#that took entirely much too long to write and i am sorry ): but here u are

[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.

[tsxkkis]

omg omg can i request? pls ignore if you dont!

s3 of haikyuu will always be my favourite season, maybe due to the fact that tsukishima realizes his potential in playing volleyball? (him having his MOMENT is my favouriteee scene)

so could you write gf manager reader x tsukki, where reader witnesses him having his first moment (blocking ushijima's spike), injuring his hand etc etc up until they receive their throphy and medals in the end ?🥹🥹💕 shes a proudddd reader and literally just smooch smooch hug hug tsukki because hes the mvp of karasuno x shiratorizawa 🥰😤

i realized that theres nobody includes this scene in their fics and i wonder why? 🤔🧐

# tsukishima kei - mvp

a/n: i am terribly sorry anon bcs this took so long T-T i'm not quite sure about some parts of this fic but overall i really enjoyed writing this request!! tsukishima is my fav for many reasons, one of which being the fact that i see myself in him a lot, and the particular moment during the shiratorizawa vs karasuno match is also my fav from the entire series!! i hope u enjoy reading this fic^^ i feel like it's not exactly what you asked for, so i'm sorry if i went too far away from your idea....

summary: tsukishima finally regains his love for volleyball.

warnings: a few swear words here and there, the fic doesn't exactly portray what happened in the series (i switched it up a bit)

'are you stressed?'

'not even a bit.'

'you're lying. i can read you like a book.'

tsukishima kei let out a deep breath, rolling his eyes as he looked away from your face. you were obviously right; there was no way he wouldn't be stressed before the game that determined whether or not karasuno would go to nationals. as much as he hated to admit it, he was almost as stressed as others. he was just better at controlling which of his emotions are shown.

you squeezed his hand, his fingers instinctively intertwining with yours. all it took was a reassuring smile from you to help with his nerves, his muscles finally relaxing after being tensed up for the last twenty minutes or so. he still tried to get used to you being more than a friend. your relationship was quite awkward and fresh, so much so in fact that you never even had your first kiss yet.

'i'm sure you'll do great.' you stated calmly, trying to hide the fact that you were even more stressed about the match than him. 'in fact, i'm positive that you'll win.'

'even if we do, it won't be because of me.' he mumbled, letting out a silent laugh when he saw the angry look on your face. 'oh, come on. it's not like i'm the greatest player this team has.'

'you know i hate it when you talk down on yourself.' you said, the tone serious and sharp, rather unusual for you. it stayed like that for only a short while, taken over by a softer, understanding one. 'you're a vital part of this team, tsukishima. winning this match is not up to a single person. it's a team effort. your input is as important as that of kageyama or hinata.'

he opened his mouth to say something but was instantly stopped by the voice of his captain, daichi, calling the team up to quickly warm up as the match was about to start.

you smiled at the boy, letting go of his hand before lightly patting him on the back.

'do your best for me, alright?'

'i will.' a barely noticeable smile appeared on his face, his hand affectionately ruffling your hair. 'don't worry too much about it.'

you finally realized why tsukishima kei never tried more. why he would never stay longer like other karasuno players to polish his skills, why he didn't truly seem to love the sport he chose to play in high school.

'you're insufferable, you know?' his words sent shivers down your spine. 'why don't you leave it the fuck alone?'

opposite forces, some might say. no one really knew what drew you and tsukishima to eachother - both of you completely different from one another, and yet oh so similar at the same time. frustration took over you every time you looked at him, and now you knew why.

he was like a mirror in which you could see all your flaws, and it irritated you a great deal.

his outlook on life and the way he viewed himself made you furious. how can someone be so full of contradictions? so cocky and confident, and yet so vulnerable and self depreciating at the same time. so full of himself and yet so hateful towards the person he saw in the reflection of every window, every mirror.

how can someone so great at what they do, so intelligent and talented, be so critical?

'because i can't! i can't leave it alone, you absolute moron.' the thought of how loud you were didn't stop you from continuing to shout, a mixed look on your face that tsukishima couldn't quite decipher. were you angry or sad? and why the hell would it bug you so much to evoke such strong emotions within you?

'you're saying i'm insufferable? from the moment i laid my eyes on you, you've been nothing but insufferable. so much so, that i want to gouge them out every time they spot you.' you ignored your watery eyes and tsukishima's surprised face, almost as if he didn't expect you to blow up like this. 'it pains me to see you be so full of doubt and hatred and i- i can't understand why you would think so lowly of yourself, why you feel inferior to the other guys in every way possible, when you could be so much more than them. do you even realize your potential, tsukishima?'

he stayed silent. for the first time since knowing you, tsukishima kei did not have an answer to your words.

'your doubts are so irrational i don't know if it makes me angry or sad. you're truly incredible on the court. you're intelligent, you can read the opponents well, you have the physical predispositions for volleyball and a natural talent that you choose to ignore because-'

'but what is talent without passion?'

that singular sentence managed to catch you off guard so much you had no idea how to answer him. such a simple question, and yet such a philosophical, confusing one.

'why should i put my all into something i'm not even passionate about, huh?' tsukishima tried to keep his composed nature, but it was hard to stay intact after what you've said. as much as he did not want to admit it, your words hit him deeply. 'why waste my time and energy for something that does not give me any satisfaction at all? tell me that, because i have no fucking idea.'

'passion is not something that dissapears once and never shows up again, you idiot.' you took a step closer, as if that was going to help you get your point across. 'if your passion is genuine, it will always be there. whether small or big, it will always crawl around in the back of your mind. if you ever truly loved volleyball, the moment where you fall in love with it again will come sooner or later.'

your words were met with complete silence, but you didn't mind. tsukishima slowly processed your words, a focused look gracing his face, lips in a tight line. even though it was only a couple of minutes, for you it felt like hours - awaiting an answer, any answer at all.

tsukishima moved closer, his tall frame hovering over you as he wrapped his arms around you, catching you in a tight hug, much to your surprise.

'thank you.' he mumbled quietly, glad that in this very moment you couldn't see his face, and the stupid smile plastered to it.

the moment where you fall in love with it again will come sooner or later.

tsukishima's mind lingered over these words whenever he played, awaiting this moment to come almost eagerly. the match was particularly hard - with ushijima wakatoshi as their opponent, the chances of winning were incredibly slim. every spike of his went through the block, his serves were absolutely killer, and his teammates did everything to deliver the ball to him at all costs.

what a hassle.

you noticed that his demeanor on the court changed from what it used to be. tsukishima seemed more invested now - almost as if he was trying to impress you, to keep his word. as happy as it made you, you were still anxious about the match and it's final score, hand shaky and a bit sweaty as your eyes followed the ball flying around from one side of the net to another.

another spike from ushijima, it'll probably be another point for shiratoriza-

and that's when you realized.

you saw the ball hit the ground on shiratorizawa's side of the net surprised gasps from everyone watching the match. you saw the shocked look on ushijima's face, the horror in the eyes of his teammates as the ball bounced off of the floor for the second, third, fourth time.

silence took over the court for just a mere second, quickly interrupted by tsukishima's triumphant scream.

he looked more than content with his performance. he looked... happy.

the rest of the boys joined him, screaming in unison. it was just one point, right? but for some reason, for both you and tsukishima, this one was worth a thousand.

for the first time in years, tsukishima kei felt that his spark for volleyball came back.

you noticed that his eyes were now focused on you, a full, cheeky smile gracing his face, and it only made you tear up. a short moment, probably insignificant for people around, but for the two of you it was like a breath of fresh air, like getting rid of the shackles that once held you in place, enabling you from moving forward.

'y/n, are you... alright?' coach ukai looked with his brows slightly furrowed, confused by your teary eyes and big grin plastered to your face.

'yeah, yeah, i'm fine. sorry, coach.' you mumbled, bowing a little as your eyes focused on the court. 'actually, could kiyoko replace me here for the rest of the match? i'm not quite feeling well.'

'tsukishima is injured.'

'what?' akiteru spoke in unison with you, terrified voices mixing together as you looked down from the stands to see the boy walking off of the court and rushing to the medical office along with kiyoko. your instincts took over you - feet moving on their own as you quickly ran towards the same place.

the two blondes followed right behind you, stopping only when in front of the door to the medical office, gasping for air after such a short run. as athletic as your boyfriend was, you were quite the opposite; getting tired after a little to no physical activity at times.

tsukishima saw your head peeking through the doorframe, a small smile on his face the moment he laid eyes on you.before you opened your mouth to say something, he already gave you an answer.

'yes, i feel fine.' he stated quietly, sitting down on the edge of a chair. 'you don't need to worry.'

'are you going back on court?' he only gave you a small nod in response, seemingly feeling better already as he stood up, his hand taped up.

you looked up at him, taking in the expression on his face, just how focused he already was. he looked almost as if he already had a plan to defeat shiratorizawa in this match. seeing him so eager to go back and play almost made you laugh a little - you swore you never saw him get this invested into something ever.

'go and win then.' you mumbled, patting him on the shoulder as he headed towards the gym hall.

'oh don't worry. we will.'

you couldn't stop the tears rolling down your cheeks as you saw karasuno emerge victorious from the hardest volleyball match they had to play this year, hugging yachi tightly as both of you celebrated the win of your team.

the triumphant screams filled the gym hall, the team emotional after doing what many deemed impossible. as most of them enjoyed themselves, not planning on leaving the euphoric state for a long while, tsukishima could only think of doing one thing - going to you.

you were the only person he truly wanted to celebrate with.

after the ceremony of getting the medals, to everyone's utmost shock, considering your relationship wasn't exactly public, tsukishima went up to you almost immediately, a cocky smile on his face as he ruffled your hair, looking down at you from behind his glasses.

'you didn't exactly look quite as content with your performance before getting the prize.' you mumbled, looking at the blonde haired boy with your head tilted to the side.

'well, i could've blocked more of ushijima's spikes.' he started, rolling his eyes at the sole idea of not being able to do that during today's match. 'i only managed to block one and-'

you decided to use the only method that was for sure going to shut him up in that moment, lightly grabbing him by the tshirt and pulling him closer, lips clashing for a split second in a short, sweet kiss.

'no talking down on yourself today, kei.' you said, unconsciously smiling as you saw his face getting red at what you just did, cheeks covered by a tomato-like red colour. 'i'm proud of you no matter what you think about today's match.'

he stood still for a few seconds, as if processing what had just happened seconds ago, the redness on his face deepening with each passing moment. his hand was quick to grab yours, almost dragging you away from the team and to a more private, less occupied area of the building.

'do that again.' he mumbled, after he finally led you to a quiet hallway.

'huh?'

'it was... nice.'

your eyes lit up, a cheeky smile gracing your face as you finally realized what he was on about.

'ohh, you want another kiss?' you said teasingly, eyes quickly glancing from his face down to his lips. he rolled his eyes, unamused by your act of playing dumb.

'come on, don't make me repeat myself.' still somewhat embarrassed of what he was asking for, tsukishima stood in one place, awaiting your next action.

a sigh left your lips as you took a step towards your boyfriend, standing on your tippy toes to be able to reach his face.

'alright. i guess you deserve it, match mvp.'

your arms were wrapped around his neck in no time as your lips gently touched his, tsukishima immediately kissing you back, hands positioned on your waist as you felt a smile creeping up on his face. he let out a short laugh, seeing your face being just as red as his was moments ago, hand reaching to squeeze yours.

'what?' you mumbled, as he hasn't spoken a word since breaking the kiss.

'that's surely the best prize i got today.'

taglist: @moonswolfie @wyrcan @kitsune-kita

[thatdeadaquarius]

Reader that can emit sounds from their memory(like as an aura)

Walk into a room? Why do I hear boss music

Comedic timing? Fuck yeah.

Bored? Jumpscare noise.

Zhongli talking? Jeopardy theme.

Someone is annoying? Earrape.

Think about it!

Hello! I’m the 12th Harbinger, aka as CHIL- bitch shut the fuck up, WHATS UP ITS YA BOY AQUARIUSSS- /ref

lmao imagine you walking into a room like this in teyvat, with like that audio I SAVE BY GIVING IT CPR- TIGHT AS VIRGIN BOY DONT GET NERVOUS-

(also ill stop apologizing for the late replies to these, bc as we all know by now that im slow and u will get answered eventually i promise tumblr most likely didnt delete u guys asks im just hoarding them LMAO)

I’ve been super busy running in circles so sorry about ghosting! I still very much enjoy and love u guys and love seeing you guys enjoy my stuff :’) 

Still cant believe that, but thank you!

JEOPARDY THEME MUSIC WHEN ZHONGLI TALKS

HE’D BE SO CONFUSED

THINKIN HE GOT AN ANCIENT CURSE HE DOESNT KNOW ABT PUT ON HIM OR SMTH BC HE’S ALWAYS BEING STALKED BY THIS SONG-

(tbh unless the person is super observant I dont think most ppl would get that it’s YOU causing this chaos lmao)

◇

Like I can see Zhongli eventually getting it lol, other ppl I could see after the first few weeks of interacting with you (esp bc you mix it up, honestly it was only bc u kept playing the jeopardy theme over and over when Zhongli ranted on too long that he got it was you 💀):

Heizou (he’s the best detective on all of Inazuma’s islands, ofc he got it! no he will not acknowledge that he totally thought you were hiding a very musical tanuki somewhere on your person at all times lol)

◇

Alhaitham and Cyno (haitham took like, two hours of walking around town with you and knew, bc he’s a little know-it-all lazy bastard like that, and Cyno is actually just really aware, despite what most ppl think, he’s the General Mahamatra and not just a regular Mahamatra for a reason after all)

◇

Tighnari (i stg he can like, smell when bullshittery is happening in his vicinity …or... hear?)

◇

Venti (unsurpringly, he’s totally in love with this power of yours, i mean he definitely loves you cares about you a lot he says, but you’re starting to think he’s just lying to butter you up into pranking Diluc, Barbara, Jean, and really the entirety of Mondstadt more often  including Zhongli just so he can laugh until he’s on the ground again, also he definitely once asked you to make a dragon sound that’s the equivalent of shouting FUCK at Dvalin when he was flying overhead one day)

◇

Hmm

Hm hm hmmmm

Who elseee, i need a characcctterrr lisstttt…

Albedo (duh, he’s albedo, you think he has an entirely too thick folder dedicated to your recent obsessions, you rant a lot about it while playing and also he can access your browsing history 👀, and he somehow doesn't know that about you?? You’re like, literally one of his long-term, there-for-life, has-bought-a-house-for-free-in-his-head-you- arent-even-on-rent-anymore, hyperfixations or special interests. Autistic!Albedo is autistic, Because I Am Your God, And I Say It Is So.)

◇

Dehya (always knows when its you walking around near her bc you like to listen to your old world’s songs too often when you arent pranking bitches, she actually rlly likes it and your music tastes…)

☆

HOLY FUCK SPEED RUN BC GOD THERE’S TOO MANY BITCHES WANNA BE YOUR BABY, RIDING AROUND IN A DAMN MERCEDES-

OKAY-

SO not all in the same way or at the same time, or even the same length of time did they realize you literally change background music or some shit so I’ll let you just- you know okay- like you get it- you get it.

Xiao, Kazuha, Kaeya, Diluc, Ayato, Yae Miko, Keqing, Qiqi, Klee, Sara, Kuki, Nahida, Ningguang, Rosaria, Scaramouche/Babygirl, Dainsleif, Kokomi, Xinyan, Yun Jin, Yelan. 

Jfc got the whole damn pride flag up here

Anyway everybody else outta luck, at least takes em a month or longer to get it lol

♡

Sorry abt the end there i didnt feel like writing out all those bitches bc the few I did before were already longer than I thought they’d be…

Also, I am posting these spam of drafts (and that old follower 100+ event possession headcanons in prep for the next 2 weeks bc I will be really busy, again :/

Got spring break shenanigans this week, then I’ll be running around like a cat with zoomies bc im getting ready to install/actually submit my artworks for the gallery exhibition! 

…wish me luck or prayers or anything good from any god you believe in, I need the strength. 

With love, safe travels,

💀♒️

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist

[anzynai]

Oh, are requests open? Weeell, maybe a little something with the Leech twins and lee!reader (platonic), if you're okay with it? 👉🏻👈🏻✨

Have a nice day Jai <3

Two Times the Trouble

Jade & Floyd & Reader (Twisted Wonderland)

a/n: ANON I LOVE U SO MUCH FOR THIS. i love this request!!! anyways i did pour my heart onto this fic!! i struggled a little more that i thought i would?? the idea was a bit difficult but i think i made it work! this is the first request from the batch of TWST requests ive received (a long time ago, unfortunately, but im choosing to blame it on the fact i was doing my SS fic..) so sorry the request took forever but at least its here now LOL hope u enjoy!! ALSO FIRST FIC FOR THE NEW YEAR LETS GO

summary: when floyd learns of your ticklishness, you are already on edge around him. you didn’t know you had to be wary of his twin, too.

word count: 1.5k

——

You might be in trouble. You might really be in trouble.

It all started just a few minutes earlier. You were in class, minding your own business! Of course, Floyd was in the class, but so was Jade. Azul.. was not, and the only reason you noticed because somehow the three of them were almost always together, unless they weren’t..?

Anyway, Floyd usually only interacted with Jade or Riddle, if he was in the mood for teasing the housewarden. He didn’t really talk to you all that much.

So obviously, you were surprised when he apparently had decided to change his target for the day to you, plopping down in the seat next to you. Grim often sat there and you could hear his protests, but Floyd either didn’t hear or pretended not to. Eventually, Grim grumbled and just moved to sitting on top of your desk. He was small enough.

“What’s up, Shrimpy?” Floyd drawled, a small grin on his face, showing his spiky teeth. It must be a Moray thing, you thought offhandedly.

“Oh, hey, Floyd.” You greeted him back with a small smile. Mostly out of politeness because you had no idea what he was doing there.

“M’ bored. Jade won’t entertain me. And Goldfishie’s not here.” He sighed, sadly, though, it did not sound genuine at all.

“That sounds annoying.” You said, but you start focusing your attention away from him and to Professor Trein, who began speaking. And… you really didn’t want to get on his bad side.

“Yeah, you get it, Shrimpy. That’s why you’re gonna entertain me today!” Floyd grinned, a large toothy smile, almost like an innocent child.

“Am I?” You asked, though it was more of a “response” than a question. You looked down at your notebook, jotting down notes as Trein lectured, pouting when you saw Grim snoozing away. Usually, Trein noticed right away, but he seemed very invested in his lecture today.

“Mhm!” Floyd said, slowly, before he decided to try annoying you. From taking away your notebook so you couldn’t write it down, from kicking your chair, from grabbing every little thing he could get his hands on. You began feeling pity for Riddle. You had always thought he was exaggerating, but you swore you could feel yourself popping a blood vessel every two seconds.

Suddenly, Floyd decided that stealing your items were too boring and he resorted to poking you instead. Again. And again. And again.

“Would you sto-AH!” You tried whispering but then he poked a spot on your side and you couldn’t hold back your squeal.

“Everything alright over there?” Trein asked, seemingly annoyed that his class was disrupted.

“I—uh yeah!” You stuttered out, embarrassed as everyone turned towards the two of you. You glanced over, hoping that Floyd didn’t notice, but the scary grin on his face told you otherwise. For the rest of class, he kept poking your side and you found yourself unable to focus on the lesson, trying your hardest not to giggle.

“I’m gonna squeeze ya!” Floyd exclaimed, though a bit quietly. When the bell rang, you were the first one out the door.

You didn’t notice that Jade had been watching the two of you the entire time.

——

“Floyd, leave me alone!” You shrieked, running around the mostly empty lounge. You decided to get a quick snack from there since you were about to dive headfirst into an all-night study session for the Alchemy test coming up and you figured that making sure you weren’t hungry would.. help.

It was supposed to be in and out. Quick and easy.

It was not in and out.

Floyd was clearly still interested by his discovery, which even you had thought he had forgotten about. Really, he got bored of most things so quickly so why not now!?

So brings you to the present, him chasing you, wiggling his fingers menacingly and you running as far from him as you can. Azul sighed, used to Floyd’s antics.

“Just don’t mess up the lounge… or you’ll be cleaning it all by yourself.” He said, before walking away and into the kitchen.

You, on the other hand, ran towards Jade, who had been watching you guys with amusement. He seemed like he was wondering whether he should continue watching or help you and well, you decided it for him.

“Jade, help!” You exclaim, ducking behind him and using him as cover. You guys hopefully seemed friends enough to be able to do this, so you were obviously gonna use it to your advantage!

“Now, Floyd, don’t be like this..” Jade started, a pleasant smile on his face that had you sighing in relief and Floyd groaning in disappointment.

“Come on, Jade, just let me squeeze 'em..”

“Look at them, don’t you think they’d be too sensitive to endure your wrath?” Jade added and you could see the exact moment Floyd’s gaze lit up and all hopes of mercy on your poor, unfortunate soul were shattered. But before you could move, Jade grabbed your wrist, locking your arms up easily. You struggled in his grasp, but it was no use. It wasn’t even as if you were weak! What did he eat anyway?! Were moray just stronger?

“Jade.. How could you do this to me..?!” You shouted, betrayed, gulping when Floyd walked towards you, menacingly. It was fast-paced, but to you, it felt like he was walking in slow-motion.

“I must apologize. However, I should indulge both myself and my dear brother at times. You must understand.” Jade said, though there was not an ounce of guilt on his face. Your arms, which were hooked up from Jade’s arms were suddenly released, but that didn’t mean you could escape. Instead, Jade wrapped his arms around your waist and began tickling your sides. And Floyd, well, he pounced and started tickling your stomach, your armpits, pretty much anywhere he could get his hands on.

“N-nOHOHOHO, w-why?!” You cried, feeling overwhelmed by the fact that the Leech twins were so easily tickling you.

“Oooh, Shrimpy, already broke ya, huh?” Floyd teased. He was more on the rougher side of tickling, pinching and squeezing your sensitive skin, while Jade was more gentle, with light grazes and scribbles which were still so evil.

“Ehehehe shuhuhut uhuhup!” You looked around, feeling embarrassed, but the lounge was mostly empty and those who were there seemed occupied with other things so they didn’t pay attention to you. You looked back at the Leech twins, flailing in their arms, but Jade managed to pull your arms above your head with his hand, despite your flailing.

“You’re really going to say that to us? Now, don’t be so mean. You might hurt my feelings.” Jade chucked, deep and low. You knew that what he said was complete bullshit, but you couldn’t comment on it, too caught up on the hands on your body.

They were relentless, that much you could tell. It felt like they were trying to find the spots that made you tick and react the most and you could feel that this wasn’t the last time they’d tickle you like this.

“Plehehehease!” You giggle instead, unable to find the words to respond.

“Please what, Shrimpy? You’re so ticklish already!” Floyd giggled, his hands grasping against your sides and occasionally drifting over towards your stomach.

“Now, now, Floyd. I’d say that they are faring quite well.”

“W-WAHAHAHAHH!” Is your response, apparently. You could just die right now. You never imagined that today would be the day you found yourself being tickled to absolute pieces, by none other than the Leech twins! You began wondering how Azul ever put up with them! Knowing how they’re acting now, you’re sure the three of them have engaged in some sort of tickle-fights, if the experience they very obviously had was anything to go by.

“Sure about that, Jade? They’re like a squeak toy!” You tried to put your lips together. That.. lasted about half a second before you found it hard to keep your mouth shut, eliciting the noises that Floyd had just compared to a toy. “Squeak, squeak!” Floyd chirped, squeezing like you were, in fact, a toy.

“Nohohohoho!!” You shriek, laughing and laughing. The fingers on your body were unrelenting and you could feel tears of mirth begin to prick at your eyes. They hadn’t even gotten your worst spot, and Jade was barely even tickling you, more focused on holding you so Floyd could get more access. Still… you were feeling a bit overwhelmed.

It seemed Jade was watching your reactions, though, because he muttered Floyd’s name. Either that, or he just conveniently and coincidentally noticed at the exact time you were reaching your limit. It didn’t matter, because he had let go of you and Floyd, instead of tickling you, slung his arm over your shoulder, leaning. You felt exhausted, so you just dropped your head, using his arm as a headrest.

“That was super fun, Shrimpy! We gotta do that again sometime!” Floyd laughed, heartily and cheerfully.

“Hopefully not too soon…” You muttered, under your breath, causing Floyd to laugh harder.

“I agree. I wouldn’t mind this scenario happening again.” Jade nodded, poking your side and smirking when you flinch and glare.

“Not you too..” You pout, though you couldn’t hold back a smile. You hadn’t really thought about where you stood with the twins before, but you found that you didn’t ever mind their presence either. In fact, you could feel yourself hoping for times like this to occur more, as well.

[tiedyeflannels]

Hiiii it’s me again 🫣, hope you’re doing amazing!!! I am sure you seen the recent live lol of jungkook, Rm, V and Jimin could you possibly write something about it again for Jungkook like maybe they all do the live together like an 8th member of bts and her and Jungkook are just really cuddly u know and jungkook just holding the whole time idk if that makes sense but I am sure you can write something whatever that is good and your comfortable with sorry thing is long. THANK YOU!!! 💗💗

Hi again! Sorry for taking forever to respond to your request, finals were a pain! Ugh... Anyway, I hope you're doing well too and thank you for your request! I made Y/n a producer instead of an 8th member because I wasn't sure how to spin it, so hopefully you like it. I also added, kind of like, a bonus scene because I was sad watching that Bangtan Bomb... Anywho, I hope you enjoy it! <3

Right Here

Jungkook x producer!reader

Word count: 2k

Masterlist

“Y/n-ah!” The guys collectively exclaimed.

I happily waved at them while softly shutting the door behind me.

“Hi! Sorry I’m late, I was in a meeting when Namjoon texted me about this live,” I said, placing my bag on a chair that was next to the wall of tables. 

I walked into frame and waved at the ARMYs watching. “Hi guys! How are you?”

“We’re good,” Jimin said in a high-pitched voice.

I looked back at him.

“Oh, are you the voice of ARMY now,” I teased.

He smiled and nodded his head triumphantly. I giggled and moved over to the couch, but not before grabbing a slice of pizza.

I took a bite of my slice of pizza and plopped down next to Jungkook. They kept talking while I finished up my slice, throwing the crust on the empty pan and dust off the crumbs from my hands. 

I looked around at the guys when my eyes landed on Jungkook, who was already looking at me. I leaned forward and narrowed my eyes at him for a moment before leaning back.

I smiled at him, “Why are you staring-”

I didn’t get the chance to finish my sentence when he tackled me into a hug making us fall back.

I hugged him back as I laughed, “Did you seriously wait until I was done with my slice so you could hug me?”

I didn’t get a verbal answer, but when he hugged me tighter, I knew what the answer was. 

As the rest of the members got closer to their enlistment date, things had taken a melancholy turn and it affected each one of them, especially Jungkook, even if they didn’t show it.

I knew.

ARMY knew.

But there weren't a whole lot of things we could do in order to make them feel better about leaving.

So as I realized that this impromptu cuddle session wouldn’t be over for a while, I made sure we were both a little more comfortable by moving us to sit against the back of the couch so we wouldn’t be laying down the entire time.

It took a bit for him to get settled in a way that was comfortable for both of us, but he ultimately chose to be a koala. His head was resting on my right shoulder while his arms were tightly wrapped around my torso and his right leg was draped across my own.

There wasn’t much I could do with the way he was holding me, so I just wrapped my right arm around his back in a semi-awkward half hug and rested my left hand on the leg that was draped across me, slowly drawing shapes while I watched the others talk.

It couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes before the guys started to get up to say their “goodbyes” to ARMY. I tried to move to get up, but Jungkook tightened his hold on me as soon as I moved an arm. I sighed knowing it would be a miracle to get him off of me by myself, so I looked over at Jimin, silently asking for his help.

He smiled at my predicament and walked over, grabbing one of Jungkook’s arms and gently tugged, “Come on. We gotta say bye to ARMY.”

“Noooooo,” he drew out as the arm that was around me tightened its grip once more, practically forcing Jimin to pry him off of me. 

“Dude, you need to get off of me in order to say bye to ARMY,” I exclaimed as I wiggled my way out of his grasp.

He huffed as we both finally stood up, obviously not liking that our cuddle session was interrupted. I smiled at his pouty face and patted his head as the others were deciding how they wanted to say bye.

Taehyung grabbed the camera, pointing it at Jimin as he said bye to ARMY and ended by bowing slightly.

Tae, then, turned the camera over to Namjoon who also said his final words with a salute, promising to “go and come back safely”.

“Ok, Jk, you can go.” 

“No, I’ll end it,” he said while taking off his hood.

The others were quick to oppose the idea.

“Why doesn’t Y/n say her final words and then I go and you can run in front and then we’ll end it.”

There were nods of agreement and when they turned to me I shrugged, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, I don’t see why not.”

“So, I can end it,” Tae asked and we all nodded.

He was still holding the camera and motioned for me to say my piece. I walked into frame and waved.

“ARMY~ I’ll make sure to go live whenever I can to keep you company before Jin comes back! The guys will be back before you know it! Stay strong,” I said, blowing a kiss to them with both hands before waving ‘bye’. 

I looked at Taehyung, “Do you want me to hold the camera for you?”

He shook his head.

“No, Jimin can hold it for me. You, stand over there,” he said as he pointed to the side opposite of where Namjoon and Jungkook were standing.

He continued, “and turn around since you haven’t seen Jk’s hair yet either.” 

I huffed, but did what I was told by walking to the left and turning around so I was facing the wall while Jimin took the camera from Tae, so he could say bye.

“You need to run, ok?”

“As soon as you end-”

“Can you guys just go already,” I exclaimed, hoping to move this train along.

Taehyung gave his little speech, though I’ll have to disagree with Namjoon, who said it was “too long” because mine was about the same length.

I heard a lot of shuffling behind me and was about to turn around to see why it was taking so long when a very slurred “We were BTS” sounded through the air before someone collided with my back, making me stumble forward as pair of arms wrapped around me, keeping me from falling.

The guys were laughing at the scene as they said their final “bye’s” before turning off the live.

“You can turn around now,” Jungkook said, loosening his hold on me enough for me to move, but not removing his arms completely. 

As I turned around to face him I was not prepared for what I saw. My jaw dropped as I looked at Jungkook’s hair which was now completely buzzed off.

“Woah,” I exclaimed, placing my hands on either side of his head, turning it side to side in order to get a better look. 

I started to become confused. Jungkook chuckled, grabbing both of my wrists to stop me from moving his head so he could look at me.

“What’s with that face?”

“How do you still look good?!”

Everyone started laughing again.

~

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.”

It was December 12th and Hobi, Yoongi, and I were currently seeing Jimin and Jungkook off to start their military service.

“Well, luckily, this is the last time we’re going to have to do this,” Yoongi said, stuffing his hand further into his jacket.

I nodded my head in silent agreement and walked over to where Jimin and Jungkook had finished talking with some of their friends. They turned to look at me as I got where they were and grabbed their hands in both of mine, switching my gaze between the two.

“How are you guys feeling,” I asked to try and break the tension that was starting to form as time got closer to when they were supposed to leave.

They both shrugged.

I sighed.

“You’re going to be fine. I talked to Jin this morning and made him promise to keep an eye on you and make sure you’re okay, though… he did say that he might make training a bit harder for you two,” I teased.

That got some chuckles out of them, which I was very happy about. It didn’t last long before the heavy air settled around us once again, so I mustered as much of an encouraging smile as I could and said, “You two are going to do great. I’ll have my phone on me at all times whenever you get phone privileges back and want to talk to me, okay?”

They nodded as I continued, “Stay safe and healthy and warm because it’s starting to get chilly, okay?”

They nodded once more. 

I looked at them as they looked at me expectedly.

“What? That’s all I’ve got,” I said.

Jungkook laughed as Jimin shook his head with a smile forming on his face.

Jungkook looked over at Jimin, “Would you mind giving us a sec?”

The latter nodded, “Of course, I’ve gotta go talk with Hobi hyung before send off, so I’ll see you later Y/n.”

I nodded and gave him a tight hug.

“Be careful. Stay safe and make sure to eat. Call me if you need anything and I mean ANYTHING, okay,” I whispered before breaking the hug.

“You got it,” he said before pulling me back in for one last hug.

“I’m gonna miss you, Chim. I’ll see you when you come back.”

We both nodded at each other in conformation as he started toward where Hobi and Yoongi were standing.

I moved to stand next to Jungkook as we watched them talk.

“So, what are you going to do in the meantime,” Jungkook spoke up.

I turned to look at him as he did the same.

“Probably work on some songs for your guys’ comeback with Yoongi. He said that he already has some that he wants me to look at later today, so yeah,” I shrugged. 

He hummed in response before pulling me into a hug. I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel like crying at that moment. We had talked about him leaving all the time as the date came closer and every time Jungkook was the one who comforted me when I started crying, but I wanted to be strong for him and at least give him some sense of comfort on the day it really mattered so I controlled my emotions.

“Sorry I have to leave you,” he whispered.

He is not making this easy, huh?

I shook my head and held him tighter, “It is not your fault. Nobody will ever blame you for something you have to do. Especially not me.”

I pulled back and cupped his face in my hands.

“You just need to make sure that you don’t overdo anything. I don’t want to get a call from Jin or Jimin saying that you overdid something that landed you in the infirmary, got it,” I teased as he nodded.

“I love you a lot. We all do. So please make sure to be safe while you’re gone, okay,” I asked.

He huffed but untimely nodded again. “You’re starting to sound like my mom,” he muttered.

I laughed at the statement.

“Good, because she’s right!” 

There was some loud shuffling behind me, so I turned around to see Yoongi, Hobi, and Jimin standing in front of us.

“Okay, lovebirds, it’s almost time to go,” Yoongi said.

I playfully rolled my eyes as a smile made its way onto my lips. I turned back to Jungkook and placed a quick peck on his cheek.

“One for the road,” I said as I moved away from him.

“You guys should get going before you’re late,” Hobi spoke up.

They nodded as they fixed their backpack straps and picked up the duffle bag at their feet. I gave them both a once over.

“Take care of each other.”

They hummed as they started to leave. As we were watching them walk away, Jungkook suddenly turned back to us. 

“Y/n/n!”

“Yeah?”

“You’ll be here when we get out, right?”

I nodded, “Of course! I’ll be right here when you come back!”

[stevie-petey]

hiiiiiiiii honey <3 could we get a blurb about bug telling steve about jonathan’s outburst towards her after he took the pictures of nancy and steve’s reaction to learning about it???? it would be so so appreciated by me <3 you’re the best ever <3 MWAH

(i am being held against my will to write this jonathan sweetie im so sorry) (i love u val) (u are evil)

i know this isnt necessarily what u MEANT but ,,, ive been dying to expand upon bugs kindness and how it may seem annoying and pathetic, but its hers ! its her kindness !!!

enjoy <3

"no way you guys havent wanted to strangle each other at least once." steve remarks one day as he watches you and jonathan work side by side at the cash register.

jonathan had been bored today and decided to join you and steve at work, something that you're very happy about, honestly.

"oh, ive definitely wanted to strangle jonathan," you say, writing down a new shipment receipt while the boy next to you doodles.

steve rolls his eyes. "old married couple squabbling doesnt count. im talking, like, full on betrayal and hurt here. you guys are always so... you, and it has to be an act."

jonathan snorts. "shouldve seen the fights we had last year. surprised y/n didnt kill me with her bare hands."

"i dont believe you."

"no, hes right." you look up at steve. "he threw a jacket at my face last year and then told me we werent family the night he took those pictures of nancy. then cried in my arms like a day later."

steve stares at you, shocked.

"i also then slept in nancys bed and lied about it. and tried leaving you behind a few times."

"that you did," you flick jonathans ear, causing him to wince in pain. "you deserved that."

"i did."

during this entire exchange, steve hasnt said a single word. hes still stunned, baffled by the fact that jonathan could be so cruel to someone so wonderful.

"wait a second," he looks between you and jonathan. "and youre still friends?"

"yeah." you both say at the same time.

steve cant fucking believe it. you do anything and everything for jonathan, that much is obvious, and sure. steve has seen jonathan do small acts of kindness towards you, devote the same back, but to throw a jacket at you and belittle you? and now here he is, joking about it alongside you. as if it was all okay in the end.

"youre too nice sometimes, y/n." the words leave steves lips before he can stop them. once he realizes what hes said, he looks up at jonathan and panics. "sorry, man. im sure you guys talked it out and... yeah."

jonathan shrugs. "no, youre right. she is and i was dick."

"im right here, you know."

steve winces. "sorry."

"its fine, honestly." you go back to scribbling shipment orders. "i am indeed too nice, but i dont ever really see the point in holding a grudge? i mean, jonathan apologized and i understood the stress he was under. sure, it didnt erase all the hurt he caused, but after almost dying immediately after being mad at him for not including me in something... i dont know. it felt silly to hold onto that anger after. childish, even."

jonathan and steve share a look, for once both seeming to think the same thing.

shes too good.

you hate that they do this. you hate that people view your kindness as a weakness. after the hell youve been through, long before monsters even came to hawkins, youve learned the hard way just how rare kindness is.

now you try to be kind to everything and everyone, no matter what it may cost you.

the kindness is yours, no one elses.

and if that makes you weak, then at least it made you better.

you tear two pieces paper from your notebook, scrunch them up into balls, and then throw them at steve and jonathan. "stop pitying me. im kind and i love that aspect of myself. i dont care if it makes me vulnerable or pathetic. its a piece of me, and i wouldnt change it. if you dont like it, then that belittles me even more than emotional outbursts ever could."

jonathan sighs. "youre right, bug. youre a very kind and lovely person and its what makes you a joy to be around, paper balls and all."

steve plays along. "definitely a better super power than spider-man, dare i say."

"okay, lets not get ahead of ourselves now," you giggle, appreciative of both the boys. they may not understand or like the way you view the world, but theyre at least trying.

its all you could ask for.

even if steve later on that day pulls you aside to whisper, "i think i can kick jonathans ass this time, if you ever need it."

and its enough.

[weird-is-life]

Hi Love! You Spencer fics give me life btw, Okay, so idk if you've seen NCIS,but there is this goth character named Abby and she is like a forensic scientist . I would love to see Spencer (maybe later seasons) having to work with a reader like Abby. Opposites attract kind of thing / love at first sight/mutual pining .

Hiii, thank u so much for this request. I am sooooooo sorry, that this took me like 2 months to write 😭I hope this isn't too bad (1k) warnings: talk of bombs, fluff

Sometimes you think, that Spencer likes you, like more than just a friend. It's always when you catch him staring lovesick at you or hear him giggle at your stupid science jokes. It makes your heart swell everytime.

But you stop daydreaming about this, when the reality sets in and you realise the big difference between the two of you. Like there's just no way Spencer likes you the way you like him.

You two are complete opposites. Well, that's not entirely true. You and Spencer share love for science and solving things, which is exactly why you are both at the FBI. But other than this, you don't think, that you have much in common.

Your thinking about Spencer is cut short, because there's a literal bomb being placed in front of you. The team is working on a local case. There's a very dangerous bomber, which they are trying to catch.

Your task is to analyse the bomb as best as you can, even the tiniest detail can help the team. It's not often you get to work with the team, especially this close, so you want to do good and not mess it up.

You put on your favourite band and closely study the bomb. As you bop your head to the blasting music, you write down everything that seams important, even the stuff that is not so important, down.

You work fast and in like 2 hours, you are done and happy with you analysis. You sent a text to Penelope, she is usually the one that comes for the papers and you like her, she is a total sweetheart everytime she comes to your lab.

You don't expect her to come right away, so you don't turn the music down even one bit. Honestly, a big mistake from your part.

It's not Penelope, who comes to grab the analysis papers and also it's not later, it's right away. Spencer was basically pushed towards the elevator to go to your lab by Penelope. Of course, she knows that you two fancy each other (she thinks you'll be the cutest couple) and she's decided, that she's going to get you together, whatever it takes. Even if it means dragging Spencer towards you.

Spencer finds your lab easily, he's been here too many times. But he's never heard the music playing so loud. You don't even hear the door opening or him coming inside. He only gets your attention when he carefully puts his hand on your shoulder as to not scare you, which goes totally the wrong way.

You flinch so hard and jump away from him instantly, that you almost fall on the floor, not to mention the curse words slipping out of your mouth.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Spencer worriedly apologises.

"Doctor Reid, you scared me," you say with a surprise, you definitely weren't expecting him here. You lower the volume of the music.

"I'm sorry, I called out your name, but I think it was too loud," he explains, stepping from one foot to another.

"It's okay, it's my fault. I put it way too loud. It's just...It's my favourite band,"  you grin sheepishly at him. Your pink blush in contrast with the black lipstick and eyeliner.

"Really? Have they been your favourite band for long now?" Spencer asks, giving you a small smile.

"Gosh, for so long, I don't even know. Maybe since I've discovered how much I love music," you must have been a kid then, when you found you passion for music, " what about you Dr. Reid, what's your favourite band?"

"Spencer, please call me Spencer," it's his turn to blush again, when he says it. You always call him dr. Reid and even if he knows you are joking, he prefers you calling him Spencer, " a-and I don't really have a favourite band or-or a song."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I just don't really know any music, maybe just some classical," he shrugs his shoulders, " I know, it's bad." He adds when he sees your wide eyes.

"Oh my god, this is actually a crime," you dramatically say, " I would gladly give you some recommendations, but I think time isn't on our side right now." You don't think Spencer would like your kind of taste of music, metal probably isn't his type, but you could definitely look something up for him.

Spencer would like that, like a lot. But yeah, he can't waste time by chatting with you, when there's a serial bomber in the streets.

He really wants to tho, I mean he wouldn't say no to spending time with you, maybe it would give him an actual chance with you. So with these kind of thoughts, he does something very, almost too brave.

"How about over a coffee?" he nervously blurts out and you don't quite know if you've heard right or your imagination is playing tricks on you.

"Over a coffee?"

"O-or tea, whatever you drink...."he adds, words stammering.

"Sure," you agree and give him the nicest smile you can do.

"R-really?" Spencer isn't expecting you to agree, he thinks, you are way out of his league, too pretty to even talk to him.

"Definitely, I'd love that," you reassure him and before you know it, these words escape your mouth, " it's a date, then."

Your dread goes away, when Spencer returns your shy smile and states," can't wait for it, I'll text you, yeah?" He starts to slowly back out of the lab.

"Okay," you giggle, because you realise, that he is forgetting the one thing he came here for, " don't you want the analysis of the bomb?"

"Ohhh," his cheeks go red again," right." He quickly comes back for it and heads for the door. At the door he looks at you for one last time and accidentally walks with his shoulder into the edge of the door.

You can't help but to giggle some more as he embarrassingly laughs and leaves your lab.

In your happy mood, you put the music back on and start thinking of the right songs for Spencer.

[skubean]

Omg hiiii. I was wondering if you could do a Saiki K request? Basically he meets another psychic that’s not attracted to him and she’s in the grade above so she practically acts like his older sister and fights off Kusuke AHAHAHAH

Thanks again💜💜

hello, anon! thank you for the request. i thought this idea was really funny since it's random but i like it a lot!! i'll try my best and hope u liked it! (i'm also really sorry it took me so long to do this)

psychic! reader fighting kusuke ft. kusuo saiki (hcs)

notes: fem reader, platonic, reader acts like saiki's older sis, just crack

kusuo was unamused, to say the least. here he was, listening to you rant about how powerful you were in comparison to him, in which he absolutely disagrees. but who was he to say anything? you clearly weren't listening to him, nor did you care.

he should've acted quicker when he felt your presence in his school, a senior a year older who was looking for him. knowing that kusuo could hear your thought, you told him to befriend you if he wanted you to keep your mouth shut over the fact that the both of you were psychics.

which is why kusuo is stuck with you after classes, and during recess (in which kokomi was not pleased).

a part of kusuo thought that you were one of the girls that were chasing after him (you were so offended he thought of you like that, the disgusted face you made was enough to serve as proof that he was wrong).

to add insult to injury, kokomi came across you ruffling kusuo's hair once, so now the misunderstanding just keeps getting worse.

tbh, you were doing it on purpose since kusuo was always so stone-faced and it just intrigued you.

in all truth, the reason you approached kusuo was to stop his older brother, kusuke from wrecking the whole entire world.

although kusuo doubts his brother's capability in doing so, he knows it's possible. he knows. because it's kusuke.

but what kusuo wasn't expecting was how much he liked having your company around, much to his dismay. having you around made him feel like he wasn't alone (in terms of being psychic)

and to be honest, you liked hanging out with him too! as much as he tried ignoring you, you just couldn't help but be around him.

and then the day came, and you had to face kusuke.

kusuke was 100% annoyed that you existed T.T like wtf you doing around my brother typa beat.

and you were actually right, the man was tryna destroy the world! so you and kusuo had to play kusuke's little game of hide and seek and eventually managed to win.

kusuke was amused, the least to say.

now imagine him tryna research on you bcs he's never seen someone on the same wavelength w his bro.

to conclude, now kusuke was constantly on your ass and kusuo is the least bothered by it.

your everyday life just got more crazier

-end-

a/n: i am so SORRY this took so long i actually passed out mid writing bcs i was so sick KJSDKSAHDK and then forgot i was writing abt this and im sorry this just dont make no sense T.T

[alienisticxo]

Before the Fever - Chapter Thirteen

{Master Chief x Reader series - TV based}

{A╱N} nobody knows how sorry i am that this took me longer than i expected it to. life outside of here has kept me so busy, and i hadn’t been writing as much as i wanted, but it’s finally done! (i edited it, but i may be editing more once i read this entire series back to inspire myself further lol) we finally get into the glorious gloriousness 🫠 thank you so much as always for hanging in! i have this whole series outlined to the end so even if it takes me a little while sometimes, i will never abandon this story, its near and dear to my heart and your comments and kudos always keep me going too! 🥹🖤

Warnings: s m u t. i didn't want to make it as raunchy as I could've, so it's just some passionate smut 🥲

I hope you enjoy! ♡ 

Chapter Thirteen - Stardust

She kissed the corner of my mouth, down to my jawline, peppering me with little acts of love, compassion. It was like she was piecing me back together again, healing the scars on my body and in my mind with nothing more than her touch.

I knew the feeling would only last as long as this continued, and I knew it wasn’t the appropriate thing to do. Not amidst the war we were fighting, not amidst the way we were on the run, but there was nothing at this point that was going to stop either of us, it seemed.

There was nothing that could’ve kept me from acting on my love for {Y/N}.

Love.

That was a hell of a word, meaningless to me, at one point. But suddenly I understood it. I felt it. I knew it. I held it, and I was capable of returning it. It still baffled me, how strongly and suddenly it came. But there was no other explanation for the way I felt for her.

Believe me, I tried to find one.

She loved me. And I could feel it in the way she touched me, in the way she responded to my touch; her soft sighs, her quiet moans. Even more, it wasn’t only in this manner. I felt it in the way she held my hand in the Condor— kept it from trembling. In the way the smile touched her eyes when I told Laera she was coming with me. I hadn’t realized I felt it when I watched her staring up at the blue sky on Halo, the sun beams catching her just right; when she opened up to me that first night on Reach, at her lowest moment under Halsey’s control.

But I know now, and so does she.

This was a new field of experience for me— the entirety of it. But something within me had been awakened, ignited. I let the same long-buried instinct from our initial kiss lead the way, responding to her effortlessly as she gave into me just as easily.

Pulling her into my arms again, I kicked off my boots and lifted her off of the set of drawers, carrying her to the hallway. There was a guest room, I remembered that being offered from my first visit. I could’ve taken her right there, my avidity pushing to take over. But I felt she deserved better— she deserved something kinder.

She deserved everything good I could give her.

Her soft lips found mine again, and I occasionally peeled a hand off of her to graze the wall until I found the correct doorknob; not wanting to break the connection we shared. When I finally did, I swung the door open and closed it shut behind us, picking up the pace to the large bed in the middle of the room.

I hardly had time to register the view of deep space through the window wall just beside us, intensifying the heat of the moment. I’d have to compliment Soren’s home when I saw him again.

{Y/N}’s dainty hands traveled along my skin in a way that was still so foreign to me, but welcome beyond belief. Never having been touched so illicitly, so fully, lent to an entirely different range of sensation in various areas of my body. I was used to Medical’s sterile and concise touch when I was forced into frivolous repairs after battle. They were needed, I was told. ‘Stay still, sit down, don’t move.’ There was no love there. No care. Not like her, not like now.

She touched me like I would break— a laughable thought in any other situation. But she allowed me the space, the breathing room. She took care in every movement, and in doing so, allowed me to feel.

I couldn’t even begin to imagine what was to come. I was too wrapped up in all that she was as I laid her down beneath me, carefully climbing over her. It was easy to notice how tiny she looked in comparison as we shifted to the middle of the bed, my hands on either side of her frame.

She looked up at me through a half-lidded gaze, a strap to her dress falling off of her shoulder and offering an intriguing view that I’d never expected to see. I drank {Y/N} in, possibly for the first time in such a lurid way. She was even more beautiful in a natural state like this. In the vulnerable moment that we shared— that for once, I didn’t mind sharing.

Her eyes gleamed in the starlight, and I was suddenly more lucid than I’d ever been. Her skin was smooth, holding the smallest of details. I noticed a tiny silver necklace that I hadn’t seen beneath her clothing before. It reminded me of the dog tags I only took off to shower.

But the girl surprised me when she reached down, hooking her fingers around the underwear she wore beneath her slinky gown. So easily she tugged them down and off of her legs, her eyes never leaving their fixation. Her expression had changed. There was a daring look in her eye, but it was smoldered with a desperation I’m sure my own reflected back to her. Her hand dangled off the edge of the mattress, dropping the fabric before I felt her soft fingers return to my skin.  

The urges, need, surging through me were wildly unknown and unfamiliar. They were stronger than anything I’d ever felt before, and while I was usually the king of composure, keeping a handle on it felt impossible. I wasn’t naive to the ways of these acts, I’d simply never felt the desire for them.

Until now.

God, did I need her now.

Just her. Only her.

Always.

———

John looked like a god in the flesh above me, his powerful build just outlined enough in the low light of the vivid stars that hung in the atmosphere just beyond the window. He stared down at me through intensely curious eyes, raking over what he could see of my body. I silently hoped he enjoyed it.

The way he reacted let me know that he did.

He was only half dressed, the top gone but the bottom very much in place. Despite the passion of the moment building all at once, our hands and lips finding one another again, clamoring for any amount of skin we could find, it was still quite easy to feel how aroused he’d become. That alone sent me even higher than I already felt, the faint throbbing between my own thighs becoming more and more apparent; hard to ignore or control.

But I was sure I didn’t want to control it anymore.

Together, it was enough to have me decide I’d help him, taking the underwear I wore off and tossing it aside. To egg him on, let him know without words that he was exactly what I wanted, what I needed— more than anything and anyone in this entire universe. To show him that it was okay to keep going, to take it as far as we possibly could.  

And maybe it was bold to assume that’s what was going to be needed; that that’s what was going to come next. But there was no other act of passion we could partake in that would’ve expressed our love for each other any better than that. Without words, we spoke the same language. We felt one another’s burning desire along with our own.

After a few seconds of intense hesitation, John leaned down again, placing kiss after kiss on the flesh of my throat, eliciting heavy exhales from my lungs. I wanted to breathe him, to have him become a part of me, and me a part of him— entirely.

It wasn’t much longer before I felt his hand on my thigh, brushing it higher and higher until he was pulling the dress from me. My body seemed to arch all on its own to offer him an easier way to remove it, and he tossed the silky fabric aside.

I’d never felt more beautifully exposed to anyone than I had to him at that moment. His hands continued to roam, large digits exploring every curve and divet of my form— caressing; taking the time to relish in me as though he’d never have me again.

His hands were excitingly rough, but held the same delicate touch that they had before as one slid up my waist and over my breasts. He squeezed one, and then the other, a gentle fervency in his hold as his lips explored beneath my ear, traveling to the peak of my clavicle.

He trailed lower and lower until he found my nipples, his mouth wrapping around them as he took his time with both, tongue swirling and lapping lightly until he’d been satisfied with the reaction it pulled from me; a soft gasp in the quietness of the night, my fingers digging into his toned back as it contracted under my hands, and my shoulder blades pressed against the bed.

My core grew warmer by the second, and I squirmed just slightly beneath him, unable to get any kind of grip on my need for him. I was a willing victim to the way he worked at me, his lips moving to my rib cage and back up again to meet mine feverishly, as though he’d been teasing himself just as much.

There was no telling how experienced or not he’d been, the thought only briefly crossing my mind as he seemed to bring every ounce of ecstasy out of me with such ease. He almost seemed to know my body better than I did as his fingers found all the right places, his lips kissed all the right spots, assuring us both that I was warmed up beyond the point of simply being ready for what I so desired.  

I hoped he knew that he could have me forever and even longer after as my own hands began to glide down his sides, fingers rising and falling between the ridges of his own torso; the muscles that rippled and flexed beneath my touch growing warmer with each pass.

Finding the bottom half of his under armor, I tugged down on it intently. But getting him undressed seemed like an impossible feat for someone as fragile as myself in comparison.

It was no wonder these Spartans were so well protected.

But John took notice of this right away, his hand reaching down, brushing against mine to help me get him out of the final article that kept any barrier between us.

It was then that I pulled him down against me as much as I could with the height difference, the metal of the tags he wore around his neck now burning my skin in the most delightful way. I inhaled, his natural scent mixed with the soap he used filling my lungs. Concentrating on every sense I could, it was easy to get lost within him.

My lips pressed against the inside of his neck, the stubble of his jaw grazing my cheek as I kissed back along to his mouth. I could feel every single sensation infinitely, every single nerve ending inflamed with a sweet emblazonment I knew only he could offer me for the rest of my time in the universe.

The moment was so intense, so close to the final act of ultimate devotion.

Our problems, our achievements, our standings and otherwise, all fell away once more— even further into the abyss than they had when we’d danced. It was him and I all over again. Every thought was focused on John. Every feeling enveloped in him entirely.

And I didn’t want to close my eyes; to miss any of the reactions he could possibly have to me. But when he held me captive in the euphoria that was his kiss, there was no stopping the way my eyes fell shut.

And so my other senses kicked in, raising goosebumps along my silky skin as his warm tongue made passage into my mouth, grazing against mine in a heated contest of taste.

The heat that radiated in my center only spread; every small movement, every quiet groan between us, building me up further. My fingers drifted down John’s back gently before moving to take his hand. Once our fingers were intertwined, he pinned my palm back down against the comforter, squeezing it in a needy, but gentle way. I returned the energy, knowing exactly how he felt in the depths of my soul.

I lifted my hips to meet his, a soft buck of his own telling me he was just as ready. The friction was more than I could bear as I moaned against his mouth. His large frame shifted over me, repositioning himself as I opened my eyes again. I had to get another look at him. I had to commit him to memory in this moment, just as I hoped he would do with me as his eyes drifted back to mine.

No one had ever made me feel so combustible. No one had ever made me feel so delicate. John’s touch was like electricity, even the slightest brush sending me over the moon a million times as though it was a direct connection to my dopamine supply.

And then, after all of the anticipation, after the moment had been finessed to the point of no return…

I finally felt him…

as close to me as humanly possible, as bonded to each other as we might ever be in any way.

It was as though the entire universe had fallen apart just to accommodate us; the feeling of my life flashing before my eyes, but in the sweetest, most exhilarating way possible. I was inexplicably lost and found in the same second, a blissful reality I never wanted to leave.

My head spun as I felt John sink into me, evoking an immediate  exhale from the very depths of my lungs, followed by a moan I tried my best to suppress in the silence. The largeness of his length shouldn’t have been a surprise, but the feeling was delectably satisfying, impressive, as he pushed into my slick walls.

It was the groan that escaped him that rang in my ears like music— the most beautiful music I’d ever experienced. Never had I heard someone sound so laced with desire and yet, somehow, relief. As though this was the only thing that he’d ever really needed in his entire life, and now it was all his.

He pulled his hips back slowly, his jaw was tight as he hovered over me. His searching gaze never left my face, treating me as though I were the most important mission in the galaxy, something to be sure of; something he had to assure himself of; to know I was okay and taken care of above all else.

My mouth was slightly agape as I held his stare the best I could, my arms reaching to lock around the back of his neck. Pulling him down as close to me as possible, I never wanted to lose him. I would simply lose myself if I came close.

The thought would’ve scared me senseless in any other moment. But I was too far gone to think about how easy losing each other actually could be.

John sunk himself into me once more, deeper this time, with a bit more fervency. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, my back arching, chest lifting upwards. Another soft moan fell from my lips. If I could’ve been any closer to him, I would’ve been.

I needed John like I needed air.

“Oh, John…” I murmured against his open mouth as he leaned in to kiss me, my leg moving to hook around his.

He leaned up just a bit more to gain better purchase, beginning to thrust then. He was slow and calculated, his hand on my thigh to pull me closer as I held my leg around him. I bit into my own lower lip, tugging on it in another attempt at keeping quiet as he carried on. His stare burned right through me, intense and full of a love I’d never seen in anyone’s eyes before— no less staring back into mine.

My breathing seemed to escape me, his own chest beginning to heave. And every time he buried himself between my thighs, my heart felt as though it might stop. Needy fingertips found any flesh they could then, gripping onto him, nails running along his body as I became plagued with the urge to touch, to be touched; to encourage every movement he so beautifully made into me and against me.

The pleasure was so immense, the connection between us so extraordinary, that as we found ourselves irrevocably entangled within one another, my eyes seemed to grow wet on their own. There was no situation I’d ever been in before in my life that felt as striking and deep.. as perfect as this. I was awash with an emotion that, for once, even I wasn’t sure how to navigate.

John’s voice was a gentle growl in my ear as he leaned closer again, his pleasure deriving from me, all me, only me, as he bit into my neck. It was gentle, yet full of haste, my only response being a moan and a show of just what my nails could do to his solid back before wrapping around his broad shoulders.

Though the moment was full of sensuality, vulnerability and broken down walls, I’d never felt more safe.

My hips began to meet his, the blissful friction within my walls radiating wave after wave in all the right places. I was already hot to the touch with him, easily aroused and even easier to get to the finish line. No matter how badly I wanted the moment to last, it was impossible to keep the pleasure at bay. The way he picked up his movements just fractionally so, I got the sense that he was in the same situation.

The minutes felt like hours in the most sublime way as they passed by; as I fought to keep time stretched forever. But when John shifted, his taut member caressing already sensitive spots within me, I felt my control leave. My chest rose and fell, hands exploring his now hot flesh. His hand reached behind my head, and his fingers tangling in my hair with an instinctual ease that didn’t surprise me as he pulled at my roots lightly.

While I reacted to his pleasure, he reacted right back, acting accordingly to my every dead give away. My release was right around the corner, and as I felt the way he thrusted into me just a little harder; just a little quicker, I knew we were on the same track to beautiful oblivion.

His soft grunts mixed with my quiet moans, both of us becoming just a little louder, no matter how badly I wanted to cry out for him. My walls tightened around his throbbing shaft, my swollen bud spiking each time his hips rubbed against mine. The stars seemed to cast their shine a bit brighter over us as he held my gaze, his light eyes burning through me. There was a romance to the moment that I immediately knew I’d never have again.

Not with anyone else, anyway.

The inside of my thighs were coated with my arousal for him, his ease of gliding in and out sending me straight to the heavens. I finally cursed, gasping as I reached out for him again, taking what was mine and claiming it. There was nothing I ever wanted more than to feel every last inch of him, than to have his strong build smother me in the affection he so willingly offered with no sight of being released from it. And when I felt his body tense, his thrusts grow sloppier, more animalistic, carnal, I lost all control I had left just as he did.

When my name fell from his lips like a prayer, I’d never felt more idolized. I only hoped he felt the same as I returned the sentiment, his name leaving a sweet taste in my mouth each time I murmured it back to him.

My mind drew a blank as the knot in my stomach finally pulled free. There was nothing driving me any further other than John and the way he so spectacularly sent wave after wave of ecstasy coursing from my core outward, the sensation washing over every limb as goosebumps rose on my flesh and my breath left my lungs.

My walls drew him in with a euphoric ease, craving him all on my own, the wetness I’d already felt between us only growing as he continued to push through his climax. I rolled my hips beneath him, suddenly shifting into wanting nothing other than to satisfy him just as much as I was being satisfied, to heighten every sizzling nerve ending that connected within him.

His voice was a velvety rasp, his brow furrowing. His breath was hot against my skin as he leaned back down, his lips brushing against my own, suffocating me beautifully with the love we held so deeply and vulnerably for each other. His mouth moved downward, kissing and nipping at my jaw, my neck, as my frame moved with his.

I cursed happily, my voice a saccharine moan. Unable to catch my breath, my body trembled slightly beneath him as I felt another point of pressure building once more. I wondered just briefly if he could handle it to continue, but without much more time to think, I slid back into another peak, my back arching at the pleasurably painful overstimulation. Even if we’d truly been alone, the entire universe might’ve heard the way I wanted to scream, anyway.

My voice was louder this time, though probably still quite quiet in the grand scheme. His eyes met mine again, and I could see the satisfaction written all over his features as he absorbed every ounce of emotion and ecstasy I showed him— that he caused me.

While I wanted to grip onto the comforter, I couldn’t bear the idea of my hands leaving him. I couldn’t tolerate even thinking about being disconnected from his person. And as I rode out my second climax, my walls gripped his length relentlessly, no doubt over stimulating him right back. But he carried on, the look in his eye needing to satisfy me, needing to allow me any pleasure he could, deriving his own pleasure from it.

If I could collect a thought or two, I’d blame the stamina on being a Spartan.

The feeling was blissful as it sizzled into a slow burn, its radiant spread through my veins and under my skin retracting back to my entrance once more like molasses. I was still thoughtless, and John was still very much focused on the task at hand as he slowed to a stop. We were both breathless, entangled within one another as though parting might destroy us and all that we were.

He pulled himself from between my thighs carefully, almost reluctantly so. While the eye contact was still intense, there was something softer about it. Something warm, and sweet. It was as though we were both being dipped back into the world we were in, unhurriedly, deliciously, together. Something had changed, wonderfully so. Where I’d certainly felt like we were two halves of a whole, I now felt like there were no longer any halves at all.

We had simply meshed into one.

Thoughts began to ease their way back into my mind, though hazily so. And I could see the coherence return to him as he caught his breath— much easier than I. It was when a hint of a smirk touched his lips, that I felt myself smile in return.

I allowed my hands to drift from his jaw, down his biceps, dancing lazily over his muscles, absently in awe of what had just happened. I never wanted to move from the spot we were in. I wanted to relive it over and over until we were both spent— and then I wanted to relive it again.

After another beat, John scooped me up into his large arms, pulling me close with him as he laid on his side. We faced each other, his arm draped over me, both of us still coming down from the highs we stunningly inflicted on each other. The minutes felt timeless all over again as we savored what remained, not another word between us.

My eyes fluttered shut just briefly as his hand reached up to brush a few strands of -what I was sure to be matted, now- hair from my face. But as he began to smile, really smile, I felt my heart leap in a million different styles behind my rib cage.

I wasn’t sure I’d seen a full blown smile from him before. It was dazzling, completely infectious. It felt like a secret, or like some kind of hidden talent that the rest of the world was forbidden to see. I smiled in return, and he leaned in to kiss my forehead, the tenderness I was beginning to enjoy shining through.

“I’ll protect you with my life,” he murmured, his expression solemn again.

Be it that his life’s mission was to protect, to potentially die for his objective, or that the seriousness in his tone was unlike anything else I’d heard him say, that sentiment felt even heavier than the ‘I love you’ we shared before our rendezvous. I nodded ever so slightly, my hand reaching up to rest atop his as he held it on the side of my head. I squeezed his hand gently.

“I would die for you,” I expressed softly in return, my tone just as heavy, just as sincere.

And I meant it.

I really did.

-x-x-x-

Tags: @allthelovefromstylesxx, @grimistangel, @guiltgoldglory, @laurenstacy610​ 

thank you guys so much as always!! it means a lot that you look forward to my lil story! ♡

[piareia]

The Fire Tides Chapter 3: Meetings to a Close

Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait, I've just started uni so we're kind of in the process of adjusting to everything. Chapter 3 was getting too long, especially with all the dialogue, so this was a bit of a hard write. Hope you guys enjoy it!

The respective chiefs began to gather around the table, finding their places and getting seated. Some were holding mead, some sharpening their axes and others gossiping about other tribes (the Berkian tribe was the main topic, for obvious reasons).

Hiccup started shuffling his papers, going over his notes and checking on each point he was going to bring up within this meeting. He knew that his main proposal would arise some issues amongst the other chiefs, but he had to persuade them somehow. In fact, he was determined to do everything in his power to assure some form of provocative agreement was made.

Reaching out to the arm of his chair, he moved his eyes from the papers to the seat. He eyed it with unease. A wise and powerful leader once sat in that very seat, with a reputation of honour and pride and admiration from all of the chieftains. Now, remaining empty and desolate, it was to be filled with the risible workings of a young and inexperienced boy.

Hiccup sighed and sat down. The place looked very impressive – whoever was leading the meeting sure had stockpiles of gold in their pockets. With dim-lit candles crowded on the table and stringed lanterns gleaming with the apricot glow of fireworms, the hall held a disposition of incandescence, slowly, yet reassuringly, pulling in all of the leaders to have an enlightened and engaging communal discussion.

“Brother!”

“Aah!”

Hiccup was met with a vigorous hug, banging his head to the back of the chair and causing the dislocation of his two shoulder bones.

“Oh, look at you! After all this time!”, Dagur laughed ecstatically, squeezing Hiccup’s cheeks together, “I must say, brother, I am loving the new look! Hmm, the jacket really does bring out those Hiccupy biceps and did you get a new haircut?! Wow! You are looking as dashing as ever!”

“U-um, D-Dugur, you-” Hiccup tried to speak with his face being squeezed to the likes of a puffer fish.

“Oh Brother, I think it’s best you don’t take away Hiccup’s oxygen supply before the discussion starts,” Heather walked towards the two with a growing smile.

“Oh! Sis, you’re right!” Dagur took a step back, “Sorry! Sorry! Just very happy to see you, Brother!”

Hiccup let out a sharp breath and plunged downwards after being released from his death grip,

 “S-Same here. Hehe, my cracked ribs and broken cheekbones are happy to see you too!”

Toothless warbled, prodding to his rider in worry as he glared at Hiccup’s attempts to restore his breathing.

“Hey T!” Dagur leaped at his head, “New tail? Looks awesome!”

“Hiccup, we heard about what happened. We’re so sorry. We were planning to fly over to Berk a long time ago but some things got in the way and-” Heather looked at Hiccup, apologetically.

“N-no, no! It’s fine, honestly. I’m okay now, somewhat at least,” Hiccup gave a solemn smile, petting Toothless, “It’s great to see the two of you though, how have things been over at your end?”

“Much better since the days of Johann and Viggo,” Heather replied, “We’ve been training new Berserker riders, so something like that doesn’t happen again.”

“Yep, we may have borrowed some of the A-Team’s counter-productive methods…” said Dagur, sheepishly.

Hiccup laughed, “Not sure how Astrid’s going to take that, but if it helps the island, then –”

“Speaking of which, where is Astrid?” asked Heather, curiously, “And the other riders?”

“They should be at the back somewhere, on the other table,” said Hiccup.

“Have fun!” Dagur quickly whispered in her ear before she left, “Remember, Fishlegs is the kindest Viking in the entire Archipelago. I’m sure he’ll understand, sis.”

Heather looked at him doubtfully, slowly walking off to the riders as the meeting between the chiefs began.

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The meeting was signalled to a start as a tall and pretentious man walked towards his seat, causing a disperse in conversation amongst the fellow Vikings. He was a chief in his fifties, perhaps the eldest of them all, with a robust and sturdy stride echoing his wise demeanour. The glow of the fireworm lanterns transmitted an orange glint into his eyes, reflecting a look of power and prudence as he opened his mouth to start speaking.

His face seemed to resemble Eret’s.

“A warm welcome to all of you,” he smiled, “Chief Aries of the Axehorders Tribe, Chief Isire of the Volsungs Tribe, Chief Sebastian of the Mercenary Tribe, Chief Dagur of the-”

“Berserker Tribe! The best and the greatest!” Dagur exclaimed, throwing his hands on the table.

The chiefs sighed in unison.

“Thank you for that, Dagur.”

Hiccup giggled quietly. Some things never changed, huh?

“And our youngest leader, Chief Hiccup of the Berkian Tribe,” he turned to him with a smile.

“Er y-yes!”

“I believe I ought to introduce myself to you all,” the elder rubbed his hands together, “I am Eret, Father of Eret, retired dragon trapper, now enlisted within the trading business. Our tribe mainly tends to deal with the sources of fish now, especially in the east coast.”

So the facial resemblance was no coincidence. This was Eret’s father?

“Now with the introductions completed, I believe we should head to the points of discussion. Who would like to –”

“I believe my brother would like to go first! He has got quite a lot he wishes to disclose in this meeting,” Dagur smirked at Hiccup, nudging his elbow.

Hiccup let out a sigh, quickly scanning his papers again for reassurance.

“Very well. Chief Hiccup, if you would like to start us off,” Eret’s father gestured to him with his open palm.

“R-right! Okay, erm,” Hiccup looked at the other respective chiefs, glaring back at him with a sense of unspoken vulgarness, “I believe that the dragons have been such a huge change for all of us, good and bad. And to prevent the bad from happening, I guess it’s a process of consistently protecting and training them in order for us to live in harmony. With Toothless as the alpha, that procedure can be easier for us so –”

“Can you just get to the point, boy?” Chief Aries tapped his fingers impatiently.

“I would like to propose the task of opening up Berk’s borders to all dragons in need.”

All of the chiefs slammed their fists on the table.

“Outlandish idea!”

“Preposterous!”

“Stoick would never do such a thing!”

Hiccup had expected this reaction, thankfully he had mentally prepared himself for such comments.

“Enough!” Eret’s father placed his hands on the table, “Let him speak.”

Dagur gave Hiccup a reassuring look, placing his hand on his shoulder.

“Go on, Brother."

This wasn’t going to be easy.

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Heather walked over to the back table, smiling as Astrid gestured her to come and sit with them.

“Long time, no see!” Astrid exclaimed, hugging Heather tightly, “How have things been with your crazy Berserker brother?”

“Luckily Berserker Island hasn’t burned down yet!” Heather laughed and gave Astrid a knowing smirk, “And how about you and your heroic, unassuming dragon-rider? Will I get to be a bridesmaid soon?”

“W-what?! Oh gods no! We’re just a couple!” Astrid shaked her head, “Quite a long way to go till that happens.”

“Really?” Eret smirked, “That’s not what Hiccup tells me…”

“Please ignore him, he’s had too many drinks and clearly needs to see a healer,” Astrid slapped Eret’s head.

“Eret, Son of Eret,” he reached out his hand to Heather, “I’ve only had a cup of mead, quite the responsible man I am.”

“Heather,” she shook his hand, smiling back, “I’ll try to believe that!”

“I’ve finally got it! My yak butter parfait!” yelled Snotlout, punching his fist in the air.

Snotlout, Fishlegs and the twins came running with mead and food, with suspicious yells echoing from behind them.  

“So, are we stealing his yak butter parfait again?” Tuffnut whispered to his sister.

“Shh! We need to stick to the plan, bro. Distract and infiltrate,” replied Ruffnut.

“Per-fait,” Tuffnut snickered, “Did you see what I did there, sis? I mixed perfect and parfait together to create a miscellaneous response.”

“One may say, yak-cellent!”

“Guys, I told you to pay for those!” Fishlegs pointed at the handful of fruit buns in the twins hands, “The owner will probably kick the two of you out if he sees you! Be careful-”

Fishlegs’ eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of a familiar face from his Edge days. It was Heather, she was smiling at Eret. He could never forget that smile, no matter how far apart they were, that smile would be engrained within his brain till he reached his end in Valhalla. She seemed different now, much more content and stabilised, almost as if she had finally found a form of peace after so many years of being without it.

He approached the two with a smile. Heather glanced at him, wide-eyed, attempting to hide her worries away by putting on a quick smile too.

Astrid darted her eyes between the two, deciding it was best to leave them alone.

“Alright, guys! I think it’s time we put Eret’s gag reflex to the test. Anyone want to take him on?”

“You bet!” Snotlout jumped out of his seat, “That guy has nothing on me!”

“We’re up to it too!” Ruffnut yelled, quickly whispering in Tuffnut’s ear, “Distract and infiltrate.”

“Right! Per-fait!” Tuffnut exclaimed, giggling as they followed behind Snotlout.

“I’d love to see you all suffer terribly with the high doses of mead you’re about to consume,” Eret sighed as the three headed to the bar.

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“Opening our borders to all dragons will be the best thing for all of us. The more wild dragons we aid, the less of a threat they’ll be to Vikings, hence it’ll be easier for us to build the utopia of human and dragon-”

“How would you deal with overpopulation?” Eret’s father questioned.

“That’s the same thing with Vikings, isn’t it? We’ll just simply expand our base.” Hiccup stated confidently.

“And what about food supply? If there are more dragons over at your end, you’ll require more fish. The other tribes would suffer.”

“Not necessarily. We’ll just outsource fish from the original areas that the dragons used to collect them from.”

“And what about issues with migration? Having all of those dragons fly over to Berk can cause disruptions in the other tribes transportation routes.”

“We can redirect the migration routes based on the days when the other tribes are travelling.”

Hiccup had been arguing about this same topic, for over an hour. If anything, he was getting more irritated by the second. How could they not simply understand? Building this human and dragon utopia was always the goal from the very start. Did these dumbfounded Vikings think that only a selection of dragons were allowed to live amongst them?

The more he thought about it, the more he felt like he was talking to a wall. It was worse than explaining dragon theory to the twins.

“Listen. We can work our way around all of these things,” Hiccup tried to stay calm, “I’ll make sure no trouble comes to the other tribes. You have my solemn word on that.”

“I understand,” Eret’s father looked at Hiccup, concentratedly, “There’s one more thing I wanted to ask you.”

“Go on.”

“How will you deal with those who do not wish to live in the same world you dream of? Dragon trappers? Dragon hunters?”

Hiccup was beginning to lose his patience, “Drago’s gone. Viggo’s gone. Johann’s gone. Their operations have been obliterated to the ends of the archipelago.”

“And what if another dragon hunting operation is reconstructed? What would you-”

“If another dragon hunting operation is rebuilt, we’ll destroy it. It’s not like we haven’t done it before,” Hiccup sighed, scratching Toothless’ head.

“And you’d be satisfied doing that continuously? Devoting your entire life to dragons? Living in a continuous process of war?”

“I-”

“Hiccup. I’ve heard so much about you, the young boy who dared to ride a dragon, with that dragon being a night fury out of all dragons. The boy who outwitted the Grimborns. The boy who defeated Drago. You’re intelligent, Hiccup. Very intelligent. However, you lack experience. You fail to realise that this process is a long one. One of a lifetime. And one day, when you grow old, become weak and fragile, would you still be able to hold up a sword against a dragon hunter? This idea, whilst it is a beautiful one, I fear that we cannot always change the world to how we wish. Sometimes, it’s best to leave the world be, and if it changes by itself, then we let it change.”

“I completely disagree with you there, Eret,” Hiccup remarked with a solid force, “Living in a world that is not what we desire for? Leaving it to become rotten as the days go by? That can’t happen. I can’t let that happen!”

“Hiccup. Please listen to me, ” Eret’s father spoke softly, “You aspire for change. And you’ve done so much. But some things cannot be shaped, no matter how hard we try. You can fix one thing, then another thing will arise. The world is too cruel for us to keep rebuilding it.”

He failed. He couldn’t do it. They just weren’t going to listen.

“Fine,” Hiccup stood up, “Live in your cruel world.”

With Toothless following his rider, Hiccup walked out of the hall in silence and dismay, slowly disappearing into the dark of the night.

And that's Chapter 3! I really wanted to show how fixed Hiccup is with his dream of building the ultimate dragon utopia at this point. Both arguments are valid in my opinion, but I feel sorry for our boy Hiccup here, he's quite relatable for a lot of us really!

Be ready for Chapter 4, the conversation between Heather and Fishlegs, Eret and his Father, Astrid consoling Hiccup etc! Chapter 5 should begin the start of the main plot of the Fire Tides :)

Also this will be uploaded on Ao3 soon, just trying to sort my account out :)

@rosiethedragongeek @sorushing @limesandcoconuts

[thrawns-babygirl]

Here’s a Crosshair request for you if you’d like!

I’m a sucker for the undercover-at-a-gala trope so what if you’re a Jedi shadow (like Quinlan Vos) who works with the Bad Batch once and awhile, and you’re in an established relationship with Crosshair. There’s a separatist gala you need to infiltrate and Crosshair goes as your date. While you two are sneaking around the venue, you have to hide in the nearest room that turns out to be a bedroom and Crosshair has ideas 😏 thank you! Love your writing!!

ANON!!! I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!!! I have literally no idea why i struggled with this ask for what? over a month??? I must have deleted a combined like 3k words for this over the time i was trying to write it. But i would not let it beat me, i had to finish this ask for u for waiting so patiently.

also its like, a bingo card of every trope for this trope so i apologies for how uninspired this is lmao

Side note, I am very sick at the moment and on a lot of painkillers, so like, I proof read this but please let me know of any glaring issues or mistakes because I'm not of this world currently.

Rating: E (18+) Warnings: Unprotected PiV, Creampie, Clothed Sex Word Count: 1700+

Masterlist

Walking through the elegant halls of a senator’s estate on Scipio you can’t help but gawk at the splendour of it all. The insane amount of money one must have to own a home like this simply baffles you as you walk arm in arm with your date for the night through the ornate halls.

Some leaked intel let the republic know that some unscrupulous things were to go down tonight within these halls, and you don’t doubt the accuracy of that information given the amount of high ranking members of the Banking Clan you have seen engaging in hushed conversations in hidden alcoves of the grandiose estate.

Your partner turns to look down at you and you can’t help but blush under his gaze. Crosshair was always a handsome man, but seeing him clad entirely in a fine, black suit was a whole new level of desirable. A service droid passes you, stopping long enough for the two of you to grab a flute of what appeared to be more bubbles than liquid before continuing on its way through the winding halls of the building.

“You look absolutely ravishing tonight mesh’la” Crosshair whispers, breath fanning over your ear as you take a sip of your no doubt pricey beverage. You couldn’t find it in you to disagree with him, black silks hugged your frame, accentuating your figure in all the best ways, something your jedi robes were absolutely not designed for. While you did feel naked without your lightsaber, you understood the necessity of remaining entirely undetectable. You smile up at him, noting the make-up that has covered his trademark tattoo, his slicked back hair and absolutely dazzling smile.

When the moment called for it, Crosshair could reluctantly play the part of suave, chatty businessperson which honestly surprised you at first. He was absolutely the least talkative member of the squad by a mile, all short replies and clipped words, so when this mission was assigned to the Batch you were shocked that they had all immediately turned their attention to Crosshair.

“He’s the most arrogant, thus will fit in perfectly with the typical crowd at one of these types of functions” Tech had said, earning himself a smack on the back of the head from the Sniper, “among other reasons, Hunter looks too much like a regular clone, I am needed to extrapolate the data that you acquire and Wrecker is… Wrecker” Tech adjusts his goggles before continuing “It would also look out of place for one of us to go alone, and you two already have, um, chemistry, for lack of a better term”

He wasn’t wrong about that; you and Crosshair hadn’t exactly put a label on anything yet, but everyone knew there was something there.

Finally, after a few hours of simply wandering the halls you find your target, a simply unassuming Muun that has been implicated in embezzling funds and using it to pad separatist pockets. He was speaking in hushed whispers with a human male before the man passed him a small, innocuous looking data stick before parting ways with a polite nod.

Your time to shine.

You leave Crosshair’s side, giving his hand a quick squeeze as you go, before sauntering over to the target and ‘accidently’ spilling the contents of your flute, onto his silk robes. Stuttering and apologising you begin patting him down, slipping your hand into his pocket and retrieving the data stick as he shoved you away, telling you he was going to send you the bill for getting the stains out of his clothes. “This is pure shimmersilk you know!” he yelled at you as you made your hasty exit, apologising profusely as you retreat towards where Crosshair was waiting, arms crossed as he leaned against a marble pillar, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

“You got it doll?” he whispers, wrapping a long arm around your waste as he begins leading your further into the throng of people and towards the exit. “Of course” you reply, sinking further into his side. Hopefully the two of you would make it out before he even noticed it was missing.

Your hopes were dashed as you heard a panicked “Hey! Wait!” coming from behind you.

Crosshair grabs your arm, pulling you into the nearest unlocked room before softly closing and locking the door. Both of you hold your breath, listening to the sound of approaching and then thankfully retreating footsteps. It doesn’t seem like anyone saw you, but you still wait together in silence before turning the light on to look at the room you have found yourselves in for the foreseeable future.

It's a luxurious bedroom, a four-poster bed draped in magnificent silks with more pillows than anyone could possibly need adorning it. Crosshair takes his comm and a small datapad out of his pocket, reaching his hand out to you for you to pass him the datastick before plugging it into the device and comming Tech to let him know he can begin starting the transfer and telling him of your less than ideal situation at the moment. He tells you that Hunter will be there within the next standard hour for extraction but until then you just need to hang tight.

You sit down on the bed, running your hands along the silken sheets before looking back up to Crosshair. His eyes are raking over your form as he placed the datapad down on one of the bedside tables before walking over to you.

“So doll, it seems we have the better part of an hour to keep ourselves occupied…” He trails off, sitting next to you on the bed, one hand finding your thigh while the other softly pushes you back onto the plush surface. “And no one knows we’re in here” his thumb begins soothing circles into your hip as he looms above you, one hand holding himself up as he stares down at you.

“So it seems…” you smile as you use the fact that your legs are still hanging off the bed to your advantage, kicking your heels off before you shimmy further up the bed, until you’re leaning back against the mountain of pillows. Crosshair crawls up the bed after you before his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss.

“Kark doll, you look so good in this dress, it’s been so kriffing hard keeping my hands off you all night” he mumbles against your lips, calloused hands already working their way underneath your dress towards your panties. You let out a small whimper, the feeling of his rough fingers digging into your flesh making heat pool low in your belly as Crosshair begins placing languid kisses against your neck, working his way down to your collarbone before sucking dark marks into your skin.

The chirping from his comm startles both of you, making you jump before Crosshair angrily grabs the device “What do you want Tech?” he growls out. “I just thought that you would want to know that Hunter will be arriving earlier than expected and to be ready for extraction in the next 30 standard minutes” Tech replies, obviously somewhat irate, not enjoying the tone that his brother is giving him. “Understood” Crosshair replies, turning off the device and throwing it onto the bed before returning his attention back to you.

“Looks like we will have to make this quicker than I wanted, but don’t worry princess, I’ll worship you like you deserve once we get back to base” his fingers begin toying with you over the fabric of your panties while his lips busy themselves against yours once again. His mouth swallows every sound that you make as his skilful fingers rub tight circles against your clit, already bringing you close to the edge with practiced ease.

Your panties are soaked at this point, his assault on your senses overwhelming you as you try to stifle your sounds as not to alert anyone who could potentially be loitering outside the door. His hand leaves you momentarily as he fumbles with the fastenings on his pants, opening them just far enough to free his weeping length.

Pulling your panties to the side, he sinks into you, letting out a breathy groan as he slides into your heat in a single motion. Resting his weight entirely on one hand he brings his other to cover your mouth as he begins an absolutely brutal pace, the layers of your clothing helping to muffle the sounds of him relentlessly driving into you.

You silently thank him for covering your mouth, the way he’s fucking into you would have you screaming for him. You wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him closer to you, trying to get him to go deeper and deeper with every thrust. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he hits that spot inside you with the head of his cock with every thrust, turning you into a mess with every drag of his hard length through your slick folds.

Lowering his head you can feel his breath fanning over your ear as he whispers filth into your ear “so tight for me kriff… I can feel you choking my cock you’re so close aren’t you?” you nod, staring up at him with wide eyes. He angles his hips, grinding down onto your clit with every thrust as he loses his rhythm, chasing his own release as he feels your walls fluttering around him. “cum for me doll” his whispers have an almost pleading nature to them, like he’s holding himself back from the edge waiting to tumble over the peak with you. A few more deep thrusts pull your orgasm from you, flooding your nerves as pleasure washes over you, causing your walls to clench around him. With a strangled groan against your neck he follows you over the edge, pumping ropes of hot cum inside of you, hips stuttering as his cock throbs.

You’re lying on the bed, Crosshair still sheathed inside you as his comm chirps again “Oh for the love of… Yes?” he slips out of you, tucking himself away as he talks, apparently Hunter is only five standard minutes away so you adjust your panties and swiftly put your heels back on.

Crosshair places a kiss to your temple before you make your escape.

@where-is-my-mind-tho @starborncyare @antishadow2021 @healingskywalker @crosshairlovebot

[ppushable]

of course we'll be okay

jean kirschtein x fem reader / longfic / chapter wc: 10 167

1 - resigned delusion

masterlist

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I can't remember my name. Civilization is wiped and the future is bleak. The zombies are here.

But it's not all that bad. It's a little selfish to think like this, I know, but I can't seem to have it any other way.

My name isn't a big deal. As for the memories, well, I've made better ones, with people I really care about, and who I really hope care about me, too. And how can you expect me to care about a society I don't even remember, or a future I've never imagined? Okay, now that was selfish.

---

No matter how terrible things may seem, I always end up reminiscing. Nostalgic for the days when I lived so freely, when my only care was if I would come home alive. When I was swarmed by people who really, really cared about me.

When the two of us were stuck to each other, inseparable, through hell and back.

If I could make one wish, it wouldn't be to change the past, but to have never experienced it at all.

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ao3 tags:

Zombie Apocalypse / Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse / Slow Burn / Slow To Update / mc is awkward as hell / at first / no y/n / POV First Person / im sorry if this is a mess / somewhat canon compliant / Sad Ending / if we ever get there / Reader-Insert / Angst / no beta author is friendless and hesitant / Fluff / Coming of Age / Blood and Gore / Zombies / Modern Era / Nonbinary Hange Zoë / Amnesia / Amnesiac Reader / Character Development / Cross-Posted on Wattpad / Enemies to Lovers / Enemies to Friends to Lovers / Jean Kirstein Being An Asshole / morally grey zeke yeager / Other Additional Tags to Be Added / side marco bott/reader / only in the beginning rlly / Forced Pregnancy

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i've been thinking about writing this for a really, really long time. so i began. and then i started thinking about posting it. there's not much more to say without full-on rambling, but i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoy writing it. at least, i hope i didn't waste your fanfiction time. there are so many amazing stories out there that i took inspiration from. (the last of us is not one of them)

some things to note;

there will be violence/gore/injuries

and angst

and fluff

and dumbass shenanigans

the story might be long and convoluted because i'm not too sure what i'm doing

warnings will be added before the gnarly chapters

things are subject to change! mostly the tags, but nothing too major.

without further ado ♥

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Above hangs an unfamiliar ceiling, corporate drop tiles, harsh light cutting hard shadows on its rigid surface.

“Hello, Ostrich!” That sharp voice cuts a line straight through my ears. “How are you?”

The words that come out of me are slurred, half-baked. “Good, how about you?”

“You’ve slept in. The school bus left twenty minutes ago.”

“What?” The heels of my palms sink into the foamy mattress as I push myself up and a nasty static builds in my head. 

“That sure got you up, eh?”

Green and white checkers line the laminate floor below, blinding white sunshine bouncing off its waxed and perfect surface into my fresh eye. Even as I try to blink away the ensuing dark blue blotch, the squares persist in the corners of my vision. 

That horrendous thing was there yesterday, too. 

Yesterday? What was I doing yesterday? I was here, wasn’t I, in the same room with the same pockmarked ceiling and the same sun and the same green and white. In that little instance in time in this room, in this body, under these blankets, my entire life happened. Before yesterday, there was nothing. 

Nothing? What am I talking about?

The person at my side raises a mushroom into a light beam. Motes of dust dance around the fungus, giving it a heavenly quality despite its globby and wrinkled appearance. “Look at this. You don’t think it’s poisonous, do you?”

“Professor Hange.” 

“Maybe I should feed it to, uh.” Their grip on the spout loosens and it falls with a pitter-patter. The face behind comes into focus: squarish goggles, hawkish nose, elastic mouth. “What did you just say?”

I rest a hand against my face at the sacrifice of stability. “Professor—”

Hange shoots up with a hard clatter as the milk crates they sat on are knocked over. “Shut up! Did you just— you— I thought—” They give up on words. “No!” And out comes a deep laugh. “No way!” 

They scramble to the other side of the room — it only takes a few steps — to a folding table pressed against the wall, plucking out a pen and paper with a crisp flourish. 

A knock comes from the open doorway at the foot of my bed, catching both of our attentions — it’s a middle-aged woman holding a stack of blankets. We lock eyes and she smiles, a movement that squishes the corner of her eyes into pleasantly deep wrinkles. Something compels me to return the gesture — and I will, probably, when the room stops tilting. She speaks. “Everything okay here? I heard something fall.” 

Hange doesn’t allow a huff of breathing room. “She remembered! Me!”

Her brows shoot up. “Really?” And the smile deepens. “See, I knew it was only a matter of time—” her gaze wanders to the paper— “what is that?”

Hange drums the notes with their fingertips, the sound strangely calming, like rain against a car window or grease simmering on a quiet night. “Paper.”

“For what?”

“Scientific observation.”

“No.”

The professor’s body deflates like a wilting flower and makes a sound like one, too, if wilting flowers could speak. “But I need to observe.”

Instead of thoughts, there lives a school of deep-sea fish in my head — too slippery to snag, pin down, and comprehend, but pretty to skim over and lose concentration. Every once in a while there’s a flash as one fleetingly separates from the herd, only to merge once more into the flickering storm, into itself. Pretty. The air swirls with nature’s sparkles. 

Where am I? Who am I? Why am I sitting on a bed, watching these two bicker? Why am I even on a bed at all? Where’s my mother? 

“Professor, from what I’ve heard, she just woke up. Couldn’t it wait a bit? At least make a decent first impression!”

“But it’s already—”

“Professor Hange Zoe! As a functional, responsible adult you should know—”

“Who said I was responsible? Yesterday I—”

“Um!”

The yammering terminates as both sources turn toward the origin of the disruption, me. What the hell am I thinking? “Sorry.” Sitting up is hard, especially when you’re sweating bullets in front of a crowd. I lean against the headboard. “Where am I?”

They share a glance, the new arrival’s notably pointed. “I’m trusting you with this.”

Hange beams. “Alright. Let’s get started with introductions, then.” With fierce velocity, their hand smacks their hollow chest (crumpling the paper within). “As you know, my name is Hange Zoe! I used to be a professor, but now I’m head of research. I believe we met yesterday, though I’m not sure how much of it you remember.” It whips to the side. “This lovely lady is Mirabel. She’s… she helps clean up sometimes.”

Said person carefully purses her lips. 

“To answer your question, we’re in a bathroom. Not just any bathroom! A bathroom of Shiganshina mall, or what we like to call, Shiganshina branch. Well, it’s more of an outpost than anything else, but it’s perfectly safe! You’re always welcome to leave, of course, but I personally don’t recommend it.” The last few words are muttered as an aside. 

“What?”

They continue. “By the way, there’s been a new virus going around.”

Covid?

Hange pulls their goggles into forehead territory. I’ve never seen their eyes before. “It’s probably not what you’re thinking — this virus I speak of is more contagious and much more deadly than anything we’re seen before. In fact, the whole world was shut down because of it, and nobody knows how! Rather, nobody’s able to think that hard anymore.” With a whirl, they sift through a pile of paper on the table. “This new virus… is so cool!” And they plop a blinding-white sheet on my lap. “So exciting!”

It’s a human diagram, complete with label lines and scribbled descriptions. If I focus, I can make out the words…

“It’s not something you wanna contract. A lot of us, firsthand, have seen the effects of it.”

When I try to flip the paper, it splits into two. There’s two pages. This one has the same person, but looks as if he was put through a meat grinder. 

“The effect of zombification.”

The single eye of the diagram stare at me. “Did you draw this?”

“No, it was my associate. Quite talented, isn’t— wait, that’s not the important part. Did you hear the part when I said ‘zombification?’ Like, as in zombies?” 

“Zombies?” Disappointingly, there’s no more pages. “I didn’t know they were real.” The zombie’s torn-up skin is beautifully shaded, hair clotted, teeth stained, eyes glassy, backbone knotted and humped and jutting into different directions. It’s handsome, even, in the same way an antique end table or fantastical map might.

From the background, Mirabel: “Maybe you shouldn’t have started with the virus thing.”

“You’re right… I reckon I have something that’ll jog the memory. Wait here.”

She clucks like a hen and then turns to me. “Are you all right, dear?”

The corner of the page is crimped, and the world comes back to me: heat under the blanket, tartness in my mouth, a tang of pain where my spine meets wood. “Ye– yes, ma’am.”

“You’re not cold, are you? Or hungry?”

“No.”

“Thirsty?”

“No, thank you.”

“Are you hurt?”

Slow. “I feel slow. Sorry, I’m not really sure if I’m saying anything that makes sense.”

“You’re only just waking up.” Warmth lands on my arm — her hand snuck up on me while I focussed on her face. “You— you’ve been in a bit of a coma of sorts for a while. Give it time, dear.”

“What are those blankets for?”

Mirabel looks taken aback and shifts the pile of blankets in her opposite arm around her body. “These ones?” As if there’s another stack of linens laying around that I’m referring to. “They’re for the children. Well, I suppose they wouldn’t be children to you.” A small, rolling chuckle. “They’re all around your age, including my son.”

“Aren’t you a bit young to be a mother?” 

“Ha!” she chortles, landing a side eye. “Charming little one, aren’t you? Ha!”

I half-shrug, awkward. I don’t know why I said that. “What’s he like? Your son.”

She puffs out her nose and shakes her head. “He can test my patience sometimes, that brat. You wouldn’t know it when you see him, but he used to be the sweetest thing.” She places the blankets on the bed, burrows into her back pocket — she’s wearing skinny jeans — and pulls out a sticky-looking wallet. She fiddles with it until a tongue of photo sleeves waterfall out like something out of a cartoon and points to the top one.

It’s Mirabel — younger Mirabel — seated with a hay-haired toddler with a jelly bean face and a beam stretching ear to ear. “His favourite food is veggie omelet.” She eases into a smile as well, as if the mere sight of the image sucks her back to that day a decade or so ago. 

I wonder who took the photo. “Cute.” Because what else am I supposed to say?

Her eyes flick from the wallet to my face. “I’m glad you think so, but there’s a reason he’s never had a girlfriend.”

“What?”

“What?”

Down the column of photos is another rendition of her son, evidently a more recent one, taken in his adolescence: middle-parted hair affixed with an illegal amount of gel, a petulant leer, smug lips a hair-length away from curling into a bonafide shit-eating smirk. “I meant his, uh, kid picture.”

“Of course, dear.” 

For the first time, I feel awake. 

Mirabel lets free a dainty laugh and makes herself at home on my bed. “Oh, I’m just teasing you. Don’t look so frightened! You’re like a fish.”

I blink away the stinging in my eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Hm.” The giggle subsides into a curve of the lips. “You’re sweet. I never really got the chance to properly speak to you in the past, but now I can see why Hange takes such a liking to you.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yes,” she responds, but her head tilts to the side a bit like she’s confused, or about to drop a bomb. “I… do believe you’ll see a great deal of things today, things you might not understand at first, but I want you to remember. Be kind to yourself, and be kind to others. Especially the children. Please be kind to them.”

Where did that come from? Against my better judgment, I want to ask.

“Hange debuts!”

Mirabel kind of falls into herself and the androgynous terror returns, fist clenched and waving like a weapon. “Catch!” And it splays open.

A small something glimmers in midair before manifesting as a sharp pain on my collarbone. “Ow!”

“I told you to catch.”

The thing is hard, and made a thunk when it hit. One hand reaches to rub the surely future bruise as the other rummages through the folds, searching. The professor plops on the other side of the bed as my finger finally catches and raises the object: a small metal plate swinging off a beaded chain. “A dog tag?”

Sinking onto their elbow, Hange beams. “You like it?” Yeah, just make yourself at home.

“It’s pretty cool.”

“I was expecting a bigger reaction.”

The plate slowly rotates on its string, revealing engraved letters. 

0009

MARLEY

– – – 

The bottom line’s missing.

“Do you remember this?” Hange leans forward, teetering dangerously on their arm. 

“Am I supposed to?”

“Interesting.” They pull out a pad and pen from nowhere, letting their chin hit the mattress, and jots down the word “Interesting.”

“Interesting?” I echo.

“It was on your neck when we found you.” They draw an imaginary line around their neck.

I look at the silver-grey pendant again, this time through a film of scrutiny as if focussing harder can unlock some ancient hidden memory. It doesn’t.

“Can I ask questions now?” Hange whines. 

Mirabel’s eyes roll, then rest on mine. “What do you think?”

“Me?” She nods. “I don’t see a problem w—”

“Great!” They heave ramrod straight and flip to a new page in the notepad. “For starters, tell us your name.”

My jaw unhinges. Hange looks on, wide-eyed, awaiting an answer that will never come. My name, my name. Just answer this simple question. Tell them your name.

“I can’t.”

The floodgates are open now. I’m scrambling for even an iota of memory that belongs to myself, that defines me, that makes me my own person, but there’s nothing there. It’s like trying to see something that’s just too far away to see, or too small to focus on, something that I can touch but never, never feel. It’s not fair, because those memories belong to me. I can feel them. They’re right there! But the more I reach, the closer I’ll get. Isn’t that right?

What’s the last thing I can remember? The sad-looking mushroom? No, before that. Hange, shoving pebbles in their mouth? No, that happened yesterday. Mirabel with worry on her mouth and shaking my shoulder? No, that’s now. 

“Yo! Little amnesiac?”

“Hello? Are you okay?”

And just like that, I’m back. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t do it.”

She smiles, but the concern is still there. “It’s okay, dear, don’t force it. Nobody is angry. It will come in time.”

Hange is right beside her. “Okay, but can you force it a teeny bit? Umph.” Mirabel elbows them hard. “Okay, fine, next question.” They tap their temple, crimping strands of shaggy, brown hair. “Now, what’s the last thing you remember?”

Yesterday — again, yesterday! — I was awakened as Hange barged in with a small velvet sack and spilled its little circular contents onto the green and white. Before that, I was looking at the ceiling, and before that, my eyes were closed. Before that… 

“I don’t know. Yesterday, my eyes were closed, and then I was looking at the ceiling, and then you came in, Professor, and spilled some rocks on the ground, and put them in your mouth. Before that, though, I can’t—” My hand runs up my cheek, onto my forehead, fingers weaving through strands of hair as if trying to scoop the brain encased within. “There’s nothing.” My other hand comes up too, and they squeeze. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

They fall silent. “Do you want to hear a story, Ostrich?”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Good question,” they smirk, pulling their goggles back on. Rising to their feet (and making that side of the bed spring up), they clasp their hands in the crook of their back, straightening with newfound importance.

“Long ago—” Mirabel cringes and stands up as well— “there existed a hotel named the Ostrich owned by one John Jarman and his wife, Mary. This hotel was very, very special, as it was the site of over sixty murders — notably, murders of very rich people. These killings were conducted by none other than the Jarmans themselves. 

“When they got a rich visitor, Sir Jarman would call out to his lady.” Their voice reaches a comical low. “‘Honey, there’s a fat pig here if ya want one.’ To which his wife would reply—” now their voice turns up several octaves— “‘Okay, honey, just put it in the sty till morrow!’ 

“So they’d butter the guest up and put him in a special room right above the kitchen. And when all was quiet in the night… Bam! The floor opened up, the bed tilted backwards, and he’d be dropped in a vat of boiling oil. Have you ever had chicharrones? After that, the corpse was stripped of anything valuable and thrown into a river. And by the morning, it was like he was never even there. 

“But one day the Jarmans made a fatal mistake — their eyes grew bigger than their brains. For they tried to go after a particularly popular and wealthy man and got caught when people noticed his horse wandering around.” Curling their lip in… scorn? They continue. “Do you know why I named you after this hotel?”

I’m full of dead, fried rich people? “Why?”

They lightly tap one of their lenses. “Because John and Mary are such boring names.”

“You would have named me John?”

Their hands fly to their hips. “Well, with that attitude, little missy, I just might!”

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

The two of them deemed my condition — both mental and physical — up to par to go out into the big, wide world. 

Shiganshina is a hollowed-out shopping mall. Brightness radiates in from the paned ceiling and bounces off the white walls, keeping the palace bright and warm — a nice contrast to the cooler temperatures of dying winter. 

The mystery hallway leads into a walkway that wraps around the internal perimeter of the building’s second story, the occasional bridge connecting opposite pathways above the first floor way below. Green and white still dominate the catwalk here with only the pattern switching from checkerboard to big white squares with tiny green diamonds at every corner. Anything else would be asking too much, I guess.

Hange’s gait is easy. Mirabel’s steps are more forward and practiced. A few people pass by, but for the most part, this place is barren. Not one individual is spared from Hange’s greetings. 

“Abel!” Our procession halts as Hange locates their next victim. “You’re looking nice and groomed today. What is it, a new oil or something? How are you?” They hold out a hand in greeting.

Abel wears thick, strapped glasses over his short, blond hair. He rubs the side of his index finger along the nice and groomed scruff on his jaw. “Very well, thanks.”

“It’s a beautiful afternoon, isn’t it? The sun’s—”

“Very nice.”

“Ah.”

Abel gets right down to business. “So did you get the field notes from—”

Someone across the abyss falls with a yelp, dropping what sounds to be several dozen metal pipes. The tings echo and take too long to dissipate, but the two keep talking.

If I don’t find out what my name is, I’ll be Ostrich forever. I let my gaze wander. If anything, this place is well taken care of — it doesn’t smell terrible, the floor and walls are spotless, and the people seem alright. The person in charge of cleaning here is doing a great job — even the glass-paneled railings are crystal clear. 

Most of the stores here are occupied by random pieces of junk, but a few have their large display windows blocked out in some way or another. The one closest to me is covered by a blanket depicting some sort of house. 

Wait, not a blanket. Someone actually took the time to paint this window from the inside. 

A cabin in a field backed by a rocky cliff, chopped logs littering the area before it. The chipped (and in some places, peeling) planks holding the structure together are of the same material as a wide picnic table near the scattered logs, adorned with the various foods of the forest. There isn’t anything particularly special about the subject — the grass rolls, the apples shine, and the windows hint at nothing. But it’s empty, as if the residents just left or disappeared or vanished. As if something very, very wrong is happening. There is a stranger looking out from the window. It moves. 

Me. Me? It’s me. Oh, who is that?

“Ostrich?”

Hange bears a look of mild concern which is quickly wiped out by their usual grin. “I’ve got some business here with Abel, so you guys’ll have to continue on without me. Right, Abel?” He grunts. He’s probably the type to hide in a dark, moist corner in perpetual squat. “Try not to miss dear old Hange too much.”

Mirabel beckons me with her head. “We’ll do our best. Right?”

“Yeah.” You’re overthinking this, Ostrich. It’s just a nice glass painting. We say our goodbyes.

Constant motion and colour keep my concentration hostage on our trek. It’s fun to peek into the open windows to see piles of empty water jugs or folding chairs or construction equipment, or to read the vivid signs above them to see what could have been. A few people still litter the area, to whom Mirabel nods or says a small greeting to. It’s quiet. 

“Almost there.” 

I step a little longer to catch up to the woman as she points with her chin. She loves using her head.

“You see it?”

In a darker corner lives a store with Spencer’s graffitied on the half-drawn garage door that serves as its entrance. Brick makes up the walls. Its single, large display window hints at nothing, obscured by… clothes?

“We’re not going in there, are we?”

The place is silent. Mirabel raps her knuckles on the door before forcing it up with a metallic squeal. “Hello?” She continues inside. I trail behind.

Like the surrounding area, the interior is dim, with the far reaches of the narrow room fading to black. Though the store seems to have been emptied of its original merchandise (thankfully), it’s far from empty: soft contours of cloth line the floor, trinkets lay askew and scattered, and food wrappers glisten in small clumps. A wet dog smell permeates through every pore and crevice of my body — it’s either poorly ventilated or contains something that gives off enough scent to cancel out any fresh air.

A large platform against the back and right walls spans nearly the entire area, hanging a few feet below the ceiling. Blankets spew out from beneath makeshift curtains tied to the exposed pipes above, effectively screening it. 

Lining the walls below the platform are wired bakers’ racks, piled with clothing and miscellanea. 

It’s lived in.

“Amazing, hmm?” Aluminum screeches as Mirabel pushes and knocks over a few cans with her foot to make space for the blankets. “How quickly a dozen or so adolescents can tear through a clean room! We haven’t sent any cleaners lately in hopes they’ll do it themselves — ha! — but you can see how well that’s going. Even the dorms back in Trost are cleaner.”

Cleaners? Trost? “Adolescents?” Fearing attack, I don’t turn away from the shadowed jungle. “This is where they all live?”

“For now, yes. And it’s where you’ll be staying, as well.” Her footsteps grow a bit louder as she nears. “It seems everyone’s out right now.”

My breaths grow shorter on their own. Maybe because of the smell. “I’m staying here?” 

“Are you coming along, Ostrich?” Looks like she didn’t hear. 

“Actually, can I stay here?”

“Really?” She’s shocked. “Okay, well if you ever need help, ask anyone down in the kitchens. They’re all very nice, I assure you. I’ll be making my rounds, so I won’t be staying down there for long.”

I risk a glance and little wave at Mirabel’s silhouette, prompting her to join the black mass that is the wall. I’m not sure what to feel.

Luckily, I manage to find some sort of electric lamp. Click. A rough circle of light surrounds me, exemplifying the absolute filth of this place.

I’m staying here? As much as I try, I can’t squeeze an ounce of emotion out. It’s not that I don’t care, right? It’s just that I don’t know anything better than this. I don’t remember a better time. Why am I even here? I should have gone with Mirabel. 

Of all the people I can be, I have to be a stupid one.

Maybe I should start cleaning. 

A few ungainly steps later and I’m in the hallway. I try not to stare down the next person walking down the hall as they pass. “Excuse— excuse me.” I wave.

It’s a woman with choppy copper hair. She seems weirdly happy as she points toward the requested cleaning supplies before making her way off to wherever. I don’t step on a single green diamond on my way there.

JANITORIAL ROOM

Authorized Personnel Only

It has a square, wired window too high up for me to peek inside and a door handle — not knob — which needs to be messed with a little before opening. I step in and let the door whoosh and click shut behind me.

“Nobody taught you to knock, brat? What the hell do you want?”

Every organ in my body purges as the strange little man looks up from whatever he was doing. Somehow, my voice finds me. “Clean.”

He rests his elbows on the mini table before him, the resulting wobble nearly knocking over the spray bottle and various chemicals on top. Light from the door’s window frames his face perfectly, sliced up by the cable crisscrossing its inner surface. “Speak up, or don’t bother wasting my time.”

What’s with this guy? Inching my hand to the knob — not handle — behind me, I clear my thought process and focus on the space between his steel-sharp eyes. “I would like to clean, sir. The dorms, that is. I’m here for cleaning supplies. That’s all. Sir.” Please don’t bash my head in with a spray bottle. 

“Hm.” He narrows his eyes. “New?”

New? Oh, he’s talking about me! “Yes. Sir.”

“Come here.”

What choice do I have?

He rises to his full, impressive height as I approach. I don’t need to see him to feel the force of his demands, just watch my toes. “I don’t want to see a single speck. All beds should be made, blankets should be tucked, no mop streaks, and so help me if there are any wall stains. Understood?” 

“Yessir.” Please, somebody let me out of here. 

His arm flourishes to the impressive collection of cleaning supplies on the wall. “Take what you need.”

“Thank you, sir.” If that arm even clipped me… I slink around his throne, somehow still feeling his stare when he’s turned the other way. Broom and dustpan, disposable gloves, a few garbage bags, cleaning spray—

“That won’t do.” Frozen in a squat, I listen helplessly as his startlingly heavy footsteps stop inches behind me. Plastic crinkles in the dark as the man snatches something near my ear. “You need thick gloves, that thin shit won’t do. And here.” Somewhere near the end of the room is a clatter and a thump. “Nobody worth their weight forgets the bucket. And—” another thump— “Scrub Daddy. Unless you want to scrub the grime with your teeth?”

Scrub Daddy? Nothing comes out when I open my mouth, so I force-clear my throat. “No, sir.” The bucket is shoved into my arms — I barely catch it in time — as he breezes past, taking up his throne once more. “Thank you, sir,” I say to the air.

“One last thing,” he juts as I clear his desk, making my cells disintegrate for a moment. A mystery object lands in the bucket.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Out.”

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

I start by picking up every non-garbage item (as far as I can tell) and tossing them on the big shelf by the window, then bagging the actual garbage with the gloves. The broom takes care of the dust and dirt between the hardwood and under the collection of bakers’ racks — it puffs up thick, so I’m eternally grateful to the janitor for the last-minute bandana mask. At least, it’s what I think the white cloth is for. If it’s a loincloth or something I just might hurl myself to floor one. But why would he give me a loincloth?

Then comes the task of cleaning the platform. This entails lobbing up the lantern and praying it won’t break, the incredibly perilous trip up on a wobbly ladder which will probably tip or break or be the catalyst to the end of my short life, pushing out an absolute jungle of futons, sleeping bags, quilts, pillows, and other horrifying objects, and actually falling off but landing safely but shaken onto the teeming pile. I push it all out, onto a pre-cleaned portion of the hall. 

Finding no water anywhere, I manage to flag down another passerby who directs me to some sort of pulley system that brings up tubfuls of water. It also seems to mutter and sing. Strange. I lug one in, fill the bucket, scrub the walls until I run out, and repeat. I do this again with the mop on the floor, making sure to get rid of any streaks. 

My whole body burns but still comes the reassembly process. Using the mop handle, I beat the devils out of the pile in the hallway before lugging everything back up on a borrowed stepladder. Everything’s out of order — that’s someone else’s problem.

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

At some point Hange checks in and drags me out to the now-dark mall. I didn’t even notice the room darkening as I worked. It was strangely therapeutic. 

It’s different at night. The whole place would be in black if not for the periodic solar lights stuck to the walls, ceilings, and support beams, basking us in yellow and white. 

“I don’t know how, but you did it!” Their glee is evident as we snake through the now-empty platform, hands clasped, feet pounding polished concrete. “Levi’ll love it. The cadets’ll love it! Hell, maybe we can even squeeze a  ‘good job’ outta the Comm– never mind, that’s pushing it. Whatever! We’re almost there.”

“Professor, I left the supplies—” 

“Shut! We’re here.”

“But—”  

My arm wrenches to the side, followed by my body, as the leader shoulders through an emergency exit. My back burns. A film of darkness lays over my eyes, the plopping of our steps more prominent than ever. Another second and my legs will give out.

Hange pushes through another door, this one requiring a little more strength. Moonlight. The earth, sparse and grassy, far below. Something sharp biting through my slipper socks and cold breezing in through the leg holes of my dusty pyjama bottoms. Reflexively, I suck in a stabbing, frosty lungful of air that billows out in a big puff, steam engine style. The smoke clears to reveal two silhouettes against the cloudy sky.

“Surprise, you two!” The professor claps the painful divet between my shoulder blades. “Meet our newest installment. You might know this one already.” They drive me forward, my lazy steps doing little to deter the action.

The two are easy to tell apart — one is a smiling, freckled unit and the other is glum and fluorescent-eyed. I would go blind if I stared too long (he’d pluck my eyes out). Both have dark hair and grow more menacing with each reluctant step.

Bright-eyes speaks first. “Professor Hange!”

“Woah, Professor!” the tall one exclaims almost simultaneously. “Isn’t it a bit cold for just pyjamas?”

“She’s fine.” Their head pops into view. “You’re fine, right? Levi will kill me if someone gets sick.”

Pushing my cold legs together, I nod. “It’s a beautiful day.”

“No way,” Tall chuckles, already undoing his coat. “It’s too cold.” The zips of his waterproof cloth don’t drown out his voice as he shrugs it off. “You’ll be needing this more than me.” He finally sheds the garment, handing it over. 

For me? “Thank you.” 

“No problem. I’m actually very weather resistant. You might be surprised.” He beams with the heat of a weighted quilt on a winter morning. Maybe I don’t really need this coat.

But a sudden chill sobers me and it’s on in an instant.

“What’s up with this?” the smaller one asks, waving in my general direction. 

Hange shrugs. “Started to remember. All good. Okay, I’m done here.” Hange half-stumbles back to their other foot that wedges the door open. “I’ll get back to business, then. See you, Ostrich.”

“See you,” I mutter. 

And with a screech, they’re gone.

Tall doesn’t waste a moment. “So, it’s Ostrich! It’s nice to finally see you walking around.”

Starry-eyes lowers himself to sit criss-cross, opting to stare into space through the metal grate railing. 

“Thanks, it’s… nice. Walking around and all.” What am I doing here.

With an amused breath, he tilts his head. “You don’t remember us, do you?”

Not meeting his eyes, I shake my head. 

He brings forth his big hand. “I’m Marco. My friend over here is Eren.”

He’s smiling again. Our hands meet — his is rough around the edges and warm, even the dark band around his finger, and I release it a bit too quickly. “Hi, Marco. Eren.” Something about this meeting kills me. 

“Alright, well, hey, sit down, Ostrich. You’re one of us, you know.” Marco plops down and taps a nearby cushion. “How are you feeling?”

I sit. It’s cold. “That’s a good question.”

“Yeah… I realize now it’s pretty dumb.” His freckles are all messed up as he scrunches up his nose. 

My focus switches between the far-away ground and the plaid cushion I’m on. “Yeah.” Then snaps back to Marco’s face. “Wait, no. I’m not saying your question was dumb, I’m just— it’s—”

His short laugh cuts me off. “Relax. You don't need to be nervous.”

“Okay.” This mouth of mine. It’s a death trap. 

Marco’s fingers pick at the spaces between the metal. “So, how are you liking Shiganshina so far?”

I rub the sleeves of the coat together. Zip, zip, zip. Why did he give this to me? “It’s nice. Hange is nice, the people are… nice. The view is nice from here.”

“You’re allowed to say bad stuff, too,” he pries half-jokingly. 

“I don’t like the dorms.”

“Ah, there we go.” He stretches backwards. “Yeah. Nobody does, really, but it’s the only room with heat. It’s liveable.”

Eren snorts, his first real contribution to the conversation. “Stop lying to yourself. Everyone hates it.”

“Okay, yeah, everyone hates it.”

Is now a good time to say that I cleaned them? I don’t know how to do it without sounding arrogant. Is it arrogant? It’s quiet now, but for how much longer? I should just step up and say it. It would make them happy. No, it wouldn’t. Yes, it would.

“Anyways,” Marco breezes, “how many of the others have you met?” 

“Others?” I respond dumbly.

“The other cadets. The other teenagers, if you will.”

Oh, the children. “I haven’t.”

“Then you’ll be meeting them all. Tonight!” He drums his fingertips on the metal. “Everyone’ll be back tonight, bar one guy. But I can introduce you to him myself.”

What. “How many people? I mean, if you don’t mind.” As if knowing can make tonight sound even less appealing. 

“Uh, ten? There’s me, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Eren-Mika-Armin…” With every entry, he puts up a finger. “Reiner and Bert, Ymir, Christa, and Annie. That’s, what…” He looks at his fingers, lost. 

Every name drags me down an inch or two. “Thirteen, including me.”

“Right. Wow, there’s a lot of people!” Marco puts his hands away and pauses, brownish eyes drilling into mine. “Hey, don’t be nervous. Everyone’s really nice, I promise. And we’ve all met you in the past.”

Again with that. It’s like everyone’s in on a secret inside joke that only I don’t know, except that inside joke is me. 

But he’s so very easy to trust, even though we’re strangers. As long as he’s there with me, it can’t be too bad… I squish into his coat and try a smile. “Okay.” You cheesy fucking bastard. Woah, potty mouth. 

He smiles too, and I don’t have to try anymore. “But I have to warn you, it can get a bit loud sometimes.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

Hands springing to life, he straightens to the point of tipping back. “You have no idea!”

Sensing Marco’s incoming story, my smile becomes toothy.

“Shut up!”

Like an anvil, Eren’s hushed yell pulverizes our talk. He points at something he’s looking at, prompting Marco to stand. I follow suit.

The balcony overlooks some sort of large garden with alternating lit and shadowed rows of ridged dirt, garden tools, and the rare green smudge that indicates growth. All is surrounded by a tall ring of trash composed of cars, construction fences, broken skids, metal railings, rocks, or anything, really, that can stand on its own and keep anyone or anything out. The pale dirt ends in grass and trees some way beyond the barrier. 

“Another one.” Marco squats to jot some ink onto paper.

“Another what?” An invisible chill runs through the area, making the leaves rustle and shift the dappled pattern of light and shade they cast. Nothing’s there. 

And then my shoulder and cheek are encased in warmth as Marco gets real close and aligns his line of vision with my own. “Right there.” I feel the voice more than I hear it. His pointing finger ends at a spot where dirt and grass meet. “See?”

Where’s he pointing? Marco’s close. Wait, where is he pointing? I’m about to ask again when a sudden movement ends my straying — a pale branch, creeping, wobbling forward from beneath the silvery blades. 

Hand.

Twiglike fingers drag and push into the dirt, joints bending backwards. The attached arm contracts, presumably dragging forward a body. Despite its horrendously bony characteristic — even from this second- or third-floor view, I can easily make out the double-beamed support of the forearm — it keeps scraping forward. Closer. Every inch pulls the blood down to my feet. 

“Third crawler tonight. Wonder what’s up with that.”

The person wears nothing. Something about the distance or lighting gives whatever skin isn’t torn up or filthied a washed-out hue.

“Maybe there’s a bear.”

The hand jerks forward again, disregarding rocks or twigs, shakily pulling the body into view. That is, the head and one side of the torso.

Where’s the rest? Why is nobody doing anything? Why can’t I? Doesn’t that thing need help? What does its skin feel like? How long? How long until it touches me?

“You wanna get the pager this time, Eren?”

“Yeah.” 

Foliage and deep red blood decorate the loops and sacs that bulge and trail out of the chest cavity, the surrounding ribs prominent and hanging by whatever holds ribs together. The creature shudders, loosing a few organs with a sickening swell. It persists.

Click-click. Click. “Drunk bastard’s asleep!” The statement is followed by a series of loud bangs that rattle our cage and resonate in my teeth. “God-fucking-damn it. Hannes. Wake up. Hannes!”

“Don’t, Eren. He’s pretty much out of commission anyways.” 

“No shit! Should I go down?”

“No rush.” With a final rattle, a clothed arm obscures my view. 

“Hey.” A pale blur which turns out to be a waving hand belonging to Eren catches my focus. “Your ears. Plug them, or something.”

Marco’s elbow clears the railing. He holds a lengthy rifle with its butt against his shoulder and his cheek along its length, a single saucer-wide eye trained on the target. 

I didn’t even notice he left my side. 

He hisses — in or out, I couldn’t tell — before the air blasts into pure noise. 

Sometime in the aftermath, my legs decide to sit me down. Marco (and, after a final glance into the forest, Eren) turns his attention towards me, his words completely lost to the high-pitched din but his actions clear as ever — reaching out as if to cuff my ears, shrinking back, looking sheepish. “Sorry,” he mouths. Once again, he points at the figure with something like pride. From this angle it’s apparent that its head is imploded; I prefer to stare at the shockingly good marksman with the sanest grin I can muster.

“Did you hear the part when I said ‘zombification?’ Like, as in zombies?”

No, this isn’t happening. I’m dreaming, that’s what. Of course. 

Granted, this feels all to real. The human brain is a marvel of nature, isn’t it? Can’t wait to wake up.

The two engage in strained conversation of flurrying hand movements and exaggerated pronunciation, resulting in Marco waving goodbye and going inside. The remaining pair of us sit together in the high-pitched eee until it dissipates into the non-silence of nighttime. 

“So.” Eren shuffles his feet closer to him, knees in his arms. “Can you hear now?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess it’s your first time seeing one.”

Seeing what? Say the word. “Yep.”

Skimming over the corpse, he wrings his hands. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

Eren worries his mouth as if sucking off some goo on his teeth, and suddenly blurts, “I hate it.”

Zombie. You’re imagining it, Ossie, tomorrow you’ll wake up in that room again and forget everything. “Hate what?”

“What do you think?” He waves at the mall. “This. And everything else. Those things. They ruined everything.” A telltale waver slips into his speech. “Everything we do is dictated by them. I hate it. I mean. Have we ever really had anything?” 

Like a long-winded siren, the boy’s volume gradually increases. Sirens mean danger. 

“Is it that bad?” 

Something snaps quietly. “We’re living like fucking livestock here, don’t you realize that? I thought your head’s better now, so why can’t you see that it’s not supposed to be okay? Our life is confined to these walls—” here he whips out his hand at the aforementioned wall, the motion rippling through his torso— “and the whole world outside is lost! Lost! Everything! They took everything from me! From us! And you’re just gonna accept that?”

Is he always like this? A walking time bomb? My body weight shifts forward as if to spring on my feet. “Eren—”

“No.” 

With the piling pressure his eyes grew from a smolder to a bonfire, ravenous in a forest of decay. 

But in the same way, it’s almost childlike. Was it the same sense of anger? Frustration? Invisibility? Innocence? It’s probably not that deep. “Yes?”

“You don’t remember it, so you wouldn’t understand.” He doesn’t try to hide his distaste. “But they’re not… supposed to be here. It’s— we are. It’s our world. You get it? They took it from us. Took our plans, our dreams. Our families.” Stiff-fisted and tight-jawed, he continued. “I hate them. They need to be eliminated. You get it? I’m…”

He gathers himself. 

“I’m gonna do it, Ostrich, myself or otherwise.” I slip into his eyes. “Every last one of them. I’m going to kill them all. Not sparing a single one… I’m gonna kill them all.” 

And I fall. “What's stopping you?” 

Those creatures with broken ribs and beautiful hair. Let him do as he pleases with them. It doesn't concern me. Soon I’ll wake up. I’ll wake up. 

He oozes into a more comfortable expression as the door bursts open behind me. “Alright, so the Hannes problem is taken care of,” Marco announces. “You should come inside, Ostrich, there’s someone I want you to meet. Actually, Eren, you should go, too. I’ll keep watch for a while.”

Someone to meet? 

Eren’s expression lapses into annoyance. “What happened to the two-person protocol?”

“It’ll be brief.”

“What’s it about again? Think you forgot to mention that part.” 

“You’ll see when you get there, he’s waiting just outside the inner door.”

Back to Eren. “Whatever.” He leans to one side as he gets up. “Let’s go.”

The returnee holds open the door, flashing a small smile as I cross. Cheeky bastard. 

I’m joking.

Eren holds open the second door behind him, flashing a small glance to make sure it doesn’t close on me. I mutter a quick thanks as we stand, seeing… 

Nothing. 

“There’s nobody here.” The boy sifts through his hair. “What the hell, Marco?”

The wall behind us booms thrice — I flinch — and yells, “Eren, is that you?”

At this, he brings up his other hand and drags them both down his face with a drawn-out groan. “What the hell, Marco?”

I nearly touch his shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“Wait, who’s that?” the wall — rather, the person inside — hollers. “Eren, you’re sounding pretty feminent today.”

“Connie, what the hell are you doing in there?”

“Woah! He’s back!” The wall cackles. “So, uh, I need help.”

Marco, you cheeky bastard. 

With a sigh, Eren’s hands drop. “Ostrich, this is Connie. Consider yourself lucky you don’t remember his face.” His next words are forced through his teeth. “Connie. Introduce yourself.”

“Wait, it’s you, Ossie?” Something hard hits another hard thing. “Ow! Ossie, it’s me, Connie! Remember me? Handsome face, Greek physique? Connie?”

I smile at the flat surface. “Hi, Connie. Sorry, I don't remember you.”

“Aww.”

“Come out to introduce yourself,” Eren grunts, leaning against the wall. 

“Well, that’s the problem, señor. I can’t.”

“What?”

“I’m stuck.” 

“Just get out.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Cuz I’m stuck.” 

If looks could kill, the plaster would have a smoking hole with the wall inhabitant’s crisp body in the middle; intervening at this point just might save Connie’s life. 

“Uh, Er— uh. Let’s just get him out?” 

With a deep breath, he nods.

What am I supposed to do now? Eren looks on expectantly. “Connie.” It’s so weird, saying that name out loud. I hold up my fist as if to knock, but decide against it. “Can you move?”

“Yeah, if I go sideways. There’s more space down this way though.” Footsteps and random bumps move in the opposite direction of the exit door.

Eren holds his impressive eyebrows derisively high. 

“You just need to get out, right?” As long as we find his point of entry, he should be fine. Right? “Where did you come in?”

“I dunno. I got lost.” Without warning, he squawks and enters some sort of hyperventilated frenzy. “Sorry, spider web. But I think there’s wind coming from over here. Wind equals good, right?” His voice fades. “Wait, you guys are following me, right?”

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

We end up in front of the janitor’s office. My visible companion clicks his tongue. 

“Before you ask, no, I’m not going in there.” 

“Aw, come on!” Connie whines. “I can’t get out myself and it’s dark and smelly in here! There’s spiders and ghosts!”

Waving the air as if brushing Connie off, Eren leans in close. He smells like plywood. “Let’s just go. Nobody’ll miss him. We can tell Marco he got out on his own.”

It’s hard to tell if he’s joking.

“I can hear you!” Bang bang bang. “I can heaar you…” Bang bang bang bang bang. “Gemme out!” 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I venture with a sprinkling of irony. Just in case he actually is joking. 

“Let me out!”

“I mean.” He glances at the spot where the noise emanates. “It’s not like he’s gonna die.”

Is he serious?

He scans my face and scratches his jaw. “Fine, we’ll get him.”

That’s better. “But we can’t really do anything if the janitor’s still inside. Can you check if he’s in there?”

“Why me?” He shoots a dour look down his nose. “Never mind.” Pushing his back flush to the door, he inches sideways until the window is nearly in line with his ear, snatches a peek, and gives a thumbs-up.

“So we just have to go in there and pull Connie out… right?”

“Actually, it’ll be better if one of us stays out here to keep watch. Take this.” Pulling up the bottom of his sweatshirt, he digs into his pants pocket and pulls out a square solar-powered light. “I’ll knock if he appears. Good luck.”

“Thanks?”

And then the door to the janitor’s closet shuts behind me once more, darkness pressing and eating up the edges of my vision. 

Thanks, Eren. After all I’ve done for you. 

I need light — how did I turn this thing on? My fumbling fingers eventually reach a soft button and push, directing light straight through my head. Great. I point the light somewhere useful. 

Rows of columns of cleaning gear, some still in their original packaging, hang from hooks extending from the white pegboard or rest on one of the numerous shelves. I didn’t see all this before — it’s like a torture chamber for dirt. A few feet from the entrance of the rectangular room is the folding table in which the janitor made his first appearance, now cleared of all equipment. “Hey, Connie? Where are you?”

“Right here.” Pointing the light upwards, I’m able to catch my first glimpse of the guy, in the gap between the top of the pegboard and the ceiling. “Hey, I can see my hand! I’m not a ghost!” He waves excitedly, hysterically even.

Until someone bashes their knuckles on the door. Not a second later the light clicks out. 

“Ostrich! C’mere!”

“Where?” I trudge dumbly toward his voice, bumping into what feels and sounds like a mop bucket and breathing a curse. No way they didn’t hear that. 

“Here!” Fingers patter on the particleboard. “Come on!”

Snippets of voice come from the entrance. No more stealth. I rush toward the opposite side of the room, tossing the light over before fumbling and grabbing Connie’s hand. It’s smooth.

“Hold on…” With astonishing force, he pulls me back.

“Woah—” I push my feet against the wall — please don’t break — hooking my other hand over. Connie grabs that too. 

The door swings open as I make it over, flip for a churning fraction of a second, and land heavily on Connie’s body. He grunts on impact just as a flashlight flicks on. 

“Hm,” says the janitor. Brightness sweeps over us on the concrete in small pegboard-sized circles. I can’t breathe; Connie scarcely takes a breath himself. Through a pinhole, his slow and crisp footsteps matches the image of his boots. He kicks the mop bucket to the side with a loud plastic grinding sound. We flinch. 

“Mop bucket fell over. Damned thing.” He drops the light somewhere and settles the mop against the wall. “You can leave now.”

“Er. Yes, Captain.” Eren. The door eases shut. 

“Captain” adjusts the light once more, straightens his throne, and sits down with a sigh. 

Slowly, almost painfully so, I roll onto the cool, grainy ground. 

Something taps my hand. Highlighted by a pockmark is Connie’s eye, hazel to the point of yellow, which swivels back away from the janitor’s room. We need to get out. As sparingly as possible, I nod, though I’m not sure if he sees it. 

We stand in silent — but shared — agony, the kind that shakes your limbs and makes the floor seem hundreds of metres down. Connie takes my hand, forming a clammy layer in between, and leads us back the way he came. We slow and separate. 

“I think we’re okay here,” he mutters, turning on the light in his other hand to reveal his massive grin and bald head. Thank god he remembered that. “Heh heh, that was a close one, huh?”

“Yeah, we nearly escaped death by bludgeoning.” I tremblingly slump against a wood support as he giggles. “That’s hilarious.”

His mood isn’t quelled. “Ohh, come on, have some humour.”

“We’re trapped, aren’t we?”

“You know.” His scalp glistens with a thousand tiny hairs as he lifts the light over himself. “Some ladies would kill for a moment alone with this handsome fellow.”

This guy serious? I’m not seeing that ‘Greek physique.’ “I’m sure.”

Gently, he lays down the torch, springs up, and digs into the pocket of his neon green and black zippered hoodie with a crinkle. “So grumpy, huh? Here.” A wrapped good is tossed into my lap as Connie falls on his ass. Inside is something squishy and dense. “It’s a Twinkie,” he explains at my probing. “I was looking for a place to hide them so Sasha can’t eat them. Don’t tell her I’m giving this to you, she’ll crucify me.” Having successfully pulled apart the top of the package, he bites the whole thing in half, pulling back to extract the sugary flesh.

“Are you sure?” The edge of the clear plastic is smooth and flimsy.

Crumbs spray from his mouth. “Just promise me you’ll stop being grumpy.”

Grumpy? I blink a few times. “Okay, I promise.” I slide to the ground too, smiling. “I’ll be nice.”

“Better be.”

My face drops. “Connie.”

He sniffs. “Relax, Ossie. Just enjoy your… freshly crushed Twinkie.” He tilts his head in fake arrogance. 

“You know, Connie, if somebody didn’t get stuck in a wall, he wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.”

“I could have left you in the janitor’s office.”

The words come out before I can stop them. “I could have left you with Eren.”

He sticks out his tongue. 

The crinkling dominates before I manage to tear open a corner of my package, opting to squeeze out the cake which oozes and cracks like a sad horse. I take the crumbly glop on my tongue. 

“Pretty good, huh?” Connie sprays. “You wouldn’t even know it expired six months ago.”

The sweet in my mouth turns bitter. “Six months,” I utter without swallowing, a line of drool threatening to spill. Bacteria and fungi spread their tiny poisonous seeds, creating rot. “That’s… fine.”

“Hey, if you got a problem with it, I’ll gladly take it off you.” He holds out a hand expectantly. 

Before he can react I squeeze the package some more. In a movement similar to his own, I scrape out the remaining pulp with my teeth and swallow.

Connie’s jaw goes slack as I chew, then shoots upward with a clack. “Okay, girlypop, okay! It’s all yours!” The statement is finished with a cackle.

“I said it’s fine, Connie,” I state, definitely spilling some this time. “A little mould won’t kill me now.”

“Yeah, if—” his eyes wander my face— “if the embarrassment doesn’t get you first!” His hysteria surges as he points. “You look so stupid right now! A lifetime’s worth of Twinkie!” He exhales more than he breathes in and soon resorts to gasping for air.

“Me?” I dart a sleeve over my mouth, though it’s already too late. “Look who’s talking!”

The filling in his mouth decorates his chin, legs, and floor. “I don’t take shade from a person named Ostrich. Gotta be the dumbest bird to be named after.”

“Well, I don’t take shade from a person named Connie.”

“Yeah? What’s wrong with my name?”

I pretend to see something interesting on the ceiling, pretend I’m not about to explode into a stupid grin. “I just think Connor is better.” 

“Okay—” he conjures the most serious face he can muster— “you’ve officially made it to my enemies list. Prepare for living hell.”

“What’re you gonna do, shine the sun off your head like a flash bomb?” Now I cackle. 

Okay, maybe that was a little bit mean. 

“Hey! This—” he jerks his hands round his head, the motion affecting his entire hunched form— “is a choice! I shave my own head ‘cuz I want it that way!”

“Okay,” I choke. “Okay, you’re bald by choice.” 

“Stop laughing!” 

“Okay. I can’t. Okay.” Pinching my nose, I draw in a breath. Then sputter into laughter. 

It wasn’t that funny, but I couldn’t help myself. Maybe I really am going mental. 

“I’ll just wait till you’re done,” Connie grumbles, but even in the dark the ghost of a smile can be seen. 

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

We start walking again a bit after — Connie’s afraid my laughing attracted ghosts.

“So, Ostrich. You’re starting to remember?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you remember me?”

“No.”

We walk for a bit more before he speaks again. “Tell me something about yourself.”

“You’re asking me, Shiganshina’s resident amnesiac?”

“Funny. You don’t need memories to have a personality, you know? You’re not a ghost.”

The air smells familiar. “You think so?”

“How about you caress my handsome face and we can both find out?”

I flick his forehead and go cold. 

Did I just do that? 

But he just claps his hand over the point of impact. “Ow! Always the head!”

“Just such a big target,” I nearly sputter. “You’re lucky I don’t call human resources on you or something.”

“Yeah, whatever. Come on, tell me. There’s gotta be something.”

“I really have nothing, Connie,” I say. “But aren’t you the one who knows me so well? Why don’t you tell me something about myself?”

His thinking cap is on. “Well, for starters, you can’t walk straight with a damn.” 

“Strike four, Connie.” 

“Four? You’re already counting the number of times I pissed you off.” He sniffs. “I knew you cared. I can’t wait till we’re all together again…” He giggles like a little girl. 

“That laugh. I don’t like that sound.”

“Relax, Ossie. I’m gonna make it happen.” He thumps his chest. “From now on, I’m gonna focus on getting you out of here. Before bedtime.” 

“Weren’t you the one begging for help earlier?”

“I’m a changed man, I’ve grown.”

It’s a little scary to get so chummy with him so quickly, even if we do supposedly know each other. Always is the small nagging organ in my body releasing its small nagging liquids, telling me to stop, that he hates me, that I’m completely embarrassing myself because this guy is fake or a ghost or clinically insane. Maybe he is. Maybe I’m embarrassing myself. Maybe I’m embarrassing him. 

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

Has it been ten minutes? An hour? It’s like the inside of this wall bends space and time. Einstein would cry.

Light in hand, Connie slows to walk beside me. “Do you remember Covid?”

“Of course! I’d always keep the tracker tab open because of how paranoid I was. I…”

All I see is white. “Holy crap, did you just remember something?”

My hand can’t block out the light. “Put that down.” 

“Think, Ostrich! Think!”

The memory is fleeting, only a wisp of the past unlucky enough to be snuffed up by me. “I’m trying!”

“Harder!”

“Please, Connie, put that away.”

“Oh.”

And with a snap, it vanishes. 

“Did you remember it?”

Blinking doesn’t get rid of the dark blotches. “No.”

“Aw, man.” He hurries to catch up to me. “But you did just remember something, right?”

“I think so.”

“Oh.”

Shuff. Shuf. Shuff…  If I’m not careful, I might blow a hole in these slipper socks. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it.”

No response.

“Connie? It’s alright.”

He mumbles.

Seeing him dejected like this feels wrong. “Um, you haven’t told me something about yourself, Connie.”

“I’m just a guy, Ossie, and I made you lose your only memory.”

This boy. “Connie, it’s fine. Really. I have lots of time to remember things.” 

He kicks the ground. “I know, but…”

“It’s just like you said.” Desperately, I try to remember. “It doesn’t matter if I can’t remember anything, because I’m still my own person. Right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” 

“Tell me something about yourself,” I repeat.

He rubs his hands against each other— “Well…” —and begins to pick up steam. “So, last week we raided this beauty shop, right? And J-boy said I was stupid for doing that, and I called him a horse face, so he threw a cream tube at me. I caught it like this, right—” his arms twist in a weird way as he reenacts the scene— “and it turned out to be a hand cream. I’ve been using it ever since, and frankly, I think he’s jealous.” 

“Hand cream? Is that why your hands are so soft?”

“So you’ve noticed? Ha! I can’t wait to tell him. We gotta get back!” His pace picks up. “I’ll even let you try some, Ossie, because you’re such a good friend.” 

I just met you, but I’m glad you’re happy again. “That means a lot to me.”

“Hold this.” He suddenly stops and shoves the light. “Back up, I’m gonna do something.”

“Something…?” I step away.

Connie squats, swings forth his hands, and leaps backwards. 

I watch as he smashes his feet through the wall, slapping the cold, hard ground with his skull. 

Blap.

“Connie?”

The light reflects innumerable dust motes and the eerily still victim of fatuity. Suddenly, the dark seems a little more alive. “Connie!” His head lolls when I cuff his shoulders. “Are you okay?” Blood trickles from his nostril. “Okay, dumb question.” 

He still has a pulse — but for how long is a mystery. 

Oh shit. This is real. 

I haul him around so his head is near the hole and try shoving him out by pushing up on his ribcage. Warm and squishy… just like that zombie. My arms go a little numb as I take a quick look — first forward, then back. Dust. 

I need to focus. 

Scarce light pours in through the hole as I push — now his shoulders are out. Tiny shards of the wall crumble over his chest. Tiny, dark red shards. 

Plaster bricks. 

“Oh my god! Connie?” The ground vibrates — someone is running over from the other side. 

By some miracle of god (or Connie’s hidden genius), we’re right where we’re supposed to be.

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

gosh this chapter was clunky. (it gets worse.) for the record it was rewritten at least 5 times in every pov and tense and i've since grown tired of it. do you trust your author when they tell you that the next chapters will be better? do you? (don't)

i hope you liked it and all. i know you cant expect shakespeare on ao3tumblr but i keep thinking 'gotta be perfect gotta be perfect!' please lmk if i did anything wrong or something can be improved on. i try to get better.

please take care of yourselves

final notes: mc gets better

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masterlist 2 - little sproutling

[crescencestudio]

after i noticed the enchanted demo release i did a whole ass lap around the house and when i tell you im so close to biting my table every time the scenes change... THE ATMOSPHERE?? THE ART??? THE ENTIRE THINGYS?!?! i wanna bundle this all up and like,. absorb it, eat it even. I played through it straight, no pause no nothin'. im REPLAYING IT even and trying not to run laps around the rooms here. my brain chemistry has been altered. i saw the divine. i am not the same person i was like 2 hours ago. the love, the skill, the gui, the art, the writing the all of it, it's amazing, divine even. like, i want this painted on my ceiling. like im not joking i want this entire game painted on my ceiling.. i remember playing the very first demo and being FLOORED bc hello??? banger plot banger characters whats not to love (the #gayforkayn from like 2 years ago has a whole section in my heart LMAO). and now the enchanted demo is release, and im still so in love no even more in love with the game. seeing the work being done on alaris has been the one of the highlights throughout the time ive been around, and im so happy for you! so a big congrats to this milestone and all the work that has been done to get here! im writing this in a like half awake moment so dunno how much makes sense and also im sorry if this got long i swear it wasnt like this when i started. i be remembering and writing but the enchanted demo gives me the best shakes someone could get. but seriously, i can feel the love that went into this. my heart and soul are happy, and once again a massive congrats to this milestone and every bit of work done to reach it. the entire demo has so much love poured into it and every little piece of the game just makes me get those good shakes in my heart (if that makes sense). (I also did not mean for this to get a little bit long but, im just so proud and happy for you)

KARMA U R ONE OF THE OGS….. i literally remember u still from like the two years that have passed since the first demo. IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY TO KNOW U LIKE THIS VERSION TOO!!!!

revamping everything has honestly been a crazy and Extremely Tiring experience. i never would’ve imagined two years ago i would’ve been able to replace everything i have. the different vfx (snowblossom my beloved), text effects, assets, and just everything took up so much time to replace. a lot of times i wondered if it was even worth it since the changes felt small. but i rly do feel like seeing the end product now, it feels so different from the og and in a way the demo is a reminder of how far i’ve come on my dev journey compared to the og release 😭

so thankful as always for the ppl (new and old) who have watched over alaris’s development. it means a lot to know the ppl who have played the new demo can see how much work has been put into it and like it 💖 i sometimes get self conscious comparing alaris to intertwine since a lot of new ppl came here bc of intertwine. but its def moments like this that remind me how special alaris is to me just by virtue of it being my OG project. like this is literally my child

SO GLAD U LIKE IT KARMA (and whoever else plays!!) IT FEELS SO CRAZY TO HAVE BEEN ON THIS JOURNEY W U FOR SO LONG!!!’

[xxnghtclls]

do u ever feel like all the good work here is getting recognized lesser ? because I see amazing stuff like yours and more stuff get notes and i love it so much when the authour tries to stick to the actual character and doesn't absultely deviate from the character. i feel that the ones with more deviation from the characters get more love, because capturing the character as it is so much difficult compared to change the entire thing. i read permission and honestly it feels like Sukuna. The rest i have read dont even feel like sukuna.

my point here is that i feel like true talent isnt being recognized. your work deserves so much more attention and love for writing sukuna so much like he is. not a lot of people manage to write him like that. i honestly love you and this one other user [not gonna be revealing there name because theyr'e a follower of yours too] and that's it. you write sukuna for sukuna. i love u for that. very honestly. i love ur work all art and writing included. sorry for ranting at 5 am in ur inbox but i wanted to show my appreciation. love you .

Dear anon,

thank you for your sweet message!

And yes, I do feel like that. I sometimes feel like ppl who draw or write him once in a while for funsies often get more appreciation for their work than ppl who truly appreciate him and try to learn about him and understand him and all of that.

People call me „the“ Sukuna artist, yet my art (at least on twitter) barely gets interactions that exceed 1k and then I see other art that gets so much more interactions, seemingly without much effort. Repeatedly. So it feels super weird for me and on bad days, it also makes me sad to see that my art didn‘t get the appreciation that I wished for it, despite me putting 10-20 hours into one piece. (not super healthy, I know)

Putting „my title“ aside, I do love my art and writing myself and I feel like it deserves recognition and that it should be recognised more. It might sound arrogant, but I do feel like that. But it‘s difficult when you don‘t purely draw nsfw, when you don‘t have an anime art style and/or are not able to put out art constantly because you‘re also writing a long ass fanfiction on the side… Algorithms fault too I guess.

On tumblr I do get super sweet messages really often from y‘all who write long texts about how much they love Permission or my art and it really moves me. I don‘t feel the need here to check on likes or anything much, because y‘all are super vocal and I love that. It makes me feel appreciated.

And I know I shouldn‘t pay attention to likes and all, but I would lie if I said I don‘t enjoy how ppl go nuts when they consume my art and writing? Like, of course it feels great to be cherished for something you created.

So, a message like the one you wrote means a lot to me, really! It means you didn‘t just scroll across my stuff, but you took your time with it, to look at it, to read it. That is amazing and I‘m really thankful for that.

Lots of love ❤️

[celestie0]

hiiii ellie 👋🏻

just wanna take a moment to let you know how much your writing means to me :') i'm kinda shy about doing this but fuck it, imma do it so here goes nothing lol.

for starters, i'm relatively new to this platform. i was pulled in of course by none other than satoru x reader smut... but what REALLY dialed me in was your stories.

it started with ihm, i love how you write gojo and i live for the bantering 🤭 the characters feel so real and fleshed out, you impressed me right off the bat.

so after that, i found kickoff and girl, i literally BINGE READ the entire series, staying up until like 3 am LOL. i remember laying on my couch, going through all the emotions. kicking my feet, laughing, feeling pain from the angst 😭 looked at the clock and was like oh shit, tomorrow is gonna suck but WORTH IT 🫠

and the thing is... while yes, the smut was amazing (guuuurl especially when i'm ovulating, you have fed us good 😩🤚🏻), it wasn't the main thing driving me to your stories. what really hooked me in was the way you write and how you are able to bring so much emotion to these characters. also, you are reeeeeally good at building up their relationships 😮‍💨

i've said this before but i just want to reiterate that you are the person that encouraged me to start writing on this platform. you seem like overall just a really freaking chill person too, i've always loved your vibes (also we're west coast twins i'm in socal 🫶🏻)

anyways, after starting to write i see how much hard work and effort goes into having this hobby. it really disheartens me to hear about the crap some people say, those people are really selfish and inconsiderate.

you have NO obligation to do this yet here you are, sharing your passion with us, and we are blessed for it 😇

anyways, this kind of became a side tangent... but i guess i just want you to know that the people that are sending rude shit to you and nici are on my list 😤

you are a queen, i hope you are enjoying your trip, and staying healthy. sending you lots of love 💛

hi my love omg i’m so sorry it took me so long to respond to this ask i wanted to have some proper time to respond but i read it when you sent it n it made my whole day seriously!! 🥺💕 you are so so kind

HAHAH i’m so glad you had fun binging kickoff!! that’s a lot to read in one sitting xD hope it didn’t ruin your sleep schedule TOO much skdhfksdjh

thank u sm for your kind words about my writing :”’’’) i spend a manic amt of time daydreaming about my stories n wondering ab my characters n i think i try to value character development n personalities the most so to hear that you are really feeling the emotion to my stories and characters means the world to me fr, and for you to appreciate it like aaaaaa i swear it’s what keeps me going n writing n i want to thank you for help keeping my passion alive <3 ALSO SO GLAD TO HEAR THAT ABOUT THE BUILDING RELATIONSHIPS THING BCI WORRY AB THAT A LOT SO ITS REALLY REASSURING HAHA

yaaaay fellow writer <3 i think it’s so cool how writers kinda domino off one another n we blossom into writers of our own it’s truly amazing feeling to know i inspired someone to write as well!! AND OMG SAME I AM ALSO IN SOCAL!! AAA

ugh yeah. i feel like you don’t really know how difficult it is to write until you start doing it yourself haha. i have gained SUCH large respect for my fave fanfic writers over the past year that i’ve been writing because i realize the dedication it takes, esp something done for free. i do wish some people were nicer, but alas that’s the reality i suppose. AW THANKS FOR LOOKING OUT FOR US <33

you are just SUCH an angel and i can feel the immaculate vibes from you through the screen. ty again sm for this message my love omg :’’) i really needed it. sending you SO much love as well <333

[sr-sam-bodypillow]

idk why but i thought of sam and fear play. i guess those yandere!sr headcanons and your dark!sam post are getting to me.

anyways, dark!sam x reader hcs?

— @staif-and-broulderbeans-anon

@staif-and-broulderbeans-anon

as the ceo of sam simps i formally apologise for taking so damn long on this ask lmao. i hope u can forgive me because this is so long and also i learned tumblr has a character limit whilst writing this which i did not know

tw: sam is a disgusting creep and a massive stalker in this, noncon/rape, assault, threats of murder, actual fucking murder, knife play, fear play, kidnapping, somnophilia, dacryphilia, possessive behaviour, general scumbaggery, yandere!sam, dark!sam, afab reader, i think this one is WAY more fucked up than the other one and i am SO SORRY

the time you think you met sam for the first time and the actual first time he saw you are very different. it was in passing at your workplace, a shitty 24/7 chain convenience store that you always managed to have the night shifts for.

it was getting late, but you still had quite a few more hours before the next guy came in to take over, and with no customers you found yourself drifting off at the counter, slumping in your seat as you took a much needed nap.

thing is, you did have a customer. sam's just far too good at being silent, standing off in the corner as he tries to figure out which iced coffee he's going to buy.

he peers around the shelves, spotting you, peacefully drifting off, messy hair framing your pretty face. you are absolutely adorable.

since there's nobody else in the shop, he spends a good few minutes walking around to make it seem like he's browsing the goods, when in reality he's watching you intently, drinking in every single detail of the scene like he's a man dying of dehydration

here's the thing about dark/yandere!sam. sam knows what he's doing is incredibly fucking creepy and weird. he just doesn't care. boundaries are a myth to him, but at the same time he has no illusions about what he's doing. he enjoys the feeling of power it gives him, the way he could scare someone into isolation with just a few well timed encounters. he's a massive sadist.

sam, having figured out where the cameras are by now, stands in a spot where he knows that he wont be spotted as he begins to take photos of you, taking a short video of the way your chest rises and falls.

he leaves without buying anything. why would he disturb you when you so clearly need it?

when you wake up, you can't shake the feeling that you're being watched. which you are. you very much are.

sam starts to stalk you online. he finds out every single detail he can, your social media accounts, your previous places of employment, everywhere you've lived, everywhere you've ever attended school or university, the works. he creates an entire batch of dummy accounts with false identities to follow you on accounts and to drop seemingly innocuous comments to record your responses.

within a month, he knows more about you than you could've ever possibly imagined. and you still don't even know he exists.

another thing is that he's done this to others before. but they rarely ever get past this first stage because they stop being interesting to him. not you, though. you're not so lucky.

the stalking escalates soon after to real life. you never see him, not once, as he slowly begins to map out your entire routine and lifestyle by following you.

he takes lots and lots of photos, and every single one goes up on the walls of his spare room. it's getting hard to see the original paint, and he's started having to layer photos on top of each other in some places, which upsets him.

you're taking over his entire life. you're all he thinks about. you are everything he's ever wanted and ever needed.

it goes on like this for three months before he finally 'meets' you, and even then it's been set up entirely for his own benefit.

you've just gotten some takeaway from this one place you really like when it starts pouring outside. you groan, knowing that you've got to walk home and your umbrella mysteriously vanished from your workplace just a few days ago. (sam has it.)

like a guardian angel, sam appears. he's got a big enough umbrella for the two of you and just so happens to be going in the same direction as your house. how convenient! he offers to walk with you.

you're suspicious of him at first, because it's some stranger who's come out of nowhere, but he seems to legitimately be going in the same direction as you and you really don't want to get your food wet. you agree, but keep one hand on the pepper spray in your pocket the whole time.

you chat to him on the walk back and he seems... actually quite nice! somehow, you end up with his number, and the two of you start messaging.

slowly but surely, sam begins to worm his way into your life. he doesn't rush it- no, he knows that this is a process that takes time. you need to trust him, and he is willing to wait his whole life for you.

despite all of this, he doesn't introduce you to sr. yes, he is an incredibly patient man, but if he has to take... drastic measures, he doesn't want them asking about why you've gone missing.

don't worry, you wont be dead! you'll just be tied up somewhere super safe where nobody can ever hurt you :)

sam's got a big house in a remote area. he slowly renovates one of the rooms into a perfect place to hold you, just in case

after all, he's hoping he wont ever need it. if all goes well, you won't need an introductory period where you get used to your new life, you'll just be sleeping with him from the get-go

still, he is patient. he waits. he wants everything to be picture perfect.

one day, though, you manage to test his patience a bit too much.

you don't mean to. it's just that for the very first time in the two years you've known him, you've decided to go on a date. you tell sam about the guy you're seeing, not knowing that you've given him enough information to find him.

sam is patient, but sam does not like competition. it doesn't take him much to abduct and kill them in the small apartment he rented to pretend he lived in for when you came over (he was intending to pretend that he'd just purchased his big house later down the line to convince you to move in with him)

unbeknownst to him, you already trust him far more than he thinks.

you've made your way to his apartment to ask if you can spend the night with him watching shitty horror movies instead because you're not actually too comfortable with the date and you're regretting it, only to find him halfway through butchering the man, covered in blood.

you don't even get the chance to scream. he knocks you out then and there, lamenting about how all his well-laid plans have gone to waste.

when you wake up later, it's to pleasure. you moan slightly in your half-awake stupor, too tired to really realise what's going on. is this a wet dream? it feels good, gentle hands touching you just where you want them to be.

it's only when sam laughs softly that you wake up fully, panic overtaking you.

you're tied to a wooden chair, all of your clothes having been pulled off. sam's hands rest on your thighs as he buries his face in your crotch, kissing and licking you as you squirm. you've only just woken up, but you already feel so incredibly overstimulated, his every movement sending shocks through your body.

sam takes his time. he wants to savour every single part of you.

you dont know how long he spends inbetween your legs, his beard brushing up against your skin and making you shiver. you do know that by the time he's finally has his fill you've cum at least thrice, legs shaking uncontrollably.

when he does finish, he crawls up onto your lap, kissing you gently, running his hands through your hair as he grinds his hips slightly, bulge incredibly visible in his tight pants. he's still fully clothed.

you sob uncontrollably, begging him to stop. your crying only turns him on more, and he leans in to lick your tears off your cheeks, an action that stuns you into horrified silence.

he unzips his pants, pulling out his erect cock and letting it rest on your stomach so you can see just how much you turn him on. precum begins to slowly leak down onto your skin, and you whimper pathetically.

he pulls a knife from his pocket, and slowly begins to trail it across your skin.

you yelp, telling him that you'll do anything as long as he doesn't hurt you. he coos at you, leaving hickeys on your neck.

this knife isn't to ensure your compliance. it's because sam wants to watch you bleed.

gently, he begins to leave shallow cuts along your body. they wont scar (too bad), but they will sting and they will most certainly bleed. every time he starts to drag the blade across your body you can see how his dick twitches in excitement

he begins to move, cutting away the ropes binding your legs before lifting them up and gripping onto them tightly so that he has better access to you, positioning himself at your entrance

you dont get any warning when sam slips his cock inside of you, beginning to thrust into you. again, he wants to take his time and drag this out as long as he possibly can, but it's so hard when you feel so fucking good.

it's like a switch has flipped. he becomes aggressive, grabbing you by your hair to force you to lift your head and look at him as he holds the knife to your neck. his thrusts become rougher, making the wooden chair creak with the force he's exerting.

the knife is right above your jugular, ready to drain the blood from you in one swipe. you know he can do it, too. you've already seen him murder another human. what's one more?

"beg." he hisses into your ear, grip tightening on your hair. "beg for me to fuck you, you fucking whore, or i'll slit your throat right here." the knife pushes harder into your skin, breaking the very top layers of skin and allowing a tiny amount of blood to run down your neck. "beg for me. tell me you want it, baby. i know you want it. let me hear you scream, or i'll fucking make you."

you beg. you plead for him to fuck you harder, to keep going, to be as rough with you as he likes. he listens, grabbing your jaw and forcing him to kiss you before biting down onto your shoulders, grip so tight you feel like you're going to bruise

you can't stop the broken moans that spill out of you as he slams into you over and over again. he laughs. "you're so much tighter when you're scared, darling. it's so fucking good"

you shudder as he finishes inside of you, warmth flooding in. he pulls out, grabbing his phone and taking a photo of his cum spilling out, bruises beginning to form on your body as cuts scab over

the switch flips again and he goes back to gentle and caring, brushing your hair from your eyes as he gazes at you with so much love in his eyes that it feels like it will burn you, slowly starting to take care of your superficial wounds

sam's so happy to have you, and you've got a very long time to learn to love him the way he loves you