#i remembered when i first watched this i was snickering so hard in the office everyone thought i was going insane

[tsuntsunfangirl]

aaaand how many demons can dance on a head of a pin

[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.

[ryescapades]

genre/warning: hoshina soshiro x gn platoon leader dazai!reader (can be both platonic or romantic), fluff

a/n: had a sudden burst of idea so here ya go :) can also be in the same universe as narumi’s version if you want it to be. up to yall!

narumi | extra

"oh, you're in charge this time too?"

tucking a pistol into the holster on your hips, you turn around at the sound of hoshina's voice, a teasing smile on your face. "you don't sound happy about that at all, vice-captain." you snicker.

your superior rolls his eyes lightheartedly. "last time you were assigned to this, one of the newbies almost blew up her drone," he points out, making you shrug. "not my fault they believed what i said about the kaiju hacking and taking control of our drones,"

"you shouldn't be giving out false information in the first place, platoon leader," he chides, and you give him a mock salute. “aye aye, sir. i promise i will only give away accurate information from now on,”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

the grating sound of the massive gates sliding open fills the atmosphere, the new group of recruits waiting on standby as the kaiju beyond the gates prowl around.

"alright, the monthly evaluation will proceed as usual. neutralize kaiju, assist in whatever way ya can and we'll see how much your combat power has risen up since last time." hoshina says, looking over the recruits as you and another platoon leader from your division stand beside him.

with the ten minutes given as preparation, your eyes glint in a way that has hoshina suspiciously eyeing you as you approach one of the officers.

"how's the prodigy doing?" you greet, causing ichikawa to startle before he turns to you with a quick salute, a faint blush blooming on his cheeks at the nickname. "platoon leader y/n! i'm doing fine. i'm hoping my power release will improve today, since i've been working well with these freezing rounds," he beams.

"that's right! and i'll be right there with ya, reno! my combat power will definitely increase as much as yours, if not more!" furuhashi suddenly appears, slinging an arm around ichikawa’s shoulders with a wide grin. you smile as you watch them interact, before an idea comes to your mind.

"you guys remember the small armory hidden somewhere in the field, right? you see, extra points will be given if you manage to find it and use any of the big guns during the evaluation," you muse, a hand cupping the side of your mouth to not let the others around you listening in.

seemingly engrossed with the ‘hints', the two boys nodded eagerly. "so more points if we use the super secret weapons, huh?" furuhashi cheers excitedly as ichikawa puts a hand under his chin, thinking hard. "but the field is so big though, can we really find it while fighting kaiju at the same time?"

"sure can! you'll know when you see it. just run around near the garage area and it might be there right in front of you guys," you add, sounding all the more convincing. funnily enough, they start discussing several plans on how to quickly find the armory. "yeah, that's right. write it down, write it down." you insist, pleased that they don't notice your mischievous tone as you start to walk away, leaving them to their own devices.

"you'll immediately get zero mark if ya even so much as touch any of the weapons. those are only for your superiors to use,"

furuhashi and ichikawa yelp in surprise before they finally realize what their vice-captain had said. "wait, what?!" the former exclaims. the two of them swivel their heads towards you, looking betrayed at the expression you threw at them from afar; a tongue sticking out, a wink and two peace signs with a faint giggle of "teehee," coming out of your mouth.

"currently, the weapons in the armory are not fully loaded and it's our job— not the recruits'— to make sure they're always ready to be used in case of an emergency. your platoon leader over there," hoshina retorts, nodding his head towards your direction. "they knew fully well yall newbies won't ever find the armory given how hidden it is. although if ya actually do manage to find it and use the guns, it's not like they're going to fail ya. they're in charge of the marking systems this time," he explains.

"then why did they even mention about the armory in the first place?" reno questions, confusion taking over his face. "well, y/n is also in charge of loadin’ up the armory, unfortunately. you guys probably seemed like the perfect victims for them to use in bringin’ those weapons back to base for said maintenance," hoshina further clarifies, shaking his head exasperatedly at the thought of you slacking off at work.

well, technically you did convey the correct info… but still.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

you’re taken out of your reverie when there’s a light bonk on your head.

“stop loafin’ around on the job, y/n,”

rubbing on the spot hoshina had hit, you frown a little. “i’m not loafing around. it’s called taking a rest, vice-captain. something you’d hardly understand,” you mutter, tossing over on the couch in captain ashiro’s office.

the swordsman sighs almost fondly before placing a stack of papers in front of ashiro who has been working hard as ever. “reports for this month’s evaluation.”

“thanks, hoshina.”

“anytime, captain,”

ashiro glances at you from her seat behind the desk. “speaking of reports, i remember you saying you’re working on a new kaiju case, y/n?” she inquires with a perfectly raised brow, spinning the pen in her fingers mindlessly.

at that, your eyes dart over to the coffee table in front of you where a few papers were laid out, paragraphs of dark ink fully covering the surfaces. you’re about to grumble something again when a new voice catches your attention.

“this is all we’ve managed to find about the recent cases, captain ashiro.”

your head perks up, already sitting up as you turn towards the person just behind the couch you’re laying on. “ichikawa-kun! you’re a godsent, you know that? do you wanna write these reports for me?” you implore, eyes shining so brightly that there could’ve been sparkles floating around you with how extremely hopeful you look.

the mentioned officer blinks in surprise, not expecting you to suddenly make such a request. “e-excuse me?” he stammers awkwardly.

“stop makin’ the recruits do your work. it’s unethical. now scoot over,” you pout at hoshina’s scolding tone before doing what he instructed, making space for him to sit on the couch as well.

he pats his (sturdy and thick) thighs, and you happily plants your head on his lap as he reaches over to take your case papers, marvelling at how detailed and thorough your notes are. not a second after, the two of you immediately dive in to discuss about the facts and theories your brilliant mind had thought of.

ichikawa stares at your and hoshina’s interaction with a bewildered expression, sending a questioning look to his captain, which she only shrugs at.

“let them be. they’re in their own world right now,” she says with a small smile.

kind of gave up thinking how to end this so i just let it be at that lol

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Gwi-Nam (1/4)

Word Count: 3.9k

I remembered that I actually wrote this whole thing for fun several months ago. Might as well use this for an easy peasy ease back into society.

R stared at the email on her phone, her brain scrambling to make sense of the Korean typo in the email. Although she stood in the main hallway, gathering many stares from the native Korean high school students, the posted signs were not the most helpful.

She took in her surroundings once again, adjusting her old and well-loved frog backpack, loaded with stationery. The hoard of students desperate to make it to class on time sometimes collided, and R was astounded at the sheer student population of the public high school. Unlike from her home country, the high school seemed well-funded and quite modern, even compared to the college she was actively attending at home — which had given her this opportunity abroad. The atmosphere made R somewhat anxious.

R sighed, deciding the best course of action — after a few failed attempts of grabbing a frantic student’s attention — was to go to the right and follow past the principal’s office. R’s entire goal was to find the teacher’s lounge. And although one might think to ask the principal, she was terrified of making a poor first impression. 

The hallway had grown vacant and silent, only the sound of her footsteps echoing. She noticed her tattoo cover-up sleeves were scrunching slightly, and while walking, looked down to adjust it.

She suddenly heard loud, quick footsteps come from behind. Just as she went to glance over her shoulder, a hard shoulder smashed into her back and knocked R forward onto the ground. She scraped her knees, which created instant panic. As she scrambled to sit and inspect her knee, there was a cruel snicker.

R scowled, recognizing the tear in her leg sleeve. Luckily, R was always analy OCD and overprepared, and knew she could clip it with a pin and hide it under her knee-length black skirt. 

Two shoes stopped in front of her. R looked up, unamused. A student who looked far more mature than his peers by a few years toward her with black banks and a Korean-styled mullet. As she was still adjusting from her native tongue to Korean, his words did not register at first.

R’s scowl disappeared as she intently focused on the words.

“Since when does our school let in foreign [unknown]?” he sneered.

R blinked, only assuming it was foul language spitting from his mouth, and rolled her eyes. “You are making a bad first impression on a new teacher.” She intentionally left out the assistant.

She watched as his breath and stance stiffened. “Shit.” He glanced her over, a slight smirk growing. “The school must be desperate if they took in a foreign [whore] with fake hair and tattoos.”

R’s eyes widened and her cheeks darkened, pulling the dark brown wig over her head to hide her brightly dyed hair. She finally brushed herself off and pinned the sleeves together. R returned to her feet, only then recognizing the slight burn in her knees.

“Listen, kid. How about you mind your business and I’ll mind mine? I can already tell you’re an asshole, so I’d recommend you get to your class before I bring you with me to the principal’s office for harassment.”

The student sneered and crossed his arms. There was a momentary tense staredown before he seemed to loosen up, clicking his tongue and walking off — but not without snatching one of her decorative to-do list papers. R sighed, not caring enough to pursue her to-do list. She already seemed fairly unprofessional with her frog backpack, so a pink sticky note with Hello Kitty on it was better off left out of sight.

Despite the aggravating experience, R continued on her way, plastering a smile on her face. Eventually, she found the teacher’s office empty. However, a teacher named Ms. Park had left a name on the door with R’s name and the classroom number. R sighed with relief, heading off to the classroom.

R burst through the classroom door. Ms. Park had been speaking, but all went silent except for the muttering of students. R was nervous, but as time passed, the classroom became as familiar as any other.

~~~

R blasted her somewhat generic pop playlist since the old songs from the 2000s never grew old to her. She was chowing down on her boxed lunch, which was cutely styled like everything else: a Hello Kitty lunchbox, as she succumbed to capitalistic desires of that brand easily. 

The concrete, half-built foundation was where she went during the lunch period to get some peace and quiet. During the semester, construction had been placed to a halt except for weekends, as there were frequent noise complaints from school staff and students. To R, it was her perfect hide-away location from prying eyes.

As she finished up her homemade kimbap — an accomplishment R was proud of — Shake It Off began echoing from her phone. R grinned, and she stood up. She sang poorly, but sang with it regardless, even incorporating some equally poor dance moves during the chorus.

R halted mid-song as her stomach had a sharp, sudden pain, hissing loudly and grasping her stomach. She cursed under her breath.

“Eh? How unathletic are you? How embarrassing.”

R gasped in fright, swerving to face the onlooker. She sighed out of relief, recognizing the infamous rule-breaker from her classroom (although he rarely attended class). R had a neutral opinion of the boy, as he was notoriously the “bully’s gopher,” but hadn’t ratted her out or spread any rumors about her unprofessional underbelly. 

“At least I’m more athletic than the gym instructor,” R shot back, noticing that the stomach pain had left.

Gwi-nam’s eyebrows raised, adorning a cheeky grin. He often put up an air of unapproachability, but due to R’s semi-authority, it seemed he neither cared to intimidate nor to fake manners. 

“You could get fired for saying something like that.”

“I could get fired for a lot of things, kid.”

R went over and sat back on the cement steps, furrowing through her lunchbox and sipping on an internationally imported Capri Sun. Gwi-nam leaned on the crudely placed metal rails, leering over the woman. He eyed the package curiously, as well as the rest of the cutified objects.

“I’m amazed someone like you got transferred here,” Gwi-nam scoffed. “There’s nothing professional about you.”

“My college GPA, past internships, letters of recommendation, and my polyglot status say otherwise. Besides, Ms. Park says I bring a modern level of cultural diversity.”

“God, you’re full of yourself.”

“So what?” R chortled, slurping up the rest of her juice. “I deserve to be a little self-confident. I worked hard to get here.”

Gwi-nam rolled his eyes. “Whatever. What the hell are doing out here anyway? I bet you’re too weird to make any friends.”

“Not at all. I just like to eat alone,” R insisted. “Why are you here, kid? Don’t you have anywhere else to be or lunch to be eating?”

“I don’t have friends. Just people I hang out with.”

“Hm. Well, how about some bribery to get you back with your people? Here’s a chocolate bar.”

~~~

R handed the student sitting next to her a tiny container of cut canteloupe and some chopsticks. “At this rate, you owe me an entire hot pot.”

Gwi-nam snatched the bowl, immediately digging in hungrily. “No way,” he grumbled with a full mouth. “That would count as taking advantage of a student. Besides, with how fat you’ve gotten, you obviously have some food to spare.”

R clicked her tongue angrily, swatting Gwi-nam’s neck. “How dare you comment on a woman’s wait like that. With those manners, it’s no wonder why you don’t have a girlfriend.”

The comment made her feel somewhat insecure regardless. Gwi-nam wasn’t wrong. R had been wearing baggier shirts recently, as no matter how much she exercised or ate healthily, it hardly impacted the small stomach bump she had developed in the last two months. The only explanation was that it was from poor sleep, stress, and overworking. 

“I’m too busy for that.”

“Too busy because you’re beating up some helpless classmate, right? Don’t think I don’t notice when your knuckles are all messed up. You’re called the bully’s gopher for a reason.”

“You fucking bitch,” Gwi-nam sneered,“ don’t call me that. Just because you know a fucking language doesn’t mean I won’t kill you.”

R sent a glare before snatching back the cantaloupe from him. “God, you’re rude and sensitive.”

“As if. Now give me my food back.”

She rolled her eyes. She very much assumed he had home problems and had taken some level of pity on him since the boy showed up in the building every day since their first encounter and had neither friends nor food. But after enduring an all-nighter, she didn’t feel like putting up with his foul attitude.

R shoved her food back into the lunchbox and stood up. As she did so, Gwi-nam’s hands latched onto R, causing her to almost trip. Gwi-nam shouted in irritation, but the sensation of standing had made R feel dizzy enough not to notice. Black dots clouded her vision and she stumbled forward slightly.

“Hey!” Gwi-nam exclaimed, grabbing and pulling her back to the step. 

R sat, and it felt as though her stomach vibrated with agony. She let out a hiss of pain and laid back, the lunchbox long forgotten. R gasped and rubbed her stomach, feeling a sudden leaking sensation. It was as though her stomach was hollowing out.

“What’s wrong?” Gwi-nam huffed, aiding in lowering her slowly onto the steps. 

“I… I don’t know — I feel…”

“What the fuck —!”

R was confused, focusing on nothing but the sharp cramps. But as Gwi-nam scampered away, R twisted her head up to see what he was looking at. R screeched as she noticed a waterfall of bloody blobs leaking from her white skirt. R reached for her phone but barely felt the ability to move from the cramps. It was as though her period was on blast.

“Call a fucking ambulance!” R shrieked, to which Gwi-nam clumsily withdrew up from his pocket. 

He called 119, but nothing other than confusion was displayed in his expression. R heard the muffled voice of an operator, to which Gwi-nam stuttered in reply,“ I - I need an ambulance at the front gate of Hyosan High.” Another few seconds passed before Gwi-nam spat out a few stuttered descriptions of the emergency. 

He pocketed the phone before grabbing R’s arms and tugging her up. R grunted, a few tears sliding down her cheek. When R’s legs gave out, Gwi-nam scoffed in annoyance and scooped her up, trying to disregard the blood that stained his jacket.

R grasped onto him for dear life, stuttering,“ What are you doing?”

“What does it look like, stupid?”

A few minutes later, Gwi-nam arrived at the front gate at the knick of time. He flinched at how loud the sirens were as the ambulance pulled up. Nurses rolled out and helped get R into the back, with Gwi-nam deciding to get in the back.

~~~

“Ms. R, it appears you had an intense miscarriage,” the doctor informed the woman, staring at the clipboard. “You were being too hard on yourself during the pregnancy.”

R paled and shivered. “I didn’t… I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know you were pregnant?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry then. However, you should be able to head home now. Your boyfriend is waiting outside.”

“He’s not my…” R mumbled, watching the doctor walk off. 

The nurses helped R to her feet. She was thoroughly cleaned, adorning nothing but the white robe. However, with the state of her old clothing, they had been discarded with instructions to head straight home and change. R slipped on her shoes and shuffled weakly to the open doorway.

His head bobbed sleepily, Gwi-nam was sitting by the door. R wiped away her tears and softly shook his shoulder. R was surprised he had waited, as by the time everything was okayed, the sun had set. Ms. Park had called at some point, but R would deal with the repercussions of a missed afternoon session and after-school office hours when she got home.

“Gwi-nam,” R called.

His head shot up and a snort escaped. His eyes were wide and his brow furrowed. He rose, immediately eyeing her up and down. “What happened? The sons of bitches wouldn’t let me go in to see you.”

R chuckled, insecurely grasping at her stomach. “It was… just a stomach ulcer that got stuck. They had to get rid of it, that is all. I’m alright.”

Gwi-nam’s shoulders instantly relaxed. “Eh? All that blood for an ulcer?”

“It’s been growing for two months now.” R glanced around. “You should head home now. Let me get you something from the vending machine. It’s not much, but —“

“You were the one in the hospital,” he gruffly mumbled. “Besides, you were the one who said I owed you a hot pot.”

“Nonsense. Your parents are probably waiting for you.”

He snorted obnoxiously. “No, they’re not. So, let’s go.”

Gwi-nam grabbed her arm and started dragging her down the hall to the exit. R protested but with his tight, unrelinquishing hold, she gave in and joined him at a nearby convenience store. After some fuss between them, Gwi-nam was able to take what she grabbed and pay for the food together. R was as grateful as she was surprised by the student’s kindness.

When they sat at the window, R inquired quietly,“ Are you sure your parents aren’t waiting for you?”

“As if. My dad’s probably off at work while my mom’s fucking her new boyfriend in a hotel.” R frowned, to which Gwi-nam snapped,“ Hey, don’t fucking look at me like that. I don’t want your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” she replied. “I’m upset. You deserve better people in your life.”

Gwi-nam tried not to show that the comment had taken him aback, covering it up with a glare and a scoff. However, despite his best cover-up, R noticed how blood rushed to his cheeks. R sent him a sweet smile, unaware of just how impacted Gwi-nam was.

~~~

The door to the classroom slid open loudly, and without looking, R stated,” It’s not like you to be so early for our sessions, Cheong-san.”

When R received no reply, she looked up. She was taken aback to find Gwi-nam standing at the entrance, harboring an unsure and anxious expression with his backpack shouldered. R tilted her head and sent a smile.

“Gwi-nam, come sit. How can I help you?”

“I need help with English, obviously.”

R chuckled as the man plopped into the seat next to hers, backpack on the floor. “I assumed. I was more so asking what you need help with for English.”

“Oh. Uh, with… the homework.”

R found it endearing how nervous he was, glancing constantly at the door. She knew he would rather be caught dead than at a study session, but was incredibly proud of his courage. Gwi-nam pulled out the paper. The class was assigned various Robert Frost poems to decipher. Gwi-nam had been assigned to Stopping by Woods. And instead of just using a translator, Gwi-nam came to R.

“Do you need help with the grammar functions?” R inquired.

Gwi-nam nodded, grabbing a pen. R began explaining the concepts and switching words to make the sentences more comprehensible to a foreign speaker. Gwi-nam was surprisingly attentive until a ding came from R’s phone.

R glanced briefly at the notification, noticing the time. “Ah. I have a scheduled student appointment in a few minutes, so I have to cut this short. Can I pen you in for next Monday?”

“Eh? Why?”

“So that you can come again. If you do, I’ll even bring you a snack. How does three-thirty sound?”

Gwi-nam shoved his notes back in begrudgingly. “Whatever,” he muttered, not meeting R’s eyes.

“Great! See you then. Get home safe, Gwi-nam.”

He didn’t reply, quickly shuffling into the hallway. R’s heart warmed, and a part of her felt somewhat proud that she was making an impact on her student’s life to some capacity.

~~~

R awoke with a gasp, clasping at her bedsheets. It took not a moment after for her alarm to go blaring in her ears. She immediately shut it off and focused on regaining her breath. 

Everything was going well in Korea. Work, friends, lifestyle, school (as exhausting as it was to be doing college at the same time as her transfer abroad) — all except the overlying issue.

R had managed to attract a stalker. 

It started small, and she was convinced it was a student of hers. She constantly felt watched when nobody was around. Things would go missing from her bag or desk. Then one day, while she was in the office on her own, she glanced over and saw a shadowed figure staring through a crack in the door.

That’s when things seemed to escalate, especially the paranoia. She became more organized with her things and knew when things would disappear. She carried a safety weapon at all times. Sometimes, when a hooded man followed her for a stretch, she’d break for a run.

And then things escalated again — one day, the hooded man ran, too.

That was when, after calling Ms. Park in distress, they went to the police together. R knew that Korea tended not to take cases like her’s seriously, and it’s not as though she knew how to talk to a police officer that well.

With thorough convincing from Ms. Park, they kept an eye on the neighborhood R lived in from time to time. But that hardly seemed to do any good, because that was when R noticed that hooded man outside her apartment building. And then outside her apartment.

R invested in every home safety feature. Door cameras, motion-detecting lights, and a silent break-in alarm if it came to it.

She was terrified and was considering moving, to say the least. Calling the police was a lost cause since they “couldn’t do anything with the footage” and “a crime hadn’t happened yet.”

So R lived in fear. The stalker had even invaded her nightmares.

When R grabbed her phone, she noticed that one of her bear-shaped sticky notes was beside the phone. She went through her notifications before she roused herself. And only then did she notice the content of the sticky note.

Written in messy, almost intelligible Korean, was written ‘The cops can’t do shit.’

R shrieked. She noticed her underwear drawer was ajar. She noticed that her lights had been unscrewed. And the silent alarm hadn’t been triggered. R was a mess getting ready for work, taking photos of the various evidence. And although she tried to compose herself on the subway, she was still a wreck when she got to campus.

As she walked past the school gates, she gasped when a fist punched her shoulder suddenly. R veered her body toward the culprit, recognizing Gwi-nam immediately. He wore a casual expression.

“Gwi-nam,” R stated, recovering from her shock – and momentarily forgetting her troubles.

The student clicked his tongue, motioning to his head. “Your hair is falling off, teacher.”

“Ah!” R, embarrassed, readjusted the wig furiously. “Better?”

His nostrils flared and he eyed her up and down. He nodded.

“Thank you. I hope to see you in class later.”

R walked away, feeling her student’s eyes follow her intensely.

Only then did the panic come back. She was in a rush, greeting students only briefly until she arrived at the teacher’s office. R wrapped her arms around Ms. Park from behind, who jolted in shock.

“R!” she exclaimed. 

“Help.”

R released her and handed the now attentive Ms. Park her phone. The woman scrolled through the photos, growing paler by the second. She handed the phone back.

“You can’t stay there anymore.”

“I know that — but my landlord won’t accept it as a reason to break the lease. My credit score will be destroyed.”

“Fuck the credit score!” Other teachers glared, causing Ms. Park to clear her throat and compose herself. “You have to move out today. I’ll help you after class.”

“My assignment will be late.”

“R. This is not up for negotiation. So stop worrying and let’s leave this for after school.”

She nodded, blinking away the blurred tears. She sat at her desk, rummaging through her items quickly. Ms. Park nudged her, a twinkle in her eye.

“You know, you’re out here doing miracle work for our students. I was checking class B’s overall grades, and I found that On-jo has gone from a D+ to a B-. And even better, Gwi-nam somehow went from failing to a B+. I’m sure you’ll get a bonus from the principal for all your hard work at the end of the school year.”

R smiled, some of her uneasiness lifting off her shoulders from the news.

~~~

Much to R’s dismay, it quickly became apparent that R had forgotten to pack a lunch. She had grabbed her lunch box, but the contents were nonexistent. Thus, R knew she’d have to head down to the cafeteria vending machine grab some carbohydrate-filled junk, and break the bad news to Gwi-nam.

On her way, she noticed Gwi-nam leaning on a wall on his phone. R hummed, approaching. Gwi-nam immediately noticed, eyes glued to her figure. R paused in front of him, fumbling with her fingers.

“Well, Gwi-nam, I… woke up late this morning, so I didn’t pack a lunch. Do you have money for the vending machine?”

“Eh? Late? How unprofessional.”

R rolled her eyes. I’ll take that as a yes. Just make sure you eat.” R spun to head over to the cafeteria before pausing. “Oh, one more thing. I’m proud of you and the progress you’ve made in class, Gwi-nam. I hope you know that.”

She walked over to the cafeteria, not noticing how the student gulped and his cheeks grew red, unable to tear his gaze away from the woman.

The cafeteria was crowded and R struggled to evade students. She replied to greetings from students and eventually made it to the vending machine. R checked her phone as a goofy lunch wrap slowly unraveled. Alas, the lunch period was already fifteen minutes through.

The wrap was nearly loose, sliding down the front. It did so slowly, and R nearly screamed when she realized it was about to stop moving.

R had had a bad enough day and kicked the machine. Just like that, the wrap plopped down. As R grabbed it, the noise level in the cafeteria skyrocketed. R swerved to observe the commotion and was unprepared for what she saw. A hoard of students were flying through the glass entrance, until students suddenly slammed it shut, locking out a small group. Screams echoed, and despite the unknowing threat, R dashed toward the entrance, shoving her wrap into her skirt pocket.

And that was when another hoard approached. Students covered in blood ran at the group, and although they tried to run, the students caught them. Blood spewed against the glass, and R shrieked. Although R was frozen in place, everyone around her was running amock in panic from the sudden brutal attack. 

R stood just on the other side of the pane, not far from the front door. Students ran, and then so did the blood-covered students. The doors went crashing open, and R’s life flashed before her eyes as a student she immediately recognized pounced at her.

[ravenna-reid]

Admirer from the past... (Pt. 2)

TW: blood, mention of dead bodies & birds and stalking/obsessive behaviour

Part One Here

No matter how hard you tried to distract yourself. How many times you re-read over the plethora of files on your dozens of clients. How many times you made yourself yet another cup of tea. How many times you re-organised your desk, you couldn't tear your mind away from the memory.

The lines of police tape and sirens. The black petals dusting the dirty, wet ground. The stench of the strangers blood smeared across the pavement to spell your name. The horrified faces all snapping up to catch your reaction. The Red Robin's eyes glued onto you.

Fuck, you knew that guy was really bad news when he first walked in.

Although you were a registered and respected forensic psychologist, you were also working at your own psychology clinic, handling patients that displayed erratic or criminal behaviour. And did you still remembered him like it was yesterday.

He'd been sent to you for his odd behaviour, psychopathic tendencies, signs of selective mutism as well as obsessive behaviour.

Extremely obsessive behaviour.

Harry tells you you were being naive for thinking he'd never become obsessed with you, but you just never imagined it. You had, maybe seven sessions in total with him? And soon enough, a dark figure watched you leave and return to the office every day. He sent copious amounts of dying flowers and disturbing letters, and it only grew worse.

Banging on your car window and begging to be with you. Bloodshot eyes and a spine chilling grin wherever you went. And soon after, once you realised you had to move out of your apartment, he was sent to the police. Banned from your clinic and from you.

And now look at what he was doing. Taking innocent peoples lives-

Your soul leapt through your chest when you heard the gentle tap on the window. You snapped your attention outside to see Red Robin there, sheepish smile across his face as he waved.

Surprised. You were genuinely surprised.

Subtly regathering yourself, you closed your laptop and walked towards the window. The cool chill from outside took its chance to creep into your office once you opened the window. Tim's eyes glanced over you. Your hair was thrown into a french twist again, a little messy this time with strands of hair escaping here and there. A long, checkered coat hugged snuggly around your body, a black turtle neck peeping through the top. Your hooped earrings dangled as you tilted your head to the side.

He could practically feel the blush creeping up on him.

"Red Robin. How did you find me?"

Red Robin. He liked how you said that.

He ignored your question and gestured to your office, "May I?"

You nodded.

Tim slipped through the window, but stayed close beside it as though he was unsure about stepping further into the room.

He awkwardly nodded, "Y/n."

You gave an amused smile in return. How odd was this.

"I uh, I did a little research. Your clinic is pretty well-known." He finally responded.

Pride flushed through your cheeks. "I would hope so. It took me almost a decade to get this far." You sat back down at your desk and crossed your legs. "Do you need something from me?"

"Well, I was sent here by-"

"Harry?" You finished with a light laugh and the shake of your head.

Tim's brow furrowed. "That predictable huh?"

"Yes," you held up one of your spare coffee mugs and raised a brow. Tim swallowed before shaking his head. "It's alright."

You placed it back on your shelf. "Very predictable. Especially given the circumstances. Harry has known about this bastard for a while now."

"Yeah, about that. I was pretty eager to check up on you too after that."

Your heart beat a little faster. Tim moved closer to your desk, his eyes trailing over all of the files. The many degrees, masters and awards hanging above it. He snickered.

"How humble."

You shrugged. "'Humility is the solid foundation of all virtues.'"

With a genuine smile on his face, he leant against your desk and crossed his arms. "I need whatever you have on this guy so I can get him. Put him away before he does any more damage."

"I agree," You said before pulling a folder out of the nearest filing cabinet. "Here. This has everything. Criminal records, psychoanalysis, extra notes and information."

Tim flipped it open and immediately became immersed in it.

Jacob Harrington was his name, which Tim - of course - already knew, but he was still surprised that this guy was actually younger than both of you.

Tim's dark hair fell before his eyes as he read, and you couldn't help but watch on and admire him.

He was definitely handsome, and therefore probably taken.

"What a fucking creep." He murmured, reading over the counts of crimes he committed towards you prior to this incident. Mainly all of the stalking.

"Tell me about it." You sighed. "I'll help you in any way you need. I can predict his behaviour, and I have some friends in high places."

Tim smiled, until his thoughts went to one of your little friends. "Like Harry?"

"A bit higher up than Harry."

Tim hummed. Then berated himself for thinking such a thing.

No Tim. Don't ask her, don't ask her, don't ask her-

"Are you too close?" The words were out before he could stop himself. He gave you a side glance and didn't miss the expression that melted onto your face.

"I suppose," You teased out. "Harry has always been a family friend."

"A very protective one." Tim pointed out. Rightfully so he guessed, but he still wanted to test the waters.

"Yeah, I guess he feels he kinda owes it to me to be so protective."

"Owes it to you?"

"Harry was the detective signed onto my parents case. But he never found the guy that killed them." You gave a sad shrug, your eyes still trained on the rug.

Something tugged at Tim's heart, and suddenly his determination to find this asshole who was stalking you became even more fervent. Intense. He would keep you safe, if it was the last thing he'd do.

"I'm so sorry y/n."

You took a sharp breath in and masked it all with a smile. "It's alright Wonder Boy." But he didn't believe you. Instead, there was this sweet, sympathetic glint in his eyes. This was the guys that plummeted bad guys?

Suddenly, your phone buzzed on the table. "Ha, speak of the devil." You gave a light laugh before answering. "Yes, he is here. Yes, we are fine."

Tim watched you, tried to read the conversation by reading your expressions. And obviously, Harry had just said something that terrified you.

"What? My apartment? But..."

Tim put the folder back on your desk and frowned. "What is it?"

You stayed silent though, listening intensely to what Harry had to say. And every second was agonising for Tim until you finally hung up.

"What's wrong y/n? Is it that guy?"

Your face grew pale as you tried to find the words. "He.."

Tim stepped closer. "Yeah?" He ushered gently.

"That fucker wrecked my apartment."

Part 3

[saturnsorbits]

On Watching the Man you Love, Love Someone Else

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Period-esque, Angst, The Bastardisation of a Longer Piece I'll Never Finish. Word Count: 4k.

Summary: Set to pull the job of a lifetime, Sero's band of wayward thieves are left short when Camie runs off. But could her leaving be the catalyst for more than just a new plan?

A/N: It genuinely hurts a little to let this piece go. I worked on the idea for a while, and really did fall a little in love with this Reader, but ultimately the idea just wasn’t meant to be finished in a word count I could commit to. This piece has so much potential, I’m just not enough of a writer to properly do it justice… I’ve tweaked some pieces, the conversation that occurs with Sero at the end was originally supposed to take place between Reader and Cammie for example - but this is as cohesive as I could get it. Anyway… I hope at least someone enjoys this…

'Gone.'

A chair hits the floor, wood creaking as the legs snap and splinter.

'Fucking gone.' Sweeping an arm across a table, Sero sees the end to a bottle of wine and two half-full glasses. They smash and paint the floor red. 'Fucking – fuck!'

'With all due respect...' Standing in the doorway to the office, Shinso ducks a rogue paper weight as it's hefted at his head. It cracks against the brick behind him before dropping to the floor and rolls until his boot comes down on it. '… It was just a matter of time before she took off again.'

Sero's head snaps up from where he's hunched over his desk. His arms are shaking, hands marked and scratched from his tantrum as he forces out a breath through gritted teeth. 'Don't patronise me right now.'

'Is it patronising to just state a fact?' Shinso arches an eyebrow.

Sucking a long breath up through his nose, Sero inhales until his lungs begin to burn. 'I'll bury a stiletto in your skull.'

'You're not quick enough.'

'I'll -.'

'Stop threatening me, when we both know you're just upset that you've proven to be too uninteresting to entertain your lady-love again.' Bending at the hip, Shinso snatches the paper weight from under his foot and tosses the stone in his hand. With an amused boredom, he slips a small pocket knife from the rim of his boot and begins to scratch. 'What did she take this time?'

'Her shares of the last score, half the dried meat, the last mill-seed loaf, two of the expensive dresses and the...' Biting the inside of his cheeks, Sero's eyes drop to the floor. 'She took the Todoroki.'

A laugh bursts from Shinso's chest. 'Good fuckin' riddance.'

'I liked that painting.' Sero growls. 'Almost lost my fucking head stealing it too.'

'Oh, I remember...' Biting down his smile, Shinso licks at his lips and clears his throat. 'Worry not brother, we still have a game ahead.' He snickers. 'Maybe we'll be able to snatch you another.'

Sero seethes, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he grinds his teeth until he feels the molars catch. 'The game's pretty much fucked now that Camie's taken off again.'

'No.' Shinso shakes his head. 'I know it's hard for you to think beyond yourself sometimes, but there's more than just one woman in this piss-poor little gang of ours capable of playing a darling Duke's daughter.'

Setting himself back down in his chair, Sero sighs. He digs a knuckle into his eye. 'Make sure she's ready for the first touch tomorrow morning. I don't want us to spend any longer on this than we have to.'

With mock decency, Shinso folds himself over in a low bow before standing and stretching out his shoulders. 'Certainly... Now, I'll leave you to your moping, my Lord. Feel free not to trouble us while you're constitution has you acting so pathetic.' A wide grin takes his lip, but before Sero can think of rising from his chair in another fit of anger, Shinso tosses the paper weight straight at his head. 'Catch.'

Snatching the stone from the air, Sero flips it over in his palm exposing the rough outline of a broken heart and a crude crying stick figure on his knees beside it. He's too slow as he hefts it back at the now closed door of his office.

Shinso's footsteps retreat, echoing around the cold stone of the corridor beyond; his low laughter following close on his heels. Sero slams a fist on his desk. 'Fucking bastard!'

'The Queen of Thieves has -.' Kirishima wobbles as he descends the stairs into the kitchen, you in his arms, with only Tetsutestu's hand on the broad of his shoulders to stop him from toppling over.

'For the love of -.' Bakugo hisses. Spinning around from his post in front of the stove, he digs a fist into his hip and glowers. 'Keep it down.'

Tipping you out of his arms, Kirishima slinks toward Bakugo. His head dips, cheeks glowing soft as he slips his arms around the smaller man and plants a kiss on his cheek. 'Sorry, baby...'

'He might be sorry...' Skipping up to the large, oak dining table set central in the room you unhook a large, bulging coin purse from your shoulder and empty it out onto the table. Coins of gold and silver clatter onto the wood, flowing from the bag until the entire surface of the table shines. '… But, I'm not. We're celebrating.'

Bakugo's eyebrows dip. 'You ran a score.'

'We did.' You beam. 'Stole a bunch of machine parts from Ingenium's.'

'Ingenium's is protected by the League.' Venom drips into Bakugo's voice, his teeth grinding as he levels a spoon with your head. He's about to shout, the vein in his temple already bulging, but before he manages to bark, you're grinning.

'And -' You lift a palm to stop him. 'When poor little Tenya wakes up in the morning and discovers that his four gold pieces a week to the League hasn't stopped his precious shop from being turned over, he's going to look elsewhere and who else do we know who has a reputation for keeping thieves away?'

Bakugo tries not to let it show, but pride makes his chest puff out and his eyes shine. 'I should be mad that you're whoring my boyfriend out as hired muscle...'

'But...' Your eyebrows dance on your forehead. 'But, you've just put the biggest score I've seen all year on that bloody table -.'

Kirishima pecks at Bakugo's cheek again, twisting from where he had been dipping his fingers in the bubbling soup on the stove behind his boyfriends back. 'Don't forget the bank notes. We've got bank notes too...'

A snort breaks from Bakugo's chest. '… And guaranteed us another solid four gold a week, so -.'

This time it's Tetsutetsu who breaks into Bakugo's speech. 'We put our prices up two weeks ago. It's eight pieces now. Seemed fitting since there's two of us; an not just one bruiser like the other gangs are offering.'

This time Bakugo does laugh. He throws his head back, shoulders bouncing as he slips from Kirishima's hold and stalks towards you. Opening his arms, he wraps himself around your waist and lifts, spinning you around once before letting you back to your feet. 'If I were into women I'd kiss you breathless, you little fucking genius.'

You giggle and lace your hands behind his neck. 'I'd love to take all the credit, but -.'

'But she was the mastermind behind it all...' Kirishima beams. 'We just stood by and looked scary.'

Tetsutetsu offers. 'We helped lift the machine parts too!'

'It was a joint effort.' You concede, letting Bakugo drift back to the stove, after ordering the boys to set the table.

'What's this?' Shinso appears at the bottom of the basement stairs like a ghost. His hair is wild, torn back as if he'd been caught in a gale and the usual bags under his eyes are deeper and more pronounced.

You look up, half way through scooping another handful of coin back into your pouch. 'A score.'

Leveling you with a bored stare, Shinso raises his eyebrows. 'I'd gathered that much. I was -.'

'Ingeniums.' Bakugo cuts in. 'They can explain over dinner. Sit.'

Shinso obliges, slipping into a seat at the table. 'I have news of Mina.'

That perks everyone's ears.

Producing a letter from his inner jacket pocket, he brandishes it in the air. 'She seems to be enjoying the sea air down south, says she's learned a lot from Midnight.'

Bakugo snatches the letter, quickly skimming through the neatly written hand. He hums. 'Established some links with the Mirko company – could be useful.'

Reading over his shoulder, Kirishima snatches the letter as soon as Bakugo's eyes reach the bottom. 'I miss her.'

'Me too.' You sigh. 'She'll only be gone another month...'

'And we can welcome her back with a score.' Shinso grins, his crooked teeth nipping gently at his lower lip.

Eyebrows furrowing, you glance around the table. 'But -.'

'You're to the play the Duke's daughter instead.'

'I -.' Part of you wants to argue, but you know there's no point. There's only one reason that you're to take the roll of the Duke's daughter, after all.

'I'll take a look at the dresses tomorrow, see what we've got that fits... I can always adjust one of Camie's.' Bakugo offers.

The conversation dissolves then, the room filling with plans and laughter as the bowls we're cleared away and a plate of freshly baked cookies took their place on the table. Bathing in the revelry of having the crew, mostly, all together, you barely notice as the sun begins to slip from the sky leaving the kitchen soaked in the soft glow of lamp light. It isn't until Bakugo yawns, declaring it bedtime, that everyone begins to slowly make their way to their retrospective rooms.

Bakugo heads off first, Kirishima dutifully in toe behind him as they slip into one of the backrooms where a small, stuffed mattress awaited them.

Shortly after Tetsutetsu turns in, slipping into a his coat and swiping a singular golden coin from the stash as he trots back up the stairs, presumably on his way to find something comely to warm his bed for the night.

Lastly, it's Shinso, who offers you a knowing look when you dish out one last portion of soup and dutifully turn towards the upper bedrooms.

He rolls up his sleeves and sighs before dipping them into the soapy water filling the sink, listening as your steps echo as you climb. No-one comments on the empty chair at the head of the table.

Wrapping your knuckles on the office door, you balance the soup dish on your wrist while trying to shove open the door he's evidently jambed shut. Sometimes, you really do wish he where less fickle.

'I brought you food...' Your voice is low, sweet in the back of your throat as you edge into the room and spot him laying on his bunk.

'You didn't come down for dinner.'

Sero grunts, not moving his eyes from the ceiling. 'I'm not hungry.'

'Hanta... You can't keep doing this to yourself. You've barely a week of starvation in you and we're coming up on day three.'

'Just leave me.'

'Listen, I know -.'

'Know?' He sits up then, eyes burning as he fights the tick in his jaw.

'Please. Tell me what you fucking know...' Tongue licking at his back teeth he growls, spitting his words at your feet. 'You're probably loving this, aren't you? She's gone. I'm as good as bloody kept now, aren't I.'

'I don't.'

'Don't act stupid, Dearest.' He coos, but there's no fondness in his tone. 'I know how you look at me. Gods, if I all, but stretched out here and welcomed you to bed I bet you'd ride me out of sheer desperation while I laid back and thought of her.' A murky laugh bubbles in his throat as he cocks his head to one side, legs spreading in mocking invitation. 'That brother of mine seems to enjoy sharing his pallet with you often enough, maybe you're in want for a change of cock.'

Cocking your hip, you dig a fist into the fat there. Your nails dig into your palm, carving out raw half-cresents in the skin. 'Have you finished?'

'Ha. Have you been practicing that? If I'm inclined to forget half of my life, you're almost a semi-decent imitation.'

'I know you're hurting, Hanta. All's I'm asking is that you -.'

'You really shouldn't try so hard, y'know... To be her. Take it from a mummer himself, you'll never come close to the real thing.'

'I'm not trying to be her. It's you who wants that, Hanta. Not me. If she where me, she'd be the one stood here trying to stop you from starving yourself to death like a pathetic divorcee and I'd be off somewhere else doing God only fucking knows what...' You collect yourself, if only just and place the bowl on the floor at your feet. 'Now eat. One good meal won't get in the way of you being love-sick.'

Turning on your heel, you bite your lip. It's all you can do to stop the tears. The marks on your palm sting, but even that is a dull comparison to the claw marks now inflicted across your heart. You've barely reached the bottom step when you hear it, a scuffling that gets your hopes up, before a loud bang shatters them once more. You don't bother to hear what is muttered in the dark after it, you don't care to know.

'He's a mean bastard...' You whisper to yourself, violently clearing your face before stepping foot back in the kitchen.

Shinso is still there where you left him, a pile of newly clean plates by his side.

'Sorry for abandoning the chores.' You force a smile, rolling up the sleeves of your shirt as you prepare to dip them into the sink. Shinso just chuckles. He dips a new plate into the water and hisses.

'S'nothing. He still acting like a kicked puppy?'

''fraid so... Matter of fact.' Pulling your hands back before they hit water, you pluck another bowl from the cupboard and set about spooning out another helping of soup from the pot still bubbling on the stove. 'Would you mind taking him up another dish? He won't take anything from me and I'm pretty sure I heard him toss the last down the stairs. I'm rather hoping you'll have more luck.' Once the bowl is full, you slip it onto the table and reach for a loaf of bread.

Cracking it in half, you lay it on a plate. 'I'll finish up here.'

'I -.' Shinso sighs, wiping his hands on a chequered rag.

'It's fine, really.'

There it is, that forced smile again. Shinso chews the inside of his mouth.

'We're already a hand down tonight, what's one more? It's been a while since I've had the kitchen to myself.'

'As his brother, it pains me to say this, but he really isn't worth half of the trouble.' He takes the dishes from the table and cocks an eyebrow at you as you busy yourself with the ones already in the sink.

You laugh, snorting before shooting Shinso an equally as amused look. 'Says the man who routinely puts himself in harms way for said brother.'

'That's different.' He deadpans. 'He's never picked up a habit of making me cry.'

You drop the dish in your hands. 'I'm not -.'

Now, it's Shinso's turn to snort. 'I know how long it takes to get from here to his room and back again and you where about ten minutes too long, even with all the vile things I can guess he spat at you. Plus...' He reaches up and smooths his knuckles across the curve of your cheekbone. 'Your cheeks are red.'

'I -.'

'I'll take him the soup, but I'm doing it for you. He could starve for a week longer for all I care.'

'Thank you, 'Toshi.'

'You're one of us. We look after our own...' He grinds his teeth, tipping his head. 'Or at least, we're supposed to.'

Sero rolls his eyes as soon as soon as the door is kicked open. He's laid back on his bunk, arms folded underneath his head, eyes trained carefully on one particularly large spot of mould on the ceiling. 'Just because a different man holds the spoon, doesn't mean I'm more likely to eat'

Not bothering to pause, Shinso marches across the room in barely two strides. 'Just as well I haven't brought you a spoon then, isn't it?' He tips the bowl onto Sero's exposed stomach.

Sero yells, scolded.

'You, Sero Hanta, are the biggest cock I've ever fucking met.'

Wincing through the radiating burn, Sero manages to huff out a cocky snort. 'Why, thank you.'

'She's just trying to help'

'Well I don't fucking need it.' Reaching under his bed, Sero snatches up his discarded nightshirt to clean the spill from his skin. 'Nor, do I need you soiling my bed clothes.'

'Be glad it's just soup.'

Sero opens his mouth to speak, but is quickly silenced again by his brothers glare.

'You break her little heart twice a day and she doesn't trouble you with it and yet, every time Cam runs off – somehow it's her that bares the brunt.' Shinso folds his arms across his chest. 'She's a nice girl, Hanta... She's family.'

'Ah, so you are fucking her after all.' He chuffs. 'What is it? Jealous she's still got a taste for my cock?'

A growl builds in the back of Shinso's throat, the muscle in his jaw flaring as he grinds his teeth. 'I'm going to pretend to have misheard what you're attempting to insinuate for your own fucking good... Get a grip of yourself before I have to knock some sense into your myself.'

'Consider me fully scolded.' Sero clicks his tongue. 'Is that all you came here to do?'

'She's done your half of the washing and made preparations for tomorrow night; thought you could do with a few nights off. So you can mope here all week for all anyone gives a shit.'

Sero sits up at that, his eyes wide. 'She's supposed to be doing the first touch tomorrow -.'

'And she's still offered to do your half of the choring... ' Shaking his head, Shinso sighs. 'She's more than you deserve. That's for damn sure. Without her, we'd fall apart.'

Sero pauses. Chewing the inside of his cheek, he swings his legs over the side of his bed and sits up. 'Is there anymore soup?'

'Yeah.' Shinso chuckles, gesturing the bed. 'In a puddle on your blanket by the look of it... If you want a fresh bowl, you'll have to get it yourself.' He strides off towards the door, but stops at the door to turn back over his shoulder. 'And you best be as gracious as a fucking priest when you do.'

The water is scolding your hands. Your wrists have vanished, lost below the soapy bubbles as you fish for the last bits of cutlery lost in the sink. Behind you, the stairs creek making the muscles of your back tense even as you try to keep your shoulders relaxed. Maybe it's the years you've lived together, or the fact that your heart skips a beat each time you hear him, but there's no mistaking the foot falls for anyone other than Sero Hanta.

He appears, shirtless, at the foot of the stairs, but doesn't press into the kitchen.

You ignore him. Focusing instead on the burning of your hands as you pluck a fork from the water and begin to clean it.

Sero clears his throat.

Still, you clean.

He sighs, stuffing his hands into his pockets before approaching the stove. Lifting the lid of the pot, he inhales through the steam that leaps from inside. 'Do you mind if I -.'

Turning, you absently pass him a bowl. 'There's still some clean spoons in the draw.'

'Thank you.'

You nod.

Spooning a decent helping of soup into a bowl, Sero takes his time choosing a spoon. It's mindless work, a waste of time as his mind whirrs – trying frantically to come up with something, anything to say to you.

The thing is, Shinso's right. You are more than he deserves and then some, but he's never been good with sweet things. That's why him and Cammie work so well.

They don't.

With you, there would be the possibility of a future. One that involves a quiet life, without crimes and games, a small house and weekly breakfasts with Bakugo and Kirishima, fuck... Children, a pretty little stone shining on your delicate finger.

He could give you all of that, but he can't give you what he knows you really crave.

He doesn't turn around when he speaks, instead, he hangs his head and talks to cream of his soup. 'You know I wish it were different...'

'It isn't that hard not to be a cunt, Hanta.'

'You know what I mean.' He winces.

You chuckle, but its a cruel noise that trickles off of your lips. 'So what is it? You wish I didn't yearn for your affections, or that you loved me like you love her?'

'Yes, well...'

Yanking your hands from the water, you splay your palms on the cold surface beside the sink. You're used to this, the numbness that so often overtakes you. The knowledge of your unrequited affection is like a balm, a prickling salve that serves not to sooth, but to prolong your suffering.

If you were able to let go, you would have, but you've loved him since you first laid eyes on him all those years ago when two scared children had come together for scarce more than survival.

'I sound bitter, I didn't mean -.'

He chuckles. 'You did. It's okay. I think that might be the normal thing.'

'What?'

'To hate me. To, to -.'

Your eyebrows furrow, your heart giving out in your chest as you consider a world in which his assumption might me true. 'I don't hate you.'

Turning finally, Sero leans back against the wooden surface of the kitchen counter. He licks his lips. 'You should.'

You lift your head, twisting until you can look at him.

At first glance, you'd be forgiven to think that his eyes were black, but on closer inspection, or under the right light, the faint, deep chocolate of his iris' shimmer – soaking up the light around each of his blown pupils. Now, with them trained on you, you're allowed to bask until you lose your nerve. Dropping your gaze, you tangle your fingers with one another. 'I could never.'

A sadness washes over him. 'You'd be better off finding refuge under Kaminari or Monoma.'

'Hardly a satisfactory refuge...' You chuckle, letting the noise lighten your mood.

He shares in your laughter, before allowing the sound to die on the back of his throat. Turning back to the counter, he palms the bowl of soup and slips a spoon into his pocket.

In two short steps he stops in front of you. His spare hand reaches out, curling around your shoulder. The tips of his fingers dig gently into the flesh and muscle covering your shoulder blade as his thumb smooths over the dip of your collarbone: caressing. Your skin blooms for him, heat rising through you as you allow yourself to think of all the other touches he could gift you, but any further thought is silenced as the gentle press of his lips touches to your forehead. Lingering, his lips hover barely a millimetre above his kiss.

'You deserve better than me.' He whispers it into your hair line before stepping away.

You feel the chill of him leaving, feeling an odd sense of abandonment and longing settle bone deep inside of you as he crosses back across the kitchen, towards the stairs. He's talking, but you don't quite register the words, not even as he calls your name.

'Forget the touch tomorrow. We'll scrap the job. It was a terrible plan anyway...' He hums. 'I think I should take some time away, let Bakugo and Shinso handle things for a while, maybe.'

He's gone, almost at his room, you'd guess by the time you leave your trance. Your fingertips find his kiss, touch gently against the skin there and feel the warmth of his lips as it slips, absorbed by your skin.

You smile.

He might not be able to give you what you want, what you crave. But, you'll always have this.

A singular, sorrow-filled kiss.

-> Masterlist

[gojocumdumpster]

What’s it’s like being Hanayama assistant

(I might make this into a story depending how much notes it gets but either way i still might do it and I didn’t make volleyball tryouts so i’m a bit down but i’m just gonna try out for soccer since that’s what i grew up playing anyways)

Afab reader

Warnings: none?

Type of story:🎂

(This my man’s yall)

The application: You had saw this tiktok about a famous company that everyone dreamed of getting into but it was very hard to get in. “Are people really going crazy over this?” You said snickering reading the comments from the tiktok, of course curiosity hit you and you just had to apply. You looked at how much you were going to get paid cause you need that cash💰. Your jaws dropped as you saw “1k+ an hour.” If you got the job this would’ve been you right now here. You submitted the form and waited the next day for the results, you woke up the next day grumbling from the sun hitting your eyes…You blinked a couple of times and then you remembered about the results! You quickly opened your laptop and checked your email and it said, “Congratulations, you’ve passed please come for your first interview at 9:30AM.”

The interview: It was the next day and you were nervous, you were making up scenarios that could happen good and bad ones. You decide to wear a pencil skirt like this: here with a choice of your shirt, you put on your heels, did your hair and makeup and grabbed your purse. You made your to the company, it was tall and huge pause it was black with big bold letters that said “Hanayama Company” (shit idk😭) in bright gold. There was also a underground parking garage on the side of the building so you pulled into the underground parking garage and found a parking spot while you were looking for a spot there was all kinds of luxurious and sports cars. Men with suit and ties and Women with dresses, suits, (whatever there called) and pencil skirts.

“Deep breaths Y/n..” you said repeatedly, there was an elevator or stairs you could take so you decided to take the elevator there was a 20th floor they didn’t tell you what floor so you clicked the 20th button. !Ding! The elevator stopped and opened when it opened you saw glass rooms with multiple dividers each one had computers stacked up with papers. It was a hallway filled with those glass rooms and just regular rooms. On the side we’re coffee machines and donuts and plants 🪴 in the corners. There were name plates for each room, you walked down a bit further until you saw a golden name plate that said “CEO Hanayama” You hugged your purse as you took a deep breath you raised your hand getting ready to knock. “Come in.” Your opened yours eyes wide as you quickly open the door. You closed the door behind you as you saw a a black room with dimmed lights a black shelf and behind him was windows showing the big city 🌆, and then him. He had a suit that showed all his muscles he was sitting a desk looking at his laptop.

He looked up from the screen and closed his laptop. He got up clearing his throat he was a giant, he walked over to you looking at you. Once he was close to you he looked down at your figure since it was tinier than his. You had to look up a bit he pulled his hands out of his pockets ready to shake your hand. You shook hands “Hello! I’m Y/n L/n it’s a pleasure to meet you.” You said smiling. “It’s nice to meet you too Ms. L/n.” he said with his deep voice. “We should start now.” He said looking at the desk. You nodded your head, he placed his hand on your back guiding you to the chair. He slowly removed his hand from your back and sat down. He cleared his throat, and started asking questions. You had made the job! He explained everything to you so you won’t have to worry as much, he walked you out of his office with his hand on you but instead his hand was on your hip gripping the thickness of it. You guys said your goodbyes and you left he watched you leave your hips swaying left to right butt jiggling every time.

[mangowillow]

how you shine for me

pairing: jungkook x female reader

summary: you and jungkook finally take that next step, that next milestone in your relationship: moving in together.

genre/tags: established relationship, fluff, moving in together, humor (that i failed badly at)

word count: 3.2k

a/n: i wrote this as a comfort read for a friend who went through a rough time, hence the attempt at humor. i also wrote this for myself as a way to grieve the passing of my pet lab of 10 years. who knew one could write such a bad comedy lol

With a huff and a grunt, Jungkook placed the last box on the floor. He looks at you, the love of his life, laser-focused on examining different picture frames from a different box, other contents piled in front of you on the carpet.

“Okay, I think that’s the last of the boxes.”

You looked up and gave Jungkook his favorite sunny smile, “You must be tired, baby. Sit down first.”

Jungkook did just that and took a long look at you. You were smiling at the picture frame you held in your hands.

“Do you remember the day we first met, Jungkookie?”

“Of course I do, love. You were instantly whipped for me, I could tell.”

You threw daggers at him with your eyes. Jungkook’s lips curled into a small snicker.

“If I remember correctly, it was you who was whipped for me,” you pouted. God, how Jungkook loved seeing you so cutely dejected.

“Yeah, if you count that time I had to carry you to Hobi’s car because you were too drunk to walk on your own two feet.”

“We were at a party, Jungkook. We were supposed to drink and have fun,” you defended.

“And you are a very graceful person when drunk. You even told me… what was it?”

Your lips parted, watching Jungkook recall what it was that you said during your drunken state five years ago. But you knew all too well that Jungkook didn’t forget. He never let you forget.

“Don’t say it, I swear–”

“I like your stupid face. It’s so stupid, so… I like it. Can I touch it?”

You threw Jungkook a scrunched-up silk scarf that was right beside you. Jungkook tried to hold his giggles as he caught the scarf with his hand.

“And do you remember what I told you, babe?”

You groaned as you hid your face in your hands.

“You should really learn how to hold your liquor, ___,” Jungkook sing-songed.

You were turning beet red while Jungkook was reveling in your embarrassment. Loving you with all his heart will always be his first priority, but teasing you came in close at second place.

“I never should’ve asked you in the first place, you’re so annoying.” You went back to gathering the rest of your picture frames.

Jungkook leaned in to peck you on the lips, “And you love me,” before kissing you once more on the cheek.

“I do love you, you dork.” you smiled.

“Good. Okay, rest time is over, put me to work, ___. Which of these boxes do you want me to attack first because this whole thing,” Jungkook moved his arms in a circular motion, referring to the assortment of boxes and items all over the floor, “Does not spark joy at all.”

You chuckled as you asked Jungkook if he could start putting up the paintings on the walls.

After a year of dilly-dallying and dating, you and Jungkook decided to take the next step of commitment and have been in a relationship for the past four years. It was only recently that you both decided to move in together because money had been hard to come by. When Jungkook got promoted at his office job and you started earning more since your online business kicked off, you both started saving up for a home of your own, no questions, no doubt.

Until hard work paid off.

Apartment hunting hadn’t been easy because the cost of living in Seoul wasn’t too friendly and you had to compromise on your wishlist here and there. When you and Jungkook stepped foot into the apartment you now both own, Jungkook knew it was the perfect one; floor to ceiling windows, a small electric fireplace, and a bathtub, which you really wanted.

Before arriving with the movers, Jungkook saw how you were full of giddiness at finally having a place to call home. A shared and private space with the woman he loves the most, the cause of his euphoria– Jungkook couldn’t ask for more.

After arranging the picture frames, you started to unpack bathroom essentials.

“Hey, Jungkookie?”

Jungkook with his tongue slightly jutted, was concentrating on hanging the last painting, “Yeah babe?”

“Promise me to never leave the toothpaste cap open? I heard the strongest couples can’t handle that.”

Jungkook chuckled at your candidness, “I won’t, I promise.” He saw the ghost of a smile pass through your lips before he watched you walk to the bathroom with a box of toiletries in your arms.

“Do you need some help?” Jungkook offered

“I got this, babe. Thank you for putting up the paintings,” you gave him that smile he fell in love with the day he met you— serene, calm, reassuring.

You and Jungkook spent another two hours moving stuff into different corners of the apartment. After doing a few kitchen repairs, Jungkook finally arrived at the last box. Inside was an assortment of candles and bath bombs– your favorite items. Since Jungkook was very particular to different kinds of scents, he also had a higher tendency to become allergic to overpowering ones. Thankfully, you had a particular taste and are almost a creature of habit because you almost never change your preferences. Jungkook made a mental note to buy you a new jar of your favorite Diptyque Baies Candle the next time you go out shopping because the one you had now was almost running out.

“Babe, where do you want me to put–”

When Jungkook turned around to face you, he saw you curled up on the couch, fast asleep. You had an arm tucked underneath your head while the other hand loosely held a small duster that was about to fall to the carpet. Jungkook quietly walked over and knelt beside you. He pushed away a stray strand of hair that fell over your eye as he whispered, “Adorable.”

Jungkook carefully carried you bridal style to the queen-sized bed in the bedroom, the one he hopes you both share the rest of your lives. Not being able to resist, Jungkook joined you on the bed and pulled you towards his chest. You slightly stirred and groaned.

Jungkook whispered, “Sleep well, my love,” and before he knew it himself, his eyes drooped, and fell asleep cradling you in his arms.

Sleeping with you in his arms is always Jungkook’s favorite part of his day. After long, mundane days at his corporate job, all he wants is to come home, eat ramen on lazy nights while watching bad reality TV, and sleep. Since he met you, nights have become more interesting. Jungkook now has someone to eat ramen with, plus you make a mean kimchi and cheese kimbap. The sex was always mind-blowing and the loving whispers in the night and cuddles that came after are both your guilty pleasures.

The warmth of your body, hair that smelled of white strawberry and sweet mint shampoo always lulled Jungkook to sleep. Knowing that you were safely tucked in his arms made him feel that the world was his for the taking– comforting, quietly powerful.

You stirred as you slowly opened your eyes, adjusting to the surroundings. You were fairly sure that you fell asleep on the couch and the closet in front of you certainly wasn’t the fireplace.

The moment you realized you were in literal darkness, you suddenly sat upright on the bed. You tried to feel around the bed for your phone, but you remembered yet again that this wasn’t the place where you fell asleep. Another realization dawned on you as something hard and warm made itself known, but you couldn’t make out what it was. It? Damn your eyesight for being such a nuisance.

Jungkook was still asleep beside you. He stirred a bit when you tried to shake him awake. For once, you were grateful Jungkook had always been a light sleeper.

“Baby, it’s dark outside,” you hissed.

Jungkook shifted, squinting as he lifted his head to look out the window. With a plop, he allowed his head to sink back into the pillow once more.

“I can see that, baby. The night usually comes after the day,” Jungkook stated matter-of-factly, sleep evident in his voice.

You smacked the side of Jungkook’s leg, “It’s dark outside, you brat–”

“Hey, ow! Why’d you hit me? I was only stating a fact,” Jungkook forced himself to sit up and rubbed his eyes, “What time is it?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” you responded, folding your arms.

Jungkook grabbed his phone that was on the nightstand and checked the time: half-past one o’clock in the morning.

“Oh, it’s the middle of the night,” Jungkook stated. You leaned over to check the time on Jungkook’s phone before smacking him on the arm.

“Ow! What did I do now?”

“I can’t believe we fell asleep. How long were we out? How did I even get here?”

“Well, let's see, you fell asleep around noon and I carried you to our bed because the couch looked uncomfortable. Geez, you’re so cranky when you wake up in the middle of the night– not that you often wake up during this ungodly hour but–”

“How can I not be when we missed dinner? We overslept–”

“And it’s not a big deal, love. We were hauling in so many boxes all day. You were tired, we both were. Besides, it’s now Sunday. It’s our rest day,” When Jungkook saw you pout, he chuckled.

“What?” you asked.

“Are you seriously upset that we overslept?” Jungkook teased.

“No, it’s just that–” You sighed, letting his arms fall to his lap, “We missed dinner and I think we weren’t done unpacking everything yet.”

Jungkook fondly chuckled once more before wrapping his arms around your torso and kissing your temple.

“Silly baby. We unpacked all the boxes already and there’s only one left to unpack. We can do that tomorrow. As for dinner… that one I’m not so sure about. I don’t remember packing any food for the fridge yet.”

“Yeah, that’s because we were supposed to do grocery shopping after we unpacked all the boxes.”

“We can do grocery shopping in a few hours.”

“But we don’t have anything to eat right now,” you said and right on cue, you both heard a stomach growling.

Jungkook grabbed your hand and stood up from the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Come on, you’re hungry.”

“Jeon Jungkook, what are you planning?”

Jungkook didn’t reply as he pulled you towards the front door. You turned his head in the direction of the window and his eyes widened.

“Jungkook, the houses outside are covered in snow.”

“Yes, baby, because it’s winter season,” Jungkook deadpanned as he put on your snowshoes for you.

“It’s one in the morning and there’s snow. Where the hell are you taking me?”

“Aish, we’re going to find something to eat.”

“I’m pretty sure all the restaurants are closed by now.”

Jungkook took off your puffer jacket from the coat rack and put it on you, zipping the front zipper up to your neck. Mittens came next and Jungkook gently guided your fingers through the holes, all the while you looked at him in silent adoration. He was at least grateful you weren’t resisting. You trust him with your whole life.

He held you by the shoulders and leaned back to take a look before muttering, “Cozy.”

Jungkook intertwined his fingers with yours as he opened the main door to the building outside. Cool air bit at your faces as you shivered.

“Shit, it's freezing. Seriously Jungkook, we could’ve just ordered take-out.”

“And miss out on an adventure in the dead of night in the middle of a potential snowstorm? Never.” Jungkook grinned as he led you a few steps down the block to their right.

The streets were quiet and still as the two lovers trudged through the snow. You could feel Jungkook tightening his grip around your gloved hand as you both approached a store with an almost blinding light.

A convenience store.

It never even crossed your mind and you wanted to kick yourself.

Jungkook pushed the door open and a small bell sound rang. The person behind the cashier bowed and greeted him. Jungkook led you to one of the small tables located inside and sat you down.

“Alright, babe, the usual order?” When Jungkook got a proper look at your face, it was that of confusion and awareness at the same time. “It never crossed your mind that a convenience store is actually open 24/7, huh?”

“Shush! How did you even know that–”

“Five years being with you, I gained the ability to hear what you’re thinking, you know that, right?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but no sound came out. Jungkook giggled as he pinched your cheek.

“You’re cold. Ramen will do the trick. I’ll be right back.”

When Jungkook came back, he set down an array of different foods that made your eyes bulge– two big cups of ramen, samgak-kimbap, hot bars, and gamdongran. Jungkook also bought banana and strawberry milk.

When you were still dating during their first year, there were nights when you had to work overtime just to get orders done and delivered the next day. Jungkook would help you pack and tie ribbons to the parcels and in the middle of doing so, both your stomachs would rumble. The convenience store down the street from the apartment saved you in more ways than one. In that little pyonijom did you and Jungkook’s love story slowly blossom. It was in the benches outside that Jungkook learned how you were deathly afraid of spiders. In between cups of ramen and tteokbokki, you confessed your love for each other through innocent touches and hand-holding.

Years down the line, Jungkook continues to find ways to show you his love.

“What do you think? Do you forgive me?”

“You’re bribing me with food again.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Jungkook’s eyes crinkled the moment you looked up from your ramen to glare at him. Using his thumb, he reached out to wipe a stripe of soup stain from the corner of your lips.

“Stop doing that.”

Jungkook took a big bite on the samgak-kimbap, “Doing what?”

You stared at Jungkook who was chewing his food, doe eyes innocent as ever.

“Stop making me blush.”

Jungkook chuckled, “You love it.”

The flush on your cheeks told Jungkook he succeeded.

“You didn’t answer my question, baby.”

“No.”

“I fed you.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“You’re cruel. Let’s see who gives in when we come home later,” Jungkook wiggled his eyebrows and that got a laugh out of you.

“You're impossible,” you said.

Jungkook fell silent as he looked out the glass windows. His mouth slightly parted, but no sound came out. His eyes flitted between you and the windows, before slightly leaning forward across the table.

“Sweetheart, close your eyes.”

“What in the world–”

“Trust me.”

“You’ve been testing my trust since we woke up.”

Jungkook clicked his tongue, feigning annoyance, “Please?”

“What is this about–”

“I promise this one’s really worth it.”

“Fine,” you sighed as you placed his chopsticks on top of the ramen bowl and closed your eyes.

“Are your eyes closed? Sure you don’t see anything?”

“Yes, they are closed.”

Jungkook stood up and gently tugged on your arm, silently telling you to stand up, too.

“Don’t open your eyes until I tell you to, okay?”

You nodded. Jungkook took a long look at you before cupping your face into his hands and giving you a light kiss on your pink lips.

“What’s happening, Jungkook?”

“You’ll see.”

Jungkook slowly turned you in the direction of the front door. He put a hand over your eyes just to make sure you weren’t peeking. Jungkook pushed the door open and together, both of you walked with legs getting tangled every now and then, your back against Jungkook’s chest.

You wanted to say something in protest yet again as the cold winter air began to overtake your body once more, but you felt Jungkook wrap his arm tighter around you, his lips placing small kisses from your neck down to your shoulders.

“Baby, it’s cold,” you tried your best not to shiver too much, but Jungkook’s arm around your waist held you closer, his head resting on your shoulder.

“Does this feel a bit better?” Jungkook asked, breathing warmly as he whispered against your ear.

“Yes, much better,” you replied, trying to steady your nerves.

Jungkook continued to whisper, “Are you ready baby?”

You nodded, at a loss for words, “Three, two, one…” Slowly, Jungkook removed the hand that was covering your eyes.

As you opened them, you saw light, falling snow.

“We didn’t get to witness the first snow together this year. I know it means a lot to you because it’s been our tradition, but I hope this one would cheer you–”

You turned around to face Jungkook and pulled him into a deep kiss. Jungkook melted into your touch as he kissed you back.

In the freezing winter, you and Jungkook felt warm wrapped up in each other’s embrace.

When you pulled away, he was breathless. Jungkook ran his thumb across your cheek, softly smiling at you.

“I love you, Jungkook. Thank you.”

“I only want to make you happy, baby. I love you too,” Jungkook whispered against your forehead before giving you a feather-light kiss.

Stumbling back into the darkness of your apartment, you and Jungkook didn’t want to pull away from one another as you continued to kiss. Jungkook felt you smile and giggle as he wiggled your coats and shoes off. When you finally pulled away from each other, Jungkook leaned back slightly to look at you. The light from the window illuminated your face, Jungkook was so enamored he felt he was going to burst out of love for you.

He quietly held your hand and led you to the kitchen. He stopped walking backward when you were in front of the refrigerator.

“Are you still hungry, baby? Only a few hours left until we go grocery shopping.”

Jungkook didn’t respond but instead opened the refrigerator door. The soft blue light from inside provided a bit more light to the rest of the apartment.

Jungkook pulled you closer to him, one arm caging around your waist. You were quick to catch on to what he was trying to do.

“____, have I told you how much I love you?”

You rested your head on Jungkook’s shoulder as he quietly led you both into a slow hum, a slow dance under the refrigerator light.

“Every day, Jungkook-ah. I feel loved by you every single day since I met you,” you whispered against Jungkook’s chest.

Jungkook’s eyes closed as a gentle smile spread across his face. Loving you felt freeing, resplendent. The kind of love that healed all his broken hallelujahs.

“My heart has always dreamed of you, sweetheart. I’m so happy I get to love you like this.”

“Thank you for loving me. For protecting my heart, Jungkook,” you muttered as you lifted your head to look at Jungkook.

Jungkook just smirks and you roll your eyes because you can read him like a book.

"And thank you for taking me to the convenience store," you say as you smack his chest. "You big oaf."

Jungkook's laugh echoes through the quiet room, “Always, baby." He leans closer to whisper against your lips so softly, so reverently, "As long as it's you, I have everything I need.”

[yandere-fics]

♡ Kassien's Little Sister Pranking Her On April Fools ♡

Every year you tried very hard to prank Kassien and every year she chuckled and ruffled your hair, giving you a small kiss on the forehead and mumbling to herself but how your attempt was so cute, this year though, you were determined to scare her and there was only one thing you knew that scared Kass, you leaving the apartment when she hadn't given you permission and you getting hit on by people and so the plan was hitched to go to her office and flirt with as many of her coworkers as you could in the cafeteria area while waiting for her to come down and fetch you angrily, at which point she'd catch you and feel grossed out, afterall who wanted to see their little sister in a tight dress pressed up against someone they worked with, it'd be a complete nightmare, she'd be a bit grossed out at the thought of you hooking up with anyone and you'd get a laugh out of it as she grimaced all day long.

Things did not go as planned though, she came downstairs from her office expecting you'd cooked up one of your adorable pranks again this year and she'd get to enjoy your company in her office then you'd go home, watch a funny movie together, and perhaps fall asleep on her lap at which point she'd fondle you to her hearts content hoping you'd wake up so she'd finally be forced to confess her feelings to you instead of all this waiting patiently bullcrap, instead when she got downstairs you were pressed up against one of the human employees shamelessly flirting while the other employees snickered knowing this human who was stupid enough to get near you was going to get that arm you were holding onto broken.

"Lovely sister of mine, get over here now." She growled, she didn't want to have to stomp over there because if she did she'd be much too harsh on you but she was losing her temper very quickly even though you were frantically scrambling away from the human and over towards her. She yanked your wrist and started pulling you towards the elevator so she could take you up to her office where she could properly discipline you for this. "Not another word until we're upstairs."

"But I-" "Zip it, I'm not afraid to bend you over my knee right here, lovely, don't think daddy won't punish you in the fucking elevator." You used to call her that all the time as a joke since she was so bossy, so many rules that you joked people would assume she was your daddy instead of your sister, you didn't think she still remembered that since it had been ages since you said that, it started to feel inappropriate soon after you started to get really attracted to her and although you think she noticed you no longer called her that, she let it pass, she probably felt weird about the jokes too so it was super embarrassing she was bringing it up now, not that you couldn't say you didn't find the idea extremely appealing but it'd be very embarrassing if she actually did spank you, you wound up moaning and she discovered her sister was a freak so instead you remained silent in the elevator and let her drag you into her office, locking the door behind her and pushing you on her desk.

"What were you doing with that stunt, lovely. Pranks are supposed to be sweet and cute, that was vile, no one but me should lay their hands on you, or did you forget rule three?" When the both of you moved to the city she made a long list of rules for you to follow and rule three was not allowing anyone to touch you, you joked that it should also include her then and she said it didn't count since she was your sister and she only had good intentions when she touched you like protecting you and keeping you happy. That rule hadn't really come into play until now so you'd sort of forgotten about it. You hadn't expected it to even really still be a rule considering you'd been in the city long enough that you should be allowed to date as long as she had made sure the person was safe first. Perhaps she was mad it was someone she hadn't background checked yet. "Sweetness, I know you're thinking dumb stuff again, you're not allowed to let anyone but me touch you EVER, I would NEVER approve of anyone else touching my dumb sweet sister."

"I-it was a stupid prank, I w-won't do it again." You tried to hop off her desk but she pushed you to lay down on it and caged you in with her arms on either side of you, her knee pressing your legs apart suddenly as she laughed at your attempts to move from this position.

"Did daddy say you could move?"

"No-" "Exactly, I never gave you permission to move, listen here's what's going to happen, you're going to go home and when I get back you're going to give me a sweet cute prank like I was so hoping for. I expect cute and sweet, just like my little sister should be when I get back." She gave you a brief kiss on the neck before finally letting you up and shooing you out of her office leaving you wondering what the fuck was that?

[disasterousduo]

The Pirate’s Fairytale

Ch. 1 Meeting a Pirate

Sunny’s view

I wake up with a yawn as I look at my clock, 7 am. Getting out of bed, I check the calendar, looking at the date.

July 16….

July 16!

Me and Moon’s birthday!

I rush out of my room, and immediately bump into someone.

When I look up, I see Eclipse glaring down at me, “Watch where you’re going dork.”

Before I could say anything, he picks me up with his tentacles, then leaves.

As I watch him leave, I mutter angrily to myself, then remember I forgot to say it was my birthday. Then I think, ‘of course he knew! He’s my brother! My taller, younger brother…’

As I continue to walk, I see Solar and Moon talking. I hear someone behind me, turn around, and see Earth.

“Hey Ear-“ I wave at her

She runs over to Moon and gives him a big hug, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOON!”

I look over at them, slowly putting my hand down, my heart slightly breaking. ‘Maybe she didn’t see me?’ I think, slightly feeling better.

Feeling more people push past me, I see all my siblings wishing Moon a happy birthday… what about me?

As I hear someone clear their throat, I look behind me and see Trashcan Man.

“Hey Trashcan!” I smile kindly at him.

“I have a name you know.” I hear him angrily grumble, but before I can say anything, he grabs me, “You need to continue your lesson, let’s go.” And drags me along.

Later

“Stupid royal lessons.” I mutter angrily and annoyed, “How come I have to do them, but no one else does?! I don’t even want to be stupid king. Why’d I have to be born first?! I always have to have it hard!”

As I continue to swim in the ocean and make coral crowns, I see a ship. Going above the water to it to check it out, I suddenly get caught in a net.

I struggle to break free from the net, only to hear, "Ye ain't human!"

Looking around at who said that, only to look down to see a short fox. Looking at the ships flag, I see it’s a pirate ship.

I reply uncomfortably, “Can you get me out of here? And who are you?”

The fox "Or a lass!" He looks more surprised.

‘Girl? I’m not a girl!’

Foxy’s view

Monty throws a bucket and mop across the deck, “Start cleaning fox!”

I glance at Freddy, who's busy cleanin' the cannons. "What's got the captain so riled up?" I ask.

“We’ve gotten no treasure for a whole week, and the crews getting hungry, especially since we have kids in the ship.”

"Ye've got to feel sorry for the captain…"

“I DONT PAY YOU TO CHIT CHAT! START WORKING!” Monty yells from his captain office.

I begin swabbin' the decks when somethin' colorful catches me eye in the water. Curious, I take a closer look and realize it's a head. Quickly, I grab the net and haul the person aboard.

When I get 'er to eye level, I see she ain't human, but a beautiful mermaid, maybe a siren? She was mostly yellow, with some red stripes on her tail and arms, her eyes were blue and orange, and she had a red amulet of some kind, not to mention a flower crown of some kind?

"Ye ain't human!" I gasp.

‘Whatever she be, she's a beauty. I could probably sell 'er for a tidy sum of gold.’

She starts to look uncomfortable as she asks, “Can you get me out of here? And who are you?”

I look surprised as I hear this, she didn’t sound like a lass, but she he looks like a lass!

“Or a lass!" I blurt out.

She He looks as angry as a stormy sea as I speak. Yet, he seems uneasy, not the type to cause real harm.

Glancing around to ensure no one's watching, finding Freddy long gone, I snatch the net. Dragging him to the ship's deck, I set him free.

He flops onto the floor face-first. I snicker quietly as he glares at me. But then, noticing his shivering, I offer him my coat.

He chirps in gratitude, or so I think. Looking around, he starts transforming into a humanoid shape.

"You can do that?" I inquire.

He nods and chirps something.

"I can't understand a word you're sayin'," I admit.

He grumbles, glancing at his hand and miming writing with the other.

"You need paper?" I ask.

He nods vigorously and chirrs. Hurrying to my quarters, I fetch a notebook and return swiftly. Handing him the paper, he begins to write something. Once done, he hands it back to me.

“I need clothes, also my names Sun. What’s yours new friend?”

"Friend? Well, this is gettin' awkward now," I mutter under me breath, considerin' I was plannin' to sell him earlier.

"My name's Foxy, and I got some clothes in me room. Come on," I say, leading Sun to me quarters to find him some gear. After he picks out a white shirt and a red skirt that fit him, we settle on me bed and start askin' each other questions—well, I ask 'em, and he scribbles his responses.

"What were ye doin' near our ship?" I inquire, loungin' on me bunk.

“I had been swimming by, and saw the ship. I was curious about it, I’ve only ever read about ships before.” Sun writes, staring at me.

"How come ye can write English but not speak it?" I ask, gazing at him curiously.

“I was taught to write English by my father.” He looks away glaring at the wall.

"I could give ye a tour of the ship if ye want," I offer, trying to change the subject.

He looks at me with stars in his eyes, chirring excitedly and giving me a hug.

I chuckle softly at his enthusiasm. Suddenly, I hear someone barging in just as Sun places his flower crown on me.

Monty yells as he fixes his gaze on me, “WHY ISNT THE FLOORS CLEAN?! AND WTF YOU HAVE ON YOUR HEAD?!” Then he glances at Sun and starts to calm down a bit. “And who is this fine young lady you have with you?” He asks, kissing his hand.

I glance at Sun, noticing his annoyed expression.

Giggling softly, I watch as he quickly scribbles something in his notebook. “I’m a boy, kind sir.”

Monty stares at him for a moment, then shrugs, “Fine with me ether way.” He replies, looking confused at me for why he wrote it down.

Before anyone else can say a word, or in Sun's case, write anything else, I interject, "Sun has amnesia. He's forgotten everything except his name."

“Even how to talk?”

"Aye, even how to talk. Found him in the water like this, and I'd be keen to lend a hand, if that's fine with you," I say earnestly, giving Monty pleading eyes. Sun looks at me, then turns to Monty with the same imploring gaze.

“Ok.. ok, fine, he can stay, BUT! He has to help around the ship. And Foxy,” He looks at me intently, “You’ll be talking care of him.”

We give a thumbs up as he leaves me room. Gods, what did I get myself signed up for?

[fangirlfindings]

Newbie Blues - VashMeryl Fic WIP

I'm excited to join @vashmerylweek with my very first VashMeryl fic! WIP excerpt:

-

Meryl took a long gulp of water and set the empty glass on the table. Beside her, Roberto downed his own decidedly-not-water drink from the bar. 

A small face appeared across the table. The young boy watched her with a suspicious squint. 

“Hey, there…” she offered with an awkward wave. “What’s your-”

“What do you do?” he asked. His gaze was a borderline glare, as if she alone threatened their game of ‘Sheriff and Robbers’. 

“Huh?” she blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean, ‘What do I do’?”

“What do you do?” he repeated impatiently. He looked across the room, towards the bar. “That guy’s an undertaker who buries dead guys.” He nodded towards Vash, who was still being mobbed by the other kids in a nearby corner. “That guy’s a gunman, with a gun and everything!”

Then the boy looked at Meryl, this time squinting again, much like a parent would after a cookie went missing. “So what do you do?”

She took a moment to collect herself and then remembered to be offended. “I-I’m a reporter with the Bernardelli News Agency, just like him,” she gestured to Roberto. He let out a burp. 

“Yeah, right,” the kid snickered. “He knows what’s what. He’s a real reporter who smokes and acts mysterious and stuff.”

Meryl knew that look. It was the same look her family gave her when she told them her post-graduation plans. The look her friends had when they learned she wasn’t planning to just be an office worker, but a full field reporter. The quizzical stare as if she’d lost all sense of herself. “I am too a reporter!” Meryl hastily dug into her jacket, pulling out her reporter’s ID badge. She wanted to see the look on the kid’s smug face when she proved him completely wrong. “See?”

The kid half-crawled across the table to get a closer look. He looked at the badge, then Meryl, then back and forth at the badge. He shook his head. “I don’t see it.”

“She’s a newbie,” Roberto grunted. 

She scoffed. “Hey! I’ll have you know-”

“Hey! Let’s leave her alone, okay?” Vash laughed lightly, stumbling up to the table and leaving a trail of small children in his wake. “Meryl’s a great reporter! She even found me, Vas-”

She clamped her over his mouth. “V-Van the gunman!” She nearly shouted, choking out an awkward laugh as an afterthought. After noticing Vash’s surprised look, she quickly brought her hand away. 

“Terrible name,” Roberto muttered. Meryl shot him a deadpan glare.

The little boy’s judgemental gaze didn’t waver from Meryl; staring her down better than some criminals she’d recently met. 

Then, he armed himself with a finger gun. He looked, aimed, and fired.

It only took a moment for the invisible bullet to strike. Vash flew backwards. His arms flailed, barely missing Meryl’s head. He spun around one, two, three times. A startled cry passed from his lips as he was struck. His body fell to the ground in a heap of coat and limbs. Drink glasses rattled against wood. 

Meryl rushed over to him. “Vash! Are you okay?”

Vash remained completely still. A hand slowly started to twitch. He finally raised a thumb. 

Meryl heaved a tired sigh. 

They just needed to get through the night. Just one night, in that little town, without anything happening.

How hard could it be?

[ichoosechoasandbeingqueer]

My Fish Dawn! My Fish!

This is so stupid but I love Anders and was so upset when Ty killed his fish. I also love the platonic relationship between Anders and Dawn. @deanobingo

Platonic Anders and Dawn

Warnings: Drunk Anders and dead fish pets

Words: 1648

Anders drunkenly calls Dawn over and she tucks him into bed.

Tonight, however, was not one of those careful nights he was out parting or softening up a new client.

After a day of Frigg hunting that turned out to be a major bust, finding Thor who was as mad as the hatter, a date with a goddess that left him high and dry and a fight that left him in the bad books with his grandfather for breaking his surfboard and with a swollen and bloody nose that made his head pound every time he breathed, he figured he could use a drink. A strong one.

After a day of Frigg hunting that turned out to be a major bust, finding Thor who was as mad as the hatter, a date with a goddess that left him high and dry and a fight that left him in the bad books with his grandfather for breaking his surfboard and with a swollen and bloody nose that made his head pound every time he breathed, he figured he could use a drink. A strong one.

His rotten day got even worse when he finally made it home, went to grasp the handle of his fridge to grab a beer, only to find it wasn’t there.

Honestly at that stage he wanted to give up and go to bed, and he would have, if he hadn’t glanced at his fish tank and spotted not only that his fish were gone, but they had been replaced with a packet a fish fingers.

He couldn’t help the tears of frustration and exhaustion that welled in his eyes and the sob that broke through his throat. Letting out a horse yell that would probably mean a noise complaint from his neighbors in the morning, he kicked off his shoes and dove into the first bottle of alcohol he could find.

Not even an hour later and he found himself sat on his couch with nine different empty bottles scattered on the table in front of him, still in a foul mood. Admittedly, not all of the bottles had been full when he found them, but some of them definitely had been, and he jumped six feet in the air when knocking came from his door.

Anders squinted his eyes at the sound and looked about his apartment, his mind long gone and his vision spinning. When the knocking sounded again, he stumbled to the sink to peer down the drain determined that was where the sound was coming from.

“Hellooo,” he called out snickering as his voice bounced down the piping, “Why are you banging?”

Someone shouted his name this time and leaving his sink be, he once again stumbled around trying to find the source. When he finally made it to his door, his fingers hit the intercom hard enough to make the screen glitch.

“Identify yourself,” he growled, his speech slurring and his brows frowning. He really didn’t want to deal with people right now.

“It’s Dwan? You called me? Told me to get here right away?”

He didn’t remember calling Dwan but the sound of her voice made him grin, his mood improving instantly knowing that his favorite mortal was here, even if she was a sick in the mud at parties.

“I’ts Dawwwwwwwnsyyyy! Hello Dwansy,” he sung, opening the door with a grin.

“Yes, hello Anders. What did you need that was so important?”

“Important?” he echoed with a nod of his head, linking his fingers with hers and pulling her into his apartment lightly, “Oh yes, very important,”

“Yes Anders, what is important?” she urged him on, slightly concerned at his strange behavior, “You said I needed to get here right away or you would fire me,”

“Fire you? The fuck would I fire you for? Dwansy is awesome, and cool and a lot nicer that surfboards or brothers,”

Dwan blinked as she watched her boss sway around his living room. She took in how disarranged he looked compared to his usual self at the office, his hair messy, his shirt untucked and lines of dried blood ran down the front of his shirt that she assumed was from the same thing that caused the painful looking busing on the bridge of his nose. He had empty bottles scattered around the room and a packet of fish fingers scattered across the floor, the carpet around them darkened by the damp puddles of water they laid in.

“Anders?” she questioned again, her voice softer this time and laced in concern, “Ander are you ok? What’s going on?”

“Brothers are bastards and my nose hurts,” he pouted, reminding her of a child who had missed their nap, “And the sink keeps knocking on my door,”

“Your sink keeps- what?”

“There’s someone in my sink Dwan and they want to steel my chips,” he declared gesturing to the scattered fish fingers laying on his carpet.

She had to cover her mouth with both hands to stop from losing herself in laughter, “Anders how much have you had to drink tonight?”

He gave her a sheepish grin, “Just a little bit, but there’s some left here if you want some, I’m good at sharing, especially with pretty ladies,”

“And there we go,” she sighed at his flirty behavior, “lets get you to bed hmm? I think you might feel better in the morning,”

He stopped glaring down the sink and sent her a scandalized look, “Dwansy, so forward, didn’t think you had it in you. Well done!”

With an irritable groan, she took a step towards him, stopping short at the small white mini fridge that stood in place of his usually fridge, groaning again at the realization that Ty had not replaced his fridge as he had promised, instead using the opportunity to mess with his brother instead. As much as she wanted to side with Ty however, the sight of Anders stumbling around his apartment in a dunked daze made her soft.

She wrapped her hands around her boss’s shoulders and slowly lead him to his bedroom, soothing him like he was a wild animal that would take off at any second if spooked. Anders had started mumbling to himself again, a frown on his face as she sat him at the end of his bed and untucked the covers.

“Dawwwwwnsyyyy,” he sung again with a giggle that she would forever blackmail him with, “Dawwnsyy what are you doooooooooing?”

“Putting you to bed you silly thing,” she huffed, slapping his hands away and undoing the buttons of his ruined shirt. Anders held a breath and leaned away from her, a worried look on his face.

“No, no wait. I love you Dwansy but I don’t- we can’t- I don’t screw crew Dwan,”

“What are you talking about?” she muttered, pushing him down and pinning him to the mattress to stop his squirming.

“Dwan, really!” he pulled away again, his blue eyes wide, “Please, you’re my best friend. I don’t wanna ruin that with a quick one nighter,”

“I’m not trying to fuck you Anders!” she huffed, ripping the rest of the buttons open and peeling it from his torso, blushing despite herself at the sight of his soft tummy and course blond hair that covered his chest and thickening where it disappeared into his pants.

“Oh,” he stared blankly at his ceiling, his body instantly relaxing under her touch and lifting his arms over his head to help her get the material off, “that’s good then I suppose,”

Dwan sighed again and maneuvered him up to his pillows, tucking him under his covers and watching as he snuggled down into them. It took a moment before she thought about what he had just said.

“Do you really see me as your best friend Anders?’

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I guess.” He nodded, his voice becoming shy compared to the usual cocky and arrogant attitude he wore, “I’m a bit of a dick sometimes you know, but you never want to hurt me for it. Your one of the few people I can really trust,”

Dawn couldn’t help the way her eyes watered at the way his voice sounded soft and defenseless, his striking blue eyes staring up at her like a lost puppy.

“Oh you silly, silly man,”

“Dwan?” he questioned, tears filling his eyes and making her heart clench painfully in her chest, “Dwan, my fish are dead,”

“Oh Anders,” she sniffled, sitting down next to him and running her fingers through his hair affectionately, “I’m so sorry,”

There was a pause before Anders wiggled his way towards her and laid his head in her lap.

“I really loved my fish Dawn,”

“I know,”

“There was this orange one, I called him orange,”

She hummed still stroking his curls, not even surprise at the obvious name.

“And there was this other one, a really pretty blue one, I called him Sir Edward Armond Snicket the third,”

“Oh why am I not recording this?” she chuckled to herself as he continued to drunkenly list and name the silly little guppies from his tank. He listed them all, not missing one, and as he rambled on about the next thing his intoxicated mind attached itself too his voice began to slur and slow down. Soon enough he was letting out soft snores as he snuggled deeper into her lap, dead to the world.

She gave him one last glance over, lifting him and slipping out of his sleeping grasp, before sneaking out of his bedroom.

He was her boss, and a dick. But past all of that he was a soft and gentle soul. A little lost, but overall kind, protective and fragile.

She flicked off the lights and left his apartment with a smile, a plan to head down to the pet shop in the morning to buy him a surprise.  

[skylarmoon71]

Timeless Wells (Flash) Soldier- Chapter 18

The slightly annoying part of new romantic relationships is the constant updates about progress from your friend.

“I’m telling you when he takes off his glasses it’s like he becomes a different person.”

You frown, scribbling angrily at your reports.

“While I enjoy hearing about your blossoming love life Iris, I have a bunch of documents to get through. So please.” 

You gesture to the door of your office, and she laughs.

“Someone’s in a crabby mood.” She snickered.

A few of her lunches were spent with you at Star Labs. While you enjoyed the girl talk. You were still losing sleep over that very vivid dream. Because the flashes were getting more intense. But it’s not like you could tell Iris that you were having sexual fantasies about your boss again. She’d given you a hard time the first time around. You needed to reclaim your dignity.

“Well I should get back to the precinct. See you later.”

You wave her off as she leaves. The door closes, and you barely notice that Harrison has slipped inside.

“Finally some peace.” You mutter.

“Detective West giving you a few headaches?” Harrison joked.

You shake your head.

“No, I’ve just been a bit swamped. I am still managing a company. I’m trying to stay on top of everything just in case we encounter any other supernatural situations.”

“That’s smart. For Team Flash it’s just another Tuesday.”

“Of course it is.”

Harrison is standing by the door, and he just watches you. He takes it all in. When he got his life back, he’d told himself that he needed a fresh start. He wanted to make sure that he helped as many people as he could with whatever time he had left on this earth. Nothing was promised in life.

He knew that first hand. He’d experienced a lot. Something he didn’t account for again was falling in love. Tess would always be his first. But lately, it felt like he was opening himself to other possibilities he hadn’t considered in the last few years that he was here.

You don’t lift your head.

“Did you need help with something sir?”

He nodded.

“Yes, I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me tonight.”

That catches your attention.

“Dinner?”

“Yes. A candle light, a meal and maybe some soft music.”

Your brows knit. He couldn’t have really been asking you out on a date, could he?

“Like a date.”

“Exactly!!”

You frown.

“I’m sorry sir, but I’ll have to decline.”

His shoulders sag.

He can’t help it, he needs to know.

“Would it be wrong of me to ask why?” 

You finally place your pen down.

“We work together. You’re my superior, I’m your employee. That’s all this is. I’ve been down this road already.” 

He briefly remembers the story you told of your past love.

“But this is different I’m not-”

“It’s not different.” You interrupt.

“I’m sorry sir, but the answer is no.” Your words leave no room for conversation. Harrison takes a step back.

“I understand. I apologize for overstepping. I’ll leave you to it.” He turns. As he walks away, you can feel your chest tightened.

“I’m sorry.” You say as he stops by the door.

“So am I.”

He steps out, closing it and you drop your head on the desk.

[marvelrarepairbingo]

Marvel Rare Pair Bingo Secret Santa Master List

Hey everyone,

We’re swiftly getting into the new year here, but for those of us on the Marvel Rare Pair Bingo (which is getting ready to do round 2) we recently had a Secret Santa exchange this year. Each participant created a work for someone anonymously based on their likes and out of the winter spirit we have a list of some really wonderful stories for everyone to check out under the cut! Thanks to everyone who participated this year! It was a blast! We hope to see more from you all very soon!

Now onto the stories :)

Hanukkah by Sivan325 for inkandella  (James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Rated G)  Steve watched as James’s dad lit the shammash, and then turned to ask him, “Would you like to light the first candle?”

White and Pink Drifting Past Your Cheek by inkandella for lavenderism (Peter Quill/Thor, Rated G)  Healing was a slow process, and sometimes it looked like it would never happen at all. Thor had an idea to maybe help both of them.

I wanna see your face and know I made it home by endlesstwanted for Blizzard_Fire (Bruce Banner/Steve Rogers,  Rated G)  Bruce and Steve are the two first people to settle in the Tower, and they want to make the other feel at home.

The Secret Ingredient by Brimstone_Assembly for 42donotpanic (Clint Barton/Matt Murdock, Rated T)  After a rough night of superheroing, Clint makes Matt some hot cocoa.

Bucky and the Mentor by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy (hutchabelle) for lokivsanubis (James "Bucky" Barnes & Brock Rumlow, Brock Rumlow/Sam Wilson, Rated T) NYPD officer Bucky Barnes is excellent at his job—partly because he’s talented, skilled, and compassionate to the people he protects and serves. He also has an outstanding mentor who’s trained and guided him during his career. When he meets up with Brock Rumlow for one of their frequent get-togethers, he can’t resist poking a little fun.

Devilish sex by 42donotpanic for Brimstone_Assemby (Loki/Matt Murdock, Rated E) "He didn't tell Loki what he wanted. He didn't have to. The other person knew how to react and, almost instinctively, turned with the vigilante, ending up on top of him again. Matt didn't mean to react to the quick change in position, but he couldn't help a soft moan when the half-god's full body weight was on his lap again, a familiar hardness pressing into him. The arousal building up in him was enough of a distraction that Matt didn’t notice when Loki leaned over him again until cool fingers touched his ribs. A soft chuckle was the only answer to his gasp. It was a new sound, a fond laugh, nowhere near the mischievous snicker the rest of the world had gotten to hear. It was a private sound, and Matt guessed he was one of few people who ever got to hear it."This was written for the Marvel Rare Pair Bingo Secret Santa for theorderofthetriad I hope you enjoy!

The Politically Correct Holiday Party by lokivsanubis for buckybarnesdeservestobehappy (hutchabelle) (James "Bucky" Barnes/Peggy Carter, Brock Rumlow/Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Rated G)  At the annual Politically Correct Holiday Party held at Shield High School all the staff gathered for a secret Santa exchange. And for Peggy Carter, it's going to be a gift exchange to remember.

Want What You Want and Can't Where You Can't by TheUltimateUndesirable for Wolfsheart (James "Bucky" Barnes/Loki, Rated M)  Bucky drastically underestimated what he was getting into when he agreed to be Loki’s fake boyfriend to please the masses. It’s not the history or lies that got to him. No, in the end it ended up being Loki himself. Something everyone warned him about. Generally speaking since he highly doubted any of them expected the two of them to actually become friends. Let alone the more he desires.

sleep in by lavenderism (vorpalinas) for Sivan325 (Logan/Scott Summers, Rated G)  He doesn’t want to open his eyes just yet, and not because of the consequences doing so would bring, but because he wants this moment to last just a little longer. It’s warm here and, besides, he wouldn’t be able to crawl out of bed if he wanted to. His limbs are too tangled with another’s to allow much movement.

Under Your Protection by TrashficParlour for Kleenexwoman (James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers,  Rated G)  James couldn’t help the wide grin that spread upon his face at that. He was doing something right. So right, in fact, that a forest spirit knew who he was.

I Just Can't Give You Up by Blizzard_Fire for TrashficParlour (Bruce Banner/Justin Hammer, Rated T)  Justin tasks Bruce with "keeping an eye" on Tony Stark. Bruce's attempts to stall him somehow turn into flirty texts and dinners at fancy restaurants, until it's hard to tell how much of this is still a charade. The other Avengers think Bruce is getting in too deep, but Bruce starts to realise that there's much more to Justin Hammer than anyone realises...

Michelle Jones Always Expects Failure by Writerpete for TheUltimateUndesirable (Michelle Jones/Wanda Maximoff, Rated T)  Because then she will never be disappointed. - Michelle Jones isn't the best at socializing, and she doesn't have to be. Because she doesn't need friends. She doesn't need to stand around waiting for people to accept or love her.But maybe MJ needs to learn how to socialize so she can find a new roommate.

Bringing in the New Year by scottxlogan for endlesstwanted ( Yelena Belova/Kate Bishop , Rated T) Kate Bishop has decided to spend the winter season with Lucky in the city away from it all just sorting her life out. On the eve of New Year's Eve at a NYC bar Kate discovers an old familiar face is back in town and set on delivering a special message to her.This was written for the Marvel Rare Pair Bingo Secret Santa for endlesstwanted and I hope they enjoy it :)

Diamond In The Rough - An Emma Frost Story by alex_greene for scottxlogan (Logan & Scott Summers, Emma Frost, Rated T) Emma Frost spends Christmas Eve rescuing her favourite boys, Scott "Cyclops" Summers and Wolverine, after they get into a scrape while saving the day. They enjoy themselves so much that they forget what day it is.

All the way home I'll be warm by Wolfsheart for Writerpete (Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Loki & Peter Parker, Rated T) After saving the world a few times, Peter Parker feels older than he should, is a bit moody, even post-holiday gift exchange and food eaten and all the other feel-good moments with his Avengers family. He thinks no one notices, but of course, two in particular do and provide the much-needed comfort and advice.

A Taste of Orange and Plum by Kleenexwoman for alex_greene (Emma Frost/Erik Lehnsherr, Rated G) Emma Frost and Magneto share holiday treats on Krakoa.

Thanks to everyone who participated. The collection can be found here.

[immabethehero]

Encanto Day 30 - Milk

OK so context: my friend Breanna loves three things: milk, Encanto and The Sandman. So I decided to write a behemoth of a crossover.

This is both a modern au of Encanto and a sequel to this story I wrote back in the summer.

Shoutout to @doitforstamets and stargrazing on Discord for helping me write this.

Happy Birthday @breannasfluff! I hope you like this!

~~~~~~

“So… we meet again.” Bruno stares at the bottom of his suitcase, his expression weary. It has been sixteen years. Sixteen years of non-cow-costume-wearing bliss. And yet, here he is, pulling out the outfit once more, like a retired clown applying his makeup.

It’s not that Bruno doesn't enjoy dressing up and playing pretend, hey, his real Gift is acting! It’s this costume in particular he doesn’t enjoy.

At least he won’t suffer alone this time.

In the dining area of the hotel, Pepa has gathered her children and nieces to watch the infamous video of Brumilkerbell, the Fairy Cow Princess. Every single one of them is in hysterics as they watch Bruno stumble in his little heels, ball gown flouncing around him. Bruno rolls his eyes.

“I’m glad you sadists are finding pleasure in my pain,” he says loudly as he joins them at their table.

“Turn the clip off, I can't breathe!” Mirabel gasps between wheezes.

“It’s even better than I remember!” Isabela howls.

“Mom, why didn’t you give birth to me sooner? I wish I had been in the area when this happened!” Camilo snorts.

“Honestly, Milo, I’m surprised I didn’t give birth right then and there, I was laughing so hard,” Pepa admits, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Funny,” Bruno snaps. He dumps the costume on the table. “Here it is, kids: the worst out-of-context vision I ever had.”

His sobrinos immediately crowd around the table, marvelling and snickering at Brumilkerbell’s get-up.

“It’s even bigger than I remember,” Dolores remarks.

“There’s the seven foot frame you wanted, Camilo,” Mirabel says.

Camilo is laughing too hard to respond.

“So why are we doing this again?” Agustín asks.

“Because my friend in the online writing club I’m in needs some help, and I’m the only person in the whole group who can supply her with what she needs,” Bruno explains. “Her ex-boyfriend’s niece’s friend’s son is having his fourth birthday party and apparently this year he wants it cow themed.”

“That’s a lot of different acquaintances,” Julieta remarks.

“That’s just how her friend group works,” Bruno says. “Her ‘found family’ has gotten pretty big since she last checked.”

Alma checks her pocket watch. “It’s 12 pm, we should get going. Boys, do you have your…?”

Agustín and Félix hold up their own cow costumes, one a police officer and the other a construction worker. Bruno smiles gratefully at the two. As stated previously, at least he won’t suffer alone this time.

*

A man with long brown hair is waiting for them outside the New Inn. He waves happily when he sees Bruno carrying the bags of costumes.

“Hi! You must be Bruno! I’m Hob Gadling, I’m a friend of Calliope’s.” Hob’s bright smile and sweet voice win the Madrigals over easily. When Bruno shakes his hand, he is surprised by Hob’s firm yet gentle hold.

“Your hands are warm,” Bruno notes. He winces at his own rudeness. Hob laughs.

“You’re the first to ever say that about my hands,” he says. “I assume that’s a compliment?”

Bruno nods, face red. “Yeah.”

“Calliope and Murphy are waiting inside with the birthday crew. Thankfully, only a few kids are coming so you won’t be overwhelmed!” Hob continues as he leads the family inside. He suddenly notices how many Madrigals there are.

“Uh… are they all coming in?” he asks.

Bruno glances at his family and turns back to Hob, smiling. “Is that ok with you? They, uh, want to see the performance.”

“That good of an entertainer, huh?” Hob says. “Alright, I guess Lyta won’t mind. She’s the mother of the birthday boy.”

Hob takes the Madrigals through the inn and into a big room with a small stage, where the party has already begun. A group of seven kids do arts and crafts at a long table, while the adults mingle.

True to Bruno’s words, the entire room looks like a cow’s hide. White balloons with black spots and black balloons with white spots are hung up in every corner. The table cloths and streamers have a similar pattern. A large banner reading “Happy 4th Birthday Daniel!” is hung up by the small stage, two cartoon cows drawn on either side. Even the cake is shaped like a cow.

A woman with lovely chestnut hair approaches Hob as the group enters. Clinging to her leg is a small boy with blond hair.

“Hob!” The woman’s smile fades when she notices everyone. “Who are they and why are they all here? They weren’t on the guest list!”

“It’s ok, Lyta, they’re with me!” another woman says, running up to him. Bruno recognizes her Greek accent immediately. “Hello, Bruno. It’s nice to meet you at last.”

Upon seeing her warm smile and lovely dark hair, Bruno relaxes. “Hola, Calliope. It’s nice to meet you in the flesh as well.”

“This is Lyta Hall, she’s running the party. And this is Daniel, our birthday boy,” Hob introduces. While Lyta waves, Daniel ducks his head.

“Lyta, this is Bruno, he’s from my online writing club!” Calliope says. “He’s the one with the crazy ‘cow’ getup I was talking about.”

“Can I see?” Lyta asks.

Bruno opens his suitcase. “Behold.”

Lyta’s eyes turn as big as saucers. “You weren’t kidding…”

“It’s going to be quite the experience,” Bruno laughs. “Agustín and Félix are dancing with me as well.” The men in question wave.

“And so are me and Dream!” Hob says. “Do you have our costumes?”

Bruno lifts up his own to show two packages underneath. Hob snorts when he sees them. “These look incredible! Dream, you have to come see this!” He turns to the corner of the room, where a man Bruno did not see before stands.

The partygoers have given him a large space to himself, wary of the stranger. The man is shrouded in the shadows, his body hidden in a black coat. His emotionless face is pale and cold and his black hair is untamed. The oddest part about him is his eyes. A strange shade of blue that seems to shine like… stars. Bruno feels a sense of familiarity. Who is this man?

As Dream slowly approaches him, Bruno shrinks under his magnificently intimidating gaze. Dream glances down at the costumes before looking up at the prophet. Immediately his expression softens. It is a look of wonder.

Bruno ducks to hide his terrified gaze. “Right. Is there a room where we can set up?” he asks, willing his voice not to shake.

“There’s an empty space across the hall, we can get ready there!” Hob says. “Come on!”

In the other room, Bruno hands each man his costume. Agustín struggles to get the police boots on his “hooves”, Félix slips on the construction worker cow’s safety vest.

Hob is practically jumping with joy when he sees the cowboy, er, cow’s outfit. He laughs as he puts on the vest and fixes his sheriff’s badge. “I’ve seen a lot of things in my life, but this has to be one of the greatest..”

“You’ll be the Aviator, Dream,” Bruno says, handing the strange man his costume.

“‘Aviator’?” Dream asks. His surprisingly deep baritone voice rumbles through the room. Bruno feels chills run down his back.

“Because Calliope said you didn’t want to be seen doing this, so I found a costume that could hide your face?” Bruno squeaks. “The goggles should be enough, right?”

Dream takes the costume and looks it through. “Very well.”

“Why are you doing this if you don’t want to be seen?” Félix asks. “This isn’t exactly a… subtle activity.”

“Because I have a duty to fulfill,” Dream answers simply. Félix shrugs and goes back to trying to cram the hard hat on his cow’s head.

Bruno . “Alright, we have an hour to rehearse this song. I assume you all know ‘YMCA’, right?”

“Yeah, why?” Hob asks.

Bruno hands them all sheet music. “I, uh, took some creative liberties with it.”

*

Back in the party room, the rest of the Madrigals have already assimilated themselves into the crowd. Isabela shows off her plant magic to some of the children, Antonio colours with Daniel while telling him all sorts of cow facts (only half of which the four-year-old understands), Lyta has gotten some wine with the mothers, who shower her and Dolores with advice on how to raise a kid.

Meanwhile, Luisa, Mirabel and Camilo find new friends in two special guests, the niece and nephew of Dream.

“Rainbow hair…” Mirabel breathes, gazing in awe at Rose Walker’s dreadlocks. Rose giggles.

“Oh yeah! I’ve thought about changing it up recently, but honestly, rainbow hair is so fun!” she admits.

Mirabel turns back to her mom, pointing at Rose’s hair and back at her own. Julieta shakes her head. Mirabel pouts.

“Worth a shot,” she mumbles. Rose laughs.

Luisa watches Rose with stars in her eyes, the bookworm excited to meet a real, published author in the flesh. “How long did it take you to write your manuscript?”

“About two months, actually. I got a surge of inspiration during the last week and finished it in time to send to a publisher looking for new works,” Rose explains. “Next thing I know, I’ve got a huge paycheck and several book reviewers telling me I’m the new Neil Gaiman.”

“Fantástica!” Luisa squeals.

“Do Spiderman next!” Jed Walker exclaims. Camilo shapeshifts into the superhero, doing a backflip.

“Don’t work the kid too hard, Jed!” Rose warns.

“I won’t!” Jed responds.

“Don’t worry, I can do this all day!” Camilo says, shapeshifting into Captain America. Jed howls with laughter.

“He says that but then he’ll sleep until noon tomorrow,” Mirabel says. Rose laughs again, but it fades as she notices something strange walking onto the stage.

“What on earth is that?” she asks. Mirabel turns around and immediately begins laughing.

Camilo shapeshifts back into himself and drags Jed closer to the stage. “Oh, you’re gonna want front-row seats for this!”

Daniel is led to the front of the audience. The kids gather around him, laughing at the funny cows. In the back, Pepa and Julieta are already shrieking with laughter, taking pictures of the costumed men on their phones.

Bruno stands centre stage in his fairy cow princess, looking as marvelous as ever with the sparkling pink gown, wings and tiara. Behind him stand a police officer, a construction worker, a cowboy and an aviator, all cows. Mirabel recognizes her father and Tío Félix as the police officer and construction worker respectfully, but are those Hob and Dream, Hob’s mysterious boyfriend, as the cowboy and the aviator? Even with aviator goggles covering his eyes, Dream’s sharp, white cheekbones are quite memorable and noticeable. Not to mention, she can’t see him anywhere in the room, so…

On stage, Hob keeps glancing at Dream. While this would usually flatter the Endless, right now it’s getting on his last nerve.

“Why do you keep looking at me?” Dream finally hisses.

“You look constipated, and I don’t want you to take it out on Bruno,” Hob whispers.

“I’m not going to send a nightmare after him. You don’t have to worry,” Dream says. “I’m just not looking forward to this.”

“You don’t have to do this, Dream,” Hob reminds him. “I asked several times if you wanted to back out, and every time, you’ve refused. Why?”

“Because it is my duty to visit the first baby born in the Dreaming every year on his birthday,” Dream states. “And even if that includes doing a ridiculous dance at his birthday party, so be it.”

Hob rolls his eyes. “That last part is a load of bull and you know it. Are you sure that’s why you’re doing it?”

Dream is silent.

Hob gives him a knowing smile. “You’ve grown to care for Daniel Hall and his crazy family, haven’t you? Is this about making the kid, and by extension, your new family, happy?”

Dream shrinks further into the giant cow head. Hob leans over to kiss his nose. 

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

Bruno grabs a microphone from an amused Isabela. “Hi kids! I’m Brumilkerbell, the Fairy Cow Princess of… Milkneyland, and these are my friends, the Village Cows!”

“Why do you have a beard?!” a kid in the audience yells.

“Why don’t you have a beard?!” Bruno snaps back. He takes a deep breath and smiles once more. “Today, we’re going to sing a special song all about your favourite drink! Can anyone guess what that is?”

“Wine!” Pepa yells.

“Pepa, there are kids in the audience, including your own.”

“So?!”

“So we’re going to be learning facts about an altogether different drink,” Bruno exclaims through teeth clenched. “I would like to thank Antonio Madrigal for helping me write some of the lyrics. Hit it!”

Dolores turns on the boombox. Brumilkerbell and the Village Cows begin tapping their hooves.

“Is it just me or is the tune familiar?” Julieta asks as she records.

“I’m pretty sure this is just YMCA,” Pepa says. “Did he change the lyrics?”

The cows swing their tails to the beat as the chorus kicks in.

It’s fun to drink a lot of M! I! L! K! It’s fun to drink a lot of M! I! L! K!

“Ohhhh…” the sisters say in unison.

The kids cheer for the exuberant performance, getting up and doing the dance with them. Most of the adults are laughing too hard to join, or film the performance. Daniel screams with glee as the cows swish their tails and pump their hooves in the air in an elaborate dance.

After the performance, the men sit at a table while Daniel opens his presents. Bruno has already fallen asleep, Agustín and Félix engage in a game of chinchon. Dream watches the sleeping Bruno from the side.

Hob arrives with drinks. Unlike the others, he has not taken off his cowboy cow costume. The fathers cheer until they see what’s in the wine glasses: milk.

“Oh come on, why the long faces?” Hob teases. “You heard Brumilkerbell up there, milk is chock full of vitamin B12!”

The Madrigal men glance at each other before shrugging and grabbing a glass. Félix grabs an extra for when Bruno wakes up. Hob moves onto Dream.

“What are you thinking about?” Hob asks, handing the Sandman his milk.

“That family has magic,” Dream says. “That’s why they feel so different.”

Hob raises an eyebrow. “Magic? You’re only figuring this out now?”

“You knew?”

“I mean, Bruno Madrigal is a lyrical genius! How could I not know about his music-writing magic?!”

Dream gives his boyfriend a small smile. “Not that kind of magic, Hob. Real magic. Each of them has a small portion of magic, dedicated to one type of spell. They call them Gifts.”

Hob looks amazed. “Really? How did I not notice that?”

“I don’t think they trust us enough to show us,” Dream admits. “I’m surprised they’ve been able to hide it for so long.”

“Should we tell them we know? Does Calliope know?”

“Let’s not tell them, for now. Calliope has had her suspicions since she met Bruno. She asked me to confirm today, and Lucienne has just sent me the report.”

“Your librarian rules.”

“I know. I shall send her your compliments.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?”

“You asked.”

“Smartass.”

*

As the kids sleep upstairs in the inn, the grownups decide to have a little more wine to wind down for the night.

“I can’t believe my youngest son actually helped Bruno write that song,” Pepa says.

“Well, it wasn’t easy,” Bruno says. “It took the better part of a week and half a dozen Google searches.”

“How were you not sweating bullets up there? I was getting hot just looking at you,” Julieta says.

“Oh believe me, I was getting hot,” Agustín says. “You weren’t kidding, hermano, these costumes are stuffy as hell!”

“Luckily for you, this is where the fun part comes in,” Hob says, standing up. “Dolores, ma’am, where’s your boombox?!”

Mirabel stumbles downstairs, her throat parched and stomach rumbling. She should not have had that much cake. Her head pricks up slightly as she hears music and shrieking from down the hall. Curious, she walks down to investigate. 

When she peers into the room, the sight is enough to wake her up. Bruno, Agustín, Félix and Hob all managed to get the clothes off the cow jumpsuits, and are currently in the middle of slowly taking off the jumpsuits themselves. Dios mio, she can see their hairy chests.

The women, her abuela included, whoop and whistle at the strippers, all clearly tipsy.

Dolores, hearing her cousin gasping in horror, pauses the music. All heads turn to the 16-year-old gaping in the doorway.

Bruno is the first to find his words. “Hey, Mariposa! What do you need?”

“I was considering getting a glass of milk, but I think I’ll hold off until I can get this image out of my mind. Buenas noches.” Mirabel awkwardly exits, wondering how this day went from YMCA parodies to strip-teasing cows.

[kitkatt0430]

Okay, so time has come for me to watch Mask of the Red Death part 2 - here's hoping this goes better than the last episode.

Stream turned white as soon as I went full screen. I feel like this is an omen. Anyway, let's restart and try again.

So far so good, I can now see the previously on. So full of plots I don't care about compared to so few the ones I do.

Okay, so I guess we're starting with the CCPD, but it's hard to care about the CCPD with David and Joe gone. I can never remember any of the officers though I recognize at least a few background recurring characters and Kramer just hasn't really grown on me all that much. That said, I'm glad someone remembered that Kramer has powers because hey, she uses copying Roy's powers to pretty good effect, even though doesn't work for long.

Allegra arguing with Hartley, Jaco, and Keith (Goldface, I just got tired of using his nickname all the time) over leaving Blaine behind feels hollow because odds are Blaine isn't dead anyway. Like I said last time, no body? Probably not dead.

Everyone's tired and scared, Barry's been nerfed, but at least Iris has her head on straight. Keith speaks for me when he says "I always liked you" to her. :D

Iris is definitely the brains of the operation. That said, if all the power was basically out, how did they get the tech working to interface with Cecile's powers. That was a big problem last episode and no one ever fixed it. Maybe something hit the cutting room floor that shouldn't have?

Cecile feels that someone is out there in lots of pain and oh apparently Blaine's still alive. Surprise. Anyway, he's clearly been tortured and I do get why Barry wants to rescue him. If there is one thing Barry has that is stronger than his speed, it's his guilt complex.

Khione - Well fine if you won't save Blaine, I will.

Hartley - I cannot let my new friend-shaped person go into danger without me.

*snicker* I mean, that's basically how fast Hartley caves and he goes from angry/annoyed voice to his softer voice. Finally, Hartley and Khione friendship showing up again.

I mean... maybe there's some guilt about Caitlin mixed in there, but Hartley never liked Caitlin in this timeline. Respected her, clearly yes since he went directly to where he thought she'd be for help a few episodes earlier, but doubtful they ever got along well. And now she's gone, so they'll never have that chance. But I do think he's just genuinely fond of Khione for herself.

Jaco folds next. And then Keith, but he's not happy about it.

Kramer - You won't be able to hack our satellite. 'Cause ARGUS upgraded it.

First... since when does the CCPD have it's own satellite????

Second, ARGUS' firewall crumples like tissue paper. There is a joke there about Cisco's inability to secure shit.

third... where the heck did all the Red Death suits come from? Did they spawn like rabbits between episodes???

Barry is right to tell Khione 'no' when they're going into danger and she has zero combat skills.

Since when has Allegra had x-ray vision. Was this something she gained when I wasn't watching last season? Or at least had foreshadowed??? (Probably not on both counts.)

Oooh, Hartley's enhanced hearing comes up again.

Jaco - Feels like a trap to me. Feel like a trap to anyone else?

He is immediately correct. Red Death arrives to monologue!

Okay, so the suits are psychic manifestations apparently? How does Barry even know that? But then how does Ryan know about the vision of Savitar stabbing Barry that almost killed him two seasons ago???

Oh, hey, Grodd is here. And apparently he's connected to evil Ryan now? And the Gorilla City gorillas are gone now, so lets feed that guilt complex of Barry's huh?

And then the band with the Rogues breaks up. Can't blame 'em, but I know they'll be back later.

Iris and Khione talking is lovely. Iris gives Khione some good advice. I just wish we'd gotten these interactions with Caitlin instead.

Was Khione kissing Blaine to activate her healing powers on him (or whatever that was) necessary? I swear if we get Khione/Mark Blaine as an end game ship I will be so fucking pissed off.

Time for a Joe West pep talk for Barry. Or for Barry to pep talk Joe? I do love their father-son relationship. But I knew that Joe wouldn't be a series regular anymore this season, so I suspect this is him bowing out. Or the start of it anyway.

I do love how much use Nash's teleporter is getting in these two episodes. I miss the Wells characters, but it does feel a little like Nash is still there helping them. Just a bit.

Grodd blaming Barry for being alone isn't really fair - Barry isn't at fault for that and it's not like Grodd ever let Barry know what he'd discovered about the Gorilla City gorillas. And I think on some level he knows that and that, more than Barry's speech, is what sways Grodd. He can look into Red Death's mind. But he can look into Barry's too.

Red Death's episode long break down continues. And somehow Barry got his speed back from Grodd? Whatever.

More speedster running/chase scene/fighting. It is pretty fun the way it's done, though. And the Rogues showed back up to help Barry, as I predicted. :D

So does real Ryan! Woo, so good to finally see her. And she nullifies evil Ryan's speed for a Batwoman vs Red Death fight.

Jaco - We'll help out anytime.

Hartley - Ehhh...

Jaco - Anytime.

Hartley - Okay, why not.

I... don't know that I liked the cheesy fourth wall breaking joke the Rogues ended on though.

Chester fanboying over real Ryan is hilarious. And I like how Ryan and Iris low key fangirling over each other was cute too.

So where was real Ryan all this time? I... don't think anyone ever said.

There is so much unexplained in this episode.

Joe leaving to raise Jenna is the right call, but I hate that he's apparently semi leaving Cecile to do it? He's done the single parent raising a daughter before. He deserves to raise Jenna with her mom too. Not just on the weekends. And how do they afford any of this anyway? Joe is retired, so what is their income even looking like?

So much unexplained.

Oh no. Oooooh no. Chester/Allegra is happening. Make it stop. They still have no chemistry. At least Barry is still his usual oblivious self about it.

I... do not like how they find out Iris is pregnant. I mean, it is a bit funny that Khione didn't realize they didn't know yet when she blurted it out, but still. Iris deserves better than the writers are giving her once again.

Anyway, that's it for the episode. It was better paced then the last one and I enjoyed it more, but there were a lot of plot holes in there. So many plot holes. I can't say I really like how the Red Death arc ended.

But Hartley, Jaco, and Keith were fun and it seems like they'll show up again later in the season? Here's hoping anyway.

I feel like a number of things in this episode would have gone better with foreshadowing. Grodd's involvement, Allegra's x-ray vision, the Red Death clones (psychic whatevers)... And other things just needed an actual damn explanation. Especially real Ryan showing up out of nowhere at the last minute. Where was she? In the timeline that Red Death came from? Took a wrong turn in Albuquerque? Where was she this whole time??? We know she was missing, so what the hell?

I think the biggest problem is they were trying to do too much at once in these two episodes and thanks to how poorly paced part one was, they squashed too much into part two.

Anyway, teaser for the next ep shows discussions about the pregnancy happening early - so there's probably concern that the baby she's pregnant with won't be Nora? And then Khione training her powers, which seem to be healing but cold? I'd be more interested if the person training her wasn't Blaine.

His first intention after Khione was born was to kill and replace her with Frost. So Blaine helping Khione figure out her powers is not what I'd call a great idea. And it looks like we may be heading into Khione/Blaine territory, which... him using Khione as a replacement goldfish for Frost, even hypothetically, creeps me the fuck out.

So I might not watch the next episode. Or i might just skim it/skip around looking for good parts. I dunno.