#darkestman

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summary you came to watch a movie, but between his constant commentary and soft touches, your boyfriend ends up being the only thing you can focus on.

prompt – your boyfriend won’t stop talking during the movie, but somehow you don’t mind warnings – kissing in public, light swearing word count – ~0.9k

note – first fic, kinda scary 😭 hope you like it! inspired by that beta squad episode where aj said the cinema is his favourite place

requests are welcome 🎀

⋆｡°✩ 🎀 ♡ 🎀 ✩°｡⋆

“You better not talk through the whole film.” Aj scoffs beside you, shifting in his seat. “Why do you always assume the worst of me?” You turn your head slowly, giving him a look. He pauses. “…don’t look at me like that.” A small smile tugs at your lips. “Because I know you.” “I’m not a child,” he mutters, nudging your arm lightly. “Mhm.”

You don’t believe him. Not even a little bit.

Still, you settle into your seat as the lights dim, the screen flickering to life. The noise in the cinema fades, replaced by quiet anticipation and the low hum of the speakers.

For a moment, it’s peaceful.

Suspiciously peaceful.

You glance at Aj. He’s focused—actually focused—eyes on the screen, posture still. You blink, a little surprised.

Maybe he’ll behave. …maybe.

“…wait.”

There it is.

You close your eyes briefly. “Aj.” “Why did he do that?” he whispers, leaning closer, his shoulder brushing yours. “It just started.” “I know, but it doesn’t make sense.” “It will.”

He leans back with a quiet huff, like he’s been personally inconvenienced. You bite back a smile, turning your attention to the screen again.

Two minutes pass.

Then—

“Yeah nah, he’s moving mad.”

You press your lips together, trying not to laugh. “Aje.” “I’m just saying.” “You said you wouldn’t talk.” “I’m not talking,” he murmurs. “I’m commenting.”

You turn to him, eyebrows raised. He tries to hold your gaze, but the corner of his mouth twitches.

“…okay, I’ll be quiet.”

You hum, satisfied, and face forward again.

This time, it lasts longer.

You actually get pulled into the film—the music, the slow tension building, the way the characters move around each other like they’re scared of saying the wrong thing.

Your hand shifts slightly on the armrest. It brushes his.

You still.

So does he.

For a second, neither of you move. Then, slowly—almost like he’s testing it—his fingers curl lightly around yours.

Your breath catches.

You glance down at your hands. Then at him.

He doesn’t look at you. Just keeps his eyes on the screen like nothing’s happened, but there’s something softer in his expression now. Subtle. Easy to miss.

You lace your fingers with his properly.

His hand is warm. Familiar.

It fits too easily.

You hate it a little bit. (You don’t. Not really.)

His thumb brushes against your knuckles, absentminded, slow. The small movement sends a quiet warmth up your arm, settling somewhere in your chest.

You try to focus on the film again. You really do.

It doesn’t fully work.

Halfway through, the movie shifts into something softer—lingering looks, quiet tension, the kind of scene that’s meant to make you feel something.

You’re invested.

Aj, apparently, has thoughts.

“…he’s gonna mess this up,” he whispers.

You exhale through your nose, shaking your head slightly. “Can you just watch?” “I am watching.” “Silently.” “I am being silent.” “You’re literally talking right now.”

He leans closer, voice dropping. “Okay, but quietly.”

You turn your head, and suddenly he’s closer than you expected.

Your breath hitches, just slightly.

“You’re so jarring,” you whisper. “And you love it.”

You hesitate.

He notices. Of course he does.

“…shut up,” you mumble, but there’s no weight behind it.

His lips curve, just a little.

A few seconds pass, and you feel it again—that shift.

He’s not watching the film anymore. He’s looking at you.

You try to ignore it.

You can’t.

“What?” you whisper, finally turning. “Nothing,” he says, too quickly. You narrow your eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?” “Like what?” “Like that.”

He shrugs, but his gaze doesn’t move. “You’re cute.”

Your stomach flips.

You hate how easily he does that.

“We’re literally in a cinema,” you say, quieter now. “And?” “And people can see.” “It’s dark.”

You glance around instinctively. No one’s paying attention.

Of course they’re not.

When you look back at him, he’s already closer. Not enough to be obvious. Just enough that you can feel the warmth of him, the faint scent of his cologne—something clean, familiar, distracting.

“Aje…” you start, but your voice comes out softer than you mean it to.

His thumb brushes your hand again. Slow. Deliberate this time.

Your thoughts scatter.

“This is why I didn’t want to sit next to you,” you whisper. “Liar.” “…okay, maybe a little.”

He smiles—soft, not teasing this time.

That’s what gets you. Not the jokes. Not the talking.

That.

You lean in first.

It’s gentle at first, just a soft press of your lips against his, like you’re not fully committing—but Aj closes the space instantly, his hand tightening slightly around yours as he kisses you back.

Warmer. Closer.

Your breath catches as he tilts his head, deepening it just enough to make your chest tighten.

“Aje,” you murmur, barely pulling back. “We’re adults,” he whispers.

You huff out a quiet laugh, your forehead brushing his for a second. He doesn’t move away.

Neither do you.

You can feel how close he is. Too close. Not close enough.

“Behave,” you whisper. “No promises.”

You shake your head, but you’re smiling again as you turn back to the screen, your hand still in his.

A minute passes.

Then—

“Wait,” he whispers. “I called it.”

You close your eyes.

“He did mess it up.”

You don’t even look at him this time.

“…I’m actually done with you.”

He squeezes your hand, quiet laughter under his breath, leaning just slightly into you.

And yeah.

Maybe he didn’t stay quiet. Maybe he distracted you more than the film did.

But as you sit there, tucked into his side, his thumb still brushing slow patterns against your skin—

you realise you stopped paying attention to the movie a long time ago.