameplay. Tomura would usually get sucked in, blank out till Spinner slapped him back to life. But not now. now he needed to get to twenty goals, then he would say something. already at thirteen. Shuichi at fourteen. now fifteen. Tomura 3 more scores. Spinner another two. And then one more for Tomura, then another for Spinner. then finally Two last scores from Tomura. leaving Spinner grunting and crossing his arms. "You had to have cheated... good game." Spinner huffed, going back to the main screen so he could put on a quest.
"Do you like me?" Tomura blurted out. looking down at Spinner. waiting for an answer, crossing legs so Spinner couldn't ease his way out.
"Dabi fucking told you!?" Spinner looked up, trying to stand before Tomura trapped him, wrapping his legs around him, ending with Spinner flushing, his scales turning slightly brown. his eyes wide. gulping. mumbling a couple of directed curses to a certain bacon man. "I'm uhm... I'm sorry dude, just forget it okay?"
"Why should I forget it?" Tomura questioned, moving a hand to grab the spinner snout delicately, turning his head slightly. "And yes. the asshole told me a week ago about your little uhm... crush" Spinner just stared, not daring to move.
"You uh... still want to be friends right?" Spinner asked, worried about losing his only real friend.
"No. you have a crush on me."
"oh..." Spinner pushed away and got up, forcing Tomura's legs away so he could successfully stand. grabbing for his bag before a hand grabbed his shirt and pulled him over, causing him to fall. "The hell!?"
"We ain't friends no more 'cause we are now dating" Tomura laid out. grinning at his newly won lizard.
"N-no! your dating Dabi I'm not going to partake in cheating!" Spinner huffed, looking slightly angry that it could even be suggested.
"We are not monogamous, Dabi fucks random people every other day. goes on first dates every week. He's the one who told me to suck it up and confront you." Spinner stared at him, mouth slightly agape, taking in the information. Dabi was playing fucking matchmaker with him and his boyfriend. now Spinner had a boyfriend. does this mean he is also boyfriends with Dabi?
"Okay"
#league of villains#spinner#spinner mha#iguchi shuichi#bnha spinner#shuichi iguchi#shigaraki tomura#spinaraki#shigaraki#tomura shigaraki#spineraki#mha spinner#dabi mha#dabi bnha#mha dabi#bnha dabi#dabi#shigadabi#tomura shiragaki#shigaspinner#shigaraki x spinner#mha shigaraki#dabispinner
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goodness gracious 75. brb x oc
a/n: I'll be honest I kinda based Chloe's whole schtick on a reddit thread I saw ages ago and it stuck to me. Does it make sense?? I hOPE?i t's just a sprinkle of angst yall nothing more uwu
check out the fic's playlist made by the sweet @wiipes !!
pairing: plus size!oc x rooster
warnings: light angst, FIRST FIGHT KIND OF???, then fluff
chapters:
1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/25/26/27/28/29/30/31/32/33/34/35/36/37/38/39/40/41/42/43/44
45/46/47/48/49/50/51/52/53/54/55/56/57/58/59/60/61/62/63/64
65/66/67/68/69/70/71/72/73/74
(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!)
taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @shrimping-for-all @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix
@lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls
@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2 @emilybradshaw @j-6o @louisahale @leobabbyyy @kulicny @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads
-
Marcus did pay her, the exact amount he said he would and she was more than happy. Now she could not only get her car - the red Jeep wrangler she saw weeks ago - but she could also save this money for the moving day! Everything was running so smoothly, so nicely she could barely believe it. She’s been having a great week and when Friday rolled around, she was all smiles, so much it hurt her cheeks.
But one thing she found odd that day was how Rooster barely messaged her, well, less than normal, she knew he couldn’t talk much during work so this wasn’t so off. But it was fine! He was probably very busy!
This Friday she had to show up at the Hard Deck earlier since they were going to reorganize some bottles that arrived later than Monday, it was fine to Beatrice, she could talk to Penny and Shells while working which was always fun. She wondered when she could tell them she was moving in with Rooster, since they did think about going out this Saturday to visit some places and check them out…so, Monday! Monday would be a good time.
Penny asks Beatrice to take some of the trash out and she does with a huge smile, Shells commenting how she had never seen someone so happy to take those giant black bags outside like Bea was. The brunette just ignored, humming all the way over to the trash bins down the sidewalk, her peripheral vision noticing a different car in the parking lot, a white one that she couldn’t identify because it was a bit distant.
But her eyes would wander back towards it every now and again, furrowing her brows as to why it’d be there in the first place considering it was so early in the afternoon – too early for any other cars to be there - considering the bar wasn’t even open yet. She did see a woman with brown hair step out, which in turn makes Beatrice blink, seeing her get closer and closer.
Maybe she was lost? It has happened before, people usually stop by the parking lot because they don’t know the region and they need help finding where to go. So Beatrice, with that assumption in her head, prepared her mind to remember street names and known spots for localization in the surroundings. What she didn’t expect was the woman coming closer, stopping a few steps away from her and suddenly saying her name, “Beatrice?”
She’s surprised, her brain then wracking all the memory files trying to remember if she knew this woman or not. “Um…yeah? Can I help you?”
The woman pulled out her sunglasses, they were the same height, with the same brown hair color but the differences were that the woman had light brown eyes and was skinnier than Beatrice, “...I was just curious,I’m Chloe.” That name brought nothing from her mind, which probably showed since Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows even more, “Chloe Ritzer.”
Again, nothing. Nothing appeared in her mind, “Oh…um…okay? Can I help you?” she repeats and the woman’s expression soured just enough to make Beatrice worry a bit, “I…I’m sorry, did we go to school together?”
“No.” comes her sticky sweet reply, “We did not, but I know someone that you know.”
Oh! Oh she probably knew her siblings or something like that, that explains why she couldn’t identify her name. “I’m surprised Rooster never told you about me.” Suddenly all the noise around Beatrice disappeared and a cold feeling took over her stomach, her confused look only worsening.
“Oh…you were, friends?” Why would Rooster never tell her about this woman? The goblin voice in the back of her mind started to cackle menacingly, whispering doubts in her brain that she knew it wasn’t true.
Chloe, who had this weirdly smug look on her face after hearing that question, smirked, “Oh no, we were more than friends.”
Wait, what? Bradley didn’t say he dated anyone before her, no he didn’t because Phoenix and Halo confirmed it too back when they got together. Beatrice’s mouth opens then closes, trying to digest this brand new information with her body going into fight of flight mode. “What do you mean more?”
“I’m just surprised,” she completely ignores the question, dropping her eyes down on Beatrice’s body and the brunette immediately feels like she needs to cover up, “That Rooster would…well, I didn’t think he was so desperate.” The words hit Bea harder than a slap.
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, you don’t really think he’d be interested in you right?” The pure venom coming out from this woman who she had never met nor seen before was already chipping in her confidence walls. She was acting like a bully already. “He just did because I moved out and he had to find a rebound.”
Rebound.
Beatrice’s wide eyes got even wider, her breathing turning erratic, “That’s not true.” she whispers, “How do you– why are you–”
Ohohoho what did I tell you? You knew I was right, all along. You were nothing but a rebound, that’s what you are. Maybe that’s why he didn’t talk to you too much today, because he was seeing this woman again. She’s beautiful isn’t she? Skinny and model-esque. Not like you, you pathetic girl.
No. No this wasn’t happening, this wasn’t true!
Beatrice’s deep inhale was shaky but she licked her lips before speaking, “...I’m not a rebound.” she whispers, her eyes slowly meeting the other woman’s “I-I don’t know who you are but if you two were together before, that was then and this is now.I am not a rebound.”
Neither the goblin voice nor the woman expected that response, with Chloe’s lip curling into a disgusted snarl, “Listen here, tubby,” Beatrice tried not to jolt at the insult, “I don’t know what sort of lie he’s been spewing your way but he’s not interested in you at all.”
“He doesn’t lie to me.” she snaps back, “...you don’t know him, if you did you’d know Rooster doesn’t lie.”
Shells steps out of the bar when her friend takes too long to come back, stopping by the doors when she sees the two brunettes face to face, “Aunt Penny.” she calls and her aunt appears right next to her, wrinkling her brows and muttering ‘who the hell is that?’ to her niece. But she holds Shells back when the blonde tries to step closer, ready to defend her friend from this random strange woman they’ve never seen before.
“He’s a man, he’s going to lie.”
Beatrice feels her fury getting worse and worse, “No.” she snarls, “He’s not, you–how long were you two together?” Chloe opens her mouth to reply but Beatrice cuts her off, “If it’s more than one day you’d know that Rooster doesn’t lie, he was raised right, he is loving and he’s kind…”
Realization hits her immediately.
She wasn’t one of his girlfriends. She was one of the hookups he said he had before. “...that’s why you don’t know, you were with him for one day.” Chloe’s face turned angry, Beatrice struck a very visible nerve apparently, “...You– are you serious? You, you think that making up stuff about my boyfriend,” again another flinch coming from Chloe,”About how he’s apparently never loved me when we’ve been together for seven months and are currently thinking about moving in together?? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Chloe’s smug attitude dropped slowly, no doubt she was thinking she could manipulate Beatrice into thinking Rooster wasn’t interested–which backfired immensely- “I–you—”
“What the fuck!! What the fuck are you doing?” she hated how her personality reminded her of the Bitch Trio, maybe that was also why she was getting so fired up about her. That and the goblin voice trying to repeat over and over how it was right. If this was a few months back, maybe she’d be leaning towards it, maybe she’d doubt herself and her place in their relationship…but not now. Not now. “...You think he doesn’t love me or are you projecting your own fears on me? Because what you guys had was nothing more than a one night stand?”
“It was a great–”
“If it was he’d done something else about it,” Beatrice snaps, straightening her back and holding back a smile at how she was now taller than Chloe, “If it was why wouldn’t he be with you?...I am not a rebound. He loves me and if you have a problem with that I am sorry, I am so sorry but nothing will change it.`` Another car pulls to the parking lot, an SUV she knows too well and Evelyn’s body is already out and marching over.
“Listen tub–”
“No! You listen! My name is Beatrice. My name is Beatrice Schiavoni and” every word she gives a step forward and Chloe a step back, “And you dare, you fucking dare to come out of the woodworks accusing my boyfriend of being a liar when you know him for less than a few hours??” Chloe’s shoes hit the edge of the sidewalk, almost losing her balance, “And a one night stand??A hook up?? Rooster would never, he would never say what he doesn’t mean and if you– how fucking long was this? Almost a year ago? Two? And you kept the thought he wouldn’t move on?”
Chloe was looking smaller and smaller, Evelyn sending Shells and Penny a surprised look, “How fucking dare you??” Beatrice looked ready to beat the shit out of Chloe, not even because of her but because she was saying stuff about Rooster, “I don’t know what your plan here was, Chloe Ritzer.” Evelyn’s head snaps up when she hears the name, this time really getting closer to the two, “But you–”
“Chloe Ritzer?” Evelyn repeats, “You are the data analyst who was transferred out of state.”
Beatrice’s chest heaved with her intense breathing,looking back at Evelyn with her eyebrows furrowed then to Chloe whose eyes were now doubled in size, “Yeah,yeah I remember my dad saying something about you, about how you were asked to transfer because you pulled some bullshit around the base.”
“How the fuck does your dad know anything about me??”
“He’s a vice-admiral.” Chloe paled, immediately, her eyes now only focusing on Evelyn, “And if I call him right now and let him know that you are here and he contacts your superiors, they would know you are here now, right?”
Beatrice watched with wide eyes, not believing what she was hearing. The fact this woman came from out of nowhere just to get something out of Rooster was insane. How did she even pull this off? Better yet, what did she think it’d happen? Chloe just looked surrounded, which she was, especially when Penny and Shells got closer too, the three women forming a barricade behind Beatrice that signaled that Chloe was at a huge disadvantage there.
Seeing that this was a battle she could no longer win, which honestly she never did, Chloe slowly backed away, muttering she was ‘sorry for bothering them’ and ran to her car, almost hitting another one when she reversed out of the parking lot, disappearing from view. “What the fuck just happened?” Shells asked, looking at Beatrice, “Did she threaten you or something?”
“She was just badmouthing me and telling me lies…just,trying–I don’t know what her endgame was, but it was…weird.”
“Should we call the cops on her?” Shells asks Evelyn who is looking down at her phone, typing something quickly - undoubtedly letting her father know what just happened.
“No. I just texted my dad, he can deal with it for us.” Evelyn’s eyes softened, “Are you okay Bea?”
Was she? She was a bit…she didn’t know how to feel about what just happened. Yes, she was nervous at first but then she was so angry, she was so mad because this woman who had nothing to do with her life nor Rooster’s wanted to…intrude? Act up? For what? “I’m…I’m fine…It’s just, I feel a bit dizzy.” all that anger and fury probably dropped her blood pressure or something because she was feeling really woozy. Penny stepped up to Bea and ordered Shells to hold her other arm as they brought her back inside the bar.
They sat her down in one of the booths, Penny rubbing the back of Beatrice’s hand as Shells rushed out of the area to get some sugar water. Beatrice rubs her forehead with her palm heel,clenching her eyes and enduring the heavy toll her body had to deal with emotionally, her head pumping with a violent headache that only made things worse, “She’s done this before.” comes Evelyn’s voice, which makes both Penny and Beatrice turn their eyes her way, “According to my dad, she was interested in another guy before, didn’t work out, she tried showing up again and getting him back. It was never violent, she was never violent, but this shit isn’t going to go over well.”
Shells come back with a white mug filled with water, her aunt giving her a confused look but accepting it anyway, ‘There you go,Bea. Take…little sips.” she waits until the brunette brings the mug to her lips, scrunching her face at the pure sugar hitting her tongue, setting it down after just a few gulps. While the other women talked amongst themselves, Beatrice couldn’t help but repeat the weird events that happened seconds before.
This woman, this Chloe, showed up as if she was Bradley’s ex-girlfriend or something serious like that and tried to belittle her, belittle Bradley saying he was a liar and making her think he was with her out of pity?? The goblin voice crackled in the back of her mind, whispered growly voices making it’s way over her ear, planting doubt after doubt inside her brain. But it made no sense, because Rooster wasn’t like that, he wasn’t like that at all and he has proven that time and time again!
Then why was she having weird thoughts about it? Why was the goblin voice of doubt being louder than every other? Why was she questioning this? She hated it, so much and she knew she’d have to talk to Bradley about it because he'd definitely see if something was off with her. Would he be upset? How would he react? God she was so nervous, she only hoped that later tonight when they went back to his apartment they could have a good talk about this.
-
He wasn’t so different when he got to the bar, he greeted her as he normally would, he smiled at her like he normally would…but when they got back to his apartment, he got very quiet and his face seemed to stone in a mid frown that never disappeared. Even Jolene’s presence there didn’t seem to ease it and it got worse every time he looked at his phone.
Beatrice only stood by a distance, biting her lower lip watching his back move as he pulled his Hawaiian shirt from his body, folding in his hands, “Brad,” she calls and he stops, looking back at her with an inquisitive glance, “Are you okay?”
He inhales deeply, his smile not quite meeting his eyes, “Long day, gorgeous.” he says in a clipped tone, “Long, long day.” she chews her lower lip again, watching him rub his hands over his face and sighing against his palms. Beatrice wrung her hands together, unsure on how to tell him without making his day worse so she chose that it’d be better to help him unwind a little bit.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Bradley rolls his lips into his mouth, his hands propped on his hips with another inhale going down his nose, “You know, I don’t think so.” that was weird, he usually wants to share if something is bothering him, “I don’t–” he shakes his head, not finishing the sentence.
Oh I wonder what could’ve happened to him. Maybe he saw that girl again and noticed he still had feelings for her and doesn't know how to tell you about it.
That wasn’t true. Bradley isn’t like that. “Are you sure?” she asks softly, watching how his shoulders tensed up and his body went rigid, but his face wasn’t turned towards her.
“I am very sure.” he says curtly, “I really don’t want to talk about it,Bea.”
Beatrice swallowed her saliva nervously, the sharp claw of fear and anxiety climbing up her spine as she watched Rooster disappear into his kitchen to get something. Maybe it was just work stuff he couldn’t tell her. Maybe that was why he was like that. She follows him into the kitchen, a glass of water being chugged down in harsh gulps until he thunked the glass on the sink, leaning his weight on it.
She didn’t know what to do and the doubtful voices in her head weren’t helping. “Do you want to order something?” she asks softly, stepping closer to him and disliking how he was walling himself up but choosing to not prod about it, “I know it’s late but I think that we can get some pizzas.”
Bradley clears his throat, bringing his fingers to the bridge of his nose where he rubbed it in slow circles, “Yeah. Sure.I can do pizzas.” his clipped tone was unnerving her more and more, it wasn’t helping her anxiety and fear with him acting like that.
Because he’s thinking how to break it to you that he no longer wants to be in a relationship with you…tubby.
No. That wasn’t true. It wasn’t true.
“Okay…I’ll…order it then.” The silence usually wasn’t uncomfortable like this and Beatrice didn’t know what to do. Her emotions had flared up ever since that afternoon and she felt she wouldn’t be able to keep it in for long. She didn’t want to make him even more upset with the information that…his ex-hookup showed up and tried belittling her like that. His ex-hookup that was…tall and skinny, looking like a brunette Gisele Bündchen with how perfect she was.
But wait, no she wasn’t perfect. She was just skinnier than Beatrice was and that didn’t mean that Beatrice’s body was wrong. She just did a photo shoot using swimwear and other clothing she’d never admit she thought about wearing before, so she wasn’t wrong. Her body wasn’t wrong and he loved her and her body.
Oh, but what if you’ve been mistaken?
She wasn’t mistaken, not about Rooster…not about how he feels when it comes to her. But the way he was acting right now was…really bothering her too much. He was never this quiet, he was never this brooding with her, “Roos.” she calls softly, following him out of the kitchen, where he stops by the hallway, “You know you can talk to me if something is bothering you,right?”
Bradley’s jaw moves, but he doesn’t speak, “I know.” was all he said, “Don’t worry about it.”
“It’s just…well you are very quiet and I worry–”
“There’s nothing to worry about,Beatrice.” he doesn’t raise his voice, but he does sound snappy, ‘Whatever it is I’ll resolve it. There are some things that I have to do alone and I don’t need your help with.”
Oh.
“...oh.” was all she could reply, her mind going hundred miles a minute with all the fears and possibilities. He changed his mind about them, everything was right, she was wrong, everything was falling apart, she wasn’t deserving of happiness nor deserving of him, “...okay…”
Bradley sighs,running his hand down his face and muttering a ‘be right back’ as he steps into his room and then the ensuite bathroom, locking the door behind him. He puts his hands over his eyes, pacing around his bathroom as he tries to control his temper, trying to forget that Chloe showed up out of nowhere and decided to message him. He was sure he blocked her, he was sure he cut all contact.
God he was so pissed when she started suggesting things for them to do, as if they were just on a ‘break’ and he wasn’t dating Beatrice. He walked around his office just like he was now, trying to ease out the anger and annoyance. It took him so long to finally cut her off he didn’t even talk to Beatrice - lunch break was over and he was still getting rid of Chloe’s constant messages since just blocking her clearly wasn’t going to work.
Then he got mad because he wasted so much time getting rid of her he could barely say two words to Beatrice and then he fucked some stuff up - he also lost his favorite pen - and he had to take a few breathing breaks. Then at the bar, while he was still angry, seeing his girlfriend helped him calm down a little but he just kept thinking on how to tell Beatrice about Chloe and how to deal with this.
…speaking of which, he shouldn’t have acted like that with her. Beatrice wasn’t at fault for what happened and he should’ve just told her about it instead of locking himself in his bathroom and leaving her alone, “Fuck.” he groans against his hands, thinking how much this Chloe just bothered him to the point he was getting angry at people who had nothing to do with it, instead of her.
He took a few more calming breaths, hoping that Beatrice wasn’t too upset for him snapping at her like that - God, he never once did that to her, what was he fucking thinking? He gives him a look on the mirror, then leans down to open the faucet and wash his face the best he could, breathing out by his mouth before he steps out of the bathroom, “Bea,” he calls, walking past his bedroom’s threshold, “Bea, baby I’m sorry for–”
Where was she?
She was right in his living room when he went inside. Matter of fact, where was Beatrice and Jolene? The pittie wasn’t in her favored spot on the couch either. Bradley moved his eyes anxiously, she was probably in the kitchen, yes, she was going to order pizzas- she’s not in the kitchen either.
He tries not to panic, he couldn’t see her bag there either so…wait, did she leave? “Fuck, no,no no no.” he stomps his way to his front door, looking down the hallway and towards the elevators. His eyes widened seeing the numbers going down, “No, no no!Fuck!
“ he doesn’t even bother to wait for the other one, he slams the fire escape door open and runs down the stairs, checking every floor to see if he still had time to reach her.
No, no, this couldn’t be happening. Beatrice couldn’t be leaving. Not like this, he had to tell her what happened! “Please, let me reach her. Please.” he ignored his throat burning and how his chest ached from running down the steps all the way down to the lobby. He has to take a quick break before he reaches the last door, yanking it open to check. Someone else was entering the elevator now, both of them, so Beatrice already left!
He had to hurry. He ran all the way outside, breathing heavily and looking around in hopes to see her down the street. She didn’t have a car, so she probably called an uber…but there were no cars, well, there was one, but it was now driving away from him– his keys, he needed to get his keys, “Fuck!” he once again didn’t take the elevator, going all the way back by the fire escape stairs, shouldering the door to his floor open.
His white tee was sticking to his back and chest, but he couldn’t care about it right now. He just inhaled shakily once he got to his apartment door, leaning on his hand to regain his breathing, “Okay,” he says between gulps of air, “Okay, I need my keys.” he wipes some beads of sweat that traveled down his temple and his cheekbones. He was starting to panic, what did he do? God, what did he do? He shouldn’t have said that. Why did he say that?
Where the fuck were his keys? He patted his jeans, then his tee - that had no pockets - cursing high and low. “Where the fuck are they, where the– excuse me a minute Jojo.” he steps over the tail wagging pitbull to reach the other side of the room…then he pauses. He pauses and slowly looks back to where Jolene now was, seated on her favorite spot in his couch, his eyes widening, “Wait, how are you here?”
“Roos?”
Was he dreaming? Was he imagining things? Because that was Beatrice’s voice. He looks up to the hallway, seeing Beatrice holding her bag in her hands, her eyebrows low and confused, “...Bea.You are here.”
The brunette’s eyes turn sadder, looking away from him, “...s-should I not be?”
“What? No!” He crosses the room in two strides, wrapping his arms around Beatrice so tight she drops her bag to the floor in surprise, her hands slowly coming up to touch his damp shoulder blades.
“Roos, why are you so sweaty? What happened?” she asked against his neck, blinking her big green eyes in surprise when he pulled back to smack her lips soundly, over and over, the girl’s face turning such a violent shade of red she looked ready to melt. “Roos- Roos what’s happ-” but his lips kept on hers, cupping her warm cheeks in his big hands, before he drops them to her thighs where he picks her up and carries her back to his bedroom. She barely has time to speak, between his lips on hers and the sudden shock of being carried over, she presses a hand to his wet and warm chest, pushing him the best she could.
He does break the kiss, but he keeps his face right above hers. “...Roos…wh-what is happening? Why are you drenched with sweat? Are you sick?”
“I…” the weight of his sudden workout finally hit him and he felt his chest heave out breath after breath “I…I thought you left, so I…I ran in hopes to get you. I’m sorry.”
“Rooster…why would I leave? I’m not understanding…”
“I snapped at you and you had nothing to do with what happened.” realization shone on her eyes, the same eyes that looked away from his ashamedly, her hand dropping from his chest to land on her stomach.
“I shouldn’t have pestered you–”
He shakes his head negatively, closing his eyes, “No. No this isn’t your fault.” he says gently, “I shouldn’t have done that. I…I was mad about something else and I just let it out on you and it was unfair.” her eyes return to his, hesitantly so, but he’s glad she’s looking at him again. “Pretty girl, you know I don’t get mad at you for worrying about me.”
Beatrice chews her lower lip, he could see the worry still in her eyes, in those big green eyes he fell in love with, “It’s just…you were acting weird and I thought…I thought I did something wrong.” that I was no longer good enough, she thinks, “And I…I guess my day has been kinda messy too so…”
“No, you didn’t do anything wrong, gorgeous. You didn’t, hey,” he cups her chin when she looks away, arching both of his eyebrows for emphasis, “You didn’t do anything wrong…I’m sorry for snapping at you. I really am.”
Beatrice takes a long while to reply, so long he almost feels she won’t do so, but she nods “I forgive you.” she whispers, which makes Rooster sigh out in relief, dropping his face to her neck where he breathed in her lavender scent - calmness and devotion - kissing the curve of her shoulder. “Do you want…to tell me what happened?”
He lifts his head from her neck, then looks over his shoulder to his bathroom, “Yeah but…maybe I might need to take a bath first…join me?” he didn’t like how she seemed to go back to hesitation, “If you don’t want it’s okay.”
“No,no I do.” she whispers, ‘It might help me get my mind out of things too.” she replies, giving him a small smile and following him when he stood up, offering her his hand. She grabs with the same smile, closing her eyes when he leans closer to kiss her forehead, then her lips one more time, leading them to the bathroom.
#bradley rooster bradshaw#rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x oc#top gun maverick#bradley bradshaw x reader
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Metallic / Kenny x Craig
hello! here’s some friends with benefits to lovers crenny. i put a lot of work into this fic and im rlly happy w how it came out. feel free to check it out on ao3, i would love to hear any feedback yall have. hope you enjoy!!!!
Ao3 Link | 8k words | One Shot
Kenny did not expect to become fuck buddies with Craig Tucker. He also never expected that he'd fall in love with him.
Kenny doesn’t even like cigarettes.
His throat is always sore, he can’t wash the smell out of his hair, and this nasty little habit is burning a hole in his wallet too.
But, here he is, standing in an alley between a cell-phone repair store and South Park’s only dance studio, sparking one up.
He hates to admit it, but all that anti-drug stuff they taught in school might’ve been right. Not about booze and pot or anything like that. Getting high is one of the greatest parts of being alive, Kenny thinks. But, all that stuff about how quickly nicotine changes your brain and gets you addicted before you know it is pretty on the mark.
“Got one for me?” Pipes up a voice from the opening of the alley.
Well, maybe the cigarettes aren’t the only thing Kenny can’t quit.
Craig Tucker stands at the end of the alleyway, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Kenny looks at him, holding the smoke in his chest for a little too long. He stifles a cough as Craig steps over the trash at the mouth of the alley and towards him. Kenny loves this part, watching the other’s silhouette against the light that shines in from the parking lot, the way his long legs carry him over with practiced ease.
In a town like South Park, watching the boy you might be in love with walk through a dirty alley is probably the most beautiful sight there is.
“Hey,” Craig says as he comes to stand across from Kenny.
“Hey,” Kenny responds, pulling the hood of his parka down so he can properly look up at the other. He runs a hand through his hair, hoping that it’s giving purposefully fucked-up rather than fucked-up from not being washed for a few days.
Craig watches this with his typical neutral expression. Over the course of the two months they’ve been meeting like this, Kenny has gotten a lot better at reading him. Now, he knows the difference between mild interest, mild annoyance, mild disgust, and mild boredom, which all look the same on Craig to the untrained eye.
Currently, Craig is giving him a mildly impatient look that prompts Kenny to slide another cigarette out from the pack in his pocket and hold it out. “Here, needy.”
“ I’m needy?” Craig asks with an exhale, lips curling in amusement. He takes the cigarette, then takes a matchbook out from his pocket and lights it. It’s one of his quirks that drives Kenny crazy. He’s desperate to find out why Craig just doesn’t buy a lighter.
Kenny takes another drag of his cigarette, shrugging. “Always bumming cigs off of me, that’s kind of needy, Craig.”
Craig looks down at him in that way, when he doesn’t tilt his entire head down, just his eyes. “If you want to talk about needy we can talk about you under the bleachers last week-” He’s cut off by a quick shove to his shoulder which sends him back a step. Craig doesn’t even flinch, his smile just becomes even more smug.
“You’re the one that almost got us caught, remember? You were all like-” Kenny gives an incredibly out-of-character Craig impression that’s more akin to a pornstar than the quiet boy in front of him. “ F-fuck, Kenny! Give me more! I need you s-so bad!”
Now, Kenny is cut off as Craig pushes his back against the brick wall, slamming their lips together. He falls into the kiss easily, reaching up to grip the collar of Craig’s shirt to pull him even closer.
Their kisses always taste like cigarettes, maybe that’s why Kenny can’t stop smoking.
Craig breaks the kiss, lips hovering just above Kenny’s. “Wanna go to my car?” He asks, and Kenny is already dragging him back through the alley.
Being fuck buddies with Craig Tucker was the last thing on his senior year bucket list. The two barely spoke at school except for when they overlapped at the occasional party or exchanged notes in class. It wasn’t that they were un friendly, both boys just seemed to keep their own kind of distance from everyone. For Craig, that was his general apathy that he extended to everyone outside of his immediate circle. For Kenny, that was maintaining a general amiability with the student body, but never getting too close with anyone except for his few friends.
He was always drawn to Craig, though. At first, it was probably just because Craig was one of the only openly gay kids in their school, so he was an easy subject of Kenny’s closeted fantasies during his pubescent years. However, as time went on, he always paid just a little more attention to Craig than everyone else.
It helps that Craig is hot.
Maybe not picture-perfect stunning in the way those guys from Karen’s teen magazines are, but Kenny can’t stop looking at the guy. The sharp, downward angle of his nose, the way his lower lashes flutter when he rolls his eyes, the veins protruding from his forearms down to his hand. Even the way his dark hair pokes out from the back of his stupid puffball hat when it gets too long.
So, when Kenny ran into Craig outside the dance studio two months ago, he took it as a sign from a higher power that he’s got to get into the guy’s pants.
Turns out, Karen McCormick and Tricia Tucker are good friends who take ballet class together Mondays and Wednesdays from 7:00-8:00. Even though she’s thirteen now, Kenny insists on taking Karen to and from class, since he doesn’t want her walking back alone in the dark. There’s not much to do for the hour of the class except to roam the shopping center, since he can’t get very far on his bike.
Craig’s excuse was that his parents made him take Tricia back and forth and that he liked being out of the house anyway. The two had their first awkward encounter in the parking lot the second week of class. Kenny had no idea what to say, since he couldn’t start with “Hey, you’ve been at the top of my to-do list since freshman year, wanna do hand stuff in that alley?”
Luckily, Craig spoke first and offered Kenny a cigarette.
Things escalated kind of quickly. Kenny isn’t exactly subtle, and it’s not a big secret that he’s hooked up with quite a few girls from their class. It was a secret, however, that he’d hooked up with quite a few college guys at one of the bars outside of town.
He knew that Craig would be tough to crack, but he knew with a pack of cigarettes and enough suggestive eye contact, it would happen.
The first time they hooked up happened three weeks in. It was the first and last time they’d do it in the alley. Afterwards, Craig pulled up his pants, lit a cigarette and said, “This is just between you and me, right?” Kenny just nodded.
As the weeks went on, something very terrible happened. He’s not quite sure where he went wrong, the feelings crept up on him until they were too strong to ignore. Sometime after that first metallic-tasting kiss, Kenny fell for Craig. Hard.
He wasn’t like the other guys that he had hooked up with. In fact, he wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met. Craig didn’t exactly stand out in school. The two had hung out in elementary school, as did all the guys in their class. But, at some point in middle school, friend groups started becoming cliques, and the two stopped interacting almost altogether. Plus, Craig has always been vocal about hating Stan, Kyle, and Cartman.
But there was something about Craig, besides his dick, that made Kenny keep coming back. At first, he thought Craig was an apathetic asshole who he’d ditch after a few fucks. But when the two of them were together, Kenny got glimpses of the side the dark-haired boy hid away. It started as him checking in when they fucked, constantly making sure that everything was okay with what they were doing, which isn’t something Kenny should’ve found as endearing as he did. As they started meeting more often, Craig would remember little things Kenny told him, asking about video games he mentioned coming out or tests he was stressing over. On the rare occasions Craig would carry the conversation, he’d tell stories about his friends or his sister that had Kenny genuinely laughing and hoping that Craig couldn’t see his heart-eyes. Whatever was between them wasn’t something that he’d ever felt with anyone else, something that he constantly wanted more of.
Yeah, Kenny was in deep.
That was well over a month ago. Now, Kenny sits in the back of Craig’s car, pulling his shirt back on while Craig tugs at the neckline of his.
“Does this show from my collar?” Craig asks, leaning forward so Kenny can properly look at the hickey he’s left on the other’s collarbone. As badly as he wants to mark up the tanned boy for the world to see, he’s always strategic, keeping everything hidden under clothes.
“Have a little faith, Craig,” Kenny replies, rolling his eyes. “Of course it doesn’t show.”
“The guys would fucking tear me a new one if they saw it,” Craig says, not really listening to Kenny. Which, for some fucked-up reason, Kenny still finds hot.
“Because they’d think you were hiding something or because the something is that my entire dick was literally just down your throat?”
Now, Craig is listening, giving Kenny a look that says too far .
Kenny raises his hands defensively. “I’m just fucking with you, man. Literally .”
“Has anyone ever told you how funny you are, Kenny? Seriously, I’m in god damn stitches over here,” Craig replies, very far from being in stitches.
But, two can play at that game. “Oh yeah, all the time. I usually hear I have nice eyes, my dick is so insanely huge and perfect that it has to be sent from God himself, and then that I’m really funny.”
Craig flips him off, meaning he’s conceded from this sarcasm-off that Kenny likes to call “flirting.” Instead of responding, he checks his phone. “It’s almost eight.”
Kenny nods, he knows when Craig is trying to kick him out. “See you,” he says before getting out of the car. His bike is locked up on the other side of the parking lot so the girls won’t see them even remotely close together.
Watching Craig walk towards him is always his favorite part. Walking away from Craig is the absolute worst part. In the short wait from getting out of the car to Karen leaving class, Kenny has all the time he needs to think about how fucking stupid this entire situation is, he’s using me to get off and he probably doesn’t give two shits about me and I’m letting him. I’m fucking letting him!
He stands by his bike, turning back to get one more look at Craig, like another glimpse at that perfect face will remind him why he’s putting himself through all this anyway. But when he looks back, Craig is already watching him, leaning against the side of his car, smoking a cigarette. Craig doesn’t look away so neither does Kenny. It was the sound of class letting out that finally turned their attention away.
Kenny tries his best to act nonchalant when Karen approaches, since she can typically read him like a book.
“What’s wrong, Kenny?” She asks as she reaches him, bending down to look right at his face as he unlocks the bike to avoid just that.
“Nothing, nothing,” he clasps the lock to his belt loop and straightens up, smiling down at his little sister. He always feels better once she’s there. “How was class?”
“Good! Except the teacher was being really mean to this one girl during warm-ups.”
Karen tells him the story on the ride home, where Kenny pedals and she stands on the pegs, holding onto his shoulders. He only thinks about Craig a little bit.
It’s Friday night and Kenny is drunk in Cartman’s basement.
As sad as it sounds, these are usually the best nights of Kenny’s weekends. Going to parties, sneaking into bars, skipping town, those all have their ups and downs, but he’d rather spend his night with three of the biggest assholes in South Park, getting shitfaced and arguing.
“Kyle, what the fuck are you talking about?” Cartman is leaning back in an armchair they rescued from the side of the street a while back, spilling a bit of his beer as he gesticulates.
“I mean first we have to establish the ethics of cloning. Is it really me? All of my memories? Does it know it’s a clone? Will it continue its life until it dies? Or will it be terminated after?” Kyle asks from the couch, perched on the edge. Kyle’s also drunk because all he needs is three spiked seltzers to get there. Luckily, Liane Cartman supplies pretty much whatever they want as long as her son asks for it.
“It doesn’t matter! All that matters is if you would fuck it or not!” Cartman shouts back, rattling the armchair in a concerning manner. Kenny hopes it breaks under him. God, that would be hilarious.
“I dunno, dude. I think it matters,” Stan pipes up. He’s sitting on the couch besides Kyle, though he’s leaning back, nursing a beer like Cartman. “I mean, if it’s the same as me, isn’t it kind of incest?”
Cartman rolls his eyes. “It’s clearly not incest because it’s you . It’s basically jerking off!”
They’ve been having this argument for a good while now. Stan mentioned having a dream where he met himself in the third person, to which Kenny asked if he fucked himself. Cartman said that if he met himself in a dream, he’d have sex with himself, and has now spent the last twenty minutes explaining that it’s not gay and that Stan and Kyle would do it too. Kenny’s stayed out of the discussion, quietly drinking from a flask he brought for himself. While the others have been sipping beer and seltzer, he’s been sipping whiskey, which means that he is pleasantly wasted.
“Kenny’s the one who said it first! That means he doesn’t think it’s gay!” Cartman shouts, pointing everyone’s attention back at Kenny sitting on the floor, leaning back against the couch.
All three pairs of eyes are suddenly on him, reminding Kenny that he’s actually present in the moment and not watching them like a sitcom. “A hole’s a hole,” is his simple response, which is enough for Stan and Kyle, but not for Cartman.
“That doesn’t answer the question, Kinny ,” he says, mispronouncing Kenny’s name the way he always does when he’s pissed off.
This is how Kenny knows his feelings for Craig are more than just his usual horny feelings; Right now, he’s dying to know if Craig would fuck his clone. In any conversation, Kenny just wants to ask Craig about it, crawl deep inside his head and poke around. He lets himself drift off for a moment, thinking about what they’d talk about. Maybe they’d be laying beside each other after hooking up, somewhere that’s not Craig’s backseat and without their little sisters to cut them off.
“Dude, he’s totally fantasizing about fucking his clone,” Stan says, giving Kenny a light kick to his shoulder.
Kenny takes another swig from his flask in response to Stan, returning back to his fantasy while the others continue their debate. And then, because it’s Friday night and he’s drunk in Cartman’s basement, he texts Craig.
Kenny: wld u fuck ur clone
It’s only after he sends the text that Kenny fully understands what he’s just done. They usually text homework answers, empty classrooms to make out in, and maybe the occasional conversation. But a Friday night drunk text? That’s like a whole other level of relationship, and Kenny might’ve just crossed that. Before he has time to regret literally everything he’s ever done, Craig responds.
Craig: No thats stupid
And suddenly, he feels much better.
Craig: Would you?
In fact, he feels elated. It’s the most idiotic conversation subject he can imagine, but it’s something. It’s more than the awkward small talk they made before they just started hooking up, at least.
Kenny: hell yea wh y not
Kenny: i mean u thinnk i m pretty hot right ;)
Craig: I think youre pretty lame
Craig: And Id have to know more about the cloning logistics
Kenny: thatssexactly what kyle said
Craig: Are you getting wasted with those assholes
Kenny: maybs
Craig: I hope thats a typo and you didnt just say “maybs”
Kenny: mmaaaayyyyyybbbbbbbssss
Craig: Im putting my phone down now
Kenny: hhahhahha
Kenny: sooo dram atic
Craig: Yeah thats me Im known for being super dramatic
Kenny: shutt up i kno ur secretly a drama kween
Craig: Whatever go drink some water or something
Kenny: ok mom
Craig didn’t reply anymore after that. Kenny wanted to spam him with messages and memes and emoticons, he’d send a dick pic, he’d send his location, whatever would keep Craig replying. But, it was then that Cartman suggested ordering pizza on his mom’s credit card, and Kenny put his phone down.
They don’t speak again for the rest of the weekend. Why should they? They never talk on weekends, they’re just hooking up when it's convenient. Kenny knows this is just out of convenience and general horniness. When Monday comes around, he waits for Craig in the alley as usual, letting the unlit cigarette dangle from his lips. Craig comes around, except he doesn’t carry himself with the same ease he usually does as he walks over to Kenny.
“‘Sup fucker,” Kenny greets. Real smooth .
“Are you just chewing on a cig right now?” Craig asks once he’s close enough to actually see Kenny’s unlit cigarette.
Kenny pulls it out of his mouth, tucking it behind his ear instead. “No, it just burnt out. Fuck off,” he feels his cheeks heating up. This is definitely not how he wanted his first Craig interaction post-drunk-text to go. And by the look on Craig’s face, he’s not enjoying it either. Actually, when Kenny looks up to really see him, he realizes Craig kind of looks like shit. He knits his brows together. “You kinda look like shit.”
“I have a cold,” Craig replies, shoving his hands in his pockets. He turns away from Kenny, leaning against the brick wall.
“Weird thing to call a hangover,” Kenny quips. Craig does sound more nasally than usual, which is gross, but the tip of his nose is a little pink, which is actually kind of cute.
He even looks cute as he flips Kenny off in response.
“So it is a hangover,” Kenny says, leaning closer to the other.
“Obviously I’m not fucking hungover, Kenny. I’m not in the mood for this, man,” He pulls away, tugging his hat down a bit. “I feel like shit.”
“You want me to kiss it better?” Kenny asks, causing Craig to turn around. But, the expression on his face is not his typical interested smirk, and Kenny feels dread set in.
“Dude, I’m sick. I’m not kissing you.”
Kenny simply shrugs. “I don’t care.”
Craig blinks. “You’ll get sick, I’m not going to get you sick.”
“Alright,” Kenny says, voice a little tight. They’re out of their usual rhythm, which shouldn’t freak him out as much as it is right now. He can save this though. “Then let me blow you, yeah?”
“Kenny,” Craig begins. He hesitates to speak, the words getting caught in his mouth. “I’m not gonna make you blow me because we can’t kiss. I- That’s just weird.”
Kenny takes a step back, his chest feeling tight. “You’re not making me do anything, I just offered. Don’t make it weird, let’s just go to your car.”
“Have a little self-respect, Kenny,” Craig nearly cuts him off, his brow furrowing as he looks down at the other.
Kenny’s stomach begins to twist itself into a knot. He takes a step back, suddenly fixated on the dirt beneath him because he can’t stand the look on Craig’s face, a nauseating mix of disgust and pity.
He sees Craig take a step closer to him, hesitantly reaching a hand out as he tries to speak again. “Shit, I didn’t-”
“Fuck you,” Kenny spits at him, shoving past Craig as he leaves. He can hear Craig call out for him, but he won’t turn around. He can’t turn around, because he knows that if Craig asked for it, he’d forgive him in a heartbeat.
He gets on his bike and pedals like hell. He doesn’t know where he’s going, and he knows that in an hour he has to turn around to get Karen, but there’s no way he’s stopping until then. Kenny knows how people see him, he knows the rumors that go around the school about his body count, teachers and parents he’d slept with, the things that he’s done in exchange for it. Most of that isn’t even true, but he’s never cared about it. People think he’s hot and gets laid, why would that be a problem?
But Craig isn’t “people.” Craig holds the back of Kenny’s neck every time they kiss. Craig sends him study guides for class without even being asked to. Shit , Craig is the only guy he’s actually wanted to be with beyond hooking up. And now he’s fucked everything up, acting like the fuckboy he didn’t want Craig to see him as.
Kenny stops his bike dead in the street, glancing around. He’s just a little bit out of town, enough for there to only be trees and mountains in front of him and a few distant houses behind. He doesn’t want to turn around. Maybe he can just never see Craig again and forget all about maybe being in love with him. He’ll shave his head and skip town, or maybe just hermit himself in the woods.
But, he has to pick Karen up.
He’s late, partially because he got pretty far, partially because he wants to make sure there’s no chance of running into Craig. Karen asks him what happened and he mumbles out some bullshit apology. Luckily, she’s happy to complain about her teacher again. He thinks about Craig the entire ride home.
Tuesday is weird. It’s probably weird because he went to bed after smoking three bowls while trying to do his math homework. He was desperate for a distraction. At lunch, he stares down at the table, pulling down on the strings of his hoodie while the others chat around him. Kenny used to hate that he and Craig didn’t have lunch together, instead they texted while the other ignored his history class. Sometimes, Craig would pretend to use the bathroom and instead meet Kenny in the janitor’s closet. It was a little gross, but the best they could do when they only had a few minutes.
“Earth to Kenny,” he says, kicking the other’s leg under the table.
“Hm?” Kenny glances up from the table, voice muffled by his hoodie pulled tight around his face.
“You okay?” The redhead not-so-subtly slides half of his sandwich across the table, offering it.
The exchange grabs Cartman’s attention, who glances between the two. “Kenny’s stoned, Kahl, just look at him.”
Kenny rubs at his eyes. He’s not in the mood for this.
“Shut up, fatass, no one asked you,” Kyle snaps back, before turning to Kenny. “Wait, are you stoned?”
The question makes Stan look up from his phone, and now Kenny has three sets of eyes on him when he wants none. He takes the easy way out and nods, prompting enthusiastic responses from Cartman and Stan. Kyle isn’t too happy with the answer, so Kenny takes the sandwich just to appease him.
He leaves lunch early and goes for a walk in the woods. His next class, last of the day, is chemistry with Craig. Kenny hopes that he notices his absence.
Wednesday is a little better. He actually does go to class high. Instead of being weirdly fuzzy from the night before, he is pleasantly buzzed and able to focus on scribbling in his notebook or listening to the ticking of the clock. He takes half of Kyle’s sandwich at lunch and contributes at least two sentences at lunch so the guys don’t get suspicious of him.
Then there’s the problem of ballet class.
He drops Karen off, of course. He’s not going to be a bad brother just because the guy he’s maybe in love with thinks he’s some loser slut or whatever. He locks up his bike and sits on the curb beside it, the alley just in his peripheral.
He squeezes a little when Craig’s car pulls up. Tricia gets out and Kenny forces his eyes down, only letting himself look up when the car is driving away, parking all the way across the lot. Their usual spot.
Kenny half expects Craig to get out, head to the alley and wait for him. He half expects himself to get up and head there too, his body moving entirely of its own volition. But, instead, nothing happens.
He lights a cigarette and each drag tastes like Craig.
By the time 8:00 rolls around neither of them have moved. This time, Karen doesn’t even bother asking what’s wrong.
Kyle stops him after lunch the next day. He knew it was coming, he could feel those green eyes on him all week. Of course, the only time when his friends aren’t shitty is just when he needs them to be. When the bell rings, Kenny doesn’t even have the time to grab his backpack before Kyle makes his move.
“Kenny, can I talk to you for a sec?” Kyle asks, coming to stand in front of him at an astonishing speed.
“Don’t you have class?” Kenny retorts, glancing around as everyone else heads out of the lunchroom.
“Study hall,” Kyle replies, heading to the double doors on the opposite side of the lunchroom. Shit , he wants to go outside, which means this is definitely a real conversation. “Come on.”
Reluctantly, he follows behind.
“Fuck, it’s freezing,” he mumbles as they step outside, pulling his hood up. “Cuddle me for warmth, man, I’m dying.”
Kyle tugs down on his ushanka, finally turning to face Kenny. He looks just like his mom for a moment, because Sheila looks at Kenny with the exact same look of concern every time he sees her. “Kenny,” Kyle begins, his mouth pinching up while he searches for the right words. “Is something up?”
“No,” Kenny answers a little too quickly. He opens his mouth, trying to think of some excuse, but decides to just close it again. Maybe Kyle will get that he doesn’t want to talk about it and drop the whole thing.
But, then again, it’s Kyle Broflovski.
“Bullshit, dude. You’ve been moping around for like three days, and I know you keep cutting class after lunch. I have to deal with those idiots by myself,” the ginger says, waving his hands around in the way he always does when he gets all fussy. Kenny thinks it's hilarious, but this probably isn’t the time to point that out. “And Stan told me to forget about it because you’re just stoned, but I thought,” he pauses, quieting himself down. “I thought you were trying not to do that so much.”
Kenny bites the inside of his cheek. The two of them had this conversation after Kenny got busted smoking under the bleachers last year. Despite his misgivings, Kenny was not the type to break promises.
“I’m not some health class teacher, Kenny, I know getting high is fun. But it’s senior year and we’re literally almost done with this semester and then you can go wild but college applications are coming up so things really matter-”
“Kyle!” Kenny nearly yells, putting his hands on the other’s shoulders. “Dude, I’m not stoned.”
Kyle’s brow furrows. “You’re not?” He asks after a moment, his voice almost cracking.
“No.” He stops, thinking for a second. “I mean, I was yesterday, but it’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like?”
Kenny shoves his hands back into his pockets, leaning against the wall. He takes a deep breath. If he’s gonna tell any of his friends about it, at least it’s Kyle who has more emotional maturity than the rest of them. Well, a little bit more. “I was hooking up with someone and I kinda, fuck,” he looks up at the overcast sky. “I actually like them. Because I’m an idiot. And then it got weird and I think they just see me as a hook-up and I got really mad and it’s all fucked up.”
He looks over at Kyle who still has that confused expression on his face. For once, he doesn’t look like he has something to say.
Kenny continues. “It sucks ‘cause now I gotta find someone else to suck me off but not everyone has the jaw flexibility to take this big boy-”
“Shut the fuck up, Kenny,” Kyle cuts him off, clearly not appreciating the joke. “That sucks, dude. I’m sorry.”
Kenny straightens up a bit, shrugging. “It’s whatever, it’s fine.”
“But if you actually like her,” Kyle starts, because of course he’s going to propose a plan of action. “You can’t just give up. I get that you’re gross and horny like ninety percent of the time-”
“One hundred,” Kenny interjects.
“Fuck off. I’ve just never seen you actually like someone. Plus, if you just think she sees you as a fuckbuddy, that doesn’t mean you know that. You can’t just assume how other people feel, Kenny. Maybe if you guys actually talked she’d give you a real chance, see that, even though you’re an idiot, you’re pretty cool.” Though his own eyes are fixated on the ground, he knows Kyle’s looking at him earnestly as he speaks, which makes Kenny really want to believe him.
He runs a hand through his hair, trying to exhale out the tension in his chest. “You really think so?”
Kyle rolls his eyes, though there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. “That you’re an idiot? Yeah. But also, I know any girl would want to be with you if she actually knew you. And if she doesn’t, then fuck her. Girls are lame, anyway.”
Kenny can’t help but snort, but not for the reasons Kyle thinks. “Yeah, they’re totally fucking lame.”
hey, sorry 4 running off and then avoiding u all week. im in love w u. say it back or i will lose my fucking mind
Kenny stares at his phone, frowning. This is probably his fifth draft text, and each one is worst than the last. He tries again.
i know u think im a total loser and i should hate u for it but i actually just want to hold your hand so badly. wanna link?
He groans, rolling over to lay down on his stomach, letting his face sink into his bed. He was supposed to meet up with Stan thirty minutes ago for Friday beers. But, he knows that once Kyle texts that he’s done with Shabbat dinner, Stan will suggest going over to his house for leftovers and video games as usual, and Kenny doesn’t want to face Kyle while he’s still ignoring his advice.
It’ll just take a text, he knows that. If Craig doesn’t want to give him a chance, then he can just avoid him until he gets over him, or for the rest of eternity. If Craig does give him a chance, though, Kenny has absolutely no plan as he doesn’t think he’ll get that far. All he wants is to get rid of these stupid feelings that he has. Then, he can go back to thinking about how much he hates school and what gas stations he can vandalize rather than what Craig’s doing and what songs he’d put on a playlist for him.
Fuck , he’s thinking about him again.
There’s a soft knock at his door that he recognizes instantly, bringing him out of his thought spiral. “Yeah, Karen?”
His little sister opens the door, staying in the doorway of his room. “Will you drive me to my friend’s house? Mom was supposed to but she’s asleep.”
Kenny sits up, rubbing at his face. Of course, it’s not even seven on a Friday and his mom is already passed out on the couch. “Sure, you ready now?
Karen nods, turning so he can see that her backpack is already on. She holds out her hand with the family car keys dangling from it. Smart kid. Though Kenny does not technically have a driver’s license, he’s been swiping his parent’s keys to run errands since before most of his friends even got behind a wheel. Not like the cops in town give a shit about a kid like him anyway, as long as he doesn’t crash or anything.
Kenny stands, taking the keys from her and grabbing his parka. Karen follows behind him quietly as they leave the house.
“Think it’ll snow tonight? It’s pretty cold,” Kenny says as he gets into the car.
“Maybe,” Karen replies, resting her backpack in her lap.
He pulls out of the driveway. “Where to?”
“Tricia from ballet class,” Karen says. His breath hitches. “I know you and her brother aren’t really friends anymore-”
“Did Tricia tell you that?” He interrupts.
“-But her parents are going out tonight and they said I could sleep over even though they won’t be there and I really wanna go,” she finishes, hugging her backpack to her chest. “Can you still drive me?”
Kenny nods, thinking of all the drafted texts in his phone. “Yeah, of course, Karen,” he says.
The smile on her face makes him feel a bit better, and he tries to focus on that during the car ride over rather than what the fuck he’s going to do.
Maybe Craig would find it romantic if Kenny just showed up at his door. Sure, he’d also be bringing his little sister. And he’d be completely unannounced after avoiding him all week. Craig probably has plans tonight, he might not even have time to talk. Or, he just doesn’t want to, and Kenny’s setting himself up for a face-to-face rejection rather than a simple text one.
He gets so caught up in his own thoughts that Karen has to tell him when to stop, as he nearly passes the Tucker household.
Karen turns to her brother as he parks the car in their driveway. “Do you wanna come say hi?” She asks.
“Nah, I don’t think he wants to see me,” Kenny replies, trying to keep his voice light.
She frowns a little, but before she can say anything else, there’s shouting from just outside the car. Tricia Tucker is standing in her doorway, yelling to her friend and gesturing for her to come inside. Karen giggles, waving to Kenny as she opens the car door. Just as Kenny is about to say goodbye, he sees Craig step into the doorway, the two locking eyes.
Kenny feels his heart jump into his throat, but he can’t look away. He’s not ready to talk yet, he has no idea how he can explain himself or if he even wants to. He’s completely frozen in his seat. He can see Karen looking over at him as she crosses the front yard and heads inside with Tricia, but neither of the boys move. They just look at each other,
Then, Craig simply nods his head back, a gesture Kenny knows well: come on . Before he can even realize what he’s doing, he’s already turned the car off.
Kenny’s feet drag as he approaches the doorway.
Craig is standing there, arms folded across his chest. The look on his face is unreadable, something that makes Kenny uneasy.
“You have your license?” Craig breaks the silence, looking over at the car.
“Does it matter?” Kenny asks, looking Craig up and down. He’s in flannel pajama pants, which, like most things the other does, Kenny finds weirdly attractive.
Craig shrugs, stepping back. “You wanna come in?”
Kenny nods wordlessly, stepping inside the house as Craig turns to head up the stairs. On the couch, Tricia and Karen are laughing about something, barely sparing their older brothers a glance. Kenny can’t help but smile as he looks at them. The Tucker household is painfully normal, normal couch without stains and rips, normal walls without peeling paint, topped off by perfectly normal family photos hanging around them.
He decides then, looking down at Karen from the stairs, that he won’t let whatever shit happens between him and Craig get in the way of her experiencing this, getting to see what a normal family looks like.
Which means he has to resolve this now.
Shit.
Craig steps into his bedroom, leaving the door open for Kenny. He remembers going over to Craig’s once or twice when they were in elementary school, back when all the boys in their class would hang out, but he had never gone further than the backyard or living room.
His bedroom is nothing like Kenny thought it would be (on the few occasions he daydreamed about hanging out with Craig like this). The walls are a garish shade of blue, covered up by a multitude of posters. As Kenny steps inside, he can’t help but get a closer look at them, seeing the typical Terrance and Phillip, but also Red Rover, lots of NASA and planetary diagrams, and some for movies he’s never heard about. He didn’t expect Craig to be so… decorative. The best part, however, are the little glow-in-the-dark constellations plastered everywhere.
Kenny notices one little star on the brink of falling off. Just as he reaches to press it back into place, Craig speaks.
“I haven’t really redecorated ever, so whatever shit you’re going to say, I’ve already heard.” He’s sitting on his bed, idly fidgeting the edge of his comforter. Kenny knows the look on his face now, he’s embarrassed. It’s cute, almost annoyingly so, because that’s going to make this conversation even harder.
Kenny just wants to live in this moment for a while, where he can look through all of Craig’s posters and books and shelves and pretend it's not weird that he’s only now seeing the bedroom of the guy he’s been sleeping with for two months.
“I was just gonna say there’s not enough babes on your wall,” Kenny says, turning back to press the loose star into place. Across the room, there’s a small squeaky noise. “Dude, your hamster is still alive? I remember seeing him at show-n-tell in, like, second grade.”
“Not a question you want the answer to,” Craig says, watching as Kenny walks around his room, gaze still fixed on the walls. “Dude, you can sit.”
Kenny pauses. Right , this isn’t the normal hangout he desperately wants it to be. He pulls off his parka, drops it on the floor, and awkwardly sits cross-legged on the bed opposite Craig, making sure to keep his distance. Craig looks oddly annoyed at this, which prompts Kenny to try and not sit awkwardly, which looks even worse.
Craig lets out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Shit, Kenny, you don’t have to be here if you don’t want to be. I’m not trying to, fuck , I don’t know. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or-”
“I do want to be here,” Kenny interrupts, leaning forward a bit. Craig looks back up at him, looking a bit mollified by this. “I, uh. I was gonna text you.”
“Me too,” Craig says, which makes Kenny feel like he can actually breathe since he came into the house.
“Cool,” he says, wincing internally at how lame that sounds. The two take turns glancing at each other and looking away, neither of them knowing quite how to start.
Craig takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he says, and Kenny’s eyes widen. “I was just being a dick on Monday, I didn’t want to piss you off. And I don’t know if it’s because of me, but you haven’t been in class all week, so I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had to avoid me.”
Kenny straightens up a bit, brows knitting together as he tries to figure out exactly why he feels so heated right now. “That’s your apology?”
He sees Craig’s breath catch in his chest. “What?”
“Are you sorry because of what you said or because you upset me?” He asks slowly, meticulously choosing his words.
Craig stammers for a moment. “I don’t- Kenny, I’m just sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
“But do you get why I’m mad?” Kenny asks, his tone practically pleading. He doesn’t want an apology, he doesn’t need one to forgive him. He just wants to know that Craig didn’t actually mean what he said, that Craig understands him.
But, when he looks back at Craig’s face, he doesn’t see any understanding. He just looks frustrated.
Kenny stands up, almost reaching to grab his parka. But then, he thinks of Karen downstairs, enjoying her sleepover with her new friend. He has to fix this, if not for himself, for her.
“Can you just talk to me?” Craig asks, now sitting on the edge of the bed, ready to get up. Kenny looks back at him, then sits down, gaze pointed at the ground.
“I know what everyone says about me. It’s all just bullshit rumors,” he starts, feeling Craig shift beside him to look at his face. “I’ve never fucked a teacher. I haven’t fucked like most of the girls people think I have, I just think their friends lie about that to be mean. Yeah, I’ve hooked up with a few girls. And also some dudes. And Butters’ mom, but that was once,” he pauses. “Shit, this isn’t helping.”
“I’m listening,” Craig says reassuringly.
“Yeah,” Kenny breathes out, then continues. “I’m not some fucking virgin, but I’m also not this crazy nympho that everyone thinks I am. I just like to fuck, maybe more than the average person, and that’s not something I’m ashamed of. But I don’t care if people have the wrong idea, because caring what people in South Park think is a waste of fucking time.”
He hears a low hum of agreement from Craig.
“But I care about what you think,” Kenny says, and before he can overthink what he’s about to do, he lets himself continue talking. “I wasn’t just hooking up with you because you’re hot. Well, that’s what it was at first, but now I have this problem where I care about what you think of me and I want to be around you even if we’re not fucking. God, I even started smoking cigs just because they taste like you. So, when you told me that I didn’t have self-respect, and you looked at me like that , I realized that you saw me how everyone else did.”
Kenny’s throat feels raw, and all he can hear is Craig’s breathing beside him.
“So, yeah, I was avoiding you. I just never wanted to see that look on your face again. Which was stupid of me, I shouldn’t have avoided you,” he clenches his fists in his lap. “I know I fucked this all up.”
In the silence that follows, Kenny feels something shift back into place. After weeks and weeks of agonizing over what Craig thought of him or how he was going to finally tell him, everything is off his chest. He feels lighter.
Kenny isn’t sure how long they sit there for. He’s only brought back into the moment when Craig gingerly takes his hand, coaxing Kenny to unclench his fist and intertwine their fingers.
“I’m sorry, Kenny” Craig says, the words feeling so much heavier than they did before. “I’m actually sorry. I didn’t say that shit because I look down on you or whatever. I said it because I don’t want you to look down on yourself like that. Do you- Does that make sense?”
Before Kenny can even reply, he’s continuing.
“I never wanted to make you feel like I was only hanging out with you so we could fuck. Which, I guess I kind of did the opposite of because I’m a dumbass. But, I think I-” he pauses, squeezing Kenny’s hand. “I care a lot about you too, and I’m not really used to caring about shit. Not having you around this week sucked, Kenny. I couldn’t get you out of my head.”
Kenny finally turns to him fully, and the look on Craig’s face makes him want to crumble. He looks scared and nervous and ridiculously sweet.
“You started smoking because of me?” Craig asks.
“I wanted you to think I was cool,” Kenny replies shyly, because they’re being honest now.
“I don’t even smoke, Kenny, I bought that pack because I wanted an excuse to talk to you. I thought that you smoked.”
Kenny just stares at Craig for a moment, then begins to laugh. Craig follows suit, palming himself in the face as they both fall into a fit.
“That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Kenny says when he catches his breath. Craig just nods, a soft smile remaining on his face. “So, do you want to hang out and, like, not have sex?”
Craig snorts. “Do I want to try dating you? Yeah, Kenny, I do.”
“Don’t laugh at me,” he says, leaning forward until his head rests against Craig’s shoulder. “I’m not used to this, okay?”
Craig continues holding his hand, wrapping his free arm around Kenny to rub his shoulder in an incredibly comforting way. “That’s okay. We’re already doing this shit out of order.”
Kenny squeezes his hand, and the two fall back against the bed. They take a second to adjust, figuring out how they fit together not cramped in the back of a car. Kenny ends up with Craig wrapped around him, the other’s lips pressing into the top of his head. Despite their height difference, the way their legs tangle, how his arm is pinned uncomfortably under Craig, the two of them together like this feels so right .
“You wanna stay over tonight?” Craig asks, fingers curling around the hair at the nape of Kenny’s neck. “We can watch a movie or something.”
“Wow, a double McCormick-Tucker sleepover, how middle school of us,” Kenny quips.
Craig groans. “Fuck, they’re gonna have a field day with this. Tricia has been so annoying asking me about you, it was non-stop this week.”
Kenny tilts his head up, pressing a kiss along the other’s jawline.
“What was that for?” Craig asks, smiling down at him.
“You were being cute,” Kenny says, nuzzling back against his chest. “Can I say that now? Can I tell you how cute you are?”
Craig lets out a little embarrassed noise. “Yeah,” he says softly. Then he adds, “Yeah, you can. But only if I get to tell you how gorgeous you are.”
Kenny moves away, propping himself up on his elbow as he looks down at Craig. “Gorgeous?” He repeats, feeling his cheeks heat up.
Craig just looks up at him fondly. “Like right now,” he says, reaching up to touch Kenny’s face, but he pulls his hand back self-consciously. “Is that too much?”
Kenny can’t shake his head fast enough. “No, not at all,” he says, lying back down beside the other. They’re face to face now, just inches apart. “No one’s ever really said that to me before. I told you, I’m not used to this kind of stuff.”
“It’s okay,” Craig says, giving Kenny a reassuring smile. Their hands find their way to each other again and they fall back into place. “So, do you wanna stay over? It’s okay if you think that’s too fast or something.”
Kenny rolls his eyes. “I’ve literally been inside you.”
Craig laughs again, rolling onto his back. Kenny scoots closer, resting his head on the other’s chest. He wants to lay like this forever, finding new ways to tangle themselves up while they talk. He wants to see what makes Craig blush, what every poster in his room means, why he avoided the Stripe question, if he knows that he’s the most beautiful person Kenny has ever seen.
“Hey, look,” Kenny says, nodding his head towards the window. Just outside, fat white flakes have started to fall. “First snow of the season.”
Craig presses a kiss into the top of his head. “Yeah, look at that.”
#crenny#south park crenny#craig tucker#kenny mccormick#craig tucker x kenny mccormick#fanfiction#friends with benefits to lovers#angst#fluff#happy ending#smoking tw#drinking tw#kyle broflovski#eric cartman#stan marsh#karen mccormick#tricia tucker#i hate tagging so much do u guys see this idk what im doing#gay#what kind of a tag is that
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Any Trigun fic recs?
HELL YEAH I DO BABY
There's a surplus of Vashwood on this list because I am trash and also the numbers game favors heavily in that direction, but DAMN it's a good ship so I ain't complaining
SO LETS GO
Figure Me Out by WateredMyCrops is fucking AMAZING. It's so good, it's my lifeblood, my water, my oxygen, my EVERYTHING. I re-read that fic multiple times a month I can't get enough of it, it's everything I love about Vashwood and Vash in general tbh, everyone is such a DISASTER
i'd marry you with paper rings by eviscerates also got me fucked up in the club tbh, I can't even describe how soft this fic makes my soul. I just can't with this one man it turns me to jelly every time just how sweet it is, I can't DEAL WITH IT
a degree (or two) west of gemini by jacenbren is SO MUCH FUN. This one mostly focuses on a re-telling of Stampede if Knives wasn't TOTALLY crazy and the twins had stuck together. I've been loving the humor in it, and the general chaos is too funny lmao
an odious damned lie by riverenne is also FANTASTIC. It's a daemon au, which can be tricky, but the author pulls it off so well!! It's got a hell of a twist to it, and it makes me feral. Also Wolfwood arguing with his Actual Soul that he's totally not gay is the funniest shit I've ever seen send tweet
if only there was some way to ease the pain by SpiritusRex is FANTASTIC YALL. The family feels, the lil vash content, the BIG SIBLING GANG???? SIGN ME UP!!!! God this one is so good, I come back to it a lot for my dose of family feelings, I can't get enough
OBVIOUSLY I HAVE OTHERS but if I got into every good fic we'd be here all day! The trigun fandom is talented as hell, I've been eatin good thanks to all the skilled folks ❤️❤️❤️
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