#if you ever see this i hope you know i think you are trash.

[colormepurplex2]

Shatter With Me | Waving The White Flag

↳ Model!Jungkook x Surrogate!f.Reader ⤜ Surrogacy, Best Friend's Husband ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 18,286 ⚠️ Crass language, talk of infertility, drinking, very mild bullying and references to cruel behavior/words, talk of surrogacy, at-home medical procedure, genital touching (non-sexual), planned pregnancy, talk of pregnancy termination/abortion, BIG hurt feelings, open palm slapping, accusations of infidelity, rejected/unwanted drunken kissing that could be viewed as dubious infidelity

Next Chapter⇾ (coming soon) ◅ Back to story masterlist

Jungkook

Jungkook never thought he’d be haunted by such a small, seemingly insignificant thing. A tiny pastel pink line. Singular. Just like all the ones before it. He’s lost count of exactly how many, but it’s been years; every month, the same outcome. A singular pink line telling him he’s failed. He knows that’s a bit harsh, but it’s how he’s starting to feel—like a complete and utter failure.

“We’ll try again next month,” Jiyoon offers, dropping the offending piece of plastic in the bathroom trash before giving Jungkook a tight smile.

“Have you given any more thought to trying IVF again?” Jungkook asks hesitantly, knowing that’s a sore subject. But, dammit, he’s not in the proper headspace right now to think better of it.

Jiyoon glares at him, her pouty pink lips drawing taut. “I told you not to ask me that ever again. Now, get out. I’d like to take a shower.” When Jungkook doesn’t immediately move from his perch on the bathroom counter, she tags on a frustrated, “Please.”

Jungkook hops down, his socked feet swishing over the tiled floor as he retreats into the master bedroom. The door forcefully shuts right on his heels, echoing the hollow ache in the center of his chest. He promised himself that if it didn’t happen this time, he’d just try harder next time.

Yet, there is only so much he can do. Pushing any harder might widen the rift slowly forming between him and his wife. Already, Jiyoon spends more time at work than with him. Her glares of irritation any time he seeks intimacy outside of their strict ovulation schedule are like holes being punched into his resolve.

After nearly two years of trying, he sought medical answers a year ago. Jiyoon was quite cross with him when she found out he went to the doctor, but he needed to know if it was his fault they were having trouble conceiving. The numbers were standard, slightly higher than average even. The utter devastation on Jiyoon’s face, he’ll never be able to forget that day. Because if he isn’t the problem…then that means she is.

It’s his fault. He wasn’t even thinking about that potential. Jiyoon hasn’t been the same since. That’s when the schedule came into play. That’s when she started to pour far more energy into waiting for the perfect moment instead of just enjoying their time together.

Jungkook can see the disappointment, the guilt that eats away at her each time that single pink line reveals itself. He wishes more than anything there was a way to change it, something more he could do. Yet, she refuses to consider the option of IVF, not after the horror story she heard from her friend Dani. She refuses to even talk about it.

There has to be another way; he’s just not sure what it might be. Jungkook is at a loss, and it feels like the weight of the world is sitting heavy right between his shoulders. The shower kicks on in the bathroom, and Jungkook decides to busy himself by making Jiyoon a cup of tea for when she gets out. He knows she’ll want to spend some time relaxing before bed, and tea always helps.

💔💔💔

Not a day goes by that you don’t think about your best friend, Jiyoon, and the unfortunate circumstances that have befallen her and her husband. It’s not a secret amongst your peers that they’ve been trying to start a family with no luck for several years. It breaks your heart every time she gives you a shake of her head when you look at her with hopeful eyes.

Today isn’t any different. You’re sitting at your desk, absently clicking through the latest portfolio files you got from Namjoon, when Jiyoon walks by your desk, heading toward hers. She’s half an hour late this morning, something that’s pretty routine every few weeks. It’s like clockwork. You’re aware of the ovulation schedule that she and Jungkook keep and know that she allows herself extra time the morning after taking a test to steel herself against the disappointment that will come from the pitying stares in the office.

You catch her eye as she settles into her desk chair, and she gives you that subtle shake of her head. There is tension in her shoulders, and her bottom lip looks like she’s been chewing on it in irritation, but she turns around and gives you her back before you can think to question her about it.

“Morning, Jiyoon,” Namjoon says as he steps out of his office. Namjoon is also well aware of the unfortunate circumstances surrounding Jiyoon and Jungkook. It’s why he doesn’t hassle her about being late, something you’re endlessly grateful for.

Jiyoon is your only friend, and you are very protective of her. Well, that’s not entirely true. The protective part is, but she’s not technically your only friend. She’s just the longest friend you’ve had and the one you hold closest to your heart—your best friend. Though, even still, everyone else are really just people you know through Jiyoon or from work. Maybe that’s sad, but you don’t mind it.

“Jiyoon!” Dani squeals from the other side of the office. The bubbly, energetic woman flits across the room, looking every inch like a fairy with her blond pixie cut, petite stature, and buttoned nose.

“Oh gosh, hey. Come here!” Jiyoon swings her chair toward Dani as she beckons her forward, letting you catch a glimpse of her profile. There is a smile on her face, but it’s hard to tell whether it’s strained or not. Jiyoon has always been beautiful, with not a single wrinkle or blemish in sight. Looking at her body language, it’s even harder to tell.

Giggles punctuate their whispered words as Dani crouches beside Jiyoon’s chair, their heads pressed close together. You watch as Dani slips something into Jiyoon’s hand before she stands and waggles her brows down at your friend.

“Have fun,” Dani sing-songs as she prances away from Jiyoon’s desk. Her gunmetal eyes meet yours, and her face sours before she disappears beyond your cubicle.

“What’s that?” you ask a beat after she’s gone and before you can curb your curiosity, tinged with mild jealousy. Dani has made it clear before that she doesn’t like you very much, only tolerating you for Jiyoon’s sake. So, it’s no surprise that you don’t find yourself included when it comes to anything involving Dani—it’s something you’ve chalked up to her own jealousy, perhaps at the fact you’ve been Jiyoon’s friend for so long.

Jiyoon flicks her eyes in your direction before stuffing whatever Dani gave her into her purse. “Just some antacids,” she says, giving you a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

All suspicions disappear as you take in the controlled curve of her lips. She looks miserable. “Oh,” is all you can manage before Namjoon calls everyone’s attention to the front of the room.

“Good morning, everyone. Let’s start this week off on the right foot. We have reports to file and new contracts to negotiate…”

You and Jiyoon have always aspired to work for a marketing and media agency together. So, when the opportunity presented itself, you both were elated to land jobs with Kim Exclusives, one of the most popular management companies for up-and-coming artists, models, and influencers.

That was seven years ago, and your time here has only solidified your friendship with Jiyoon. She met her husband, Jungkook, through the agency. He was one of the first models signed to Kim Exclusives, and you and Jiyoon both handled his portfolio and schedule for a year before she had to give you sole leadership over it once they became intimately involved—the whole conflict of interests thing.

“Are we still meeting tonight?” you ask Jiyoon as the day draws to a close. She’s still diligently working away at her computer, and you stand outside her cubicle with your bag on your shoulder.

“Hmm? Oh. Umm, yeah, I guess. I might be a bit late, though.”

You peek over her shoulder. “Is that the new Song profile?”

“Yep,” she pops the end of the word, keying you into thinking she's not in the mood to chat right now.

“Okay, well, I’ll see you guys later then.”

Jiyoon makes a noncommittal sound, already focused back on her work. You miss the days when she would give you more than a few passing words. Even on her good days, it seems like she’s growing further and further away from you. It’s hard not to feel guilty over the bitter and lonely feelings you get when you think about it. It’s not Jiyoon’s fault that you don’t have more close friends to turn to. But sometimes you wish you meant as much to her as she does to you.

As soon as that thought crosses your mind, you mentally kick yourself. It’s not fair for you to think that. You know Jiyoon cares for you; she’s just had a rough few years, and you shouldn’t be making it about yourself.

Feeling truly like a shit friend, you continue to chastise yourself over the next two hours as you commute home and get ready for tonight. Five minutes away from the pub, you consider calling Jiyoon and canceling. But, just as you pull out your phone to do that, someone calls your name from down the sidewalk.

You turn to see Taehyung and Jungkook waving at you from across the street. Well, there goes your intention to cancel.

“Hey! Have you heard from Jiyoon?” Jungkook asks as he and Taehyung jog across the street.

You press your lips into a thin line, confused. “Did she not come home?”

“Ah, no. She said she was working late and that I should just go ahead and meet up with you and Taehyung. She’s, uh, well, she’s not answering my calls. We—this morning…sorry, just, have you talked to her?”

Doing your best to keep your eyes on his, you give him an honest answer, “She was still working when I left the office. I haven’t heard from her since.” Losing the battle against your will, your eyes sweep over your best friend’s husband. He’s just as gorgeous as he always has been. His hair is a little longer than the last time you saw him, licking at the collar of his denim jacket. As the lead on his contract, you know he recently landed a massive campaign with a new clothing company, their emblem stitched onto the breast of the coat. Jungkook looks every inch the model he is; his friend no less so.

“Hey! Happy Birthday!” Taehyung greets you as your eyes swing to him.

Warm embarrassment kisses your cheeks. You hate your birthday; you hate being the center of attention. “Thanks,” you murmur, giving him a tight smile.

“Oh, yeah, happy birthday,” Jungkook tacks on. He rubs the back of his neck, giving you an apologetic look. “Should we go ahead and go inside?”

“Yeah, sure.” As Taehyung leads the way inside, you type out a quick text to Jiyoon asking how long she’ll be.

Thirty minutes later, you’re sitting in a mildly withdrawn personal bubble of silence as Jungkook and Taehyung chat about work and sip on fingers of liquor. You’re normally not so silent with them, as they have been clients of yours for years but you’ve also grown to think of them as friends. It’s just you have a lot on your plate right now, Namjoon just added three new clients to your work portfolio, putting you at juggling almost a dozen. You don’t mind the added workload, it helps keep you busy, but it does mean you have to switch around your schedule a great deal and have less time to spend with Jungkook and Taehyung who are two of the longest portfolios you’ve managed. They have a joint ad campaign coming up for the whiskey they’re sampling right now and are trying to decide if they actually like it or not.

Over the years, you've learned that advertisements are just that—a cleverly crafted piece of media to highlight a product. The models in a hamburger ad could very well be vegan, but they’re paid to make you believe otherwise. So, even if they decide they don’t like the whiskey, money will say they do.

Taehyung is a bit newer to Kim Exclusives, a model by complete accident. He came into the office once with Jungkook, just friends hanging out with each other, and the moment Namjoon saw him, he had to have him. A few weeks later, Taehyung was added to the roster of elite models under Kim Exclusives, booking just as well as any veteran.

“It’s a little too smokey for me, I think,” Taehyung comments. “What do you think?” he asks, setting his glass on the table and startling you out of your thoughts.

“What?” You blink up at him, totally lost.

“Give it a taste.” He taps the rim of the glass. “Tell me what you think,” he encourages, pushing the glass closer to where your hands are clasped together on the table.

You don’t really want to try the whiskey, but the expectant looks on Taehyung and Jungkook’s faces make you pick up the glass and take a tentative sip. It burns across your tongue, coating your throat in a fiery, smokey blend of burnt spices. The flavor sits like ash in your mouth.

“It’s, uh…”

“Not great, right?” Jungkook gives you a lopsided grin, his shoulders stretching the seams of his jean jacket as he shrugs. “It’s okay to be honest about it.”

You slide the glass back across the tabletop toward Taehyung. “Yeah, it’s not great. It might be better on ice, but I’m not a big drinker, so I think it’s hard for me to judge it fairly.”

They both seem satisfied with this response and resume their conversation about the whiskey and the new campaign. You check your phone, wondering where Jiyoon could possibly be. There is no response to your text.

You’re picking at the frayed edge of the paper coaster that’s slowly growing waterlogged from the condensation dripping down your glass of ice water when Taehyung taps on the table in front of you, trying to capture your attention.

“Isn’t that right?” he asks.

“Sorry. Is what right?” You feel heat bloom in your cheeks at being caught not paying attention yet again.

“You’re healthy.”

That statement has confusion replacing your embarrassment. “Healthy?”

“Let me backtrack,” Taehyung says, leaning back in his seat and throwing an arm over the back of Jungkook’s chair.

“Taehyung, really, this isn’t the time—”

“Ahem,” Taehyung interrupts Jungkook’s protest. “Hypothetically speaking, if your best friend and her husband were to inquire of you about the possibility of surrogacy, what would you say?”

The dots aren’t connecting for you, and his blunt question makes you feel like you missed something important. “Surrogacy?” You don’t mean to sound like a broken record, repeating what Taehyung is saying, but you’re thoroughly having a tough time understanding.

“Listen, you don’t have to answer that,” Jungkook states, shaking his head at Taehyung and giving him a pleading look that says to stop while he’s ahead.

“Are you and Jiyoon looking into a surrogate?” you ask; everything suddenly clicks into place, and the question tumbles from your lips before you can stop it. 

Jungkook grips the back of his neck and grumbles something incoherent towards Taehyung before he blows out a heavy breath and his eyes slowly rise to meet yours. “Not exactly, no. We haven’t talked about it yet. It’s just something I read about today. But, honestly, you don’t have to answer the question. Taehyung is just being a dick—”

“I’d do it.”

Your response leaves Jungkook with his mouth open and jaw slack as he stares at you in bewilderment.

“See, I told you. She’s perfect. Young, healthy, and someone you know and can trust,” Taehyung tots off, waving a finger in the air.

“Wait…are you serious?” Jungkook asks, pointedly ignoring Taehyung.

You’ve never considered being a mom before, at least not in that sense. It was always an assumption that it wouldn’t be in the cards for you—the whole lack of a love life thing being the crux of it. You’ve barely had a handful of boyfriends, much less a long-term commitment that would lead to a family. But, when it comes to Jiyoon, you’d do just about anything for her. So, if she asked you to carry a baby for her, you know, without a doubt, you’d do it.

“Y-yeah. Yes,” you state with more confidence. “I’d do that.”

Before Jungkook can respond, Jiyoon bustles in through the bar's front door, her lilting laughter drawing everyone’s attention. She has her phone pressed to her ear, and she’s smiling at whatever the person she’s speaking to is saying.

“Okay, yeah. Tomorrow sounds great. See you then,” Jiyoon says before ending the call and pocketing her phone. “Oh, Taehyung is here.” It’s a bland statement, Jiyoon’s eyes flicking over Jungkook’s best friend before landing on her husband. “Did you order me a drink already?”

Jungkook clears his throat, trying to compose himself before speaking. “Babe, hey. Um, no, I wasn’t sure when you’d get here. You weren’t responding to any of my calls or texts.”

Jiyoon slides into the empty seat beside you, across from Jungkook, and gives you a quick smile before wrinkling her nose in his direction. “I’ll take a glass of red.”

“Oh-kay,” Jungkook says slowly, a look of confusion ghosting over his features. “Where have you been?”

“Hmm? Oh, just busy with work,” Jiyoon says. “Wine, please, Jungkook.” His only response is a tight press of his lips before he stands up and disappears in the direction of the bar. Jiyoon clicks her tongue and angles herself to look at you. “You’re not drinking?” she asks, eyeing the glass of water on the table in front of you.

“Um, no. You know I don’t—”

“I know, you’re boring,” Jiyoon sighs. The only thing taking the sting out of her words is the smile she gives you. You know Jiyoon isn’t exactly what people would call a nice person; in fact, she’s often coined as a ‘mean girl.’ But she’s never been intentionally mean to you, not really. She just provides constructive criticism and encouragement to be the best version of yourself that you can be.

“Way to be a bitch to her on her birthday, Jiyoon,” Taehyung mumbles into his whiskey glass before tossing it back and downing the rest.

Jiyoon winces and then plasters a smile on her face before saying, “Right, happy birthday.”

“Yeah, thanks.” You make your best attempt at nonchalance, but you’re not sure it lands properly as Taehyung shakes his head, and Jiyoon sighs again.

“I forgot, okay? It’s been so busy at work and with—uh,” she pauses for just a second, and any other time you might not have noticed, but you can’t help but pick up on the way she rushes to continue, “the new client that you know Namjoon has been breathing down my neck over. The Harper portfolio, you know the one? And apparently, the Song profile needs to be redone on top of that.”

Jiyoon has been different lately. You’re aware that she took over one of the new higher-end clients, some big hot-shot movie star or something like that, but it’s almost made her seem like she thinks she’s above everyone else. It makes things tense sometimes like everyone is on edge when she comes around. You try to ignore it, for the sake of tonight. “It’s okay, Jiyoon, really.”

“Anyway, how are things going? It’s been a few weeks since we last talked about something other than work.”

Yeah, because every time you turn around Jiyoon is spending time with Dani or has a client meeting. You shrug. “Okay, I guess.”

Taehyung pipes up in the silence that follows, “We were actually just talking about surroga—”

“Red wine for my wife, another whiskey for Tae, the good stuff this time, and a pina colada for the birthday girl. Virgin, I made sure. I know you don’t like to drink alcohol,” Jungkook interrupts Taehyung, passing out the cluster of drinks in his hands.

You stare up at Jungkook, lips slightly parted as you try to think of the proper response, completely taken off guard by his gesture. Finally, you lamely offer, “Oh, uh, you didn’t have to, but thanks.”

“Nonsense. It’s your birthday, you deserve a little treat, and I know you like pineapple.” Jungkook settles back into his seat, and you try to keep your eyes off your best friend's husband. But it’s hard with how his hair falls into his face, and the denim hugs his shoulders as he relaxes against the back of his chair.

“Ew,” Jiyoon gags dramatically, startling your attention in her direction. “Is that a jacket from the shoot today?” She gestures at Jungkook, the distaste apparent on her face. “I know they didn’t dress you in that. What were they thinking?”

Jungkook frowns, staring down at the oversized light-wash jean jacket. “You don’t like it?” he asks.

Jiyoon scoffs, “It looks ridiculous, you look ridiculous. What the hell did you do to your hair? A mullet, really? It’s a wonder you’re a model. You were okay with this?” The last part is directed at you, because, as the lead on his profile, you’re the one who signed off on the hair and makeup for the shoot.

“Hey now,” Taehyung states loud enough to quiet the table; he’s clearly not having any of Jiyoon’s antics tonight, long work day or not. “Keep your petty bullshit opinions for when you’re at home. Tonight isn’t about you or how handsome my best friend is in his jean jacket and new hairstyle.” You can tell he intentionally calls Jungkook his best friend instead of Jiyoon’s husband as an extra jab.

“I never said he wasn’t handsome,” she grumbles, rolling her eyes before looking at Jungkook and sighing. “Sorry, dear, I’m just under a lot of stress. You know I didn’t mean it.” Her eyes flick to yours. “I know it’s not your fault.” You just give her a subtle shake of your head, not sure how to respond.

Clearing his throat, Jungkook smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes, and tries to move the conversation along. “It’s okay. Let’s just focus on why we’re here tonight.” He swings his eyes toward you, his smile becoming genuine, and begins to loudly belt out Happy Birthday, much to your dismay. This draws the attention of everyone else in the bar and earns you a generous round of applause when the singing finally fades.

You try to enjoy the rest of your night, but every time Jungkook catches you staring at him, you can’t help but feel a small spike of guilt; guilt over the perhaps tiny, mostly insignificant, completely harmless crush you might, perhaps, maybe have on your best friend’s husband.

It’s hard not to be attracted to him; Jiyoon knows that—she flaunts that fact. She also knows her claws are deep in him, and he’s not going anywhere. Jungkook would pull down the moon for her and then ask if she wanted the sun, too. You swallow down the last of your pina colada, eyes once again locked on Jungkook as he throws his head back and laughs at something Taehyung said.

Jiyoon presses her arm against yours, leaning in close to you. In a soft voice meant only for you, she whispers, “He really is perfect, isn’t he?”

“Hm? Who?”

“Don’t play coy with me,” she giggles drunkenly. “I know you were staring at him. My husband.”

You shrug. “I wasn’t staring.”

Jiyoon sighs wistfully. “It’s okay to stare, I don’t mind. I know what he looks like, after all. He’s so beautiful when he’s happy. I wish I could give him what he wants, he’d be the perfect father…I’m so scared to lose him.” The last part is whispered, so soft it’s hard to hear.

Instantly, your guilt turns into something else: resolve. You can’t bear the defeat you hear in her voice. It’s not something you can even begin to fathom—what she and Jungkook are going through. It’s no wonder she has caustic words at times. You meant what you said earlier, what you told Jungkook you were willing to do. With that in mind, you make a mental note to start researching and do what you can to make sure at least someone gets a happy ending here.

💔💔💔

Jungkook

The night of your birthday kept playing over and over again in Jungkook’s head the days that followed. Now, just as evening is rolling around, one week later, he can’t stop thinking about what you said, your confirmation. On top of that, that night was probably the most fun Jungkook has had in a long time—as long as he excludes the prickly start after Jiyoon arrived. He’s used to her snide and biting remarks after a long work day. Brushing them to the side and sweeping them away is usually easy.

But for some reason—perhaps it was the high he was riding after your confession and confirmation—it bothered him that she was doing it in front of Taehyung—in front of you. As if somehow her criticisms might make you both believe them. Not that he cares about being good-looking to Taehyung, or you for that matter, not really. It’s just that his first thought was what if that made you change your mind? Not necessarily whether or not he’s attractive, but the exchange as a whole. What if Jiyoon’s blatant criticisms made you want to change your mind because it somehow planted doubt in your mind that they’re a happy and healthy environment for a child?

“Jungkook.” The frustrated snap of his name brings him out of his thoughts. His eyes focus on the bathroom mirror once more, on Jiyoon, who is standing behind him with her hands on her hips, accentuating the flattering cut of the navy-colored dress she’s wearing. “Are you even listening to me?”

Turning and leaning back against the counter, Jungkook gives her his full attention. “Uh, yeah, sorry. You were talking about having dinner with a client tonight, and you’re leaving now to meet with Dani so you can get some files.”

“Yes,” she says, her lips twitching in mild surprise, and Jungkook knows she was expecting him not to have been paying attention. “I don’t know how long the dinner will last, so don’t wait up for me. It’s likely I’ll be home late.” She turns to go back into the bedroom, and Jungkook isn’t sure what possesses him, but he surges forward and gently snags her wrist, turning her back toward him. “Uh?” she makes a sound of mild questioning irritation.

“I have something I need—er, want—to talk to you about. It should only take a moment.”

She shakes his hold off her wrist and gives him a placating smile. “Okay, well, talk while I finish getting ready at least.” Not waiting to see if he follows, she disappears into the bedroom and heads to the closet, rummaging through her jewelry.

“Okay, um. Okay,” Jungkook stumbles over his words, feeling like he’s under pressure for some reason. “So, the other night, it was brought up in conversation, and uh, she already agreed, and it’s just that, well, there’s this thing called intracervical insemination and…how do you feel about surrogacy?”

There is a heavy pause, dread threatening to make Jungkook backpedal and eat his words just to snatch them back out of the air. Jiyoon glances at him over her shoulder, but he can’t get a clear read on her eyes. “What? Oh, yeah, sure,” she says, turning back to her digging.

Jungkook can’t tell whether Jiyoon is the one paying attention to him now, so he probes further, just to be clear. “You mean that? You’re okay with going the surrogacy route? My sperm, her egg…your best friend carrying our baby?”

Jiyoon’s back is to Jungkook, but he watches how her shoulders slide up in a shrug. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’m not sure, it’s just that with ICI—”

“Look, Jungkook,” Jiyoon says, turning to face him fully. Her fingers work at slipping a pair of silver hoops into her earlobes. “I trust you.” She says the words slowly, keeping her eyes intently locked on his. “I know you’ll do your best for us. Whatever you want, it’s what I want, too. You know that.”

“Well, um, do you have any questions? We should talk…discuss this, er, something. I know how you feel about IVF. I want to make sure this is an option you truly want, and you’re not just saying this to make me happy. You should take some more time to think about it.” The fact she’s so quick to agree makes Jungkook question whether or not he’s hearing what he thinks he’s hearing.

Jiyoon cups one of his cheeks, gently thumbing over his bottom lip. “I don’t need time to think, because I’ve already thought about it. I—well, I was going to bring it up to you soon, but I wanted to do a bit more research first.”

“Wait, what? Really? You were thinking about ICI, too?” Jungkook swallows hard, leaning into his wife's warm touch.

“Yeah,” she whispers, her soft smile making her eyes twinkle and his heart melt.

Jungkook can’t help letting his eyes drink in his wife. They might have been going through rough patches the last few years, but that hasn’t lessened how he feels about her. Jungkook has always found her strikingly beautiful, with long legs and shiny hair that he loves to run his fingers through. But at this moment, he feels like he might burst with the love he has for her.

“Yeah? Okay. Okay,” he tries to suppress the emotion in his words. “Okay, perfect. I love you. I love you so much!”

Jiyoon laughs, and it sounds magical, as Jungkook sweeps her into his arms and plants a kiss on her lips. “Don’t smear my lipstick, please,” she mumbles, her voice light and playful.

“Go have a good dinner, secure the client, and don’t worry about anything else,” Jungkook bubbles happily, setting Jiyoon back on her feet. “I swear I’ll take care of it all. Everything will be perfect, absolutely perfect.”

An hour later, Jungkook walks up to your apartment door. He couldn’t stop himself earlier, so he immediately texted you and asked to see you as soon as Jiyoon left for Dani’s.

The door swings open before he can knock, revealing you standing there breathless and in a set of purple checkered pajamas. “Is everything okay?” you ask, worry lines creasing between your brows. “Your text sounded urgent.”

“Oh.” Jungkook feels terrible for making you concerned. He didn’t mean for it to come off like that. “No, I mean, yes, everything is okay. But, no, it’s not exactly urgent. Sorry for that. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

You lean against the doorframe, eyes wide on his. “What is it?”

“Er, uh, do you mind if I come in? This is more of a sit-down kind of conversation.”

The little ‘o’ your lips form is far cuter than Jungkook has a right to think it is. His mind instantly latches onto it, wondering if the baby would have your lips or his. “O-okay, sure, come on in.”

Jungkook has visited your apartment a handful of times over the years. It’s quaint and cozy, exactly what he’d imagine for you. There are books everywhere, shelves full of thick and thin volumes of literary prose. A few art pieces decorate the walls, along with dozens and dozens of black-and-white photos in simple frames. He stirs up the recollection that you enjoy photography in your spare time.

“Sorry, again, about my text. I didn’t mean to worry you, really.” Jungkook feels nervous, unsure where to stand or even sit, until you gesture toward the couch. A handful of well-loved decorative pillows are scattered across the burgundy suede. He settles at one end as you take the other, looking at him expectantly.

A beat or two passes, and Jungkook feels like he’s about to swallow his tongue until you open your mouth, clearly picking up on his distress. “Is it something with work? I can try to fix whatever it is first thing in the morning—”

“No, no,” Jungkook holds up a hand, shaking his head. “It’s not work. It’s um, it’s actually Jiyoon. Well, me and her, specifically.”

You pull your knees up and tuck your feet underneath yourself. “Oh, okay.”

“Were you serious about what you said the other night?” Jungkook blurts, figuring it’s best, like ripping off a bandaid.

Your bottom lip has an indent left from where you tucked it between your teeth before nodding. “Yes.” Jungkook didn’t necessarily expect you to say no, but the rush of relief he feels at hearing that encourages him to press on.

“I talked with Jiyoon about it today and she—we—would be honored if you’d do that for us. If you’d give us a chance at having a family. It’s…it’s something we both, deeply, deeply desire. If you’re truly serious about it, we’ll take care of everything, all medical expenses, bills, anything…just name it, it’s yours.”

“That’s—okay, okay, yes. Yes, I’ll do it. Just tell me what I need to do.”

Jungkook whoops loudly, jumping up from the couch, and drags you into his arms for a bear hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I can’t even begin to explain what this means to me, to us. This is…I can’t…oh my, I need to—wait, okay. Sorry, let me calm down for a second.” The word vomit is real, and Jungkook uses his hold on you to ground himself, moving his hands to your shoulders and locking his eyes on yours. “I think I might pass out,” he whispers a second before bursting into a giddy laugh.

“Whoa, um, sit down. Please don’t pass out on me. You’re too big for me to catch!” Your frantic words make him laugh even harder.

He shakes his head, on cloud nine. “I’m kidding, kind of. I just feel…I feel so light, like—well, it doesn’t matter about that. What matters is you. Please don’t feel obligated to do this. That’s the last thing I want. If you are serious, I can send all the information you need to you in the morning. But only if you’re certain.”

“Jungkook,” the way you say his name makes his heart thump heavy in his chest as if his fate hinges on whatever comes next. “I am serious. I promise. I want to do this for you, for Jiyoon…I want to give you both the happiness you deserve.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook says fervently, never meaning something more in his life.

This happiness carries Jungkook through the rest of the evening, turning into a brilliant flame of intimacy when Jiyoon crawls into bed beside him hours later. For the first time in a long time, there is no schedule, no waiting for the perfect moment; it’s just the love shared between two souls celebrating the joys of life.

💔💔💔

The following day, several emails from Jungkook are waiting for you; Jiyoon CC’d on them all, as well as a few texts to check in. The idea that you could possibly be pregnant in the coming weeks or months—not just pregnant, but pregnant with Jungkook’s baby for your best friend—still feels a bit surreal.

You texted Jiyoon last night, expressing to her how much she means to you and that you’re honored she wants it to be you that helps her fulfill her dreams of having a family. She hasn’t replied yet, but that doesn’t bother you; she’s probably busy helping Jungkook with planning.

There is an entire email dedicated to medical referrals. Apparently, Jungkook spent hours pouring over all the local doctors and medical facilities vetting to find the best ones. Each has notes and suggestions under them, along with all the information you might need to call and make an appointment.

That’s really all you need to do: make an appointment for a check-up. Taehyung made an assumption of your health last night, but it doesn’t hurt to be sure. The last thing you’d want to do is be in poor health and unable to keep your word.

Your fingers tremble as you dial the numbers, and you have to take a few shallow breaths to get your voice to work properly. Minutes later, you have an appointment scheduled for later this week. Now, all you have to do is figure out how you’re going to wait the next few days and not burst from anticipation. It’s a slow few days.

Apparently, by Googling every possible thing you can think of about being a surrogate and pregnancies. Along with the emails full of information, by the time you’re walking into the clinic for your appointment at the end of the week, you feel confident asking questions.

“Being a surrogate is a pretty serious situation. Have you considered all the possibilities and what might be required of you?” The doctor has a pleasant demeanor; her eyes are intense yet kind. It might be the steel-colored strands scattered through her hair or the wrinkles that deepen around her eyes when she smiles, but you feel comfortable opening up to her.

You roll your lips between your teeth before saying, “Honestly? Probably not as much as most surrogates. I’m sure there are things I’m not aware of yet. It was only presented to me a few days ago. But I have done some extensive reading and soul-searching, and I know it’s what I want.”

Dr. Lee contemplates you for a moment before nodding. “Yes, I believe you do. Let’s get started, shall we?”

It’s not uncomfortable going through all the tests and procedures. There isn’t much the doctor does that you haven’t done before. Samples are taken, and a routine exam is performed. As you leave, the nurse tells you you should have results within the next two weeks.

Thankfully, the results come at the beginning of the following week. You’re sitting at your desk at work, reviewing the final details for the whiskey campaign Jungkook and Taehyung are shooting in a few days, when you get the notification that your results are viewable on your patient portal. A moment before you click into the email, your phone buzzes in your pocket.

“Hello?” you whisper, cupping your hand around the base of your phone and mouth. A nurse rattles off your information, ensuring she speaks to the right person. “Yes, speaking.”

“I just wanted to let you know that all of your results are in, and Dr. Lee has signed off on your request to move forward with the surrogacy…” Everything else the nurse says is a bit hazy. She covers the numbers for your tests and where to find resources for more information on at-home intracervical insemination. “Do you have any questions for me? Ma’am, are you still there?”

“Oh, umm, yes, sorry. No questions, thank you so much.”

The line disconnects, and you sit there for a few more moments, the phone still held to your ear, as you try to process the giddy feeling bubbling up inside you. You need to tell Jiyoon, Jungkook, someone…anyone. Pushing up from your desk, you scan the area around you for your best friend and come up empty.

“Hello?” Jungkook answers on the second ring.

“Jungkook.”

“Oh, hey. Everything okay?”

“What? Oh. Yes. Yes, everything is okay. Everything is perfect. Do you know where Jiyoon might be? I haven’t seen her since she came into the office this morning.” You rack your brain, trying to remember if you saw her leave or go into another room.

“Yeah, she called a little while ago and said that Namjoon was having her meet one of the new clients for lunch to sign some more papers.”

“Right, that’s right,” you say, recalling that Namjoon asked her to come into his office shortly after she arrived this morning.

“Why? What’s up?”

You drag a slow, shallow breath into your lungs in an effort to slow your rapidly beating heart. “I heard back from the doctor.”

Jungkook urges you to continue, “Yeah? What did they say? Is everything okay? Are you okay?”

“I’m…I’m great. I’m perfect. I’m—I, I can do it. We can do it. There’s a chart,” you explain, wedging your phone between your ear and your shoulder to free your hands so you can pull up the email you got and forward it to him. “It has an estimated schedule and recommendations on timing for the best results. I just sent everything over to you.”

“I got it. Wow. Okay. Wow. Oh my…wow! I need to call Jiyoon. Fuck. Oh my god. Okay, thank you! I’ll call you back later, okay?” The line disconnects after Jungkook says a hurried goodbye, the elation in his voice evident.

According to the doctor's ovulation chart, the best time for you to begin trying is next week. Conception is most likely during a twenty-four-hour period. On your way home, you stop and pick up an ovulation testing kit so you can remain on track.

You arrive home filled with nervous energy, unable to stop smiling as you unpack the things you picked up at the pharmacy. A large box of pregnancy tests goes beside the ovulation kit in your medicine cabinet, along with a pack of medical gloves and hand sanitizer. You’re not sure what you’ll need, exactly, but you figure it’s better to have it and not need it than the other way around.

“Jiyoon!” you gush, swiping to answer the call coming in on your phone. “Hi!”

“Hey, I just got off the phone with Jungkook.” There is a lot of background noise, and it’s hard to hear her clearly.

“Oh, wonderful! I got the results today. There is a possibility of next week being—”

A loud laugh cuts through from Jiyoon’s end, the added clang of dishes drowning you out further. “Sorry, I’m still at dinner. Next week, you say? I’ll be going on a business trip the whole of next week, Namjoon wants me to travel with a client for a go-see.”

Disappointment drags at your shoulders and has your smile softening into a frown. You suppose it can wait a few more weeks. “Okay, no problem. That will give us time to plan a bit more anyway.”

“Sure thing!” Jiyoon yells, the line cutting out momentarily. “I’ll catch you later. I can’t wait to see you when I get back. Thank you. I love you so much!”

“Okay, yeah, love you—” The line goes dead before you can finish. “Love you, too,” you murmur into the quiet of your apartment.

A minor setback. But it’s okay; you’re sure you were getting ahead of yourself anyway. Taking a few weeks to confirm things and actually come up with a game plan is probably for the better. But it doesn’t hurt to start doing that now. Letting the smile that hadn’t left your face most of the day slide back onto your lips, you continue setting up everything in your bathroom so it’ll be there for when you do need it.

It turns out you don’t have to wait—at least, according to Jungkook. From the constant flood of text messages you’ve gotten from him over the last few days, as much as Jiyoon would love to be there to help, she’s given her blessing to proceed with the ICI without her. In her own words, via a text you got last night, there will be plenty more for her to be present for, and she’s far too excited for you to wait for her to return.

Jiyoon has been relatively quiet, but Jungkook explained in delicate words that she’s okay; she just has a lot on her plate right now. Even though it may seem like she’s on the outside, it’s more that this is a very sensitive topic for Jiyoon. Despite wanting a child, ICI is nearly as taboo a subject as IVF when it comes to Jiyoon; you know this. She’s told you how much it makes her feel like a failure. So, you’re content when Jungkook takes full responsibility for the surrogacy journey and has promised to be there for you every step of the way, including coming over to your place tonight to help you with the first ICI attempt.

You’ve been testing your ovulation each morning, and the positive test strip in your bathroom trash has started a full-tilt, day-long extravaganza. It’s a Thursday, just a few days after you got your green light from the doctor, meaning you were able to leave work early and are now sitting on your couch waiting patiently for Jungkook to arrive.

All your research and reading about ICI makes you nervous about what’s to come. It’s not that you’re going to be explicitly intimate with Jungkook, but you’re well aware of the fact that fresh sperm samples, as in within a thirty-minute window, are the best. Which means, he’s going to have to somehow provide the sample while he’s here.

The idea of Jungkook masturbating in your bathroom should feel awkward or perhaps embarrassing to think about, yet you’re oddly comfortable with it. It’s a natural thing, something necessary to create something that’s going to be beautiful.

By the time Jungkook knocks on your door, your hands are clammy, and it takes you two tries to get the handle to turn. He greets you with a giant smile and shining eyes, absolutely breathtaking.

“Hi,” he breathes.

“Hi,” you parrot, unable to contain from reflecting the smile still on his face. “Please, come on in.”

“Thanks.” Jungkook steps past you, and the soft fragrance of his laundry detergent catches in your nose. “I brought everything we need,” he says, holding up a bag. He’s wearing the same denim jacket he was the other night, a white T-shirt underneath above a pair of worn, light-washed jeans, and black boots on his feet that he toes off before heading into your living room.

“Can I get you anything to drink or maybe something to eat? Have you had dinner yet?” You’re not sure how this is going to go, if it’s just going to be a clinical experience or something more comfortable between friends. Because you are friends, right? At this point, you should consider him more than just your best friend’s husband; he should at least be seen as a friend of yours, too.

Jungkook deposits the bag on your couch and turns to look at you. “Um, maybe if you had some beer or something, but I know you don’t drink—” There is a nervous energy to the way he’s talking, words coming out a little too quickly “—so, er, maybe just some water is fine.”

“Actually,” you say, hurrying into the kitchen and opening the fridge, “I got, well, is this okay?” You hold up a 6-pack of beer you bought on a whim a few nights ago. It’s true that you don’t really drink, but you weren’t thinking of yourself at the time that you bought it. In actuality, you were thinking of Jungkook, knowing he’s partial to this brand, and figured…well, you’re not sure what you figured, you bought it before you could give it too much thought.

The corner of Jungkook’s mouth lifts, his smile turning into a light smirk. “Wow, my favorite. I’d love to, but actually, I’m not sure if I should, no matter how nervous I am right now…not until after, at least. I haven’t read anything about how alcohol might impact things, but I’ve not had a drop of alcohol to drink nor a bite of junk food in the last week, just in case.”

“Oh, right. Of course, I should have thought about that.”

“No, it’s okay. I wasn’t thinking either, I haven’t been able to think about much at all, if I’m being honest,” Jungkook laughs nervously, one of his hands rubbing at the back of his neck. “Is this weird? Are you sure you want to do this?”

It is weird, but not in a bad way, and you don’t want to admit that because you don’t want him to worry. So, you simply smile and shake your head. “It’s not all that weird, it’s…well, just not weird. I am nervous,” you decide to give him at least that. “I’m worried that it might not work, or that I might do something wrong.”

“W-what do you think you might do wrong?” Jungkook asks, moving closer to you. “I’ve…I’ve read a lot about the how, I even got an informational video from my doctor.”

You can feel heat crawling up your neck. “I’m not sure, exactly. I guess just the whole process in general.”

There is a beat where you can see Jungkook contemplating his words. He chews on his bottom lip, eyes unfocused for a moment before returning to you. “I could help if you want. Purely in a platonic, helpful way, no funny business, I swear.”

“Um, I don’t know if that…uh, I can try first, maybe?” You can’t seem to swallow past the thick knot in your throat at the thought of asking Jungkook to help assist you in…well, that.

“Sure, okay. Should we…get started?” Jungkook asks, his eyes flicking back to the bag he dropped on your couch. 

Your stomach flips at his words. “Yeah,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, feeling suddenly even more shy than usual.

“Great.” Jungkook claps his hands together before retrieving the bag from the couch. “I have everything we need. It's probably best if we begin this in the bathroom.”

Your apartment has one bathroom, which is joined to the bedroom but is still accessible through the hallway. Jungkook leads the way down the hall, flicking on the light inside the bathroom before stepping aside to let you in as well.

“Have you talked with Jiyoon?” you ask, seeking something to fill the silence as you watch him unpack everything from the bag and arrange it on the bathroom counter.

Jungkook shakes his head in a so-so manner. “I spoke with her for a few minutes earlier to let her know the plan for tonight. She couldn’t talk long and it was hard to hear with all the background noise, but she’s excited and said she can’t wait to be back at the end of the week.”

After washing his hands, Jungkook opens up the packet of a large sterile pad and spreads it out across the rest of the counter. From the research you’ve done, you recognize some of the things he begins to set out. There is a collection cup with an orange screw-on lid, a large syringe with a hose attaching it to a bulbous silicone mushroom-shaped plug, and several single-use packets of water-based lube. He also sets out a box of pregnancy tests, giving you a sheepish smile when you raise an eyebrow at it.

“I, uh, bought some, too,” you say, opening the medicine cabinet to show him the large box of pregnancy tests sitting between your ovulation test kit and your toothbrush.

Jungkook smiles. “I guess we’re on the same wavelength, huh?”

You have to stop yourself from leaning too far into the unusual, yet enticingly warm and appealing, feeling you get when he smiles like that. Clearing your throat, you gesture to the spread of tools. “What now?”

“I think we should discuss a game plan, make sure we know what to do and when to do it. There are some things I’ve read online, plus the directions in this pamphlet,” he says, slipping a folded paper from the box the inseminator came in.

Leaning in, you try to read the step-by-step process written on the paper over Jungkook’s shoulder. He shifts, steps closer to you, and angles the pamphlet to make it easier for you to see.

“Step one, collect the sample. Step two, transfer the sample into the syringe. Step three, insert the silicone plug into the…v-vagina,” you choke over the word, feeling heat licking up your neck, “as close to the cervix as possible. Step four, depress the plunger to administer the sample.”

“Seems pretty simple, right?”

You’re not sure you’d say simple. Sure, step by step, it looks pretty straightforward, but you seem to be responsible for the most challenging part, and that makes you even more nervous than before. “Yeah, simple.”

“Give me a few minutes, I need to—uh,” he points to the sample cup. “I’ll, you know.”

“Oh, right, right, of course. I’ll just—" you hook a thumb over your shoulder towards the door that leads to your bedroom ”—wait in there.”

It’s hard not to pace around your bedroom as you wait. You try to stick to the far side of your bedroom, not wanting to come too close to the bathroom and overhear anything you shouldn’t. The fact your best friend’s husband is in your bathroom masturbating is a weird enough revelation, albeit a necessary one for the ICI procedure; you’d still rather afford him some privacy.

After three minutes, you stop counting the seconds that pass, realizing that means you’re counting how long it takes for Jungkook to produce the sample. Which is something you’re vehemently trying to avoid thinking about so casually.

The bathroom door opening startles you, stopping you in your tracks. Jungkook clears his throat. “Ready?”

You move over to the bathroom. “I think so.”

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. You can do this and don’t forget, I’ll be here if you need any help, promise. Purely for help, for the process.” Jungkook swipes a finger in an x over his chest. “Cross my heart.”

“You’re right,” you say, trying to bolster your own confidence. “I can do this.”

You step past Jungkook and into the bathroom, but his hand on your arm pulls you up short. “Wait, wait. Would you feel more comfortable doing it in your room? It’s just that I’ve read it’s best if you could lay on your back with your hips elevated for fifteen to thirty minutes after.” He nods at your bed. “More comfortable than the bathroom floor.”

The idea of doing this on your bed crosses a line, taking this from a medical process to something far more intimate. “Maybe just a pillow,” you say, grabbing one of the decorative throw pillows you never seem to remember to put back on your bed but keep in a small pile on the floor instead.

“Okay.” Jungkook gives you a small smile, and it makes his eyes look soft and bright. The kind of smile you hope you can help him bestow onto a baby.

You leave the door unlocked, just in case you need his help. In your bathroom, there is no evidence of Jungkook's actions other than the very full sample cup sitting on the medical pad covering the counter.

The cup is warm to the touch, which is startling, though you know it shouldn’t be. Placing the pillow down on the floor, you shimmy your pants and panties down your legs and step out of them. There is a lingering scent in the bathroom; it’s a mix of Jungkook’s cologne but also of something clinical. You realize there are two empty packets of lube in your trashcan, and you can’t help the image that pieces itself together in your mind.

Swallowing hard against the threatening flood of further indecent thoughts, you move quickly to prepare the inseminator. It’s a systematic process you can do with little thought—safe—unscrewing the cap of the cup and filling the syringe. Once you’re in position on the floor, hips elevated on the pillow, empty packets of lube discarded and your body primed, you take the silicone plug in one hand and the syringe in the other.

The directions make it seem so easy. But as you try to fit the silicone plug inside, you can’t seem to get it to go where you want it. It keeps slipping sideways and tugging at the tube connecting it to the syringe. Your heart begins to race as you realize you might not be able to do this—not on your own, at least.

By the fourth try, fifteen minutes have passed, and you’re in full-blown panic mode. Your breath wheezes in and out as you crunch up, hands fumbling between your thighs, and sweat forming on your brow. “Oh god, oh god. I—uh, god dammit…Jungkook!” His name is out of your mouth in a strangled yell before you can stop it.

“What is it? Is everything okay? Are you okay?” The frantic words are muffled through the door. The door rattles on its hinges, and you can tell he’s pressing up against it from the sound of denim scuffing along it, probably pressing his ear against it in an effort to hear your response.

You’ve managed to get it inside, but you’re not sure if you can get it all the way in, pressed up against your cervix where it needs to be. It’s possible you used too much lube, though the idea that it’s possible to have too much lubricant seems ridiculous. But no matter what you do or how far you press your fingers in, you’re either at a wrong angle, or your fingers keep slipping on the plug too much. Asking Jungkook for help is the last thing you want to do, but you’re not sure what other options there are.

“C-can you come in here?” you ask in a hoarse voice. There is a moment of silence before the door eases open and Jungkook sticks his head inside. His eyes are closed so tight it makes you let out a snap of nervous laughter. “I think…I think I need help. I’m sorry, I just can’t—it’s not going in all the way, I don’t think,” you gush in explanation.

“Do you—is it okay if I?” Jungkook asks, leaving the obvious unsaid.

“Um, yes…please. I’ve tried, and I just…I don’t want to ruin this. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Jungkook shuffles into the bathroom, eyes still firmly closed and arms out in the air. “Um, where exactly are you so I don’t step on you by accident?”

Snagging the edge of the towel hanging on the rack, you pull it down and drape it over your knees to make yourself as decent as you can be in this situation. “Just open your eyes, it’s okay.”

Slowly, his eyes peek open and finally land on where you’re laid out on the floor, bent knees covered in a towel and your shirt askew from all your efforts.

“How can I help?” Jungkook kneels down beside you, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it to the side.

“I just…I don’t know if it’s all the way in. Can you—with your hand, I know that’s horrible and weird, but I don’t know what else to—”

“No, no, it’s not weird. I said I’d help. It’s clinical, right? We’re doing this just as a medical procedure. Like I said, no funny business, I swear. It’s for the baby. I’ll help you.”

“Okay.” You nod, squeezing your eyes shut because it’s hard to look him in the eye when he’s about to—the towel shifts, and cool air licking between your thighs has your mind going blank.

“Look at me,” Jungkook requests, to which you immediately comply. “I need you to promise me you’ll let me know if I hurt you or do something you don’t like. I’ll stop immediately, okay?” When you don’t immediately say anything, he adds, “I need you to tell me you understand.”

“I understand.”

Stretching across to the sink, Jungkook keeps his eyes on yours as he washes his hands and then shifts the towel more, folding it up and over your knees. “I’m going to place my hand on your thigh. Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

His fingers are gentle against your skin, softer than you expected, and warm from the water. You can feel errant droplets of water streak down your thigh and roll over the bottom of your ass. You try to focus on that feeling instead of the way Jungkook’s hand trails down your thigh until his fingers graze your outer lips.

“I��m going to use two of my fingers to try and seat the inseminator. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” this time, it comes out as more a breath than a word.

You tense at the subtle press of his fingers and how they probe their way down until they find your entrance. There is easily enough lube down there to grease a bakery’s worth of cake pans, considering the half a dozen empty packets now in your trashcan, but you can’t help but take a deep, fortifying breath as he begins to press in.

“Still okay?” he asks, fingers moving achingly slow.

“I think so.”

Jungkook’s brow pinches. “I feel it…only about two inches in. I’m going to push it further now. Tell me if it hurts or is uncomfortable.”

Never in a million years did you think you’d ever find yourself in this position. Not only are you butterflied open on your bathroom floor, but your best friend’s husband is now middle-knuckle deep in your vagina, and you’re not sure how to feel about it. In fact, you’re trying to do everything you can to not think about how you stretch around the intrusion of his fingers, or that it feels far better than it should.

“Do you think you can get it all the way?” you ask, voice warbling with nerves.

Jungkook hums, his lips pushing out as if he is trying to concentrate. “I think I’m almost there. Does that feel okay, is it good?” 

Not once does he look away from you as he’s pushing deeper into your body. You think you want him to look away, to break that intimate contact, but you can’t even bring yourself to do that—even though you know you should. And the whispered exchange does little to help. Is it good? You’re going to burn in hell for the thoughts now flooding through.

“Oh!” You jolt in place, eyes going wide, all previous thoughts gathering into one singular point. Jungkook mirrors your surprise, his mouth popping open in silent shock.

“I’m so sorry!” he babbles. “I didn’t mean to do that. Oh fuck, god damn, shit…okay, sorry, let me just—” Jungkook is still gentle, yet swift in finishing seating the inseminator before quickly extracting his fingers from your body. “Please believe me when I say I am sorry, and I swear I wasn’t trying…I wasn’t trying to do that.”

Your body is still buzzing from the that he’s talking about—the graze of his thumb over your clit. It’s clear it was an accident by his reaction, but it does nothing to lessen the pulse that is now singing through your body.

“I-it’s okay. Really, it’s okay. It’s fine.” You’re not sure if your words are convincing enough, but Jungkook jerks his head in what you assume is a nod of acknowledgement.

“Um, it’s, uh, it’s in. Do you need me to do the syringe, too?”

“Just do it.” You exhale a shaky breath, finally tearing your eyes away from his. You’re confident he’s still watching you, even as he depresses the syringe and injects his cum into your body—as crass as that sounds in your head, that’s exactly what’s happening, and it’s the first time you think you’re realizing how truly fucked you are for this.

Nothing has happened between you and Jungkook, not in that way, but for some reason, guilt won’t leave you alone. You feel like you’ve just betrayed Jiyoon and feel even more like a ridiculous schoolgirl ruining her life over a crush on a boy. You’re intimately aware of the warmth and the subtle change in pressure as he finishes depressing the inseminator. It makes you want to squirm, but you chew your bottom lip and tap your toes instead.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks, his voice soft and gentle.

“I should be asking you that,” you sigh.

Jungkook balks. “What? Why would you say that? I’m fine…I’m the one that—” He nods toward where your body is now covered with the towel again. As soon as he was done plunging the depressor, he unfolded the towel and made you decent once more.

“You didn’t mean to,” you say, maybe more as a reminder to yourself than him.

“No, but that doesn’t make it okay.” Jungkook settles back on his heels, using one of the wet wipes that came in the kit to clean his hands. Suddenly, he laughs. “This is ridiculous, right? I mean, look at us, we just did something…beautiful, and we’re not allowing ourselves to enjoy it.”

You chuckle softly, fidgeting with one of the ends of the towel. “It is kind of ridiculous, huh? Sorry that I freaked out and you had to do…that.”

”I’m not. Sorry, that is. I’m glad you asked for my help. We’re in this together.” Jungkook gives you a smile, similar to the one he wore when he knocked on your door over an hour ago, and takes up the hand not pinching at the towel in his, squeezing it. “I don’t know that I can even begin to articulate with words just what this means to me. Thank you so much.”

“It means a lot to me, as well. Being able to do this for you and Jiyoon is not something you need to thank me for. I’d do anything for her. She’s my best friend. We’ve been through so much together over the last twenty years…I just want to see her happy. You, too, of course.”

Jungkook hums in the back of his throat, keeping his hand wrapped around yours as he leans back, using the side of the tub for support. A comfortable silence settles between the two of you, spanning several minutes until Jungkook speaks again. “Have you ever thought about being a mom, you know, before this?”

It’s on the tip of your tongue to answer with what you think he wants to hear, that this has always been your wish, but instead, you choose to give him an honest answer. “Not really.”

”Why not? If you don’t mind me asking.”

If it were anyone else asking, you might mind, but…

You purse your lips before offering yet another truth. “I guess I just…I’m me, you know?”

”No, I don’t think I do know. What do you mean?”

“I’m a single woman in my thirties with no prospects on the horizon. My last boyfriend was over five years ago. I’m a modern-day spinster. Nothing is wrong with that, I love who I am…I just, no one has ever shown interest in me like that. Though it’s not necessary to have another person in the picture, it’s just that…I don’t even know, I’m rambling, sorry.”

Jungkook looks at you for a long moment, and it’s so hard to read his expression. All you want to do is plead with him to tell you what’s on his mind.

“You shouldn’t do that to yourself,” he finally says.

”Do what?” you ask, uncertain what he’s referring to.

“Sell yourself short like that. You are easily one of the hardest-working people I’ve ever met. You have a successful career and amazing tastes in art and food. Not to mention, you have the biggest heart of anyone I know. You’re…you’re amazing, and I know for a fact that people think so, too.” 

You puff out a breath, trying not to laugh at him. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Because I’m one of them. I wouldn’t choose just anyone to do this with. After all, the baby will be half of you, too. A win-win in my book.” The corner of his mouth tilts in a small smile.

You’re pretty certain you’ve never had something create such a viscerally emotional response in you. It takes everything you have to blink away the sudden onslaught of tears that threaten to overwhelm you.

When you finally think you can speak without melting into a blubbering mess, you whisper, “I think you’re pretty amazing, too.”

💔💔💔

Jungkook

It’s well after midnight by the time Jungkook makes it home. He’s positively buzzing and can’t even think about going to bed just yet. There is far too much going on in his head, so he decides to expend some energy in the tiny home gym he turned one of the spare rooms into.

The condo he and Jiyoon bought two years into their marriage is spacious, spanning half the second and third floors of the building. There is a three-car garage on the first floor, as well as an elevator that leads to the landing out front. Across the landing is where Taehyung lives with his roommate Jimin, another well-to-do model they met through Kim Exclusives.

Jiyoon stuck her nose up at the fact that Taehyung was buying the unit across from them when Jungkook first told her, but so far, it hasn’t caused too many problems over the years. It helps at times like this, when Jiyoon is traveling for work, to have a friend so close by. Usually, Jungkook would knock next door when he can’t get his head cleared, but for some reason, Jungkook doesn’t want to tell Taehyung about what happened at your place. He doesn’t want to tell anyone, for that matter, holding onto it as a private thing for as long as possible.

Losing himself in sets of squats and curls is far safer than describing in maddening detail the way your soft, lush—Jungkook slams his hand against the squat rack and forces his thoughts away from that line of thinking.

Just because you’re a gorgeous woman with a nice body doesn’t give him the right to think about you like that. Especially considering he’s married to your best friend, whom he loves more than anything. Besides, he’s better than that, knows the whole alpha male hindbrain is the stuff of fantasy. There is no excuse for him having such sordid and outlandish thoughts about you like that. It was simply doing what needed to be done to help—for the baby.

With that in his mind instead, he moves through the motions of his workout. By the time he’s dripping sweat and his muscles are trembling with fatigue, the sun is starting to peek through the windows, and he hasn’t thought about you in hours—well, not much, at least. And when he does, he says it's just because he's thinking of what might be passed down to your baby—er—his and Jiyoon's baby—he reminds himself.

It’s been an excruciating three weeks waiting and waiting to hear from you about something other than work. After Jiyoon returned home from her business trip, Jungkook told her about that night, including the accidental slip-up. At first, she was upset, accusing him of taking advantage of her best friend. It took hours of strained conversation to get her to understand that it was more of a clinical procedure than Jungkook fingering you.

When that accusation was first thrown out, Jungkook was at a loss for words and completely thrown off the tracks. Jiyoon apologized, saying she didn’t understand how he didn’t think she’d be upset about it but that she’d forgive him for it anyway. She then gathered Jungkook into her arms, and they cuddled in bed for the first time in what felt like forever.

Jungkook wasn’t sure if Jiyoon would confront you at work over it, but as the days continued on without a peep from you, he figured things were okay between the two of you. There were times when Jungkook wished something had gone down with you and Jiyoon because then, at least, he’d have an excuse to talk to you in a way that didn’t make him look like he only cared about you now that you were possibly pregnant or with something work-related.

He knows these things take time, and there is only so much he can do. So, he’s been pouring himself into work and filling his schedule with as many activities as possible to keep his mind off of waiting.

“Jungkook, let’s go.” Taehyung raps his knuckles on Jungkook’s shoulder, grabbing his attention. “Head out of the clouds, daddy-o, we’re needed in hair and makeup.”

Sighing, Jungkook hauls himself off the couch in the studio waiting room and follows Taehyung into the space where the makeup and hair artists are set up. He arrived at the studio early this morning and had spent the last hour spilling his guts to Taehyung, something he promised himself he wouldn’t do but couldn’t keep it contained any longer.

“Don’t call me that,” Jungkook grumbles.

Taehyung smirks. “What? Is that not what you’re hoping to be called? Don’t tell me you and Jiyoon are into daddy roleplay. That might make it a little weird to have your kid also call you daddy—ow!”

Rubbing the back of his head where Jungkook smacked him, Taehyung harrumphs before sidestepping the line of chairs and taking a seat in the one farthest from Jungkook.

“Fuck off, Taehyung. After everything I just told you, that’s all you have to say?”

Taehyung throws up his hands, and the hairdresser at his station begins to comb through his black tresses. “The way it seems to me, you’re the only one making a big deal about this. If you want to check on her, I’m sure she won’t think it’s only because she’s your possible surrogate and not because you’re friends after this. And sure, you stuck your fingers into your wife’s best friend’s vagina, but so what? It was what you needed to do. If I really needed you to touch my dick in order to complete an important procedure, I hope you’d do it with a smile on your face.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to protest but closes it when he realizes he can’t really argue against that. Taehyung is right. He did what he had to do. Hell, he knows that, he used those words himself when explaining it to Jiyoon. There’s just this feeling he can’t shake, he’s far too nervous and on edge right now. If only you’d reach out, put him out of his misery with an update.

“I hate it when you’re right. I’ll stop being such a—”

“Hi, guys.”

“Excuse me, ma’am, only staff and models are allowed back here.”

“Whoa, hey, wait. She’s our manager, and she can be here.” Jungkook is quick to spout, not caring if there is desperation evident in his voice. Once his eyes landed on you, it was all he could do not to jump up from the makeup chair, cross the room, and drop to his knees and beg for an update.

The directing assistant who stepped in your path gives you a once-over that makes Jungkook grind his teeth, but he just sighs and steps to the side. “Okay, but you’re both needed on set in fifteen,” he says, directing the last part toward Jungkook and Taehyung.

“It’s okay, I won’t be long. I just…” You hold up a thin manilla envelope and give it a shake. “Jiyoon is out of the office for the day, she said I should let you see first and that you could tell her later tonight at home. So, here I am. I thought we could look together.”

The makeup artist dabbing a sponge on Jungkook’s jaw lifts an eyebrow when he jerks forward in the chair, intent on scrambling across the room despite being in the middle of blending.

“Two minutes,” she says, stepping back from Jungkook and turning to the makeup collection on her table.

“Okay!” Jungkook springs from the chair and rushes over to you, having no regard for the way his hair flops out of place on his forehead. “Hi,” he says when he’s standing in front of you. “I didn’t realize you had an appointment today.”

“I didn’t,” you tell him. “I just wasn’t feeling all that well this morning, so…well, I just wanted to ensure everything was okay. They had to do a pregnancy test, it was routine.” You offer the folder to him. “Want to do the honors?”

Jungkook’s fingers are trembling as he takes the folder from you. It takes him three tries to get the flap open and to extract the slip of paper inside. You give him an encouraging smile as he looks to you for reassurance before letting his eyes sweep over the report.

“It’s…we’re…you’re…holy fuck. You’re pregnant. You’re pregnant! YOU’RE PREGNANT!” Jungkook shouts before breaking out into a bout of ecstatic laughter. “Fucking hell, oh my god, you’re pregnant! I’m going to be a father. Me. A father. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yes!”

You join in his laughter, the sound pleasant and musical, as he throws his arms around you and spins you in a circle. There are shining tears in your eyes when he sets you down again, happiness clear on your face. “I’m pregnant,” you whisper, the words reverent and full of awe.

There have never been more beautiful words. Jungkook can’t help but say them again. “We’re pregnant.”

It’s hard to say if what Jungkook is feeling right now is considered a healthy response to what his wife, Jiyoon, just told him. But, the erratic beat of his heart paired with the incessant ringing in his ears doesn’t necessarily feel bad, just like he’s having some sort of out-of-body experience.

“Say that again,” he requests, softly smacking his lips, trying to work moisture back into his mouth.

Jiyoon sighs, shuffling the papers on her lap. “I’m pregnant,” she repeats the same words you said just two weeks ago.

“You’re certain?” Jungkook wants to believe he heard her correctly but can’t help asking for clarity again.

“I am.” Jiyoon smiles at Jungkook, her eyes watery. “It’s right here, look.”

Jungkook hesitantly takes the top sheet of paper from Jiyoon, letting his eyes devour the words and numbers on it. It’s all there, everything he needs to see and know for the truth—hCG levels far, far above average, an inked red circle around it along with a doctor’s barely legible scrawl of ‘pregnant’ beside that.

“How far along? It’s been—” Jungkook pauses to try to do the math in his head; it’s been weeks since they were last intimate—the night they agreed to do ICI. 

“About eight weeks,” Jiyoon offers. “I suspected a few weeks ago, you know, when I was a little sick that weekend—the one when we found out about, well, I didn’t want to get my hopes up or disappoint you if it wasn’t true, especially after such good news…so I scheduled an appointment. I had to be sure, had to be certain.”

“You’re pregnant.” The words feel thick on Jungkook’s tongue, like he’s trying to talk through a mouthful of peanut butter; sweet, decadent peanut butter.

“I am,” she whispers, the confirmation turning into a squeal of laughter as Jungkook sweeps her into his arms and shouts his own happiness.

Peppering kisses all over Jiyoon’s face, Jungkook hops around, alternating between shouting how much he loves her and how he can’t believe his luck. “I’m going to be a father. Twice! What did I do to deserve this?! I love you so much. Fuck!”

“Calm down,” Jiyoon giggles. “Put me down before you make me hurl.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Jungkook pants, setting Jiyoon back down on her feet. “I’m just so excited!” He wiggles his hips and shimmies his shoulders. “We’ll need to order a second crib. Should we have the babies share a room at first? That seems the easier option, right? I bet there is a book on that somewhere, I need to go—”

“Hey, calm, right?” Jiyoon’s smile is warm, soft. “We have time. There is no need to rush. Can we just enjoy this for a little while longer?” she asks, grabbing one of his hands and placing it over her belly.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes.” Pressing his forehead to hers, Jungkook wraps his other arms around Jiyoon and sighs contentedly. “I love you so much, babe.”

“I love you, too, Jungkook.”

💔💔💔

Jiyoon seems nervous, pushing around the chopped salad on her plate as she chews her bottom lip. She hasn’t met your eyes the entire time you’ve been at lunch. You want to ask her what’s wrong, but you’ve been friends with her long enough to know that she’ll come to you with it when she wants, and pushing won’t do you any good.

“So,” she draws the word out, lips forming an exaggerated pucker.

“Yes?”

“How are you feeling?” You can tell that’s not what she wants to say or ask, but you indulge her anyway, hoping you’ll get to the actual matter of why she insisted on going to lunch with you today.

You shift in your seat, setting your fork down on your half-empty plate. “I feel good. I just have some nausea in the mornings sometimes, but it’s not too bad.”

Finally, Jiyoon’s eyes come up to meet yours. “I know what you mean,” she says, the words slow and enunciated—pointed. Her free hand flutters over her belly as if for emphasis.

“What?” The word is more breath than question. “You are?”

“I am,” Jiyoon confirms, tears shining in her eyes.

“Oh, my goodness! Jiyoon! What? But how? Oh my goodness! That’s wonderful!” You can’t contain your excitement for your friend, throwing yourself across the tabletop to hug her fiercely.

She’s laughing as you sit back down, clearly buzzing with her own excitement. “We just found out. It seems a miracle was in our cards after all. It’s still early, nine weeks or so now.” That would make it just two weeks, give or take, before you and Jungkook did the ICI.

“Wow,” you breathe, your own hand landing on your stomach. “They might as well be twins. It’ll be so cool—what?” Jiyoon’s frown stilts your excitement. “What is it?”

She casts her eyes away from yours again, pulling her full bottom lip between her teeth before letting it pop back out. “I don’t know. I just thought…it’s not too late if you wanted to—I just know it’s a lot on someone, your body, the pain and everything that comes after. And now that I’m pregnant, it’s just, we don’t expect you to continue…if you don’t want. We’d be completely understanding and fully supportive if you—”

“Termination? Is that…what you’re talking about? And Jungkook agrees?”

Her nose wrinkles. “I don’t like that word. I’m just saying that we will support your decision to do that if you’d like. It was never in the plans to have more than one child, and now it would be two newborns at the same time…that’s a lot, you know? Twice as many diapers, bottles, and sleepless nights. It would be hard to say goodbye, but we’d still love you and not think less of you for it.”

Your mouth feels too dry for you to form words. You know what she’s saying. Though there isn’t a single ounce of you that desires that, you also understand the hesitation Jiyoon is expressing. She’s right. There wasn’t a plan for two babies. So, what now? Do you volunteer to help? Do you seek out the advice of a lawyer to know where your parental rights might sit in the case they decide they don’t want the baby in the end? So many thoughts swirl through your mind that it makes you dizzy.

“Can I think about it?” you ask, feeling for the first time a wave of uncertainty.

Jiyoon gives you what you assume is supposed to be an assuring smile. “Of course. And if you decide not to, I’m sure we can come up with some sort of system. We’ll figure it out.”

She seems so sure that no matter your decision, it’ll all be okay. “Really?”

“Absolutely. I want—we want, these babies, even if we didn’t plan for two. I was just letting you know that there is that option if you want it.”

“I-I don’t think I do, but if that changes…I’ll let you know.”

“That’s all I ask! Now, tell me, what do you think it’ll be?” she asks, patting her flat stomach again. “A boy or a girl? I’m leaning more towards a boy…”

💔💔💔

Jungkook

Jungkook still can’t believe his life. Two babies—two extraordinary miracles, it’s surreal—perfect. His calendar has never been more full. There’s the regular schedule of photo shoots, meetings, and other client work but now those are penned in between the baby classes he’s signed up for and various doctor’s appointments.

One of which is scheduled this afternoon, just a few hours after another this morning. There is your ten-week and then Jiyoon’s three-month appointment. Things have been going great with the pregnancies being so close together, but it does sometimes make appointments and times overlap. Which is how Jungkook finds himself sprinting across the parking lot of Jiyoon’s doctor’s office. He’s late—really late. He didn’t mean to arrive so late. It’s just that your appointment ran a little longer than expected, and traffic wasn’t exactly on his side, either.

Just as Jungkook puts his hand on the handle to open the door to the doctor’s office, it swings outward, nearly smacking him in the face. Jiyoon glares at him, a peeved sigh escaping her.

“You missed it.”

“What? No. I still have—” he glances down at his watch. “The appointment should have lasted at least forty-five minutes, and it’s only been thirty.”

Jiyoon rolls her eyes. “They were able to get me in a few minutes early.” She pushes past him and starts towards her car. “Everything is fine, by the way. The baby is measuring small but is still healthy. Thanks for asking,” she snarks, holding up a length of printed film.

Jungkook grabs the strip from her hand, jogging to keep up with her angry strides. “Wow,” he whispers, looking down at the 2D images. “She’s beautiful, so tiny.”

“She? It could be a boy.”

“Is that what you hope it is?” Jungkook asks, skipping ahead of Jiyoon before turning and walking backwards in front of her. His eyes barely leave the black-and-white grainy images. He traces over the faintly-there contours of the face, the delicate nose and forehead.

Clicking the unlock button on her keyfob, Jiyoon sighs again. “I just want it to be healthy. I don’t care what gender it is.”

“You don’t care?” Jungkook purses his lips, finally looking up at his wife. She’s wearing a designer pantsuit, the deep navy complementing her porcelain complexion and making the red lip she has on pop beautifully. Pregnancy looks good on her. He opens his mouth to tell her so when she cuts him off.

“Don’t say it like that. Of course, I care. Good god, Jungkook, why do you have to make me feel like shit all the time? First you missed my appointment, because why? Because you were busy playing daddy to someone else. And now, here you are, accusing me of being a terrible mother before it’s even born. Fuck you. Fuck you, Jungkook.”

Jungkook is so confused. “What? I didn’t—playing daddy? What are you talking about? I already said I was sorry for missing the appointment, you know the times were really close. It was her ten-week appointment. They were measuring her nuchal translucency, you remember how important that is!”

“Whatever,” Jiyoon deadpans, pushing around Jungkook and climbing into her car. “I have a meeting tonight, don’t wait up for me.”

Before Jungkook can respond, the door slams shut, Jiyoon turns over the engine, and takes off. Maybe not everything is perfect, he laments to himself, mulling over his earlier thoughts. With a determined expression on his face, Jungkook makes his way to his own car and promises to do his best to make this right, vowing not to let something like this happen again.

Of course, it’s only some weeks later that Jungkook has to break this vow. It’s not his fault, it’s no ones. It seems that life just wants to test him, perhaps make sure he’s honing his time management skills for when the babies come.

Everything has been going great since his hiccup with missing Jiyoon’s twelve-week appointment. He’s been able to shuffle around his schedule and work with the both of you to ensure appointments don’t overlap or are too close together.

Jiyoon has become reliant on him, which is something Jungkook revels in. It’s like their marriage is finally back to the way it once was, full of nights cuddled in bed and romantic dinners—sans the wine. While you’ve been fiercely independent, yet charmingly sweet when it comes to Jungkook and Jiyoon and sharing the pregnancy experience with them.

There have been a few discussions about the fact that now there are going to be two babies instead of one. Jungkook has spent nearly all of his free time turning the guest bedroom into a nursery fit for two. His home gym has become a catch-all, most of the equipment being confined into a corner to make room for the furniture that came out of the guest room-now-nursery.

It’s been a lot, but it’s something Jungkook would never trade for anything in all the world. He’s positively jubilant over the prospect of being a father. It’s something he’s dreamed about for as long as he can remember. Now, it’s just a few months away, a permanent light in his life.

“J-jungkook?” your trembling voice sounds through his phone when he swipes to answer the call, tossing the paint roller into the bucket. Butter yellow coats the walls of the nursery and dots the hem of his old t-shirt.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“I think so. I don’t know. I slipped on the stairs, I’m at the ER right now—”

“I’m on my way!”

“Jungkook, no. It’s okay. I know you have things going on today. I just thought I should tell you. Jiyoon was in a meeting, so Namjoon said he’d pass her a memo when she was done.”

He’s supposed to attend a First-Time Fathers class in an hour, and Jiyoon has her twenty-two-week anatomy scan this afternoon. The class can wait. If he’s lucky, he can go to the ER, check on you, and then make it to Jiyoon’s appointment.

“No, no, you’re not sitting in the ER by yourself. I’ll text Jiyoon and let her know that I’m leaving now to come check on you.”

“O-okay.”

The line disconnects, and Jungkook slaps the lid on the paint bucket and throws a plastic sheet over the paint tray. If it dries out, then it dries out. Paint can be replaced; your health is far more crucial right now.

Walking into the entryway, he thumbs open his messages and types out a quick text to Jiyoon before tossing his phone on the small bench by the door so he can pull on his shoes.

It’s a twenty-minute drive to the hospital, and it takes another ten minutes of searching to find you sitting in a waiting room with a large ice pack resting on your right foot.

“Hey, are you okay? Have you been seen yet? How long have you been here? What happened?”

You hold up a hand to ward off more of his word vomit, an embarrassed smile soft on your face. “Slow down, have a seat. I’m okay. They said I should be called back soon.”

Instead of sitting, Jungkook kneels on the floor in front of you. His fingers the ice pack, his face falling even further. “What happened?”

“I slipped in the stairwell at work, missed the last step and came down hard on the side of my foot.”

“Can I?” he asks, fingers moving to the corner of the ice pack.

You nod. “Yeah.”

Lifting it gently, Jungkook takes in the sight of your foot. The black ballet flats you’re wearing give him a clear view of the swelling that’s already beginning along the top and side of your foot.

“Do you want me to find a wheelchair?”

Before you can answer Jungkook a nurse comes through one of the doors, pushing a wheelchair. She wheels it over to you and says, “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook slips his arm under yours as you stand before slowly helping you lower into the wheelchair. “Would you like to push her back?” the nurse asks Jungkook.

“I can come?” he wonders, hopeful.

“Of course. Unless you’d rather wait out here, and I can call for you when your wife is done.”

“Oh, she’s not—”

“I’d like for you to come if that’s okay? I don’t really want to be alone,” you interject before Jungkook can correct the nurse. She gives Jungkook a polite nod and gestures towards the door she came through.

“Please come right this way. We’ll need to get a quick weight and a urine sample before I can get you into your room, where the doctor will see you shortly.”

Jungkook aids you the best he can, helping you to and from the wheelchair as he can. He almost asks if you want him to come into the restroom with you, but you give him a quick shake of your head before closing the door on him.

What feels like an eternity later, you’re finally settled on a bed with Jungkook sitting in the chair beside it.

“Thank you for being here,” you say quietly, drawing Jungkook’s attention. “I know I said I wanted you to come back with me, and it’s not that I want you to leave, but please don’t feel obligated to stay. I know you have a lot of other things going on.”

Shifting his chair closer, Jungkook reaches for one of your hands. “Nonsense. I’m glad you called. I feel bad that I haven’t been to as many doctor’s appointments with you. I feel like it’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve even seen you. I wish our schedules worked out a little better. Perhaps, as my manager, there’s something you can do about that?” he asks, giving you a jesting wink.

“I was trying to give you more time to go to Jiyoon’s appointments!” you laugh, covering your mouth with your hand.

“I know, but in case you forgot, you’re also carrying my child. Don’t get me wrong, though, the texts are great, and I really appreciate the weekly baby bump pictures, but it’d be nice to actually see you. Though, maybe next time, let’s make it not where you’re laid up in a hospital bed, not yet, at least,” he adds on with a low laugh.

This is the first time Jungkook has seen your bump in person. The soft swell under your shirt calls to him, and he wonders if it would be okay to touch it. As if you’re reading his mind, you take the hand that’s wrapped around yours and press it gently over your stomach.

“Kinda weird, huh?”

“No. No, not weird at all,” Jungkook says, being completely raw and honest with you. Jiyoon is touchy about her belly, pun wholly not intended, seeing as she doesn’t let him touch her bump nearly as much as he’d like to. She’s only recently started to show, and it’s hitting her hard, with which Jungkook tries to empathize. He can’t imagine being pregnant and how much a body changes; he’d probably feel things like that, too.

He spends a moment absorbing the feel, trying to imagine the little life growing just a few inches below his hand. Life he helped create. He’s so in awe he could cry…if it wasn’t for the door opening and breaking the momentary spell over him.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Lee. I’ll be your attending today. I hear you slipped down the stairs today and are worried your foot might be broken?” The cheery, middle-aged woman chatters away, washing her hands and drying them off before offering one to you and then to Jungkook.

“Yeah. I missed the last step and landed on the side of my foot pretty hard.” You shake your head with a rueful smile. “I should have just waited for the elevator.”

“Oh, ouch. Let’s take a look,” Dr. Lee coos. “May I?” She gestures to the blanket covering your feet. Jungkook helped you remove your shoes once you were in bed and tossed the blanket over your feet so they wouldn’t get cold.

“Of course.”

Dr. Lee pulls back the blanket and gently probes at your foot, turning it slowly side to side to get a better look. “Does this hurt?” she asks as she rotates your ankle.

“A little, not as much as putting pressure on it, though.”

The doctor nods. “I think it might be best if we do an x-ray just to be sure it’s not broken.”

“Won’t that be harmful to the baby?” Jungkook asks.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure to protect your little one.” Jungkook nods his understanding. “Is it your first? You look a little green around the gills, first-time-father jitters.”

Jungkook isn’t entirely sure how to answer that. Because, technically…no? Considering Jiyoon is approximately two weeks further along than you are. Would that make her baby his first? A laugh, barely restrained, simmers deep in Jungkook’s chest.

“Something like that,” he finally says, earning another warm smile from the doctor.

“Alright, let’s get started so I can get you two out of here as soon as possible.”

The word ‘soon’ should be a relative term when it comes to hospitals—or a word that hospital staff is barred from using. Jungkook doesn’t mind spending the hours waiting with you. In fact, you’re pretty pleasant company. That’s not to say Jiyoon isn’t when Jungkook attends appointments with her; there’s just a different level of expectation, he thinks. He hopes this baby will have your patience and grace like that.

Jiyoon wants a quiet observer sitting in the corner, whereas you’re welcoming to his insights and curiosities. You haven’t hushed him a single time when he’s voiced a question of any of the medical staff. In fact, it almost seems like you welcome it, comfortable in letting him show his concern for you.

Thankfully, the x-ray showed no break or fracture. You’ve been given a temporary boot to wear for the next week and strict instructions not to overdo it. “Got it,” you say once the nurse has finished explaining everything to you.

“Now, before we discharge you, we would like to have a sonographer brought in to check on the baby. According to your charts and file, you’re at the twenty-week mark now.”

Jungkook stands up, panic worming its way in. “Should we be worried? Is everything okay?”

The nurse gives him a motherly smile. “That’s what we would like to check.” She turns her attention to you. “You didn’t fall on your belly, but with any trauma to the body, it never hurts just to be sure.”

Of course. That makes sense to Jungkook, but he looks to you for confirmation. “Yeah? You want to do that?”

“That would be great, thanks.”

Jungkook has only attended two live ultrasounds in all the doctor’s appointments he has been to. He has many printed ultrasound images that are now stuck to the refrigerator at home, one side for Jiyoon and the other for you. But he’s only managed to attend one for Jiyoon and one for you, so this will be a wonderful treat.

“Okay, they’ll be here in just a moment.”

A few moments pass after the nurse leaves the room, and Jungkook allows himself to truly assess his internal feelings. He’s thankful that you’re okay and will feel even more at ease once the ultrasound confirms the baby is alright, too. It’s wild for Jungkook to think that just a few months ago, his life felt like it was on the verge of falling apart. There was a steadily growing rift between him and Jiyoon, and you were just Jiyoon’s best friend.

Now, however, he feels closer than ever to his wife, and you’ve managed to carve out your own little pocket in his heart, too. It’s alarming, yet comforting, to realize that there is something more between you and him—a deepening connection that’s still delicate but growing more solid with each passing day.

“You feeling okay?” Your voice breaks through Jungkook’s reverie.

“Hm? Me? I’m great,” he assures, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. You’ve barely let his hand go the entire time, to which Jungkook won’t complain. “Does it hurt much?” Jungkook nods toward the end of the bed, where your feet are back under the blanket.

You shrug. “It’s not so bad while laying here.”

“Hi!” a bubbly voice calls from the door a second before a young blond woman wheels an imaging cart into the room. “Are we ready to get a look at your little one before you guys go home?”

“Yep.” You give Jungkook’s hand a light squeeze. “Excited?” you ask in a soft voice meant only for him.

“Very,” he tells you, sitting up straighter in his chair.

“Now, this won’t be nearly as good as if we were in radiology in an exam room, but all we really want is to get a look to make sure everything is okay. Besides, who doesn’t want to take a peek when you get the chance, right?”

The tech, with Jungkook’s assistance, helps you adjust on the bed until you’re in a comfortable position for the ultrasound. Jungkook feels frozen as you tug your blouse up and over your belly, giving him his first real glimpse of the swell in all its glory. It’s one thing to see it through your shirt, another thing entirely to see it like this.

“Cold,” you chuckle as the tech squeezes a glob of contact gel onto your lower belly.

“Sorry about that, these carts unfortunately don’t have the warmers on them. Ah, here we are,” she sing-songs when she smoothes the wand over the gel. “Look at that.”

Jungkook tears his eyes from your face, focusing his gaze on the imaging machine's display screen. His breath stutters in his lungs, and a wave of pure, unrestrained joy washes over him.

“They’re perfect,” he says, voice thick with emotion. Jungkook watches as an arm moves across the screen, followed by a little kicking foot.

“Seeing them never ceases to take my breath away.” You take the words right out of Jungkook’s mouth.

The tech hums, giving you a soft smile as she moves the wand around to different angles. “No gender yet?” she asks. “I’ll try to be careful here, don’t want to have any spoilers…unless you would like to know?”

It’s hard not to be curious. “Is it not too early to tell?” Jungkook asks.

Turning the screen slightly away from you and Jungkook, the tech says, “Um, nope. Not too early. Everything looks good, though. So, if you’d rather wait, we can get cleaned up and be done here.”

“What do you say?” Jungkook looks at you with a raised brow.

Your teeth leave a dent in your bottom lip as you worry it for a moment. Another thing he thinks would be cute to see his mini-me do. “I kind of want to, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he admits, loving the fact that you do.

“Okay, wonderful. In that case,” the tech says before moving the screen back and adjusting the wand on your belly. “Take a look here.”

When Jungkook arrives home, the sun has long since gone down, but he’s so high on cloud nine that he can’t bring himself to care. The large smile on his face hasn’t slipped in the slightest.

Jungkook is certain nothing can bring him down. At least, that is, until he walks through the front door of his condo and straight into hell. Jiyoon is sitting at their dining table, her expression completely devoid of emotion.

“Hey, babe. What’s going on?” Jungkook hesitantly asks, eyes sweeping the open layout and taking note that the only light on is the recessed one directly over Jiyoon. His smile slowly fades, replaced with a crease between his brows.

“What’s going on?” she asks in a cold voice.

“Is everything okay?”

Jiyoon sniffs, her eyes narrowing, the first sign of emotion he’s seen since he walked in. “No. Everything is not okay.”

“O…kay,” Jungkook draws the word out, letting his mind flip through its internal catalog, trying to find pieces of the puzzle to put together.

“Where have you been?”

“There was an accident. Did you get the note from—”

“You’ve not answered any of my calls or texts.”

“I sent you a text before I left. I think I misplaced my phone, I can’t seem to find—”

“You missed my appointment!” she sneers, cutting him off once more. “And you did not text me. I haven’t heard from you since this morning.”

Realization hits, and the warmth drains from Jungkook’s face. He was so focused on everything with you, the panic and then the joy, that he completely spaced on everything else he should have done today. But also…

“I swear I texted you to let you know I was going to the hospital. I was going to make sure everything was okay.” As soon as your name falls from his lips Jiyoon shoves back from the table and rounds it, getting in his face. “She slipped at work and thought she might have broken her foot. Namjoon was supposed to give you a note about it since you were in a meeting. She called me. I was worried. I didn’t mean to miss your appointment. Were they able to determine the gender?”

Jiyoon jabs a finger in the center of his chest. “Not. Good. Enough. I’m your wife, not her! You’re supposed to be with me! Instead, you spend all your fucking time with your nose up her ass when you barely even know her!” Jungkook staggers back as her poke turns into a fully-palmed shove. “You’re un-fucking-believable! What a goddamn joke.”

“Jiyoon, that’s not fair. Something could have been wrong with the baby. It was an emergency,” Jungkook says, trying to make Jiyoon see reason.

It doesn’t work.

“Fuck you! Why do you care so fucking much about that stupid baby?! All you do is fawn over the photos and re-read her text updates! This,” she gestures wildly at her stomach, “is the baby you should care about! Yet you can’t even show up when it counts.”

“You can’t be serious. This is ridiculous.” Jungkook keeps his tone level, refusing to be baited into a knock-down-drag-out with her.

“No!” Jiyoon screams, making Jungkook flinch. “You are ridiculous.” Suddenly a menacing smile cuts across her face. “I bet you slept with her. Didn’t you? That’s it, you’re feeling possessive because you fucked my best friend, and that’s how she got knocked up, isn’t it?”

Jiyoon’s words spark a ringing in Jungkook’s ears. “What?” he whispers, the word barely forming.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Jungkook. I know you too well for that. Let’s not forget your little slip-up—” she throws up air quotes as she says that “—the night you supposedly did ICI.”

“I told you it was an accident. I didn’t mean to do it!”

Sarcasm is a heavy, bitter layer in Jiyoon’s reply, “You just so happened to touch her clit? Just a little oopsie, so innocent. You’re too nice to outright lie to me, so, of course, you come up with some half-truth, expecting me to believe that you didn’t want it, that you weren’t secretly gnawing at the opportunity to try and seduce my best friend!”

“That is not what happened at all!”

“So I’m supposed to believe my pathetically inexperienced best friend is the one that seduced you, then?”

“What? That’s not what I said at all. No one seduced anyone. You’re being fucking crazy right now. You know I’d never do that to y—”

The crack of Jiyoon’s palm against his jaw stuns him into silence. “Don’t you dare call me crazy!” she screams. “You’d never do that to me? Yeah, right. You’re a man, and that’s what men do! Heaven forbid a woman works hard and spends time away from the home, trying to provide for her family. Is that it? I’m gone too much for your sad little dick, so you have to chase after the first desperate pussy that comes your way?”

Jungkook presses his fingers over the searing heat licking up his jaw where her hand struck him. “Jiyoon, no, it’s not like that at all,” he says, losing his momentum because he’s not sure what he can say at this point to make her see reason. “I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

“Fucking my best friend because she’s convenient and out of spite for me being gone so much? No, that sounds exactly like something you would do. Well, looks like it’s your lucky day because two can play that game, asshole. Enjoy your fucking prize!”

Jungkook jerks back, as if Jiyoon just slapped him again. “What does that mean?”

She laughs, the sound deep and throaty. “This baby—” she seethes, rubbing over the small swell of her belly, voice rising with every word “—it’s not yours, you pathetic bastard!”

Next Chapter⇾ (coming soon) ◅ Back to story masterlist  

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️ 2024-02-13 ColorMePurplex2

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #dilf jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook imagines #bts smut #bts angst #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts imagines #bangtanwhq #btsfests

[sunnyyflowerrs]

whoever you are to me

oh god so for those of u who didn’t know i recently came back to tumblr after not being here for like 3 years and i found some drafts from my miraculous ladybug days that i wanted to post because they’re kinda cute … if you’re here for me rambling about anime then pls ignore them lol but i thought i should share them as me from 3 years ago would have wanted so here is a fic idea i never executed that happened right after gang of secrets (2021)

———————-

i can’t stop thinking about this fic idea so im going to brain dump it here. 

- marinette and adrien are basically as they are right now (meaning right after gang of secrets) 

- as we know with that art scene from kagami, adrien isnt really sure who he is. he thinks his true self is cat noir, but we know its actually somewhere in between shy adrien and his boisterous superhero persona.

- marinette at this point is just trying to get over adrien, after her relationship with luka. alya tries to encourage her to pursue chat noir, but marinette says that she can’t because they are superheroes

- cue ms. bustier being Master Matchmaker (tm) and assigns a partner project to get to know one another better, where you get assigned to someone and you have to do a report on who they are and what they are like 

- of course, our two idiots in love are paired with each other, and they have to do good because they have been behind in assignments since shadowmoth started showing up and being as terrible as possible .

- marinette is super assured in who she is. she’s marinette, she loves design, pink, macaroons, and her parents, so her report is finished fairly quickly

- but when they sit down to do adrien’s report, he can barely name his favorite color, much less what he likes to do or what he wants to do when he is older. he ends up oversharing a bit, and marinette begins to see adriens life as he sees it: lost and lonely

- this completely shatters adrien’s pedestal in marinettes eyes - she realizes how wrong her paradigm of his life had been

- resolving to be the ultimate friend (because she totally doesnt have feelings for him, no way) , marinette works super hard on “Project Adrien” so they meet every week and just talk about who he is, what does he want to do in life and stuff like that, so that they can get a great grade on the project, of course. 

- and just like that she starts to actually fall in love with the boy who laughed in the rain that day, not the model boy she had created in her own head 

- in turn, adrien grows closer to marinette and sees the spitfire confident takes no bullshit marinette that she had always been to shy to be around him. yeah buddy she may not be just a friend..... 

- cue mounds of adrienette fluff as they both slowly fall in love with each other and realize that there is more to the other than what they see... 

#of course the obligatory identity reveal #at some point but this would be slow burn #and im just a sucker for the true selves trope #and im adrienette trash but you already knew that #miraculous ladybug #ml fic idea #i lowkey wanna write this but i have no time or talent reallya sdlfksadf #adrienette #slow burn #whoever you are to me #ml #s4 #it’s crazy seeing my thoughts from 3 years ago i don’t even remember writing this #but i hope some of my followers from my ml days might enjoy this if they are still ok here after 3 years #i think i really need to catch up on what is going on in the show #so i’ll let you know if i ever get back into it #sunny yaps #miine

[reddiamondyeet]

.

#what the fuck what the actual fuck #haven't we suffered enough. really bretney? really? #how the fuck is he going to deal with this? besides not of course. and to think his anger issues were getting better #the fact that he could have a fucking record over this bullshit she's spewing. i'm going to fucking hurt someone #fuck you bretney fuck you fuck you fuck you. i hope your pathetic boyfriend is murdered by that stupid drug dealer you live with #i'm a prison abolitionist but I make an exception for you. you had your chance. you were given mercy. were given help. you still did this #you took the support you were given and willingly threw it in the trash cause you didn't want redemption. you didn't want to get better. #you had everything you needed to be a better person and you made the same mistake you did last time. but i'm not going to chose mercy again #not this time. not after you painted me as a victim who can't defend themselves and my own fucking brother as an abuser #we'll see about me being the victim. we'll fucking see. #i've had enough of you making my mother want to die. i've had enough of seeing my father cry. i've had enough of my brother's breakdowns #i've had enough of telling my parents i'll go to puerto rico again if need be. i've had enough of you. #and i know it's not a coincidence that this happened only five days from my birthday. #i hope if we get this case dismissed that by the end of it i won't have to ever worry about you doing this again. #red rants #i should probably trigger tag this but i'm too out of it to think of what to tag it as. whatever.

[notafunkiller]

tying you to me

Summary: When your boss, Bucky, apologizes for being rude to you once again, things take an unexpected turn.

Pairing: boss!Bucky Barnes x marketing director!female reader

Warnings: 18+, teasing, dirty talk, pet names, sir kìnk, breasts insecurity, protected séx, bøndage, a little degrading, praising kìnk, language, implied aftercare, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 5.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you'll enjoy it!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

He’s well aware he went too far. He noticed right when he finished talking and took a look at you, but what is said is said. And the last thing he wants is Steve annoying him about the meeting.

“I don’t question the way you deal with employees, do I?” Bucky snaps, tired and really wanting this day to be over.

“What has gotten into you? What bothers you so much about her? I just don’t get it.”

Bucky sighs deeply, rubbing his hand across his face in frustration. “It’s not just one thing,” he mutters, his tone weighed down by a mix of tiredness and anger. “It’s a culmination... She’s fucking impossible.”

“Bucky, I get you’re upset, but taking it out on her isn’t fair. She did an incredible job, but you didn’t even listen to her. What’s really going on here?”

“I feel like she’s not seeing the bigger picture. We disagree constantly, and it’s making things difficult. Maybe I overreacted, but it’s been building up for a while.” Bucky leans in as he speaks, with his shoulders slightly hunched forward. His voice carries an edge that Steve notices immediately. He knows there is something about you that affects Bucky, but he can’t quite put the finger on it. Ever since he hired you, Bucky’s been angry with him too, which has happened only two or three times over twenty years of friendship.

“I can see this is really affecting you, Buck. If there’s something personal or if my decision to bring her on board has caused you any discomfort, talk to me. I just wanna make sure everything’s okay between us.”

He leans back a bit, surprised. “Personal? No, it’s not… it’s not about that,” he stammers, searching for the right words. There’s a subtle shake of his head, almost as if he’s trying to dismiss his own thoughts. He wishes there was a personal connection so badly that it messes with his head…

“Then what is it? I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions. I know you hate when things are not under your control, but I made the right call to hire her. And you were really unfair to her, look,” Steve waves around as he speaks, and Bucky turns to look at you through the glass door. You’re still there… working. “She’s not just smart and creative, but also ambitious and hard working. I know how much you value this as well.”

“I didn’t mean to come off unfairly. It’s just…” Bucky sighs, moving to shift his gaze back to Steve. “Our ways clash, and it’s hard to manage it. I value her skills, but finding a middle ground seems impossible sometimes.”

“Look, Buck, I understand it’s tough, but it’s important to listen to her ideas too,” Steve responds, his voice carrying a firm yet empathetic tone. “Today? You didn’t even look over the outlines. Try giving her ideas a chance or just suggest new things without trashing all of her work. You’d be offended too.” He pauses, and Bucky’s focus is back on you. His eyes narrow slightly, studying your determined expression as you delve into whatever you are working on that he dismissed today. And for a few seconds a pang of guilt flickers across Bucky’s expression, which Steve immediately catches. He clears his throat and continues. “I understand it’s not easy to step back and apologize, but it’s not about who’s right or wrong. And, to be honest, you were wrong anyway. It’s about ensuring a healthy workplace.”

“I appreciate your perspective, Steve,” he begins with a calm voice. “But I don’t think it would make a difference.” His gaze briefly flickers towards you before returning to Steve.

“Trust me, it’ll make a difference, not just for her but also for the team. Give it a shot.” Steve smiles, patting him on the chest before standing up. “I’ll leave you to it. It’s so late.”

“Alright, lovebird, off to your nest?” Bucky teases. “Natasha’s waiting for her captain. Better not keep her waiting too long.”

Steve chuckles. “Well, someone’s got to keep the romance alive around here. Good night.”

“Night...”

*

The audacity of this man is unbelievable. After all that shit he pulled on you today, he has the nerve to order your food! He’s the reason why you’re still working at eight pm instead of lying on your couch.

You are so close to crying out of exhaustion and anger, but you won’t give him this satisfaction. And you won’t eat his food.

“Are you seriously gonna starve yourself?”

“I’m not hungry,” you retort, your voice sharper than intended as you give him an annoyed look.

Bucky’s expression softens instantly, a hint of concern flickering across his face. “Come on, you’ve been working the whole day” he insists, trying to reason with you. “You need to eat something. Did you even drink water?”

You shake your head weakly.

“Look, I-”

“If you don’t like Pizza, I can grab you something else.”

You raise your hand, waving around. “I appreciate it, but I’m fine. I’ll eat something when I get home.”

The idea of accepting anything from him like this feels wrong. You don’t want his pity.

“Stubborn as ever,” he sighs, muttering under his breath, and you look up to meet his gaze. For a moment, there’s a silent understanding between you, an unspoken acknowledgment of the tension lingering from earlier.

What did Steve tell him to make him actually try to have a decent conversation?

“Look, sir,” you say through your teeth. “I don’t want your pity. I appreciate your concern, but I’ll manage. I just need to finish this.”

“This isn’t about pity.” His tone is firm. “You’re exhausted, and I’m just trying to help.”

“I said I’m fine. I’ll be done with these.” You lift your papers to emphasize. “And get home.”

“You’re not fine!” he shoots, surprising you. “And you’re too stubborn to see it!”

You’ve never seen him screaming before. Even when he is angry, he’s always the silent type.

“Don’t you dare!” you fire back all of a sudden, unable to hold back. If you’ll get fired, at least you should speak your mind properly. You can’t take more of this. He can’t step on you without consequences. “You are the reason why I am here anyway. Don’t play the concerned hero, just take your food and eat it...” You pause for a second before sarcastically adding. “Sir.”

“This isn’t just about the food, is it?” Bucky’s voice softens slightly despite his impulse to raise his voice again. “It’s about the meeting.” You keep looking him in the eyes, not denying the obvious. Of course it’s about the meeting. “Look, I am sorry, I know I should have handled things differently, but I’m trying to make it right.”

“You think a wannabe apology and food make everything okay?” You ask bitterly, standing up. “You humiliated me, Mr. Barnes. You didn’t even hear me out, you didn’t even listen to my ideas, what the team and I managed to do in the last few months. You disrespected them too! And I don’t get it...” You hate how tall he is. How perfectly his suit is ironed. How nice his hair is. Fuck him! “Ever since Steve hired me, you refused to communicate with me. It’s like you have decided who I am and what I’m worth without even giving me a chance, without acknowledging my efforts and results!”

“That’s not true,” he begins, trying to defend himself even though you both know you are right. “I made a mistake, I admit it, but I want to fix it.”

“A mistake?” You laugh humorlessly. “For months you’ve been treating me like shit, excuse my language.” You shake your head. “Actually I don’t. You should be the one apologizing! You look at me as if I am a scum, as if my presence bothers you. I come to you only when I have to, and you act as if I want to waste your time. Well, I wasted mine for months in this company. With you!”

Bucky snaps, feeling the frustration taking over him. “My decisions are based on what’s best for the company. It’s nothing pers-”

“That’s just a bullshit excuse to maintain the status quo!” you interrupt him, the tension escalating. You don’t care about this job anymore. Whatever will happen, let it happen. “You’re a stuck-up asshole, resistant to change and blind to new perspectives! My perspectives only, to be clear.” You see him clenching his jaw before his left hand covers his jaw. Oh, he’s angry. Good! “And it’s not even out of misogyny since you get along just fine with Shuri. So what is it? What is it, Mr. Barnes, that makes you hate me?”

“It’s not about you,” he insists, his voice strained with the effort to keep calm. “It’s about maintaining stability. It’s about-”

“Bullshit! You’re threatened by anything that challenges your authority! You’re just frustrated and insecure. You’re scared that someone else can do better things in their own way. You’re just a tyrant! I don’t know how Steve is friends with you. He’s such a great man, and you’re a dick.” You laugh. “God, I wanted to tell you this for so long. And if it’s not clear, I fucking quit!”

You’d smile widely if it wasn’t for his snort.

“You’re not quitting,” Bucky’s voice is low, but you still hear it.

He doesn’t believe you, clearly. But he will because you’re not joking or backing off. You can’t take another humiliation session, especially when you did nothing to deserve it. As much as you admire Bucky’s intelligence and company policies, he’s a fucking douchebag. To you.

“Watch me,” you retort instantly. Your heart starts racing as he takes another step toward you. He’s so close that you only need to get on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“No, you’re not quitting. And you’re not walking out that door until we settle this.”

“Settle what, Barnes? Your ego?” You try to maintain your composure, but the closeness makes it hard for you to focus.

He sighs, and your eyes find his lips again. They are pink and wet from his tongue. If only he was less of an asshole and not your boss, maybe you would...

“This isn’t just about me and my authority.”

“Then what is it?” You're confused.

“It’s about you challenging everything I’ve built here,” he admits, looking straight into your eyes.

“And you can’t handle that?” Your voice is filled with sarcasm, but for once he doesn’t focus on that.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple, Mr. Barnes.”

“I... I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Deal with this... with you.”

“Deal with me?” You puff. “You’re insufferable, I am the one who has to deal with you and your constant checkups. With your: that’s not good enough, that needs to be changed, do this, do that over and over again.” You mimic his patronizing tone. “You don’t give me real suggestions-”

“I just... struggle with change.”

“And I’m the change you can’t handle?” The question hangs heavy between you, and his eyes drop to your lips this time.

“You challenge me,” he admits, his voice barely above the whisper. “You and your crazy ambition, your undying dedication, and your incredible ideas...” He pauses just to take a deep breath. “I feel like I’m suffocating every time I look at you.”

“Suffocating?” You roll your eyes. “How am I suffocating you? Just because I have an opinion and give you arguments-”

“I am fucking attracted to you, woman!”

You shake your head. He cannot just pull this lie and expect you to fall for it as if you are dumb. “Yeah, sure. Can you be a man for once and fucking take responsibility for your real thoughts and feelings? Just admit that you hate me!”

“Jesus Christ, are you that blind? For a woman so perceptive, you surely don’t see what’s right in front of you.”

You feel the anger take over your whole body. “Fuck you!”

“I wish! This is the whole point, the whole fucking point...”

“You want to fuck me for real?” You gasp, surprised and take a step back so you can look at him properly. He doesn’t seem to be joking.

“Deadly serious. And no matter how many times I tried to push this desire away, it just doesn’t work. You suffocate me. I imagine taking you all over my desk and couch. I imagine so many things, and I cannot focus.”

Before you can stop yourself, you slap him on the face lightly. Your palm is itching and gets red instantly, but you don’t care. As much as the info makes you happy, the context makes you super angry.

“So my team and I had to be humiliated just because you’re mad you want to get laid?”

“W-what? No!”

“No?”

“No. I deserved that,” he says referring to the slap. “But I meant what I said earlier. These are separate things.”

You cover your face with both your hands, not knowing what to say. What can you say? What should you think?

“I am sorry,” he sighs, and you hear him slowly walking away from you. “I should have said nothing. I am sorry. Please, don’t quit. You won’t have to work with me or even see me after this. Steve can take over, and you like him. I apologize not only for this, but also for my lack of… skills. I should have been more open to your ideas. And about tonight, I will wait for the HR email. I am sorry once again.”

Your head is spinning with all the things he’s just said. He wants you, but he’s also a bitch who cannot handle other opinions.

But you also want him. And you’ve wanted him despite how annoying he was. And he’s genuinely apologizing.

“Fuck it,” you whisper before going straight to him, pulling him by his tie toward you to kiss him.

He doesn’t hesitate at all, bringing his hands to your ass so you can feel each other better as he deepens the kiss instantly.

You shamelessly try to thrust your hips up a little as you let go of his tie, and his tongue feels like heaven in your mouth. His moan is low and hot, but you don’t let him breathe more than a second before you kiss him again, making sure to grab his hair and pull with force.

“Fuck me, Barnes. Fuck me right fucking now.”

He groans in your mouth once again, and you shiver.

“Jesus Christ, I’m gonna fuck you so well you won’t remember or think about anything else but my cock for days.” You instantly drop your hands so you can reach for his pants. Unbuckling them isn’t hard, but the zipper gets a little stuck, so Bucky has to finish the job for you.

“God, James,” you moan at the sight. “You’re leaking.”

He’s not embarrassed by this at all. On the opposite, he grabs his briefs too and pulls them down, letting them fall along with his pants.

You’re staring, but you can’t help it. His cock is so hard, and it even twitches as he grabs it to show it to you. It’s so thick.

“For you. This is all for you.”

Without waiting for a response, he suddenly grabs your shirt by the front placket and rips it in two. The buttons fly everywhere, one almost hits him in the face, but you don’t care. You’ve never been more turned on in your life. He’s so hot!

“Oh god, James,” you whisper, unclasping your bra before he can destroy it. It’s your best one, and you still need it.

“Yes,” he groans at the sight of your breasts, but you cannot ignore the wave of self-doubt that takes over you. They’re a little bigger than they should be for your height, so the sight is not the prettiest, in your opinion. This has always been an insecurity of yours, and even more after your last boyfriend made sure to emphasize this before you broke up. But Bucky seems fascinated. With his eyes glued to them and his mouth semi-open, he leans in, bringing his hands to both of your breasts before cupping them. You get goosebumps as he folds them eagerly, and you hear him groan when they spill over as soon as  he tries to pull them together.

“James!”

But it’s like he can’t hear you, too engrossed in watching your nipples hardening even more, and before you tell him what you wanted to, you feel his wet mouth sucking in one of your nipples.

You’re taken aback, so he uses his gloved hand to make you stop moving by placing it on your waist firmly.

He’s suckling at this point, making low whimpers as he’s looking at you.

You swear you never saw a more beautiful man in your whole life. His blue eyes are hypnotic.

“F-fuck,” you curse, bringing your fingers to his hair. You need to grab something before you fall.

He switches to the other nipple, and you feel yourself throbbing. You need his cock so much. You need his mouth... you need him to make you come. And you want to do the same to him. He’s driving you crazy.

“F-fuck me! RIGHT NOW.” You’re screaming, but he’s not surprised, rather amused as he takes his mouth off your breasts with a pop.

“Easy there, you sound quite desperate,” he giggles as if he’s just made the funniest joke ever. You are desperate.

“Fuck me or I’ll finish myself off, and you won’t be able to touch me as I do. Your choice.”

You know he doesn’t like or do ultimata, but you have no alternative. You crave to be taken on his desk as hard as he can go.

“How can I fuck you if you still have your pants on?” He asks you extremely calmly, and you’re shocked. You expected a more... intense reaction. “Earth to you?” He waves his hand when he sees you zoning out.

“You didn’t take them off.”

“I don’t take your clothes off, love.” He smirks. “I rip them, so if you want them intact, you better do it yourself.”

You nod, enjoying how raspy his voice is, and take them off without looking away from his cock. Not that he could stop staring at your breasts. His eyes are glued to your nipples. Your underwear falls, and only when you step out of the pool of clothes and finally free your legs from the high heels, he brings his hand to your pussy.

“Oh God, look at this… drenched!”

You moan, moving a little into his palm as if you’re trying to ride it. You need him so badly.

“James-”

“I know.” He smiles, spreading your lips more. “I know. So needy, my poor baby needs her cock so she can relax.”

You whimper loudly as you close your eyes. “Take me, sir. Make me your little fuck toy. Take out your frustrations. You can... you can show me how I was wrong for quitting by fucking me until I feel your cock every time I walk. I need to,” you moan again as you keep grinding onto his hand. “Come on! Show me!”

Bucky’s eyes get so grey as he suddenly pulls his hand away, making you whine. You’re about to curse him, but what he does makes you stop. He starts to take off his tie quickly, and you smile.

“Good boy.”

That remark makes his snort, and he cryptically replies:

“Ah, ah, we’ll see about that later.”

“Take off that shirt faster, and your glove, too.”

That surprises him, his eyes immediately widening, so you decide to do it yourself since he’s not fast enough.

He freezes as soon as you pull off his glove, revealing a black with golden accents  prosthetic hand.

“This is so fucking pretty, oh my God! Why do you keep this hidden?” You turn his hand around, and you gasp, realizing what you’ve just said. “I am sorry if I seem insensitive, it’s just that...”

Bucky snorts, amused, not hurt, which makes you feel like you can breathe again. The last thing you wanted was to bother him.

“You got a kink for my arm now?”

“You talk too much,” you murmur at the same time you start to unbutton his shirt as quickly as you can. Your hands are trembling.

When he’s finally naked, you let out a whimper, instantly reaching to touch his chest with both of your hands.

“You shave,” you say, surprised.

“Come on, love.” He smiles. “Touch my arm while you still can.”

You don’t question what he means by that, not wanting to worry too much. You expected this to be a one-time thing anyway, so you better enjoy every second of it. The arm is seamlessly integrated into his shoulder, and it's colder than the rest of his skin.

You trace a gold pattern all the way from his shoulder to his hand.

“I have a kink now,” you giggle when you see the sides of his neck getting pink.

“Well, I hope you have this kink, too, because…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he reaches for the tie he had on today and smiles. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

“W-what?”

“Hands behind your back.”

“You want to tie my hands?” You ask, taken aback by his demand.

“Did you try it before? Do you hate it?”

No, you didn’t try, but it doesn’t sound bad, surprisingly.

You usually hate not being in control, but it’s Bucky, and as annoying as he might be as your boss, you trust him. Plus, you quit after all, you should enjoy this as much as possible. The thought of him tying you up is really sexy for some reason, so you simply turn around and bring your hands together above your ass.

He doesn’t hesitate and quickly makes a knot.

“Too tight?”

“No,” you whisper. It’s not tight at all.

“You can tell me to stop any time, okay?” He wraps his hands around your waist and turns you toward him. “I’ll stop immediately.”

You nod, trying to get used to not being able to raise your hands.

“Words, please.”

“Yes, James.”

“Good girl.”

You’d lie if you said it doesn’t turn you on like crazy. You’ve been indirectly fighting with him for so long without getting any kind of approval or praise for your work. He made you angry and stressed more times than you could count, but you still respected him. You wanted his approval and you craved him...

You got yourself off thinking about him, you imagined choking him out of anger, but then it turning into a completely different thing. And it feels surreal this is actually happening, and he finally calls you a good girl.

“Are you clean? Anything-”

“I always used a condom, and I do checkups every six months. I assume the same about you.”

You nod, not bothering to tell him you don’t remember the last time you had sex, all thanks to him and his impossible to please ass.

“Do you have a condom?” You ask, moving closer to him again.

“In the car,” he curses, but before you can tell him that you can try without one since you are on the pill, he speaks again. “Wait!”

You giggle as you watch him run out of the office with his ass wiggling. No way he goes to his car naked, right?

You jump on top of his desk, pushing a few docs on the floor with your knee. It’s quite difficult because your hands are tied, but you don’t mind. You wait excitedly for his return just to tease him, but you’re speechless as soon as you see him unwrapping the condom package with his teeth before he quickly rolls it on.

“Won’t the neighbor mind?”

“What he doesn’t know,” he grabs your legs as he speaks. “Won’t hurt him. You’re not gonna run your mouth now, are you?” There is something about his patronizing tone that makes you hornier. Maybe because you know you’ve been on his mind so much he couldn’t focus on anything else.

“Why? You want to keep my mouth occupied with your cock?”

You don’t expect to be turned around on the table instead, with your ass in the air. Holy fuck!

“How about I keep this pretty wet pussy of yours occupied, hmm?”

You close your eyes when you feel his cock at your entrance before he finally pushes in.

He’s crazy, he must be crazy if he thinks you can take all of his cock like this.

“B-Bucky!” You arch your back without realizing, fighting against the material of his tie so you can get free. The impulse to touch his back is absolutely overwhelming, and the coldness of his left hand drives you crazy.

“What happened?” His other hand goes up until it’s in your hair. “You got nothing else to say? Are you already cock drunk?”

“More!” you whimper. “I can take more of you, please.”

“Ah? So greedy for my cock.”

“Need it deeper, James. Need you to move faster.”

You don’t care how desperate your voice is or if you’re pathetic. “I just wanna be stretched open until I cry. P-please.”

You don’t realize he is holding his breath until you hear him exhaling loudly against your back before kissing the same spot.

“You wanna be fucked like you’re my good little toy, baby? You want-”

He stops speaking when you moan, trying to move your hands so you can touch him and push him deeper inside you by grabbing his ass.

That hot ass…

“Want you, sir. Please, make me a mess.”

And he does. He fucks you harder, making your eyes roll back, and you can’t help but try again to touch him.

“Just like that,” you cry out when your face hits the desk more forcefully than before. You can sense Bucky’s hesitation so you shake your head. “I’m fine, I’m... k-keep going.”

He doesn’t stop, he even goes faster yet somehow deeper than before, a combination you’re not used to, that makes you feel like he’s splitting you in half. Neither of you can properly talk anymore. You can hear him cursing and saying your name along with: your pussy’s drowning me, so wet, think you can t-take it harder, but there is a long break after every word so he can thrust back inside you. You can’t even call him James, your voice is so hoarse, and he’s so deep you cannot even breathe.

You don’t need anything more the second he pulls your hair harder than you’d ever expect. Before you know what’s happening, the pleasure explodes inside you, making you scream. You don’t even realize that’s your voice at first, too focused on trying to prolong this feeling as you push your ass back frustrated you cannot grab his thighs, while he keeps thrusting inside you. His balls hit your clit, and you moan, a little sensitive.

“Sir, please, c-come,” you whisper, turning your head to the side on the desk. “Come for your little fuck toy. U-use me.”

You flinch, shocked, when you feel a light slap on your ass all of a sudden, but it doesn’t hurt at all. Quite the opposite. You don’t have time to say something about it, though, because Bucky’s already burying himself inside you again as deep as he can, and you moan at the same time he does.

“J-James...”

He pulls your hair even harder while he comes, groaning your name and a low fuck, that almost makes you giggle.

“Jesus...” It’s the only warning you get before you feel his chest on your back.

“Barnes, you’re heavy!”

His laugh is adorable, but he’s indeed heavy, plus you also have your hands tied. When he finally moves, you hop off the desk, almost falling since your knees are weak. Now you can feel your thighs aching too. But it was all worth it.

Quickly, Bucky unties you, without saying a word, which only makes you more nervous.

“Thanks,” you whisper as you turn around to face him. Then, you watch him take off the condom and place it on top of one of the papers you knocked over with your knee earlier.

After wiping his hands on his thighs, he grabs your wrists gently, making you almost moan at the feel of his cold hand. You’re not hurt, but they’re quite red, probably from the times you tried to get free.

“Gonna buy some cream.”

You shake your head. “No need, I am sure I have something for this.” You try to sound as casual as you can, not wanting to be clingy in his eyes even after you quit. Even after this. “Can you hand me my underwear and pants, please?”

Bucky freezes for a second, but he still gives them to you. “Are you back to hating me?”

“What?” You ask as you start to get dressed. You don’t have the blouse, but your coat is warm. You won’t freeze.

“Why are you so cold now? Did I hurt you? Did I do anything wrong?” His concerned voice and look surprise you. You know he is nice, but you didn’t expect him to be attentive after.

“No, you didn’t. I assumed this is,” you wave around when you finish zipping up your pants. “Just wham, bam, thank you ma’am.”

He doesn’t laugh.

“I told you, you’ve been on my mind for so long. Why would I... and even if it was just a one-time thing, why would I treat you like trash? Especially since we work together.”

“Worked,” you correct him before he hands you his shirt. You raise your eyebrow surprised.

“I’m not gonna help you get dressed, Barnes. You’re a big boy.”

“Put it on, it’s freezing.”

“I have my coat,” you protest, but he won’t take no for an answer, and you know it.

“On.”

“Fine!”

He helps you with it since your hands are, for some reason, still shaking. “Look, I was gonna invite you over to my place, but if I make you feel uncomfortable, or if you don’t want to see me...”

You can’t help but raise your eyebrows.

“Really?”

“We have some things to discuss, and I have a bath to run for you.”

You roll your eyes, fighting the urge to smile as he finishes buttoning the shirt. “You want me to sign a contract to fuck you again?”

“Ha, ha. No.” He leans in a bit to kiss your forehead. “We have many things to talk about that don’t involve a contract.”

“Yeah? Like what?” You start to collect the documents from the floor. “The process of writing my resignation letter?”

You hear Bucky puff behind you. “You’re not quitting.”

“No?” You bite your lip as you look at him. “Who’s gonna stop me?”

“Me.”

“Hmm,” you whisper playfully before placing his papers on the desk. “How?”

“Let’s get home and we’ll see about that.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfic #boss!bucky barnes #boss!bucky #ceo!bucky barnes #ceo!bucky #rich!bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader smut #sebastian stan #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction

[jaylaxies]

NOW OR NEVER

PAIRING: spider-man!sunghoon x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, unprotected sex, choking, fingering, slight bondage, usage of nicknames, breeding.

SYNOPSIS: going around the city with your massive poster which said, ‘Choke me, Spider-Man!’ was something you did for fun, not knowing that your dream might actually come true.

WC: 1.4k words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, loves! this one was requested by my anonnie and i’ve also posted this as a mark fic before! i hope you guys will like it :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! iloveyou all <33

“Shh, baby. Don’t want your parents to hear now, do we?”

You truly couldn’t believe that it was happening—that Spider-Man was in your room with his slender fingers wrapped ever so perfect around your throat.

You’ve always wanted this from the day you first saw him, on the day he saved a lift full of people from falling down and crashing to the ground. You were one of those who unfortunately got stuck inside the lift too, which was the traumatic onset of your tiny crush on him.

No one knew who was behind that mask, yet his suit clad figure was a sight to see, his build lean and slightly muscular, not to mention he smelled brilliant (a little something you gathered when he saved you).

To add to it, his ever so attractive voice always grasped everyone’s attention, you thought he was funny too, which is exactly why you ended up making a poster full of glitter saying:

Choke me, Spider-Man!

It was a silly joke, albeit you’d definitely be lying if you say you didn’t get wet dreams about the superhero, because you did. Detailed ones at that.

Maybe carrying the poster with you at all times was a stretch but you did it anyway, granted that your city was full of crimes and spotting Spider-Man was an easy task, which is why you proudly held up the poster in the crowd whenever you saw him, after he fought with the villain that is.

The people around you laughed, but it wasn’t mocking, it was more of an amused laugh, and you could have sworn you noticed spidey look your way, before swinging away, much to your dismay.

This went on a few times. You were practically waving the poster frantically when it was the fourth time, yet he didn’t pay you attention of any sort, leaving you dejected as you dragged yourself back home from Uni, chuckling at your state.

Crush on a superhero?

Pathetic.

He’s loved by countless people all over the world, what makes you think he’d have time to give you even a sliver of his attention when he’s so busy saving the world?

Clicking your tongue, you threw the crumbled poster in the trash can of your bedroom, dimming the lights as you sat down on your bed, ready to change into your nightwear before opting to sleep to take your mind off things.

Just then, a loud sound of knocking on your window caught your attention, which was funny considering you lived up on a pretty high floor in your apartment building. You thought that it must be a bird, still, you decided to open the curtains to check it out.

Shock would be an understatement to explain what you were feeling the second your eyes laid on the person right outside your window.

The reason for your sour mood, or rather, the reason you spent hours trying to ease the pent up frustration in you each night, moaning out with need, was hanging by your window.

“Oh god,” you breathed out, brain short circuiting for a few seconds before you shook your head, opening the windows for him to come in.

Who knew Spider-Man would actually care enough to notice you?

Then you realized just how awkward the situation was, and you didn’t have much to say anymore now that he was standing right in front of you, looking around as if he was inspecting your room.

“Spider man,” you breathed out, and he chuckled.

His attention was on you now, walking closer to you, “so, you’re the one who wanted to be choked by me,” he said smoothly, and you couldn’t help but shamelessly gawk at his figure, mouth watering at the sight.

“Uhm—I mean, holy fuck you’re actually here,” you tried to voice out your thoughts, but they were a mess, which only caused him to chuckle at your shocked state.

“Didn’t you want me here, baby?” He asked and you felt your knees buckling at the deep tone of his voice.

You took another step back, only to lose balance and trip. But good for you, your spidey was quick to shoot his web on your silky night blouse, pulling you close and right into his arms.

He smelled so good.

“Careful. We don’t want you hurting your pretty face,” he whispered, tracing his glove clad finger along your jaw, gripping your chin when he noticed how your body had gone still, “deep breaths, babe.”

“Are you gonna fuck me?” You asked, voice coming out in a low whine, eyes twinkling with hope.

He chuckled, pulling his mask up which had you bubbling with anticipation, you really wanted to see what he looked like. However, he stopped a little too soon for your liking, only exposing his lips, leaning in to mumble against your own.

“I’m gonna fuck the life out of you,” he whispers, a gasp leaving your lips as you pulled him closer into a rushed kiss.

He was quick to take over, kissing you harder as he pushed you down on your bed, you could feel his fang like canines biting down on your bottom lip, “undress, quick,” he ordered, and you fumbled while getting everything off your body.

Your cheeks were warm, your eyes on his figure, which was now devoid of his costume, faint abs and strong muscles on display for you, but your mouth practically salivated at the sight of his cock, thick and hard.

Just when you sat up to touch him, he grabbed your wrist, pushing them up your head and shooting webs to tie them, making sure they didn’t move.

You never knew you’d be into web-play but here you are, getting wet by being constrained by webs.

“Please,” you begged in hopes that he’d touch you, or do something, anything.

“So needy, aren’t you?” He clicks his tongue, his fingers caressing your cunt, collecting your wetness, “so wet already,” he smirked, “wanna be fucked all night, huh?” He asked, continuing working his fingers between your legs, arousal leaking from your cunt.

His other hand was wrapped up around your neck, fingers tightening enough for you to gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt lightheaded with the whole situation, but you couldn’t have asked for anything better.

He was so good with his fingers, thumb pads circling your clit while two digits plunged in and out of you, eliciting moans out of you.

“Shh,” he whispered, his hold around your neck tightening which caused you to open your mouth, giving him the perfect opportunity to lean in and spit in your mouth, watching the glob travel down your tongue till you gulped it down, earning a praise out of him, “good girl.”

He pulled back right when your body started shaking with the orgasm building up in your lower abdomen, his hold on your neck loose to let you breathe some more before he took it to the next level.

He ran his lips down your neck, sucking harshly as he lined his cock to your eager folds, your expression blissful and your entrance so wet, it made it easy for him to bottom out, “so fucking pretty,” he groaned out.

His voice strained as he started fucking you into your mattress, his power was evident with how precise and hard his thrusts were. It was a lifetime opportunity for you, and you wished to savour every second of it as you wrapped your legs around his slender waist, pulling him even closer and deeper in your pussy.

He hit your spot over and over again, “cream my cock like a good girl, baby,” he rasped out, his own orgasm approaching.

You couldn’t hold back anymore, with his fingers still gripping your neck, the lack of air was evident but it somehow made you feel as if you were floating with unadulterated bliss around you as you finally reached your state of euphoria, coming undone on his cock, exactly when he filled you up with his cum, mixing it with yours as he emptied himself in you.

You whined when he pulled back, getting dressed after draining you, “you’re leaving?” You asked, frowning.

“Gotta save the world now, pretty,” he whispered, removing his webs from your wrists before pecking your lips and rushing out of the window, leaving you dazed.

Maybe making the poster wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

@jaeminvore @macaroonff @ajayke-reads @lunalovesstories @jayzdaze @deobitifull @celeste-hoon @mari-oclock @kpoprhia @ikeuizm @woniebae @lalalalawon @blessedcursd @skzenhalove @heesuncore @seuomo @kyurizeu @haechan-nahceah @tobiosbbyghorl @jezzebear @jaehoonii @itsgivingitalian @bunhoons @luvswonyoung @ma-riiii @addictedtohobi @heeliopheelia @haanigurl

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#enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #sunghoon smut #kpop smut #enha smut #enhypen imagines

[deadsetobsessions]

Alley Drunk! Danny AU- Pt. 4

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3]

Danny blinked down at the cart, where a red hoodie and pants with red stripes along the side laid over the lip of the cart. Considering they’re in this universe’s brand of Marget- seriously, who names a store Target? If anything in Amity Park was named that, Skulker would have wrecked it in five seconds flat- it’s hilariously on brand. Though, to be fair, this was Gotham’s version too, which meant a lot of security guards (who definitely doubled as goons for the Rogues, Danny was sure) and the vibes were spooky.

“I’m guessing red’s your favorite color.”

Instead of the humorous way he meant the sentence, Jason looked up anxiously and Danny immediately hated himself a little bit more.

“Sh- I can put it back..?” Jason hunched in on himself.

Danny tracked the movement with clearer eyes than he’s had in a long while and ancients, does it remind him of how Dani was in front of Vlad all those years ago. And Danny has spent his entire half life being not like Vlad, so he’s not going to start now.

“Nah, you should definitely add some more stuff. This is no where near enough clothes.”

It really wasn’t. Danny had taken Jason to the store to pick out clothes- “Ther’s a second hand store down the stree’, ya know,” Jason had mumbled when they went through the doors- but the kid had only tentatively put in a small red hoodie and some pants in the cart. Now he had to put this in a way that’ll wipe the stubbornly hesitant look on Jason’s face off.

“Think about it this way, then. You’re repping me now, and while I might be the alley drunk, I’m not the poorly dressed alley drunk, yeah?”

“Oh. Tha’ makes sense.” Jason nodded to himself determinedly, and the kid strode over to the t-shirt section. For all of his confidence, he still glanced back to see if it was okay with Danny.

Well, Dani was the same way before she found her confidence (when she knew Danny wouldn’t abandon her or hurt her) so Danny just gave him a thumbs up before reaching into the rack and sweeping an armful of clothing straight into the cart. Then, he strode over to the jackets and grabbed the ones in Jason’s size and slightly bigger. Oh, he has to grab shoes. He’ll leave that for later, but Danny was going to get those ratty trainers off of Jason’s feet and into the nearest trash can if it was the last thing he does.

The halfa hummed, pausing at the first decidedly not miserable sound he’s made in a while. Dammit, if that wasn’t a sign of Danny’s attachment to Jason, he doesn’t know what would be. To be fair… Danny already committed murder for the kid, which was pretty much something he thought he’d never do, so in for a penny out for a pound or whatever.

He put a significant amount of the budget aside for the section labeled “JASON” so Danny shopped without a worry. Charlie’s ill-gotten assets were a good monetary compensation for his crime of existing near Jason or existing, period.

He picked up toiletries, toothbrushes and the like, when Jason came back sans t-shirt. Instead of a shirt- Danny had actually hoped that Jason would try to get multiple shirts- Jason was clutching a book.

Before he could even voice anything, Danny plucked the book out of his grip and put it into the cart with a disarming smile.

“Oh, good idea. We should get you books too. Wanna go pick out some more?”

“Uh- y’re just gonna get a book, just like that?”

“More than one book, I should hope. You are going to school, right?”

“…Yeah!” Danny couldn’t fathom ever being excited at the thought of school, but as Jason bounced away to peruse the admittedly poor selection of books, Danny couldn’t help but think that maybe he should give this education thing another try. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be less stressful now that he’s not Phantom.

Danny walked to the aisle next to the books and promptly proceeded to shove every single piece of stationary he thought was nice- pens, gel pens, cooling pens and pencils, a thick stack of notebooks, flash cards, etcetera- into the rapidly getting full cart.

Jason came back with three more books- nice, the classics- and froze at the sight of the cart.

“Oh, hey. Getting all of those?”

“Wha’- wha’s wit’ the stuff?”

“School supplies! Quality education starts with quality supplies, you know!” Danny said, a sliver of the grin that used to come so easily to him making an appearance on his face. "Don't worry, I budgeted. See?"

Danny handed Jason a piece of paper, confident that the kid would know if it was good or not.

"Where'd... ya get all of this?"

"Hmm... here and there."

Jason looked up at him, squinting suspiciously. "I hear' Charlie's gone poofed up."

Danny shrugged and put a calculator in the cart. "Oh, I'm sure he's busy."

Yeah, Danny thought vindictively. Busy being dead.

"Ya sound like a walking con," Jason said as he visibly decided to give up fighting against Danny's spending. "We nee' food."

"Gotcha. Well, if you need anything else, just bring it into the cart."

"I want veggies. Frozen, 's cheaper."

Danny nodded, resisting the urge to ruffle Jason's hair.

----

"Hey, you's the Alley Drunk, right? 'Bout that boy you've been toting ar-"

Danny punched the guy in the face, dropping him like a stone. He looked up slowly and swayed.

"Any of you ask about my kid brother again, and I won't bother with being drunk when I hit you."

Rapid nods. Danny shuffled away, satisfied.

----

Two weeks later, after a school day, Danny finds Jason heading to the bathroom with a box of...

"Hair-dye?"

Jason, who was marginally more relaxed and assured that Danny wasn't going to kick him out, nodded.

"Dye's fadin' n' I dun wanna get nabbed on the streets for having red hair."

Danny blinked. "You have red hair?"

"Sure do. See? Roots are showin' again." Jason pointed at his scalp where Danny could see the hair was getting lighter.

"Right. Well- I'll leave you to it. Let me know if you need help, kiddo." Danny said, desperately hoping he hid how off kilter he was feeling well.

"I don't need help, ah've been doing this for ages." The kid went into the bathroom and closed the door harshly. When the lock clicked and the faucet began running, Danny let himself slide down the wall into a crouch, hands cradling his head.

Red hair. Blue eyes. Tan skin. The facial features. The intelligence and empathy.

Danny chuckled hysterically under his breath.

Was Jason this universe's version of Jazz?

"Fuck."

#danny phantom #batman #dc x dp #dpxdc #danny adopts jason todd #jason todd #bamf danny phantom #alley drunk! danny au #danny: i'm grieving #jason: wanna bet? #that's right jason's this universe's jazz fenton #this universe's danny fenton died and that's why danny can exist here without causing issues #danny: i have adopted a random child #danny: this child is jazz wtf

[adventuringblind]

He Must Be Lucky!

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: fluff and crack

Summary: Max gets wasted and can't remember that the reader is his wife. It's endearing how much he simps bith sober and drunk.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, a wild party (at least for Max), Max being down bad

Notes: This one is for @amajixi! I hope you like it! Does anybody wanna send me asks and talk about drivers with me? Give me your most feral thoughts because I'm genuinely curious... please >_< (I even turned my anonymous asks back on please just send me things).

Side note: my fics haven't been getting much traction as they usually do. Is it something on my end? Have y'all disappeared on me? I know I shouldn't care, but y'all are the only ones that validate my writing T_T

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Max has a track record of partying hard. It's who he is, and she lives him for it. There isn't any kind of gripe of hang-up, just Max having fun and doing dumb shit that makes her laugh.

Lando is throwing a - well - a party. There was an excuse for it in the invitation, but she's too buzzed to remember it.

The echoing sound of Max's laughter ricochets off the walls. Daniel is with him, probably getting them into more trouble, but she knows Daniel will look after him. At least until he's trashed and can't get off the floor.

Alex brings her another shot glass. She has no idea what's in it, but Alex is letting loose, and she'll be damned if she doesn't partake.

He raises the shot glass in a toast. "To whatever this party is!" He cheers. They clink their glasses together and down the shots. She gags at whatever was in it.

"The fuck was that, Alex?!" She sputters.

He gives her a blank look. Really thinking hard about what he gave her. "I've got no idea."

The hours seem to tick by. The people are slowly dissipating, leaving the safety of this weird little bubble they've created.

She's lightly buzzed still, having danced off the majority of the shots Alex had her doing. The couch is her new best friend, and Lando had brought her a blanket at some point in the last twenty minutes.

A weight on the other end of the sofa catches her attention. Max, with complete adoration in his blue eyes, is staring at her. "Wow," he slurs. "You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen."

She laughs at his drunken thoughts. "You're not too bad looking yourself, babe."

The smile on his face is almost childish. It's big enough to almost fall off. His cheeks tinged a darker red with the blush adding to the alcohol flush.

"Go on a date with me? Please?" He tries to pout, but it ends up looking awkward mixed with the grin.

She flashes the ring at him. "Sorry, I'm spoken for." Alex and Lando are giggling from where they are watching this interaction unfold.

Max looks like a wounded puppy. Eye's glossing over like her might cry. "He must be such a lucky guy. You're just so perfect!"

"Awe, love, you wanna know a secret?" She leans in to whisper into Max's ear. "You married me."

If Max could hand you the world on a silver platter, he might have tried in this moment. The Dutch is vibrating in pure, unadulterated joy. Like a child who just got the ice-cream they were so desperately craving.

"Holy shit! I'm the lucky guy!"

Max smothers himself against your body. Eventually falling asleep, mumbling about how she's so amazing, and how he loves her so much. It's endearing to here his drunk affections laid bare for everyone to see.

It's the lullaby that calms her to a restful state. Fingers tangling with the softness of his hair. "You're not the only one who's lucky. I guess I'm pretty lucky, too."

#x reader #f1 fic #fanficion #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #racing #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen f1 #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #mv33 #mv1 #mv1 imagine #redbull racing #redbull #redbull f1 #redbull daniel #alex albon #lando norris #daniel ricciardo 3 #super max #orange army #red bull f1 #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

[strangersteddierthings]

Beg You to Love Me

"I'm surprised you even remembered, Harrington," Eddie shrugs, hoping he comes off as aloof as he wants to, instead of shaky and unsure like he feels. He was sitting atop the picnic table, arms behind him trying to look as unaffected by Steve's presence as he can, but he's been thrown for a loop ever since Steve emerged from the woods instead of Robin Buckley, like he was expecting.

"Of course, I remember. I- I've never forgotten," Steve whispers, head down and fists clenched at his sides. He looks more like a child being wrongfully scolded than a man defending himself.

The words pull a scoff from Eddie, though. Never forgotten? What the fuck ever. "Right. Something to hold over me, then, if I'd stepped too far out of line? Mutually assured destruction?"

Steve's head snaps up and he looks horrified, which Eddie will admit to almost believing. Steve doesn't seem like the type to join the drama club but his acting's pretty fucking good. "What? No! I would have never- I would never have said anything about us to anyone."

"Right. Sure. Of course. Your own reputation to think about there."

Something like hurt flashes across Steve's face before it frosts over. This is the face he's used to see on Steve. Cold and distant. "I- whatever, man. I don't even know why I thought..." but Steve doesn't finish his sentence. He just shakes his head and turns his back on Eddie, heading back the way he came.

He doesn't know why that sparks a rage from deep within him. "Yeah, that's right. Tuck tail and runaway again!"

"I ran away?" Steve shouts back, turning sharply on his heel to glare at Eddie. "You think that I ran away?"

Eddie just spreads his hands to the empty clearing as if to say 'look at all this room around me you've never occupied'. "You weren't here, were you?"

"Because you told me to not be!" Steve stomps back to Eddie but stops a couple yards away.

"Like fuck I did," Eddie argues back, because he didn't tell Steve to go away. He'd told him-

"'If this isn't good enough for you, there's the fucking door.' That's what you told me," Steve quotes, "I thought it was pretty fucking clear what you wanted."

"Yeah, I fucking thought it was clear what I wanted," Eddie snarls, lunging from the picnic table, closing those last few feet to get into Steve's face. "Yet here we are!"

"Don't act like this is my fucking fault. Like you weren't the one who forced it to be my fault. My decision-"

"Yeah, it had to be your damn decision! You were dragging it out-"

"-because you were too much of a coward to do it your-fucking-self-"

"-acting like you were. Acting too good to actually slum it with the trailer trash-"

"-so of course I made the choice that was best for me. Because I deserved more-"

"-like what I had to offer you would never be good enough for the goddman King-"

"-than just being your hookup when I wanted to be-"

"-like I wasn't good enough to be your friend, much less-"

"-your fucking boyfriend!"

"-your fucking boyfriend!"

The contrast of this sudden silence that falls following their screaming match that ends with identical sentiments is jarring. Eddie feels wrong-footed and lost. Confusion and hurt mixing in him that he can see reflected on Steve's face.

"What?" Steve is the first to break the silence, drawing into himself. Arms crossing to hold himself at the elbows as he takes several steps back, as if to be able to see all of Eddie will clear the confusion he's feeling.

Eddie just stares back, slack jawed for a moment. That's. What. No, wait. Really, what? "What what?"

"You- you said 'if this isn't good enough for you, there's the fucking door'. How was I- I thought you- you were breaking up with me!" Steve cries, "you. You said that to make me pick, because you knew I wanted more and you didn't. That's- you were breaking up with me!"

Eddie's in just as much disbelief. "No, you broke up with me! I said if this isn't good enough but, like, I meant if I wasn't good enough. And you left! You walked out because I wasn't good enough to be with you!"

Steve looks stricken and he claws harder at himself, sort of folds into himself like he's going to be sick. "No. No no no, that's- then that means I- it's all been my fault. No no no no."

Eddie stares wide-eyed and frozen as Steve talks to himself. Eddie kind of feels nauseous. There's no way that this is possible. That these last two and a half years of heartbreak have been because of miscommunication. That they both thought the other was breaking up with them and neither actually wanted to.

"Why didn't you- Why didn't you say something?" Eddie asks.

Steve laughs at that, sounding a bit hysteric. "Me!? Why didn't you! I wasn't- I wasn't going to beg you to love me like I had with my parents. You were the one who told me I shouldn't have to do that!"

Yeah. He had. When Steve had broken down and cried on his bed, in his arms, wondering what it was he had done to lose his parents' love. Eddie told him it wasn't his fault, never would be, and that he would never need to beg for love from someone who does love him. It was the same advice Wayne had given him when he'd taken Eddie in.

"I already thought you were wanting to break up. You were being so distant, I thought..."

Steve sucks in a deep breath and nods, "Yeah. Yeah I was. I was scared of scaring you away. Of being too much. Because I- what I felt for you was a lot. I was afraid I'd chase you away if I continued to be so clingy. I pulled back, to reign it in but. Fuck. Fuck!"

Eddie drops to a squat. His legs feel like jelly and he can't keep standing. He squats and looks down so his hair becomes a curtain separating him from the reality of the situation, if only for a moment. Fuck is right.

He's spent his junior and first senior year being pissed at Steve. Hurt by him and what he thought happened. And it's- if Steve's being honest, it's all been for nothing. If they both wanted a deeper relationship, they could have had it. They might still be boyfriends if Eddie hadn't been so wrapped up in his Munson Doctrine. He'd been convincing himself Steve was embarrassed of him, and was working on breaking off their- whatever they were. But he hadn't been.

He's thought such terrible things about Steve over the years. God, what has Steve thought of him over the years? No. He doesn't want to know, actually. That's not what he cares about right now.

He lifts his head to see that Steve's plopped himself onto the ground, sitting cross legged, elbows on his knees and head in his hands.

"Steve. Steve!" He calls Steve's name out until he looks up, looks at him, "why'd you come out here?"

He laughs again, slightly less hysterically, and he's shaking his head like he can't believe what he's about to say. "I. Fuck, I was coming out here to beg you to love me."

"No you fucking weren't!" his tone is filled with disbelief.

"I was," Steve repeats, sounding amused and heartbroken at the same time. "I really, really was. Graduation's coming and I know you want to get out of Hawkins the second that happens and I'm. I was running out of time trying to get you to notice me again, so I was going to beg."

Notice him again? As if Steve doesn't haunt his every waking thought. As if he doesn't dream of Steve every night while his eyes seek him across the halls and in their few shared classes like he's the goddamn night sky and Eddie is a sailor lost at sea needing the north star to guide him home. Eddie's never not noticed him, and he thinks he has to come out here and beg? "When someone loves you, you don't have to beg."

"Yeah, I know," Steve sighs, defeated, which lets Eddie know that Steve does not, in fact, know. He looks away from Eddie, down to his lap.

Fuck, it's like every fantasy Eddie's had of them making up and then making out has been handed to him on a silver platter and he's blowing it. His words are too vague, too easily misinterpreted. Again. He falls forward on to his knees, hands catching him so he's on all fours like an animal. "Steve. I mean it. You don't have to beg."

"I get it, Eddie," Steve huffs, not looking at him. Not actually understanding.

Eddie starts to crawl the distance between them. Steve looks up then, probably to see what the fuck Eddie was doing with the shuffling sounds and the chain on his belt clacking. Eddie watches Steve's eyes go wide, mouth dropping open to a small 'o'. "See, the thing is, Steve," Eddie says, pulling himself up to be just on his knees to shuffle the last few inches closer. Steve leans back to keep his eyes on Eddie's face, which opens his lap up. "You said you know, but I don't think you do." Eddie brings his hands to rest on Steve's shoulders and Steve lets him. "You don't have to beg." He uses his hold on Steve's shoulders to balance himself as he swings a leg wide, to straddle Steve, then shifts his weight to repeat the process with his other leg before settling himself into Steve's lap. Steve's hands land on his hips and Eddie isn't sure if it's intentional or a reaction to Eddie plopping himself in his laps but he's going to believe it's the first one. "You've never had to beg with me."

Steve sucks in a sharp breath and then he collapses into Eddie. Steve's hands on his hips slide up and pull him into a hug, as close to Steve's body as he can get, while Steve shoves his head under Eddie's chin, into the junction of his neck and shoulder and breaths him in like it's the last breath Steve will ever take. "We're so stupid."

"Yeah," Eddie agrees, as he lifts one hand to hold the back of Steve's head while the other drops to rub soothingly at his back. "Yeah, we are."

They sit in the dirt, the closest they've been since that summer between '81 and '82. They should probably talk about. They're going to have to, if they want this to work. Full sentences with no hidden meanings, even though the thought of that kind of vulnerability makes Eddie skittish. It's going to be difficult, but it'll be worth it. Steve has always been worth it.

Eddie wants to say 'I love you', just to get it out, in the open, and not just implied, but there's a different first step to take. One that's actually a little easier. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Me too," Steve whispers, "I'm sorry. I should have-"

"Shut up," Eddie cuts him off, voice quiet and soft as he can be. "This is, and I cannot stress it enough, a we situation."

The huff of laughter on his skin from Steve feels like the start of something. A new beginning, a start over. A re-do.

A goddamn miracle.

Later, they'll drag themselves apart and up. Make it to the back of Eddie's van in the school parking lot to talk. Going to either's house feel too much, too soon. Their big fight happened at Eddie's home, and Steve's house isn't warm enough for the kind of comfort they want to share.

They'll have a talk. Filled with long pauses, stumbling over words and fears and insecurities because this is the hard part of a relationship. Getting it all out in the open so they can learn if they'll even work. The fear that they aren't going to be compatible anymore looms but doesn't deter. They both want a second chance, to give it a real shot, by the end of that first talk. But taking it slow.

They'll discuss what went wrong the first time (diving in without talking about anything certainly played a big part) and how to avoid that.

But that's later. Right now, Eddie just holds Steve, and Steve holds him back, and it certainly feels like the beginning of something good.

-

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems

#steddie #my fic #this is just Miscommunication The Fic #hurt/comfort #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckleys the mvp for setting up the meeting by lying to eddie #shes going to demand a thank you gift for giving them the time to talk #and eddie WILL send her a whole fruit basket

[red-smut]

LH: Admission video

Sana x male reader

+2500 words

I have finally finished it! I think it could have been much better but I'm satisfied. I hope you enjoy the fic!

“Oppa, wake up” Sana is sitting astride you giving you gentle taps on your cheek in an attempt to wake you up. She’s only wearing one of your sweatshirts and the black thong you so eagerly took off last night, her messy blonde hair falling around her shoulders.

“It’s still early… let me sleep” your open your eyes to look at Sana.

Your girlfriend pouts and then quickly leans over to give you a quick kiss “It’s half past twelve! Get up! I want to eat!”

You make a long sigh and gently pull Sana off of you to get up reluctantly “Ever since you came to live here you’ve been enslaving me” you leave the room and head to the kitchen.

Sana, with a beaming smile lighting up her face, eagerly follows you into the kitchen. She gracefully settles herself on the counter, crossing her legs as she watches you with curiosity and affection. “Like you don’t like having me here.”

“Well, maybe it’s not all that bad,” you admit with a slight smile as you make breakfast, enjoying your girlfriend’s morning company.

Sana gets up from the counter and gives you a hug “By the way, a letter has arrived, I left it on the table in case it’s something of yours” she gives you a kiss on the cheek and returns to the room.

When you finish making breakfast you leave it on a plate, then you see the pink letter with a stamp with the initials LH perched on the table and walk to the table to open it

Good morning sir/miss, if you have received this letter it means that you and your partner have been chosen to enter Lust House, where you will live the greatest experience of your lives.

At Lust House we will not only make you feel like kings but you will also be able to fulfill any sexual fantasy thanks to our 24h service or the help of other hotel guests who will surely be willing to help you.

We will cover all your expenses so you won’t have to worry about money here.

However to enter you will have to be chosen by our president, so we kindly ask you to record a video introducing yourself and explaining us the following topics:

Sexual orientation

Sexual experience

Fetishes

Fantasies

Also after the presentation you must record a video having sex, no matter if it is anal or vaginal, hard or soft… just record a video.

This may seem like a scam, but we ask you to trust us so you don’t miss the best experience of your life.

Please send the video to the address written on the back of the letter.

Sincerely, Lust Hotel

“What nonsense, how can I bite on something like that” I turn to throw the letter in the trash but I find Sana, who seems to be reading It behind me and takes the letter from my hands to continue reading it with interest “You are not going to believe something like that don't you?”

Sana finishes reading and carefully leaves the letter on the table “Well I think we could do it, if it’s a lie there will only be a video of us fucking, it doesn’t seem so much, and if it’s true…” she quickly cuts the distance and puts her arms around your neck, whispers the following words in your ear “it will be a lot of fun if we can really go to a place like this” Sana gives you a kiss on the cheek and separates from you “let’s prepare the script already and we record It tomorrow”

Sana comes back to the room jumping up and down, you follow her while talking to her in a medium high tone “Hey I didn’t say yes!”

The camera placed on the tripod is pointed directly at the couch, where you and Sana are sitting. Sana is dressed in a nice black dress with a bow, her blonde hair is perfectly styled for the video, but you know that Sana is wearing absolutely nothing under the dress, which was enticing you to rip her clothes off and fuck her already without even turning on the camera. You however are wearing a t-shirt and jeans, completely out of place with your girlfriend.

Sana fixes her hair a bit and turns to look at you “I’m ready Oppa, turn the camera on”.

You take a deep breath and lean forward to press the ON button, with a click the camera turns on and Sana puts on her best smile before speaking “Hi guys from Lust House, my name is Sana and this handsome guy is my boyfriend Y/N, we are a serious couple but we are open to live an experience as promising as the one you have offered us.”

Sana pauses a little before continuing “I'm bisexual but my boyfriend is straight, I always tell him that he should at least try once to do it with another guy because maybe he likes it and he is missing out on something really fun but he is a stubborn”

Sana tends to be very talkative, sometimes too much and can stay talking about the same thing for hours, but this time she has stopped early and as you turn to look at her you realice that her beautiful eyes are locked on yours, silently telling you that it’s your turn to talk.

Immediately you look at the camera and continue, ‘Well… as for sexual experience, I haven’t had much, barely 3-4 girls… But I’m sure we won’t disappoint them because Sana has had a lot of experience with both guys and girls, perhaps too much experience.’

Sana makes a gesture as if she hasn’t slept with too many people, as if you were just exaggerating.

‘I don’t have any fetishes to highlight, but…’

”Liar” Sana’s laughter fills the room as she laughs at your words.

‘Hey, I don’t have fetishes.’

‘Sure…’ Sana stops laughing and continues speaking, ‘I love fucking, I don’t care if it’s anal or not, I don’t care about the position, and I don’t care who dominates whom, I just want to be fucked with a good cock.’

You glance at her sideways, slightly surprised by her sincerity as she continues speaking.

‘As for sexual fantasies, Oppa here is quite a pervert, he has many fantasies and I know them well, but the best one is fucking a lesbian couple until they beg for more…’ Sana brings a finger to her lower lip while trying to remember something, ‘I think there was something else… You also want to breed one of them, right?’ She turns to you with a mischievous smile.

‘I told you to not talk about that.’

Noticing the slight annoyance in your expression, Sana lets out a small laugh and gives you a light tap on the shoulders, then placing her hand on your thigh.

‘As for me… maybe a double penetration, I’ve never done it before and it could feel really good.’

You are surprised to hear Sana say that. ”You never told me that, my cock isn't enough for you?”

Sana looks at you playfully and starts stroking your cock over your pants. ”Oppa… your cock is perfect and I love how it stretches me, but two are better than one, right?”

‘If you say so…’ Sana subtly leans in towards your lips while unzipping your jeans. ‘Come on, don’t be mad… what if we start with the other part of the video now?”

Sana presses her lips against yours and licks them, asking for permission to stick her tongue in. You immediately comply and start an intense kissing session with Sana, making your cock start to get harder and harder.

Sana’s tongue swirls with yours, occasionally moving away from your lips for a moment to plant quick kisses on your cheeks. While doing so, she continues to caress your bulge with her hands.

The kisses don’t end until Sana manages to pull down your jeans and underwear. Your cock springs out and Sana’s lips leave yours to approach your cock. She gives it a long lick from bottom to top and delicately grabs it to show it to the camera. ”Look at this tasty cock… It’s perfect for being in Lust House, isn’t it?”

You slide your hand down Sana’s back and start unbuttoning her dress. Meanwhile, Sana wraps her lips around the tip and begins to suck it, looking at the camera, hoping that those watching the video enjoy the show.

Sana moves away from your cock for a moment to help you, and once you’ve gotten rid of her dress, she focuses her attention on it again, covering it with kisses and licks. At the same time, you search for her pussy with your hands and discover how wet she is. ‘Babe… you’re wetter than usual.’

‘The camera turns me on…’ with that simple answer and a small moan as she feels your fingers caressing her clit, she plunges your cock into her mouth and starts sucking it with such dedication that you have to concentrate to not cum. You grab Sana’s hair and use it as a leash to control her rhythm while stroking her clit.

Her lips glide smoothly along your length while her expert tongue caresses every inch of your member. You feel pleasure building up inside you, every suction and every lick bringing you closer to your limit.

Skillfully, you slide two fingers inside her wet pussy, feeling her sharp moans muffled against your cock.

Sana intensifies her pace, her mouth enveloping your member with more force while her tongue caresses your glans with precision.

‘Baby… if you keep this up I’m going to…’ Sana interrupts you by devouring your entire length in one go and stops looking at the camera to give you the dirtiest look she can while she stays there, doing a deep throat.

Then, with a burst of ecstasy, you let yourself be carried away by the wave of pleasure that envelops you, your body trembling with each spasm as you release your load into Sana’s mouth.

Sana stays there with her eyes closed, feeling the warmth of your seed flowing down her throat.

After a few seconds, Sana slowly releases your cock, letting it go with a ‘pop.’

‘As delicious as ever, Oppa.’ She strokes your cheek and then turns to the camera, sticking out her tongue to show that she has swallowed it all.

‘What do we do now…?’ Your cock is hard again after Sana’s performance and she notices. She takes the camera off the tripod and gets on all fours next to you, putting the camera in front of her so that her face is clearly visible. ‘Shut up and fuck me.’

You sigh and get up to position yourself behind Sana, kneeling on the sofa and bringing your cock to her two entrances. ‘Where do you want it?’

‘Do you think I care? Just put it in and…’ Her sentence is cut off by the loud moan that escapes from her lips, which is repeated over and over again every time you pull out and push your member back in her pussy. Sana writhes and her hips move towards you unconsciously while she shows the camera a face of pure lust that any man would pay to see.

While ensuring to drive her crazy with your cock, your hands roam her body to please her more, caressing her breasts with one hand while directing the other towards her face, taking advantage of one of her moans to stick a finger in her mouth and force her to suck it.

The girl who had dominated throughout the video is now unable to speak since that cock started splitting her inside.

But you weren’t any better than Sana, between her walls not stopping squeezing your cock and your girlfriend’s performance turning you on so much, you had no idea how you hadn’t filled her already on the third thrust, but there you were, holding on like a champion while you tore her apart.

Shortly after, you pull out your finger from her mouth and grab her arms, pulling her up a bit to bite her earlobe before whispering to her.

‘Does it feel good?’

With a lascivious smile, Sana responds stuttering, ‘Y-yes, Oppa… y-you can go harder if you want…’

You let her go and she falls onto the sofa, now firmly grabbing her hips and starting to push with all the strength and speed you can muster, ready to make a final sprint to bring her to orgasm and also cum yourself.

Over the next few minutes, what the camera captures is Sana’s face contorted with pleasure, her eyes rolling back and a smile of pure bliss on her face as you fuck her. You completely surrender to the frenzy of the moment, thrusting into Sana with determination and passion. Her moans fill the room, each one more intense than the last as you hold onto her tightly, feeling the heat of her body against yours.

Sana’s hands grip the sofa, her nails digging into the fabric as she surrenders completely to pleasure. Your thrusts become more frantic, more wild, driven by the desire to bring her to orgasm. And then Sana climaxes, screaming as her juices bathe your cock and push you to do the same.

“I’m going to…” You start to say, but Sana cuts you off with a weak voice, “Inside… Today’s a safe day…”

No more needs to be said. You impale your cock inside her, going as deep as you can and letting all your baby batter spill into her. Shortly after, you pull out your member, letting your seed slowly slide out of her pussy.

Sana blindly closes the video and, without changing position, she brings the camera closer to you, barely turning her head to look at you. “That was good, very good… could you go send them the video, please? I… I will stay here for a while.”

“Of course.” You take a few seconds to rest and then grab the camera, approaching her to give her a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll get dressed and send it.”

You grab your clothes and head to the bedroom, leaving your girlfriend to rest.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

A young uniformed girl enters a luxurious office; in the center sits a sultry woman staring at her computer, from which moans from what seems to be a sexual video can be heard.

“Boss.” The woman doesn’t even look up, attentively watching everything that happens in the video while the girl continues speaking.

“Miss Myoui and Miss Hirai have confirmed their attendance, I think this is enough for…”

“Jisoo.” The woman speaks with a serious and authoritative voice, and upon hearing her, Jisoo immediately falls silent and lowers her head. “I want these two to come as well, respond to them immediately and have them come.”

Young Jisoo nods and turns to leave the office, leaving the woman alone with the video.

#twice smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #sana smut #male reader #minatozaki sana #smut #male reader smut

[intoxicated-chan]

Only You, Darling

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel begins to worry about his unborn child, considering his spider DNA and history of losing people, he worries if things are only meant for the worst.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “Dark Red” by Steve Lacy. When I tell you about the grip Miguel has on me! I love this man.

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 982

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, pregnancy, light angst, established relationship, mentions of cheating, mentions of intercourse, swearing, little paranoia, very fluffy…

You stared at the positive test. You remained still before looking back at the other five positive tests. Your breathing became ragged as you knew Miguel would be home in a few hours.

You still had some time left, hide the evidence and find a way to explain it to Miguel. He thought that it was almost impossible to get you pregnant, which is why you hoped it wouldn’t make him think of the worst. You wouldn’t blame him if he did.

You begin cleaning up the torn boxes and used tests, throwing them in the small garbage bin without a second thought. You shouldn’t be worried about this now, you should be worried if Miguel was going to make it home on time or late, again.

But all the silence scared you to death as there was no way to calm you. Nothing would stop you from pacing around the living room. What felt like minutes were hours, and when your head snapped in the direction of a thud coming from your shared room. You cursed to yourself, knowing only one person to take the window instead of the front door.

“(Y/n)!” You heard him call out.

You choke on your words for a few seconds before finally being able to speak, “...I’m in the living room!”

You could practically hear him let out a sigh of relief as you heard his footsteps from your room and to the living room, seeing him still in his costume, “I thought you went out for a run again.”

“Well, I do know how much you hate them.”

“Because you take them during the night, I’ve told you how dangerous it is.” He comes to you, placing a quick kiss on your lips before pulling back, “I’m going to get washed up.” He walks to the bathroom but stops and looks over his shoulder, “Care to join me?”

“Well I-”

“That’s fine.” Miguel tells you, “But I could use someone to wash my back.”

“Miguel-”

And he sped to the bathroom, tired but… Shit! You never took out the trash!

“Miguel!” You call out again but no answer. You were too late, he’s already in the bathroom. You still had time, all you needed to was not freeze in place and open the damn door! But you can’t. You didn’t have the right to keep this information from Miguel, he deserves to know.

While you left him in the bathroom, you sat on your shared bed, waiting for him…

It’s been a half-hour. No sound of the shower turning on or anything from the bathroom. But your heart drops, hearing the door open and Miguel comes to the room, test in hand as his eyes tell his whole expression.

“I-”

“I know you didn’t cheat on me.” He whispers, setting the test on the dresser, “But how long have you known for?”

“Just this morning, a few hours after you left for work.” You answer.

“Just this morning?”

“Just this morning.” You repeat, looking into his eyes.

Miguel takes a deep breath, “Okay, okay.” But then he grabs a duffle bag from your closet and sets it on the bed, he pulls open your drawer and starts filing the bag up, “You can’t stay here.” He answers before you say anything.

“Listen to me, Miguel.”

“It’s not safe for you here.”

“Miguel-”

“I’m a danger and you know it.”

“Miguel!” You grab his wrist, “Stop. You know damn well I trust you with my life. You may think that’s the worst thing I ever said but I mean it. I know you have the strength to protect me, I love you Miguel and I promised to stand by you no matter what happens. So please, don’t push me away.”

“It’s not that I’m a danger to you, I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve everything, Miguel. And I’m hoping that you will let me give it all to you.” Feeling his arms wrap around you, holding you tightly as if it was his last day.

The next couple of weeks were filled with doctor visits and holded up at home. It’s not like you didn’t stay home before, it’s just Miguel wanted to be sure you were in a safe location and that it would be your shared home.

“Did you take-?”

“My prenatals?” You finish his question, placing a kiss on his forehead, “Yes I did.” You kissed him again, “You don’t gotta worry about me, Miguel. With the doctor visits and the pills, I’m doing just fine.”

“I know.” Miguel sat on the couch while you sat on his lap, you felt his hands come to your stomach, “Does the doctor know when you would start showing?”

“In a couple more weeks but it’s different for everyone.” You tell him, feeling him nuzzle into your neck. You feel his hands rub your stomach, “Are you okay, Miguel?”

He hums, nodding into your shoulder, “It’s just… What if I’m a horrible father?”

“Don’t you dare say that!” You get up, turn your body to face him and sit back down, “I know you’ll be a wonderful father, Miguel. No matter what anyone says. And I know that this child will love you.”

He looks at you and slowly, a smile forms, “This is what I’m talking about.” He lays his head on your chest.

“What do you mean?” You ask. Then you look at his ears, the tip of them being red, “Miguel?”

“I think we should have more kids.”

Your hands come to his hair, “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

He suddenly grabs your shoulders tightly and he snaps his head up, “Seriously?!”

You burst out laughing, “Of course!” You speak in between laughter, “I want nothing more than to start a family with you.” You calm down.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You’ll always have me.”

© 2033 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.

#x reader #x female reader #fluff #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara #spider man 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spider man x y/n #spider man #spider man across the spider verse #spider man x reader #spider man x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader

[sohnric]

plot twist – k. sunwoo

pairing: kim sunwoo x gn! reader

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

wc: 21k

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

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

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

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

TONIGHT'S PREMIERE – UGLY TRUTH (2009)

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

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

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

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

Until one fateful day, of course. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait– newbie–”

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TONIGHT'S PREMIERE – PALM SPRINGS (2020)

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

Why?

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

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

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

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

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

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

He just laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, pretty much.”

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

“My dad’s watching.”

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

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

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

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

Oh, how foolish of you.

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

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

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

“Look, you don’t have to-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who are you kidding?

You’d definitely say yes.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – THE HATING GAME (2021)

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

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

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

Maybe you should thank him, in a way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know what those are–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sunwoo–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely not.”

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

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

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

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

“Which one?” he asks, seemingly interested.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

“Because,” he shrugs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look, I really can’t-”

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

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

“Because…?” you demand a valid reason.

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

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

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

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

Maybe you should quit yourself, actually.

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

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

Yeah. Not too many.

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

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

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

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

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

Wrong.

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

“Fuck, man–”

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

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

“Oh?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Kim Sunwoo–��

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have to be kidding me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do you believe him? No. Absolutely not. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look, it’s not me, it’s my dad–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The screening room was definitely cleaned before.

Which means that Sunwoo brought you here for absolutely nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I couldn’t,” he shrugs.

“Huh? But you bought two tickets..?”

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

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

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

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

“Probably,” he admits.

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

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

“Are you not leaving?” you ask.

“No,” he hums, “should I be?”

“Well, you’re on the clock…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – CLUELESS (1995)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sir, I can’t-”

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

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

“So?”

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s ridiculous-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sure he will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – ME BEFORE YOU (2016)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You force yourself not to care.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How would you know?”

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

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

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

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

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

He fails you, though. “No.”

“Why not?”

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

“Oh come on–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, so it’s not working.

You’re fucked.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – THE PROPOSAL (2009)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not fair.”

“Very fair, actually.”

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

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

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

Fuck, you think. That’s my favorite. 

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

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

“Just because. It’s too long.”

“It’s not even two hours?”

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

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

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

“Y/N, come on–”

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

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

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

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

“Maybe,” you shrug.

And maybe, the true reason is something completely else. 

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

You decide you no longer want answers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Grab a chair…?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The choice is yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sunwoo!”

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

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

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

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

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

Kim Sunwoo does make a really good kisser.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – PRIDE AND PREJUDICE (2005)

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

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

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

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

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

It’s the first snow of the season. 

Kim Sunwoo loves it when it snows.

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

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

Well, here goes nothing, you think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought so too,” you nod.

“And you don’t?”

Shrugging, you reply. “Not really.”

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

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

“You don’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re so cheesy.”

“But you quite like me anyways, no?”

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

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

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

“We’ll see,” you shrug.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#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

[gojorgeous]

Heyyyy I just wanted to say I love the way you write! I’m obsessed with your alpha!jjk character series. I’m very new to a/b/o fanfics buuut I keep thinking about how possessive they’d get if they smelled another scent on the reader, even if it was just from something like borrowing a sweater. I just imagine them like trying to override the scent n theyre like super determined to do it 🫣

Idek if that’s something that can happen in these typa fics but anywaysss

Have a good day!

Hey bestie! I decided I'd write a litle smthn smthn for you hehe. I picked geto cause he's more alpha to me. It's below the cut! (suggestive/a/b/o dynamics/jealousy):

"What are you wearing?"

You don't even look up from your desk, a little irritated that your late-night email check has been interrupted.

"Huh?" You scan a subject line and hit delete as soon as you realize it's no more than junk mail.

"What are you wearing?"

Your body jolts. He's using that tone that makes you melt for him- that he only ever uses when he wants, needs, your attention.

You turn quickly in your chair and your heart thumps when you see the angry furrow in his brow. "It's just... a sweater."

A muscle tics in his jaw and your eyes glaze over a little when smell his scent pumping thickly into the air of your office.

"It's not your sweater, and it's not mine. So where did you get it, hm?"

He's moving closer now, his spicy scent growing stronger with every step. You have to blink and swallow just to form a coherent thought.

"I-I got cold at work. A friend offered it to me..."

He's over you now, a hand curled around each arm of your chair, caging you in. A few strands of black hair have fallen loose from his bun and they brush against your face. The feeling makes you shiver.

His head dips until he's buried deep in your chest and you squeak when you hear him inhaling. You know you're in for it.

"It reeks of male."

You sigh, gently pushing him away. "I'm sorry, Sugu. I'll take it off-" You don't even get to finish before you hear a wretched tearing noise. "Suguru!" You can only watch as he literally rips the sweater from your body and then tosses it straight into the trash can. You swat at his shoulder. "That was a coworker's! What am I supposed to tell him when he wants it returned tomorrow?!"

His hands settle on your hips and the touch makes your skin ripple with electricity. His scent is even thicker now and he's so close...

"Tell him he shouldn't go putting his scent all over my omega." Your eyes glaze over and you whimper when a familiar heat starts swirling in your tummy. The primal side of you loves when he gets like this, loves when he stakes his claim.

You gasp when your ass is suddenly no longer in your seat and instead you're dangling in Geto's arms. Your legs swing as he carries you toward the bedroom.

"Sugu-"

"Shhh. We have to get that scent off you, no?" His smirk makes you shiver again. "And I have plenty of ideas on how to do it."

Hope you liked bb!!

#💌↬ breebox !! #bree’s fics #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk getou #getou suguru #jjk geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #jujutsu geto #geto smut #jjk omegaverse #alpha!geto #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o verse #tw: omegaverse #tw: a/b/o

[halfvalid]

Hey! Since your requests are open, may I request opla!Zoro x reader (established relationship) where the reader has a lot of self doubt (not only in their looks, but their abilities and their place in the crew) since it’s, unfortunately, been shoved done their throat by pretty much eveyone they knew, even their parents, that they would never be good enough? Maybe Zoro figures out that they have sort of been spiralling lately and they have a talk about the readers past and the problems they’re facing and he comforts them? Maybe it ends sort of spicy or turns out full on spicy, if you’re comfortable with that!

daybreak

ABOUT

alternate title: some fluffy established relationship hurt/comfort to save my soul

rating: teen & up

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k (short; sorry!)

description: zoro notices you've been seeming off recently, and you confide in him your insecure feelings of self-worth. he comforts you.

tags: strawhat!reader, established relationship, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, kissing, no use of ‘y/n’, soft zoro, ridiculously stupidly absolutely horrifyingly fluffy. 

author’s note: thank you so much for the very lovely request! i hope i did your prompt justice; i ended up not writing any spice at the end (just slightly suggestive) since i didn't think it fit the story but i hope you like it anyway ^^

it feels slightly ooc, but i also wrote it in the span of two hours at 1:00 am so can you really blame me. 

It was morning on the Going Merry, and you were cleaning up the wreckage that had been scattered along the deck in your last battle. The crew had gone up against some other pirates; it’d been late at night, and the attack had come suddenly, what you’d thought would be a peaceful docking turning combative quickly. 

You barely remembered the fight. One moment, the warning bell had sounded, and the next Zoro was rolling out of bed beside you, grabbing his swords and darting out of your bedroom before you could even register what was happening. The fight had gone in the Straw Hats’ favor, thankfully; Zoro, Luffy, and Sanji had fended off most of the threat, and you were back on the open sea, safe from enemies for at least a little while now. 

You let out a sigh as you swept shattered glass into a dustpan, shaking out the collected trash into a nearby empty barrel. None of the men usually bothered to start cleaning up—typical—so you’d pulled yourself out of bed as early as possible to get the ship looking a little more like normal. 

Zoro had left some corpses on the deck for you to deal with, and you’d had to toss them overboard, a grimace tugging at your lips as blood stained the white of your blouse. No matter. You’d finished sweeping, at least; all you had left to do was mop, right as everyone else was waking up. 

You filled a bucket with warm water and soap, and were just grabbing the mop from the closet when you heard footsteps. You glanced up, surprised to see Zoro heading towards you, one hand grasped loosely around his sword handle as always. “You’re up early,” he said, casual as ever. “Woke up and you were gone.” 

“Figured I should get a head start on cleaning,” you answered quickly, not meeting Zoro’s eyes as you dunked the mop into the bucket. His brows creased as he watched you start mopping, pushing the handle along the deck to wipe it clear of bloodstains. 

“How long have you been doing this?” Zoro asked, after a few seconds of delayed silence. You shrugged, dunking your mop again before going for another few swipes. “We can help clean too, you know.” 

“It’s the least I can do,” you protested. You moved past him, trying very hard not to meet his eyes—but Zoro didn’t let you pass, one hand going out to grab the mop rod and stopping you in your tracks. “What?” 

“What do you mean, least you could do?” Zoro asked blankly. 

“I mean—” you shrugged, muscles limp like your entire body was sagging you down. “You and the others were the ones to deal with the pirates, so I figured I could at least—”

Zoro still looked confused, brows pulled together, forehead taut with a frown. “I distinctly recall you throwing a pirate twice your size overboard. Unless I was imagining things.” 

You sighed. “Not what I meant.” You tried to push past Zoro again, but he didn’t let you, hand still tightly grasped around your mop handle. 

“Okay, what did you mean, then?” 

“Nothing. Will you just let me finish cleaning so there aren't blood stains all over Luffy’s ship?” You sighed again, even as you attempted to keep the sound inside—but you couldn’t help it. It was like there was an anchor stuck inside of you, pulling everything from your feelings to your body down, the weight of gravity tugging at your features. 

“Luffy’s ship?” 

You shrugged. “The Straw Hats’ ship. Whatever.” 

“Our ship,” Zoro said. There was a certain twinge of something in his words; still blankness, but laced with a dawning realization that you weren’t sure you liked. “You’re upset.” 

“Nope.” This time you really did manage to get free of Zoro’s grasp, yanking your mop out of his grip and starting back on cleaning the deck. The acrid smell of iron hit your nose as you scrubbed the dried blood off—you’d have to go back in later with a sponge to get all the cracks and crevices, but for now this would be okay. 

Zoro followed you, unceasing with his interrogation. “Yes, you are. I know when you’re upset, and you’re upset. What happened.” It was more of a statement than a question—Zoro didn’t often doubt himself, really, which was one of the many things that’d helped make you stumble into falling for him. “Was it about last night? You know the cook's just making fun when he keeps a counter, right? It doesn’t matter if he brought two or five more men down than you.” 

“It’s not about that,” you insisted. 

“So you admit you are upset.” 

You groaned, finally turning to look Zoro in the eye. He’d stopped walking, the dawning sun glinting hazey gold onto his skin in the early hour. There was still an overcast of blue from the night in the sky, and it made the heavens look ethereal, watery and glittering. 

“Come on,” he urged. “Just tell me what’s wrong.” 

“It’s really nothing you need to be concerned about,” you attempted, but your voice was weak now. Zoro stepped closer to you, gently pulling the mop out of your hands. Your fingers let go easily. “It’s silly.” 

Zoro gave you a look. “Out with it.” 

“I don’t know, I just—” your fingers clenched, like your hand was trying to find something to do now that Zoro had rid you of your mop. “Comparatively I just don’t do much. So I want to help out as much as possible.” 

“Who said you don’t do much?” 

“What?” 

“I don’t think I need to repeat myself,” Zoro said. He let the mop fall to the ground, arms crossing over his chest as he watched you. “Who said you don’t do much?”

“I mean, nobody. It’s just true.” You shrugged, distinctly uncomfortable with the way Zoro was looking at you—all attentive, like he was trying to strip you raw with his eyes, uncover whatever secrets might be hiding in the pores of your skin and the gaps of your teeth. “Luffy’s the captain, we wouldn’t be able to do anything without Nami, you and Sanji are the fighters, and Usopp’s everyone’s favorite. I’m just kind of… filler?” 

The more you spoke, the worse your words got, your tone turning more desperate as the sentences fumbled out of your mouth. Zoro’s eyebrows raised higher as you went on, and you flushed, red prickling all over your skin. 

“First of all,” he started, “Usopp is not my favorite. That’d be you. And—where are you getting this from?” 

You shook your head, trying to backtrack. “Nothing. Nowhere. It’s not that import—”

“Yes, it is, and we’re talking about it.” Zoro pulled a nearby barrel by the side of the ship, plopping himself down atop it and gesturing for you to sit. You didn’t, but you did move over to the railing, hands curling around the painted wood. “Speak.” 

“I have nothing to say,” you tried. Zoro just shot you an unimpressed look, and you squirmed. “Fine. I don’t know. I joined last, so I just figured… you were all kind of already set without me, right?” 

Zoro shook his head. “We’re a crew,” he said, voice strong but somehow still gentle. “You’re part of us for a reason. What, this entire time did you think you were—expendable?” 

You fidgeted uncomfortably, weight shifting from one leg to the other. “No.” 

“Don’t lie.” 

“Yes. No. I don’t know. Last night—I only got, like what, two guys? And you reacted way faster to the situation than I did,” you started, words flailing around on your tongue as they rushed out. It was indelicate, for certain, and you yourself couldn’t make sense of most of the words—but once you started, you couldn’t stop, even as they slurred together. “I was still getting out of bed and grabbing my weapon when you’d already dealt with half the enemy crew.” 

“Don’t compare yourself to me,” Zoro said with a shake of his head. “That’s not fair. I’ve been training since I was eight. It’s different.” 

You huffed out an exasperated breath, trying not to let your frustration get the best of you. “I can't help it sometimes. It’s a bad habit.” You loosened your grip on the ship railing, staring out at the golden clouds hovering over the sky.  “Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Zoro answered. He didn’t say anything after that—giving you a space to talk, you supposed, in case you wanted to. But his hand did reach up to press against yours, pinky brushing against your finger as he held onto the railing beside you. 

“I guess I just always had these standards back at the village,” you managed out eventually. Your island had always been one of the more traditional places in the East Blue, and there were plenty rules and guidelines abound. One of the many reasons you’d left the place in favor for Luffy and the Going Merry, really. “So I just… always want to do more. It’s not that bad.” 

“Right.” Zoro’s pinky looped around your finger, now, holding it close in a soft kiss of the hands. You sighed. 

“My parents were kind of rough on me, I guess,” you tried, sneaking a glance over at Zoro’s face to see if it satiated his curiosity at all. His expression remained as steel as ever, so you just continued. “They wanted me to be the best I could. But their standards were too high, even when I was little.” You found yourself rubbing circles into the back of Zoro’s hand with your finger, more so to comfort yourself than for any other reason. “Just normal stuff, like being upset about my school grades or my combat training levels being too low. Nothing that terrible.” 

“But…?” Zoro asked, tilting his head up to look at you. You smiled, but the action didn’t reach your eyes—it was all mouth and jaw, cheeks lifting but eyes glinting with the same glazed stare. 

“It just affected me a lot, I suppose,” you answered. “Always trying to get better. Never satisfied. And I guess now—I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll ever be good enough.” 

“For?” Zoro asked. His voice was low, soft, all hollow and empty inside. There was a tinge of roughness lacing it, like he’d forgotten to clear his throat, and the scratch of his vocal chords had surfaced up along with the words. 

“Myself. My parents. Luffy. You.” Your lips tightened into a line. Vaguely, you could feel the warm pinpricks of tears starting at your waterline, and you tried to will them back, letting out a little laugh. “Everyone, I guess.” 

Zoro’s hand had come to hold yours fully, fingers woven in between yours, thumb pressed firmly against the joint of your thumb. Somehow, that one motion managed to force the last of the words out of you���all wet and soft, eyes glued fiercely to the horizon in fear of seeing what was etched on Zoro’s face. 

“We do arranged marriages back at home,” you started, trying very hard to keep your voice from trembling. it worked only marginally—there was a tiny quaver in your tone, but it was soft, not noticeable unless you were really listening hard. “And my mom used to tell me I’d die alone. Because I wasn’t pretty enough, or smart enough, or anything enough for any of the boys there.” 

“Oh,” Zoro said. It was quiet; barely a whisper. You tried for a wry smile. 

“I like helping, though. I don’t mind cleaning up or whatever. It makes me feel more useful.” You tried to tug your hand out of Zoro’s grip, but his fingers tightened, keeping you in place. A nervous laugh escaped your throat. “And I know I’m part of the crew and all of this is just silly. So it’s really fine—”

Zoro tugged your intertwined hands to his chest, causing you to stumble and glance down at him in surprise. His expression was nearly unreadable. It’d darkened, and there was a contemplative gaze in his eyes, lips parted with invisible words perched on his tongue. “Don’t do that,” he whispered, and your stomach dropped, the nervousness that had gathered inside during the conversation tightening up into a hall. “Don’t say it’s okay or that it’s not important. If it’s making you upset, then it matters.” 

“I guess,” you tried, and Zoro’s gaze lifted to fix you with a glare. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay, I just…” Zoro shook his head. “Look, whatever your parents used to tell you, whatever you have ingrained in your head—it’s not true. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to do more, but… you don’t have to do it. You’re enough already.” 

Your gaze softened, lips falling open to say something, but Zoro wasn’t finished yet. “You shouldn’t come out here and force yourself to clean up just to make up for your—waste of space, or something. You’re not a servant. And you’re not wasting up any space. I think everyone would agree that you’re a very important and vital part of the crew.” 

“Thanks,” you whispered. Zoro’s hand was warm around yours, and you felt the threatening droplets of tears start to rise up at your waterline, ready to fall at any moment now. Zoro just nodded. 

“You’re a great fighter, and way smarter than what you give yourself credit for,” he said firmly. He raised your hand to his mouth, then, leaning over to press a feather-light kiss to your knuckles. “And the boys on your island have to be blind, because you’re pretty enough. You’re more than pretty enough.”

He whispered the last words, all soft and sacred on his tongue. “You’re beautiful.” 

That was enough to drive your tears over the edge. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to stop the flow as the warm sensation of liquid streaking down your cheeks began. Droplets caught in the crevice of your lips, and at the hinge of your jaw—Zoro brought a hand up to wipe them away. “Are you okay?” he whispered. 

“Yeah, I just, um.” You shook your head, sniffing. “Thank you. That… helped. I think.” 

Zoro bummed out his response. “Of course,” he said easily. “You’re my girl. It’s my job to cheer you up.” He kissed your knuckles again. “And you can talk to any of us. I’m not really the best at this, but everyone else…” he shrugged. 

“You’re doing just fine,” you assured him. Zoro nodded, tugging you down until you finally took a seat on a crate beside him. “I think it’s just been worse lately.” 

“If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re better than the waiter,” Zoro said. You just laughed. 

“I think you’re biased, but thank you,” you said. “Here, I, um, I promise I’ll let you know if I’m feeling down, I guess. If you don’t mind.” 

“Definitely don’t mind,” Zoro answered. This time he placed a gentle kiss on your neck, somewhere at the bottom near the back. “Leave the mopping for someone else. You’ve already done a lot.” 

“Okay,” you whispered, eyes fluttering closed as Zoro kissed the rest of the way up the back of your neck. He placed a final one right below your earlobe. With that, Zoro stood up, sweeping one arm under your legs and hoisting you up. You cracked open an eye to regard him with a blank look. “What are you doing?” 

“Bringing you back to my room,” Zoro answered. “You didn’t get much sleep tonight. And I doubt anyone wants to watch me kissing you on the main deck anyway.” 

That was fair enough reasoning, so you didn’t complain, letting him carry you all the way to his cabin and gently lay you down onto his bed. He leaned over to press a gentle kiss to your lips—you could still taste the saltwater from your tears from before. “Want me to stay?” Zoro asked. 

“You don’t have to,” you said automatically, and Zoro raised both his eyebrows. You let out a sigh. “Okay, I get it. Yes. Please stay.” 

“All you had to say,” Zoro said, shedding himself of his shoes and swords before leaning over the bed to watch you. He didn’t slip under the covers or anything, just propped an arm up on the mattress, kneeling beside the bed. There was tender silence for a few moments before Zoro spoke again. 

“I love you,” he said abruptly, voice rough but somehow still soft. Your heart beat too fast in your chest, ribcage squeezing in on the organ and making it skip. His hand slid along the mattress to find yours, and you took the offer, fingers clasping around his palm. 

“I love you too,” you whispered back. Zoe leaned over, then, the hand not intertwined with yours tilting your jaw over just so to allow him better access to your mouth. He kissed you full-on, tender but firm, mouth working against yours in a way that unraveled you entirely. Your grip on his hand tightened as he deepened the kiss, a soft sound emitting from low in your throat. Finally you broke apart, heaving for breath, exhales mixing together midair. An exchange of souls, you’d heard once, somewhere. 

“Come on,” you murmured, tugging Zoro closer to the bed so he got the hint. He slipped beside you onto it, turning your head again to meet you in another kiss. His hand drifted down to your waist, holding you securely in place.  

“I don’t think anyone should need us for a few more hours, right?” Zoro asked, and you laughed. He swallowed up the sounds with his mouth, tongue licking languidly into you as he rubbed delicate circles into the skin of your waist. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and then he was kissing you again. 

You let him siphon the soul out of your lungs, knowing you were getting his right back. 

© halfvalid 2023

#opla zoro #opla roronoa zoro #opla #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #reader insert #x reader #one piece live action #one piece netflix #opla zoro x reader #opla fanfiction #opla fanfic #one piece live action x you #one piece live action x reader #kiki writes!

[ashwhowrites]

Eddie Munson x cheerleader! Reader, maybe she was gonna go to the table at the woods to spend some time with Eddie when she saw Chrissy there and she thought that they were flirting so she ends up storminess from there and Eddie sees her and tries to tell her to stay but she goes home and cries until she falls asleep. Eddie goes to her house and talks with her and explains things and they end up cuddling

I hope this is what you wanted and you like it. Thank you for requesting! 🫶🏻

The look

Eddie and Y/N haven't been together for that long, just a few short months. Before they got together, word spread that Eddie and Chrissy were beginning to get closer. Of course, nothing happened between the pair, Chrissy had a boyfriend. Eddie hung around with Chrissy as friends, which brought Eddie and Y/N together. Y/N felt like a high school girl around Eddie....which she was, but he made her all gushy.

Chrissy was the last girl on Eddie's mind when he met Y/N. The pretty cheerleader had him smitten in seconds. Sure, he used to like Chrissy and wished something could have happened. But he had a real connection with Y/N, he felt things with her that he didn't know existed.

Y/N sat bored at lunch, she knew Eddie was out doing some type of deal because he walked off to the woods. She touched her lips, remembering the soft teasing kiss he left. Why miss him if she could go find him?

She threw away her trash and skipped out of school. She couldn't wipe the big smile on her face as she filled with excitement to spend time with Eddie. But as she walked to the opening, she saw Eddie wasn't alone. Chrissy was across from him, giggling into her hand and swatting Eddie with the other. Y/N felt her stomach turn uncomfortably as Eddie chuckled back with a big smile.

Y/N stood silently and watched. Their body language seemed to be flirty. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but Eddie had this look of adoration in his eyes. Y/N gulped as she went to turn around, not watching her step as she stepped on a large branch.

The noise caught Eddie and Chrissy's attention, Eddie smiled as he saw his girlfriend.

"Hey, baby! Come over," Eddie smiled, but it dropped when he saw the water in her eyes.

"I wouldn't want to interrupt your date, Munson." She sneered and marched off. Eddie was quick to get off the bench.

"Don't be silly, it is not a date" He said softly as he walked after her.

"Leave me alone!" she snapped and raced back to school.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think she would be upset," Chrissy said, she was worried for her friend. She felt sad that Y/N would even think she or Eddie would hurt her like that.

~~~

Eddie realized at the end of the school day that Y/N left. He spent every hour running to her classes to see where she went. Eddie didn't waste a second to race out of the parking lot and drive to Y/N's house.

Y/N groaned as she felt someone shaking her body. She felt like her eyes were glued shut from all the crying she did. She found a way to flutter them open, and she saw Eddie standing above her.

His frown deepened as he saw the puffiness to her red eyes.

"Oh sweetheart," he sadly sighed and sat next to her on the bed. He leaned down and softly kissed her lips.

She didn't kiss back, still hurt from his earlier actions. He pulled away as he felt her stiffness.

"Can I explain?" He whispered, his fingers played through her hair to help her relax. She nodded and closed her eyes. She melted into his soft touch.

"Chrissy and I are just friends, I only see her as a friend and she sees me as a friend. I love being with you, and I really like you. We were just hanging out." Eddie explained.

"You gave her that look," Y/N argued. She kept her eyes closed as the words felt like a blow to her gut.

"What look, my girl?" He asked, his finger under her chin as he tried to get her to open her eyes.

"Like she was the only girl you've ever seen. Like you were in love with her." Y/N whimpered, salty tears started to run down her cheeks. Eddie could feel the tears hitting his fingers.

"I'm not in love with her."

"Then why did you give her the look?" Y/N snapped, she opened her eyes and shoved Eddie away from her. She sat up and glared at him. She ignored the sad kicked puppy look on his face.

"I don't know what look!" He defended.

Y/N scoffed and grabbed a pocket mirror on her bedside and shoved it in his hands. "Talk about her." She snapped.

"What?" Eddie was confused as he looked into the mirror.

"Talk about her and watch your stupid eyes light up like a Christmas tree."

Eddie sighed and did what she asked. He talked about their friendship. Y/N grew irritated as his eyes never changed.

"Now you are hiding it!" She spazzed and stood up.

"I can't hide a look! I don't know what you are talking about!" Eddie laughed in confusion.

"What do you like about her?" She pushed further, she threw the mirror on the bed and stared right into Eddie's eyes.

"I like that she's my friend." Eddie shrugged.

"What do you like about me?"

Eddie perked up the question, a smile on his face. "I like everything. I like the color of your hair and how bright your eyes get. I like the feeling of your skin and how you smell. I like when we kiss, and do the other stuff." He said with a wink at the end.

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes but then she saw the look in his eyes.

The look of adoration.

"what were you and Chrissy talking about?"

"You." Eddie said with a smile.

"When I saw you? You were talking about me?" She asked for clarification.

"Yes, baby. I was talking about our date from the other night. When we went on the rollercoaster and I puked behind that mom and baby."

Y/N laughed as she remembered the event. Chrissy must have laughed too, and that's what she saw. The look of adoration wasn't because Chrissy was there, but because he was talking about her.

"I'm sorry. I got jealous and got in my head." Y/N sighed, she walked and sat in Eddie's lap. She wanted to feel his body against hers. He happily wrapped his arms around her.

"It's okay. I get jealous too." He admitted. "But I only want you."

"I only want you too."

Eddie set her aside to lay her down, then he cuddled up next to her.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x cheerleader #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader #ashwhowrites

[hypewinter]

A continuation of this

It was amazing how interesting the hors d'oeuvre table became when one was avoiding social interaction. Danny pouted as he filled yet another plate with the tiny little snack foods. He should have listened to Mom. She had warned him he wouldn't like the party but he insisted on coming too. But how could he resist? When he heard all the fun stories his uncles told, he wanted to see for himself. And his grandpa had been so happy that he wanted to come too. Danny thought he would be in for a night of excitement especially since he'd be able to stay up past his bedtime yet instead he was currently bored out of his mind. He was also incredibly uncomfortable.

Danny didn't like how all these older people kept coming up to him and asking him weird questions or squeezing his cheeks. His mom and uncles tried to intercept as many people as possible but some people had gotten to him and. Danny didn't complain though as he's the one who wanted to come anywhere and he didn't want to seem like a brat. Plus he was still holding out hope that one of his uncles would do something interesting and if he complained, he might be taken home early.

That's why Danny had taken to avoiding his mom. She was very good at reading him and was even teaching him how to read others. If she saw him it would take 0.2 seconds for her to realize he didn't want to be here anymore. Mom was really nice so she would probably take him back home when she noticed. But Danny was a big boy and big boys suck it up for uncomfortable parties that they begged to attend. Though he still wished Sam were here. Sam? Who's Sam? He couldn't remember. There were a lot of things Danny couldn't remember. Even when he tried really hard to.

"Ah so this is the newest Wayne brat!"

Danny was pulled from his thoughts and looked up to see a man staring down at him. The man's blonde hair was very shiny. Must be full of a lot of that gel Uncle Damian liked to use. But he had put on too much and now his head looked all flat and shiny. But maybe the man liked being shiny since he had a lot of gold jewelry on too.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to stare?" the man said harshly, his lazy brown eyes boring into Danny. His body language was practically screaming How dare you? Better than you. This man seemed to sway quite a lot too. Was he drunk? Mom had warned him to stay away from drunk people but it would be rude to just walk away wouldn't it?

Instead Danny put down his plate and signed, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. You just have really pretty jewelry sir."

The man's glare only intensified. "Huh? Whazzat? Talk damnit!" He began to project annoyance.

Danny furrowed his brows slightly. The man had said a bad word. You're not supposed to say bad words around children. At least that's what Grandpa Alfred had taught him when Uncle Jason got in trouble for saying one near him. It was also frustrating that this man didn't know any sign language.

Nevertheless, Danny pulled out his phone and opened the notes app. He clicked on the first page which read, "I'm sorry, I have limited speech and use sign language to communicate. However I can use this notepad instead." He held it up for the man to read.

Yet again the man didn't seem to be satisfied as he retorted, "You can speak but you choose not to? You're an arrogant little brat aren't you?" Angry. How dare you think you're above me? Uh oh.

Danny quickly scrolled down to a blank space so that he could explain it wasn't like that but he never got the chance. The man snatched the phone from Danny's hands.

"Listen you little turd," the man hissed, leaning in close. It took all the self control in Danny's body not to gag at his breath. "You may think you're all high and mighty just because you got lucky but make no mistake. You're just gutter trash. Just like all the other pests Wayne brought into his household and just like your mother."

Tears pricked at Danny's eyes. That wasn't true. Neither his uncles nor his mother were trash. They were good people. The nicest people ever. They saved Danny from that terrible terrible place and gave him lots of hugs and sweets and warmth. This man didn't know what he was talking about.

The man continued, "You'll do well to respect me as unlike you and your little pretend family, I actually come from a distinguished background. I'm not some orphan from an unknown background whose parents probably sold him for drug money. Do you hear me?" Hostile. Don't mess with me!

"If I tell you to speak to me, you speak to me. Is that clear?" You're beneath me. Know your place.

Danny didn't know how much longer he could keep the tears at bay. Luckily he didn't have to.

"Is there a problem?" There she was. Mom! In all of her glory. Her hair done up in a little bun and dressed in a suit matching his. He had actually picked it out for her.

Danny rushed over to her and clung to her leg. Not trash he projected. My family. Meanwhile, the man's attitude did a complete 180. "Ah Ms. Cassandra it's so nice to see you again! I was just complimenting your little one on how cute his suit looked on him!"

Mom ignored him and looked to Danny instead.

What happened?

Insulted you. Insulted my family. Mean man. Bad man.

Cass gently patted Danny's head. He loved when she did that. Okay now. Don't worry.

Mom turned back to the man. "For someone so much better than everyone, you really like hanging out in the Bowery," she said. I know your secret.

The man stiffened. Does she know? How does she know? "I'm really not sure what you're referring to Ms. Wayne." Nervous. Agitated.

Mom didn't say anything. Just leveled a stare at the man. His smile began slipping in the awkward silence. Panicked. Must leave.

"Well I should probably be going now. I feel like I've had too much to drink. Perhaps I'll go sit down," the man said quickly, excusing himself and disappearing into the crowd.

Once he was out of sight, Cass turned back to Danny. Okay? Danny buried his face into her leg. Wanna go home. In the next moment, Danny felt himself being picked up and cradled in his mother's arms. Let's go home, she portrayed with a smile. Danny desperately clung to her suit as his bottom lip wobbled.

"Sorry," he whispered. He wanted her to know he really meant it. That he was truly sorry.

He felt a kiss be planted on his forehead. "Don't be," Mom replied. Danny wrapped his arms around her neck and closed his eyes, finally letting the tears he'd been holding at bay fall. He took in the warmth and love his mother showered over him. His family wasn't trash. They were his saviors.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #winter's tales #you be believe when the rest of his family hears what that man said to danny #his life will be ruined

[rageserenity]

It's 2024. Are you still thinking about movieverse!Cherik? Because I am.

For the past several months, there's only been a very slow trickle of posts/fics in the xmcu cherik tag. Let's try to breathe some life back into this incredible pairing!

With one clear winner of my poll, here's thirty prompts for the thirty days of April. (This is a super chill, laid-back event---do these in any order, interpret them as loosely as you like! Create in any medium! Fic, art, gifs, meta, incoherent screaming about the otp…all winners in my book.)

The only rule here is to cherik too close to the sun. Alright. Here are the prompts.

Mutual Pining

Doesn't really even need elaboration! Write that horrifically slow slow-burn. Gif every time McAvoy made insane fuck me eyes on screen. Make a playlist of songs about impossible love.

2. Alternate Meetings

There are endless quotes about how these two complete each other in a way no one they'd met before or after ever did. How else could they have met?

3. Erik Has A Telepathy Kink

This is basically canon. Let my boy get freaky!

4. Canon Fix-It

All the times Fox fucked it up. There are endless options.

5. Hurt/Comfort

Put them in that Situation. Put them in that Blender. Break them apart and put them back together ❤️‍🩹

6. Canon Compliant

Draw that missing scene! Gif your favourite cherik moment!

7. Beach Divorce

Make it worse. Make it better. Show it to us exactly how it was. Break it down in a 3,000 word meta. Go wild!

8. Domestics

Sometimes you just want to see them doing normal couple things. Erik put the gun down.

9. Found Family

The real heart of x-men!

10. Time Travel

There are SO many possibilities here. Stick them in a time loop. Give them a chance to change their past.

11. AU

Love a good AU!

12. There Is Only One Bed

Had to get this one in here. What better way to amp up the tension?

13. Genosha

By some miracle, cherik actually did end up together at the end of 2019s trash bag disaster Dark Phoenix. We aren’t making a big enough deal about this.

14. Declaration(s) of Love

Who says it first? How do they say it and when? Have they said it…without saying it?

15. Jealousy

Need I say more.

16. Reunion

These two have absolutely no chill.

17. Soulmates

Classic prompt, had to get this in here too.

18. The DOFP Aircraft

The TENSION here. Break it down for me. How does Charles feel about his injury? How does Erik feel about his injury?

19. Gay Mutant Road Trip

You already know.

20. Body Swap

SO fun when people have superpowers.

21. First Kiss

When? How? Who initiated it?

22. The Mansion

Mansion!content is a genre of its own.

23. Conflicting Ideology

Give me your theses. Who’s right? Can they ever reconcile completely? Write a fic where it drives them apart.

24. Sebastian Shaw

A trope unto himself.

25. Team As Matchmaker

They had to have known something was going on, didn’t they?

26. Cooking

Charles deserves a good meal. Also, imagine Erik using his powers in the kitchen. The sheer domesticity…

27. Hurt No Comfort

Plenty of scope with these two 🥲

28. Growing Old Together

Giving Sirs Ian Mckellan and Patrick Stewart their props as well!

29. Making Up

*pushes chess board across the table* sorry babe

30. Charles Xavier Did More For Mutants Than You'll Ever Know

Rising to each other’s defense. Only I can insult this man.

I will be tracking #revivecherik to reblog stuff! Here’s a fic collection for the same. Let’s get this ball rolling! Please feel free to send me an ask if you’ve got anything to say! And most importantly, let’s all have fun 😁

*I know a few of you preferred something like a gift exchange because of the commitment factor—I’m super down to organise a tiny one for the handful of us! If this promptathon doesn’t flop horribly, we can hopefully do a whole bunch of stuff :)

If you read this post all the way through, please reblog for reach! Thank you! Hoping you participate come April.

Shoutout to @inmymagnetoera for reaching out and helping with this!

#revivecherik #cherik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #xmfc #james mcavoy #michael fassbender #x men days of future past #x men #charles x erik #magneto #professor x