#I feel like I can’t get her voice right rn and it’s making me irritated

[xxxangeleyesxxx]

"Why would you run from me?"

She couldn’t bring herself to face him.

The clang of shears falling to the concrete barely registered over the nonchalant clicking from reloading a chamber just behind her. Even from under her early spring trench coat, she could feel the cold metal cylinder pressed against her back, directly to her heart.

She swallowed, her eyes looked anywhere for someone, something that could save her, but at this time of night, no one would be out and about at Heidelberg Castle. No one would be there to hear the scream itching to escape the confines of her vocal cords. It was the perfect time and place to execute such a crime. She wanted to make some noise, but every time she tried, no sound came out.

There had not been a single moment to collect herself. She barely had time to stand after subduing the man who lunged at her before the telltale sound of a gunshot blasted through her eardrums. That very gun was pressed to her back the second thereafter, but he made no move to fire.

Blood soaked through modest heels. The tips of her toes dipped into the thick, warm liquid. Barely a trace of the crime would be found on her should she manage to escape and choose to forget about this, but a trace nonetheless.

She couldn’t bring herself to face him.

“Why would you run from me?”

What an odd thing to say in this situation? Though she supposed her darling older brother was never normal.

Stranger still was the way it was spoken; without his usual mock ignorance. He genuinely wanted to know.

Did he know that she knew who he was?

One foot in front of the other. His breath warmed her neck.

He had always been there, watching. Always just a few steps behind her.

Part of her knew it was him when she read the email. She shouldn’t be as blindsided by this inevitable intrusion into her life as she was right now.

She couldn’t bring herself to face him.

Even when she silently agreed to this meeting, she still couldn’t bare face him.

Would she see it again? That awful weeping, gashing hole in his head.

Would all she see when she turned around be a reminder of her unforgivable sin?

“Johan… please tell me.” The gun that was pressed to her back drew back a margin. “Is there a good reason why you hired a man to keep me here? Is there a good reason why you didn’t want to meet me yourself? Why did you bring me here?! Is the only reason you arranged this meeting just to distract me?!”

Suddenly her blood ran cold. Her eyes went wide with realization. This had happened before.

“Johan… what did you do to my parents?”

@theartifxce

[writeriguess]

So this is like a semi emergency request. I’ve seen people ask other blogs for those, if it’s not ok on your blog just ignore me!

But do you think you could do a Hawks x reader where he’s like her husband and he constantly has to remind her to drink some water because she’s just the type that won’t if not begged to. So like one day she gets really sick when she gets home after patrolling all day and she faints due to dehydration from not drinking water for a while.

I’m going through a wicked case of dehydration rn because I’m just not the type to drink water often and I just need the comfort. I definitely regret my decisions and I’m going to try to be better about drinking water, I think I’m learning my lesson lolll

author's note: I want to be clear—this is a one-time exception. With a busy season ahead, there will be entire weeks when I won’t be able to check Tumblr or write. During those times, I won’t be available for “emergency requests.” My first busy period starts in just a week and a half, and right now, I’m scrambling to get through requests because I won’t be able to cover those two weeks I’ll be away. If I started receiving more of these last-minute requests, they would slow me down too much. That said, I do hope you feel better soon.

Also, just a quick heads-up: Tumblr’s gif library has been down for several days, so I won’t be able to include gifs in any fics requested less than a week ago. I’m really sorry about that! Hopefully, it’ll be fixed soon.

Flight Risk

The moment you step through the door, exhaustion weighs you down like a lead blanket. Your limbs feel heavier than usual, your vision swimming slightly as you toe off your boots. Patrolling had been brutal today—villains popping up left and right, citizens needing assistance, and of course, the unrelenting sun bearing down on you. Still, you push through, ignoring the sluggishness in your body, the dryness in your throat. It’s nothing you can’t handle.

Keigo, however, would strongly disagree.

“Babe, did you drink any water today?” His voice carries from the kitchen, where he’s leaning lazily against the counter, golden eyes flicking toward you. The way his wings shift—just the slightest ruffle of irritation—makes it clear that he already knows the answer.

You wave him off, too drained to deal with his nagging right now. “I’m fine, Hawks.”

He arches a brow. “That wasn’t the question, dove.”

You roll your eyes and mumble something incoherent, making your way toward the couch. You don’t even get the chance to sit before the dizziness swells into something much worse. The room tilts, your knees buckle, and then—nothing.

When you come to, the first thing you register is warmth. Something soft and feathery is draped over you, and it takes a few sluggish blinks to recognize the familiar red of Keigo’s wings wrapped around your body. His scent—fresh air, something musky and warm—grounds you, but there’s an underlying tightness in the way his arms are curled around you.

“Seriously?” His voice is quieter than usual, but the edge in it makes you wince. “How many times do I have to tell you to drink some damn water?”

You shift slightly, only to be met with a firm press of his hand against your forehead. “Uh-uh. Don’t even think about moving yet. You scared the hell outta me, you know that?”

Guilt settles heavy in your stomach. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to?” His laugh is hollow, and he pulls back just enough for you to see the crease in his brows. “Sweetheart, you passed out. In our living room. After I specifically asked you if you drank any water today.”

You avert your eyes, feeling suddenly small under his gaze. “I was busy.”

Keigo lets out a sharp exhale, clearly biting back whatever smart remark is on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he shifts, grabbing a glass of water from the nearby table. “Drink.”

You hesitate for a second too long, and immediately, his expression darkens. “Drink, or I swear to God, I will hold your nose and pour it down your throat.”

A laugh bubbles up despite yourself, weak and hoarse. “That’s dramatic.”

“And you’re impossible,” he grumbles, but there’s no real bite to it. He lifts the glass to your lips, watching closely as you sip. The water is cool, soothing against your parched throat, and you hadn’t even realized how desperately you needed it.

Once you finish, he sets the glass aside with a sigh, running a hand through his messy blond hair. His wings twitch slightly before curling tighter around you, caging you in his warmth. “You can’t keep doing this,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “I don’t care how strong you are. You have to take care of yourself, or I will—personally. And trust me, baby bird, you won’t like my methods.”

You hum, nuzzling into his chest. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

Keigo groans, pressing a lingering kiss to the crown of your head. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” But the way his arms tighten around you, the way he stays tucked against you for the rest of the night, says otherwise.

He just loves you too much to let you slip through his fingers—even over something as simple as forgetting to drink water.

The next morning, you wake up to the sound of rustling feathers and the warm press of a hand against your cheek. Blinking blearily, you see Keigo crouching beside the bed, his golden eyes scanning your face with clear concern.

“How do you feel?”

You stretch your arms slightly, feeling a little less drained than before. “Better,” you admit, voice still raspy. “Still a little tired.”

Keigo frowns but nods. “That’s expected. You were majorly dehydrated. I had to keep waking you up last night to get you to drink more.” He gestures to the nightstand, where an empty water bottle and another half-full one sit.

A pang of guilt washes over you, and you reach for his hand, giving it a small squeeze. “I’m sorry, Kei.”

He scoffs, but there’s no real irritation in his expression. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll accept your apology on one condition.”

You tilt your head, wary. “What is it?”

Keigo grins, but there’s a sharp glint in his eyes. “You’re not allowed to leave this bed until you finish another full bottle of water. No sneaky dumping it in a plant, no ‘accidentally’ knocking it over. I’m watching you.”

You groan but take the bottle anyway. “You’re a menace.”

“And you’re a flight risk when it comes to taking care of yourself,” he quips back, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “But you’re my flight risk.”

With that, he settles in beside you, watching closely as you take slow sips from the bottle. You know he’s not going to let this go anytime soon, and honestly, with the way his arms wrap around you like a protective cocoon, you don’t mind one bit.

[jiminjeonging]

https://www.tumblr.com/jiminjeonging/773654860334841856/hiii-i-know-ur-thing-is-jmj-but-do-u-happen-to?source=share

saw this super late but thank u both so much!! im sadly not very good w prompts lol i can only think of maybe nerdy loser jm x needy prep nn having some sort of secret affair

my brain dont work too much rn too unfortunately but what you said reminded me of this ningrina au i have in my head and tried to write before it might be ooc (and not you wanted) but you need to stay with me plsss

There were two specific reasons Jimin loathes Econ with every fiber of her being.

Firstly, it’s boring as hell. Like, soul-crushingly boring. Jimin’s a psych major; she couldn’t care less about “utilities” or “scarcity” or whatever else their monotone professor drones on about at 1 p.m. while ignoring the sea of blank stares from the entire class. It’s like a live reenactment of suffering. Oh, and let’s not forget: the prof doesn’t answer questions, doesn’t explain anything in-depth, and lives for pop quizzes. You know, just to spice up everyone’s misery. Jimin walks into that classroom every day in a good mood after lunch, and then—bam. Gone. Obliterated the moment she sits down.

Second one is much more personal.

Her name is Ning Yizhuo.

Aka: the bane of Jimin’s existence. The most insufferable, obnoxious, bratty human being on campus. Possibly on Earth. Jimin would go as far as to call her tragic… because it’s really unfair and cruel that Ningning is also, quite possibly, the prettiest girl Jimin has ever seen.

She’s petite and slim with honey skin, delicate features, and soft golden-brown hair. Her eyes? Cat-like and mischievous, framed by ridiculously long lashes that honestly feel like a personal attack. And her lips? Glossy and pink. Perfect. So perfect, in fact, that Jimin can’t help but stare—until Ningning opens her mouth.

And then it’s over. Infatuation? Gone. All that fascination turns into full-blown irritation.

Oh, and it gets worse. Ningning doesn’t just exist in Jimin’s Econ class—she makes it her mission to exist right next to Jimin. Always within a few seats, always loud. Laughing. Clicking her pen. Talking to her quieter friend Minjeong like she doesn’t know the concept of an inside voice.

And let’s not forget their group projects. Ningning’s brattiness? It cranks up to eleven. She’ll fight Jimin on everything. Argue. Insult. Complicate. It’s like she was born to infuriate her.

But here’s the kicker: everyone else seems to just endure Ningning. Sure, there’s the occasional eye-roll or exasperated sigh from their classmates, but for the most part? They let her be. Jimin, on the other hand? No tolerance. Zero. Ningning’s laugh, her voice, her very existence grates on Jimin’s nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

It’s honestly baffling to Jimin how much power Ningning has over her. She’s usually so chill, calm, and unbothered. She never lets people like Ningning get to her, normally lets them wash right over her and stays unbothered. But for some reason, Ningning has lodged herself into her mind like an eternal distraction even when all she wants to do is ignore.

aka the sort of inconveniences to lovers au and if you cant tell ningning is crushing on jimin but jimin is too stupid to notice

[loststarphounix]

It's Gundham's birthday rn (it's 12am, December 14th in my timezone lmao)

and so, I decided to gift him the best thing I can offer atm:

✨ Kazuichi in lingerie ✨

Kazuichi comes home earlier than Gundham does, and so he has time to prepare his gift to him at home! The devas also joined him for his duties for the day so he won't have them to snitch on him, which is good-

Kazuichi's gift to him is his very own lover wearing the most beautiful lingerie he's seen. Don't ask Kazuichi where he got it, he just does- xD

Gundham comes home later a little after dark, and notices Kazuichi not on the couch waiting for him, which was odd. He goes upstairs and finds him on their bed wearing the pretty pink lingerie he got especially for his birthday~ >.<

( tbh this is just me using gundham's bday as an excuse to ramble about kazuichi in lingerie bc i personally love the idea LMAO )

Ah I feel bad cause I don’t have a fic ready for him, so this might have to do lol TW: pic of lingerie and hand job

Kaz got this lingerie thanks to Sonia 🤣

He asked her for help picking out something nice and she looked in square in the eye and said “say no more”. She actually bought several - nearly a baker dozen all varying in different colors and cuts and some even have faux fur lining. She went to town and they all fit like a glove lol

But the one he decides to wear, is a cute little light pink piece that fits snugly against his hips and chest, which is perfect because Gundham does like seeing Kazuichi’s masculine body incased in feminine clothing. And this is particularly feminine (spoiled caused slight risky photo)

So he has it on, feeling pretty cute and good about himself. He looks good and though the thigh straps were a bitch to get right, everything is just perfect. And to add the perfect touch, he puts on the custom made pleather dog collar Gundham had made, complete with a dog tag with Kazuichi’s name engraved snug against his neck.

He knows he make a pretty sight and desperately wants to take a picture for future use, but holds off because he can’t trust himself sending to his boyfriend and ruining the surprise 😏

When he hears the front door open, he feels nervous, it keeps his ass firmly planted on the bed and waits anxiously for the other to come into the bedroom.

“Paramour?”

“In here.” He calls, voice high and excited. “I have a surprise for you~”

And wow ok. Taking him a bit of a minute to get there. Could be his anxiety but it takes Gundham an eternity to get to their bedroom, but it’s worth it when he opens the door, talking about how some irritable parrot was refusing to eat or groom itself and stopping mid word as he took in Kazuichi, sitting in the middle of their bed, legs tucked in to push the strain of the thigh straps taunt against his skin and a gauzy dark pink short shift splay around him like some Disney princess.

Kazuichi is so proud of Gundham’s reaction, he wiggles a bit in excitement as the breeder continues to stare at him in a mix of surprise and desire and in a genius move, he shoulders the shift off, exposing his slightly tan shoulders and he could be seeing things but he swears the others nostrils flare as his eyes focus on the collar.

“You like it? Happy birthday baby-“ is all he can get out before he is suddenly pushed against the sheets and is silenced by the other kissing the soul outta him.

Gundham is just pawing at him, kneading his thighs; hands tugging at the bra to flick a nipple and a wide wicked tongue making a wet strip at the hollow of his throat. Kazuichi was already half hard and it takes no time at all for him to be full mast and he moans as those cold hands brush against his groin.

“My dear, you look delightful. Absolutely delectable.” Gundham growls and Kazuichi shivers cause holy shit he really likes it.

And Kazuichi preens at that, because fuck yeah he knows it. Gundham is just pulling more at the bra and has already pulled down the delicate fabric of the crotch panties, long fingers wrapping loosely around his length and his arches his back on the bed. Something rends in the air and it barely phases him as he thrusts into that pale hand.

“I find that you will enjoy me unwrapping my present fare than I will.” Gundham rumbles I’m part amusement and part hunger as he speeds up his hand slightly.

“Nigh ~ Never know until you do.” He replies with a toothy grin that immediately crumbles as he rides out his orgasm.

“Indeed.” And he watches in semi conscious bliss as pulls away to quickly remove his clothes.

And yeah, this gift was a great idea.

[cheoliehansoliereblogs]

🧸this is a review for @k-fic-collection 🧸

Consider this my live reaction while reading the fic

First of all, before we even get into this, can I just say I love a good college A. Something about the vibes are just immaculate

“See, I only know that one slimy creature with the ring. What was he always saying…” The man snapped his fingers, a lightbulb switching in his otherwise empty brain. “Ah, yes!” He then completely distorted his voice, rasping, “My presh-shious!” - the way Vernon would drop kick me because that’s also the only line I know from that movie

Vernon could not help his smile dropping. I don’t get paid enough for this. - how I feel working my on campus job and the students email me over things that are clearly explained

but someone this aesthetically pleasing did not come to stores like his - I’ve never heard someone be referred to as aesthetically pleasing, but if someone said that to me, I would be honored

“I don’t know if you’d have the Disney Princess box set? You know, the complete edition?” - this is something I would do for sure. Either Disney Princess or classic Barbie movies

Perhaps you were braindead? - ouch

who was watching Disney movies at that age? - Disney movies are a classic to be enjoyed at any age, Chwe Hansol!

He had, in his own words, called you a hag. - I will throw hands, istg

“My god, you’re a filmbro!” - the accusation serves him right for judging reader for wanting a Disney Princess box set

Of course the pretty, borderline-mean, borderline-terrible-taste-in-movies girl was taken - all these insults, yet he still wants her. What does that say about him?

“How can I help you, Miss Disney-Hag?” - I will literally fight this man, even if I’m over a head shorter than him. I will come for his ankles 

Packaged in pink casing, Sofia’s most treasured piece sat, almost with its head held high as the other movies orbited around its pull. - I cannot believe this man is stealing his little sister’s most prized possession rn for a girl he barely knows

Kim Mingyu. Fuckass Kim Mingyu. Film major—just like him. One of the most popular boys in the year—very unlike him. All the teachers love his essays, all the girls love his freakishly-perfect six-pack, which Vernon is extremely irritated (and devastatingly intimidated) by. - not at mingyu being the literal worst for being too perfect (I get it)

“You’ve never had a hot girl this close to you.” - oh to have this confidence

“All part of my master plan.”- idk what evil plan is being concocted rn, but I’m so here for it

You could only shake your head, trying to contain your laugh. “Careful, or I just might bother you after the plan.” - oop-

MINGYU IS A FUCKING IDIOT…CINEMATICALLY ILLITERATE…BORDERLINE MISOGYNIST… - girl, let’s take a few deep breaths

“Didn’t you say she was really stupid, Gyu?” - kim mingyu i hate you with a burning passion wtf (not irl baby, i know you would never)

“_____ may have been hot, but she was one stupid bitch. Thank god I got rid of her.” - the way my jaw dropped, wtf!!!!!!!

vernon: u dont have to wait till next week / vernon: ill help u with the plan - YESSSSSSSSSS

VERNON WAS WONDERING WHETHER HE STILL HAD TIME TO KILL HIMSELF. - me during finals week

“Get in loser, we’re going trespassing.” - an icon, truly

“I don’t take opinions from men who can’t drive.” - once again, an icon

Sure, he could not drive, but was it not just three pedals, a wheel and a dream? - this is how I think about driving as someone who doesn’t have a license

For a moment (and he did not know whether he was going to regret making this assertion), he did not care for Christopher Nolan’s disrespect, after seeing your reaction. - the filmbro has a heart!! He’s changing like the grinch with christmas

What Vernon wanted to tell you was no, no, no, because another second with you would end with all the blood in his system rushing to his head, and other places. Damn everything and everyone, he would want to see you again—no. No. He wouldn’t. He would not. - i love how nervous he is in this. I feel like the members are usually written to be super suave and cool, but seeing him written like a normal guy who’s just goofy and a little bit of a loser is refreshing and kinda nice

Only when, fifteen minutes in, Atlantis is finally introduced that something clicked in his brain. Mingyu tilted his head, thinking out loud. “What the fuck…?” - how can one be so dense??????

The worst arrived in all his golden-skinned, empty-headed glory. Holding one of his DVDs, Kim Mingyu stood at the doorway, his eyes widening with every second they beheld the intruder, one leg out of the house, the other a moment away from heaving him up. - omg omg omg omg omg omg omg omg the p a n i c

And then you were both laughing, giggling beyond control at the narrow escape, and the near crash against some tree. Vernon knew how stupid this whole situation was, but strangely, he did not seem to care—not when you did not see it like that. A very odd prospect. - this scene is so cute 

“So…Tangled is the only one you haven’t watched, huh.” - so disappointed he hasn’t seen one of the best Disney movies to exist. If he doesn’t like it, i’m throwing hands

You, on the other hand, were a problem. He could not let you down—not anymore. Not after today.  - 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

“Now why are we already getting context of some random witch’s actions? Less telling, more showing, man!” Vernon kept his arms crossed, shaking his head at the TV. “Oh, great, poor little king and queen in their big ass castle!” - can he shut up??????

Blinking back repeatedly, he could not even shrug it off, stunned once again by how you were casually able to touch him and not feel anything—while his entire system shuts down like a lagging desktop when it tries to run the Sims. - that’s actually so cute

The boy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, let me just change my name to Bartholomew Whiteman real quick.” - that’s actually crazy

Because the music that surrounded the two crept into his ears, playing the strings of his senses; because the lights were off save for the TV, shining its dimmed lighting upon your face, making you glow with the dark purples, blues, golds of the Tangled scenery. He lost all interest in everything because you were looking something out of a daydream, watching the events of the movie as if they were scenes of salvation. The two of you were definitely not on any kind of boat, merely sitting on bean bags. Despite all of that, he began to float—swaying from where he sat, as if he was truly settled on water. - if someone ever described me like that i would burst into tears

“If I am to be your exception, _____, then I suppose you can be mine.” - screaming, crying, throwing up

 “I think I could have fun with you anywhere…in secret or for anyone to see.” - asjdkdjsgdklsghi

Whatever happens, Vernon would not be having sex with you if Shrek was playing in the background. - the way i was not expecting it to be shrek omg

VERNON LOST HIS VIRGINITY WITH SHREK PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND. - NO FUCKING WAY

You did not stop teasing him, and he did not stop shutting you up by kissing you senseless. - oh

When the two of you were not terrorising Mingyu’s livelihood - that would be so fun tbh

The beginnings of his shit-eating attitude did not develop, since your smack on his arm completely snuffed it out. “Ow, damn!” - serves him right

but decided that it was important to accompany Vernon to the seemingly bigger release - this is love, sacrifices

What you received instead was a boy engulfed in all the pinks of the colour wheel. - vernon the barbie fanatic i’m so here for it

And as the two of you entered the theatre, hand-in-hand, the boy learned that perhaps he, too, would have gone anywhere with you. - omg that was so cuteeeeee

I just wanna say that I loved the Tangled scene so much. Like that part was so well written and it made me so happy and it made me feel so warm and bubbly inside like words cannot describe how perfect that scene was. This fic was amazing and I loved it so much, definitely one of my favorite Vernon fics.

𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐨-𝐳𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝

❝Who knew all it takes is a hot girl with top-tier taste for a man to admit he's wrong?❞

𝒈 𝒆 𝒏 𝒓 𝒆 : fluff, comedy, suggestive, college! au

𝒘 𝒐 𝒓 𝒅 𝒄 𝒐 𝒖 𝒏 𝒕 : 21.7k words

𝒔 𝒖 𝒎 𝒎 𝒂 𝒓 𝒚 : self-proclaimed movie mastermind chwe vernon minds his business—whether that be avoiding the popular, problematic kids in his college to reducing customer interest in his parents' film store. his plan of isolation, however, is completely destroyed when you, a seemingly insane disney fan, slam his perfect movie taste and ask for his help to take down an evil ex.

𝒄 𝒐 𝒏 𝒕 𝒆 𝒏 𝒕 : loosely inspired by watching the detectives, film major! vernon who owns an outdated film store, fem! reader is the baddest (but also the craziest) bitch in this fic, vernon is a loser, film major! mingyu who will be violated many times in this fic sorry king, mentions of many filmbro films which will also be violated, self-indulgent mentions of some of my favourite films, a few super dark jokes nothing serious though, kissing, mentions of sex and the act of cumming (all joking wise) but no actual sex because im fearing god today (super suggestive at best), barbenheimer reference <3

𝒕 𝒂 𝒈 𝒍 𝒊 𝒔 𝒕 : @hyuckworld @junyangis @hiraethmae @lllucere @intoanothermind @kokoiinuts @shnnzsworld @lilifiedeans @talkyoongitome @vanishingboots @cookiearmy @person1fys

𝒂 𝒖 𝒕 𝒉 𝒐 𝒓 ' 𝒔 𝒏 𝒐 𝒕 𝒆 : she is finally here !! so so sorry for taking so long </3 i never thought it would be finished atp but thank you addy and alice for pushing me to complete this lil fic !! addy ur film major info birthed the filmbro slander, and alice...no smut LMAO LOSER anyway do enjoy homies <33

𝒑 𝒍 𝒂 𝒚 𝒍 𝒊 𝒔 𝒕 : if you're too shy (then let me know) by the 1975 || q&a by seventeen || wonderful women by the smiths || confidence by ocean alley || talk talk by charli xcx || oh my! by seventeen

back to masterlist

“NO, THE HOBBIT IS SET BEFORE THE LORD OF THE RINGS.”

This particular customer, however, refused to grasp the concept. “But the Hobbit was released after,” he repeated, as if he had not heard twenty minutes ago, when he first entered the store. “Wouldn’t it make sense to watch the more recent movies?”

Vernon clamped his lips together, stopping himself from saying something that would lose him a potential buyer. Well, not that it would matter much, considering the man before him could not comprehend what a prequel was, but still—he had to make this idiot understand.

“I understand that, sir, but the Hobbit is a prequel to the Lord of the Rings.” Holding onto the DVD set, he pointed to the grand picture of the movie’s protagonist. “It’s based on Bilbo Baggins’ adventures.”

“But was that not the little fellow from the Rings?”

“No, sir, that was Frodo. Bilbo is Frodo’s uncle.” The boy then clarified, tone heightening, “You know, where he reclaims his home from Smaug?”

“Smog?” The customer parroted incorrectly, scratching his hair as if the action would jog his memory. “Now why does this hobbit’s home have health violations?”

The twist of his lips was inevitable. “Smaug,” he corrected. “The dragon…the villain…the whole reason the movie was created?”

“See, I only know that one slimy creature with the ring. What was he always saying…” The man snapped his fingers, a lightbulb switching in his otherwise empty brain. “Ah, yes!” He then completely distorted his voice, rasping, “My presh-shious!”

For a split second, Vernon was a little gob-smacked at the impression. Then, he remembered he needed sales, and made sure to laugh as if that customer was the funniest man that ever stepped foot in the store. 

This particular joker, who was clearly not understanding Vernon’s analogies, instead asked, “Well, which one do you recommend?”

Ah, the fated question. 

Besides from the Lord of the Rings collection, he had been asked this very question a few too many times, when customers would browse the films on offer and ask for his opinion. Not that he considered himself an all-knowing master of movies—

He smiled. Now that was something he could chuckle about.

“Well, sir, the Lord of the Rings is a timeless classic. I would recommend it to anyone interested in a well-written, well-produced fantasy.”

The man twisted his lips. “But I don’t really like fantasy, though.” 

Vernon could not help his smile dropping. I don’t get paid enough for this.

With as much strength he could muster, he persuaded the idiot to get a rom-com instead, and ushered him out. 

He sighed, going back to the desk. The store was never busy—unsurprising, since nobody buys DVDs anymore—but that was how he liked it. The less customers that bothered him, the better. He did not want to be that type of guy, but he would rather have his own company than those who thought that the Marvel movies were God’s gift to man. (The Spiderman movies, however, he had to leave out of his apparently controversial statement).

Vernon was about to close the shop out of pure boredom when someone stepped in. 

His eyes darted to the newcomer. 

They stayed as he beheld you.

Perhaps this was a gross generalisation, but he did not expect someone so cute walking in a store this run-down. Maybe you had mistaken it for a vintage shop, planning to rob the CDs, or thought there might be decades old clothing in here. He was certain you had walked in by mistake, but then you began to browse the movie sections.

His first thought was that you seemed to have excellent taste. 

You slowed your steps in the classics section, eyes roaming at the Fan Favourites shelf which was simply movies Vernon had seen this week. Still, they were amazing fucking movies, hence their place on the shelf, now being admired by the likes of you. He wondered what you thought of the one DVD you picked up, assessing the blurb at the back. Roman Holiday. The boy could have smiled—you truly had a knack for picking out special films. 

Your fingers lingered on the movies for only a couple of minutes before you saw the desk—first the counter, and then the person behind it. 

The fact that your first instinct was to smile at the boy behind the counter had a profound effect on him.

Now, he did not want to sound pathetic; he did not know you, had never seen you before, but someone this aesthetically pleasing did not come to stores like his. Someone who picks up Roman fucking Holiday and be this cute did not acknowledge boys like him.

But Vernon Chwe will be cool about it. He will not look like a loser in front of you.

He pretended to look over some DVDs on the counter desk as you approached him. “Hey, there,” you greeted, and only then he allowed himself to look up, glancing you over. Already you had propped your arms on the top, eyes darting around the store as if finding something which deserved your attention. “I wanted to ask about a specific film. Well, films.” 

Films? Vernon really thought all the intelligent minds had rotted in this lifetime, but clearly you were an exception. “Of course,” he said, setting the movie on the side. “What genres are you interested in?” he ticked his head towards the Fan Favourites. “You were looking in the right place, to be fair.”

“Hmm?” you only spared that shelf a momentary—dismissive—glance. “Oh, sorry! I was looking for a specific box-set, but I can’t seem to find it on the shelves. I was hoping you could have it out back.”

Specific box-set? Vernon tried to contain his smile. Of course you were looking for a collection of timeless classics. “What’re you looking for?” he asked you, hoping you were going to request Hitchcock’s best. If you asked for Wong Kar-Wai’s trilogy, he might have fallen to his knees. 

You smiled at him.

Then dropped the bomb.

“I don’t know if you’d have the Disney Princess box set? You know, the complete edition?”

Vernon’s eye twitched a little. What the fuck?

Your gaze on him did not shift. “Are you okay?”

It took a moment for him to realise that you had asked him a question. “Huh? Right, sorry,” he said hurriedly, mind rushing for the many possibilities as to why you had requested a set like that. Perhaps you were braindead? No, that was too harsh. But then, who was watching Disney movies at that age?

Then an idea came into his head, and it made him feel much better. 

“So sorry about that,” he reiterated, scratching the back of his neck. “Anyway…Disney Princess set, huh?” He sighed out a laugh. “A sweet treat for your younger siblings, then.”

“Younger siblings?” A swift shake of your head, still smiling. “Haven’t got any of those.” 

The twitching was back. “...anyone under the age of 12 you know?”

“Now you’re making me sound like a freak,” you mused, locking your hands together. “Is it that shocking that I’m getting the set for myself?”

Vernon’s any attempt to diffuse the conversation died the moment you said those words.

Disney. Princess. Movies. The box-set you wanted was a Disney. Fucking. Princess box-set. 

At this rate, his eye-twitching was very much visible to you. “Don’t tell me no one’s ever bought a Disney movie from you,” you said, surprised by his change of attitude.

“Well,” he jeered, “I usually have first-time parents with their toddler kids asking me about sets like that.” 

You then titled your head back a little, taken aback with the comment. “Are you saying I’m too old to watch Disney movies?”

“No!” he instinctively defended himself, though he had virtually no defence to offer. He had, in his own words, called you a hag. 

This was it—he was usually stellar at keeping his opinions to himself. Now, the one time he could have kept his mouth shut, it spluttered open and not only embarrassed him, but one of the only cute potential customers. He was his own saboteur. His own destruction. 

After catching the flurry of emotions on his face, you had a realisation. 

Did his stupid comments get to you? Perhaps they would have, had you not seen his like before. Not only that, you had a sneaky feeling he himself had no clue on what category he was slotted into.

So you let the corners of your mouth curve upwards—up to the point where you were smirking, completely catching the boy off guard. 

“My god, you’re a filmbro!” 

Those emotions that you had witnessed now all conjoined into confusion. “Huh?” was his intelligent answer to the accusation. Filmbro?

And then you began to chuckle—little bursts of soft giggles, which escaped your mouth the more the revelation settled over you. “Wait, wait,” you began, “I need to ask this first!” You wiggled your finger at him. “What is your favourite film?”

Again, the fated question. This time, though, he felt as if his answer would not be the right one. Still—if there was one thing he was confident about, it was his expertise in films.

He tried, as confidently as he could, to voice out his supposed opinion. “Nolan’s Inception is one of the greatest films ever made.” 

There was one, solitary, quiet moment.

It was ruined by the subsequent laughter, courtesy of your mouth, which could not shut after his answer. You had to grip the counter, cackling at the response, and Vernon could only gawk at you, face reddening with every second spent watching you keel over. 

After what seemed like a lifetime (but was only about thirty seconds), Vernon finally cleared his throat. “Alright now, that’s enough comedy,” he muttered.

Another thirty seconds later, you finally seemed to calm down. The mischievous mirth on your face, although would have had any man swooning at your feet, seemed to irritate him all the more. “I’m sorry,” you gasped out, wiping a slight tear from your eye, “You just…you reminded me of my boyfriend.”

Of course. Vernon nearly clicked his tongue in disappointment. Of course the pretty, borderline-mean, borderline-terrible-taste-in-movies girl was taken. Fuck my life, son.

Your smile flickered—almost as if it turned cruel. “My mistake…ex-boyfriend.”

His eyebrow then raised a little. Maybe life can be unfucked; maybe the pretty, not-that-mean-as-he-thought, changeable-taste-in-movies girl was still attainable. 

Your eyes wandered once more, but this time to your hands. “I was actually going to get the Disney Princess set for him.”

The eyebrow decided to raise further up. He was dying to know why you were 1) getting your ex-boyfriend a present and 2) getting your ex-boyfriend the worst fucking present. But of course, due to the lack of balls in his pants, he did not ask you.

The crazier notion was, maybe you knew the lack of balls that should be present in his pants, because you iterated for him. “I’m surprised you’re not asking why I’m giving my ex a Disney Princess movie set, Mr. Filmbro.”

That term had him immediately frowning. “I don’t particularly care,” he lied as best as he could. He then crossed his arms. “Plus, I’m afraid the store doesn’t have the sets. I’m gonna have to order them in.”

A tilt of your head. “Are you lying?”

The cross of his arms was gone—now his hands were raised in surrender. “No, no!” At least not the set order bit…

Although it was quite clear that you did not believe him, you spared him this once. “Alright…” you receded your arms from the desk, taking a step back. Instead, you pointed at him. “But don’t think I’m gonna leave you alone on this!” 

Vernon’s insanely suave, cool, mystique response was giving you a thumb’s up. “Of course.” 

As you walked back to the entrance, hand on the door, you looked back at him. “I’ll see you soon, Mr. Filmbro.” 

The eye-twitch was about to come back. He did not bother waving as you left the shop.

VERNON COULD NOT STOP THINKING ABOUT YOU FOR THE SEVEN DAYS BETWEEN YOU AND TODAY. 

It was slightly embarrassing—he supposed he should have expected some extraordinary meet-cute, where someone who looked and acted like you would waltz into his dusty-ass film store and ask for possibly the worst movie collection to grace the western cinema. 

But then you called him a fucking Filmbro, and now the self-hatred might bubble to the surface of his usual calm demeanour. 

The boy scoffed as he fixed the alphabetical order of the CD covers, located in the Classics section. Filmbro…what the fuck do I look like a Filmbro for…

He firstly supposed that he should consider it a compliment—so what if he had superior knowledge of movies over the average morons that wandered into the store? He was paid minimum wage for this knowledge! Fuck, he was doing a degree within this field! (Not that he was quite sure he would end up as a blockbuster director at the fine age of 21, but the arts majors were always told to dream beyond the realistic limits.)

The more he contemplated over the vicious term, the more it began to bother him. Filmbro…Film. Bro. God, it sounded like a classist clique—a club where the members considered themselves above the laws of society, but were horrendously ridiculed by the outsiders. At the end of the day, he had always been an outsider in these clubs—he did not enjoy being the laughing stock, even if it meant being a member of an elitist group. 

Whatever. So what if you called him a Filmbro? He had only spoken to you once; the opinion of one girl—regardless of how pretty she was—was not of any relevance to him.

But then you sauntered into his store, and suddenly he forgot that he was seething over you for an entire week. 

There you were, footsteps harmonising along the bells of the entrance, and he swerved back to see you. You, in all your frill-skirted, layered-shirted, gum-chewing glory, catching his eye and bringing back the smile which you had offered him the moment you bestowed him that term of little-endearment. 

“Hello again, Mr. Filmbro.”

Don’t be a prick, don’t be a prick, don’t be a prick—

It was fine—it was okay. Vernon was a man now—no longer in his teens. He could have a normal, pleasant conversation. He was mature and able enough to interact with a girl who just happened to disagree with him on certain interests. 

He would be cordial—kind.

“How can I help you, Miss Disney-Hag?”

His skin nearly crawled. I need to kill myself immediately. 

A bit of a low blow from his nickname, but you were laughing, a silly little melody. You must have been crazy, because any other sane, rational human being would have been offended—should have been offended. Vernon fought to keep his face straight. 

“I see you’ve been thinking about me then,” you said. 

That had him looking away, walking behind the counter. “It’s not everyday I get a grown-ass woman asking me about children’s films.”

You mocked a gasp, slapping a hand over your chest. “Ouch. Do you hurt every girl that walks into your filmstore, or is this special treatment reserved for me?

Vernon focused on the cash in the register. “When another girl asks for the special edition for the Cinderella trilogy, then I’ll hurt her just the same.”

You clicked your tongue. “I should have known all men suck in their own ways.” You then approached the counter, propping your elbows atop the surface. “At least show me you’re good at your job and bring me the movie set I ordered.”

At this precise moment, all the thoughts about your stubborn addiction, playful smirk and how terrible the Little Mermaid was had completely vanished.

Shit. 

Maybe his irrational dislike ran further than he thought.

“Yeah…” but then he realised he sounded incredibly suspicious, and cleared his throat, forcing a little assurance in his usual monotone. “Yes! Yeah, of course! The movie set.” He took a step back, nodding his head ever so slowly, as if his head was not churning out a million different plans. “Give me one second…”

“Sure,” you could barely get out before Vernon whirled on his heel, bursting through the backstage door, and into the Chwe flat. 

He did not know whether this was going to work out. 

Like lightning he ascended the stairs, hands brushing against the bannister as he went past his bedroom, door slightly ajar. Not the destination he was seeking, he stopped before the neighbouring door—this one firmly closed. 

The boy made sure to knock first. No answer. Perfect. Slowly turning the knob, he opened the door, peeking around just in case there was someone in the room, and then he would have to resort to more planning. Since the coast was crystal clear, though, he put his mind at ease, only focusing on the main plan.

The room he had entered was a myriad of pop culture references and childhood memories, plastered on the butterfly-covered walls, sitting atop bedside tables or hanging off the hooks. Vernon never realised how invested his sister was with certain TV shows or films till he saw Lindsay Lohan’s mugshot plastered next to her bed. He had asked about it once, but she only waved him off. You wouldn’t understand her impact, she had said to him, and went back to shitting about him to her friends. 

Prying away from the poster, his eyes settled on what he came for, settled in the middle of the huge book shelf.

Sofia prided herself with her book and movie collection, a hereditary trait which Vernon shared: the top and bottom shelves were filled with her all-time favourites, even resorting to furthering her obsessions with the merch related to her treasured characters. He remembered laughing at her ideas until he saw a Barbie FunkoPop figure staring back at him one day. That notion was already horrendous, but the black, soulless eyes had guaranteed its spot in his sleep paralysis the next day.

Thankfully, the little horror was not on show on her bookshelf—this time, right in the middle, was the very prize that he sought. 

The Disney Princess Movie Set—Complete Edition.

Packaged in pink casing, Sofia’s most treasured piece sat, almost with its head held high as the other movies orbited around its pull. As far as Vernon remembered, it held all the Princess movies, and was worth at least 6 hours of his wages.

The boy looked around the room, as if his sister would appear any second.

Then, like a thief in the night (even though it was broad daylight, and would definitely be caught), he swiped the set off the bookshelf, and hurried out of her room.

“Sorry, Sofe,” he could only murmur under his breath as he dashed down the stairs, hoping you had not been bored by his absence, and left him with stolen goods at the scene of the crime.

He opened the door adjacent to the shop, and he almost sighed in relief when you perked up, eyes darting straight to your apparent order. When he saw your face light up like fireworks in the night sky, he titled his head back a bit, stunned by your boisterous reaction.

“You actually bought it!” you exclaimed, drumming your hands against the counter as he set the movies down. “I had a feeling you would blow me off.”

“Business is business,” Vernon said, crossing his arms, “Shit taste in movies will not stop me from making my money.”

You clicked your tongue. “Spoken like a business major.”

“Film major, thank you. I would rather kill myself than submit to the horrors of finance.”

“Don’t die on me just yet.” Bringing out your purse, you fished through its contents, first setting your card on the counter. Then, you brought out a crumpled piece of paper. “I actually have a few more films I want to ask about.”

The boy was expecting another long list of early 2000s rom-coms—perhaps an opinion for every Disney movie ever made in its existence. He swore if he had to hear about Rachel McAdams’ versatility one more time, he might blow his brains out in front of a customer. 

Then you dropped the names, and he had to surge his head forward.

“What are your thoughts on Wolf of Wall Street, American Psycho, Pulp Fiction…Fight Club, Saving Private Ryan, Scarface…” You squinted at the list, finding the names neverending. “Jeez, this list keeps going, huh?” 

He could not help the scoff. “And you called me a Filmbro.” He set his forearms on the counter, locking his hands together. “What do you need these movies for?”

“They’re for my ex-boyfriend.” 

The term had him pausing. Of course—the ex-boyfriend. How has he heard of this man, but not know a thing about him? Shit, he did not even know your name.

“This ex of yours has…an interesting taste,” he said slowly. “What’s he like?”

“I can tell you he attends the same college as you. Well, us,” you clarified, jerking your head towards the college colours of your server’s hoodie. “Film major. Just like you, actually.” 

“Oh?” Small world. “What’s the name?”

“Kim Mingyu. Do you know him?” 

Vernon Chwe nearly shit his oversized jeans.

A hesitant nod of his head. “I have a few classes with him.”

“Oh?” Your stare was a little more intense now. “What do you think of him?”

Right. 

Another fated question—the people around him had to stop asking him such controversial questions, or else he was bound to piss someone off. You were already letting him off the hook too many times; one more judgemental comment, and he was having that Princess movie set smashed on his head.

Kim Mingyu. Fuckass Kim Mingyu. Film major—just like him. One of the most popular boys in the year—very unlike him. All the teachers love his essays, all the girls love his freakishly-perfect six-pack, which Vernon is extremely irritated (and devastatingly intimidated) by. 

What all these people failed to realise, though, was that Mingyu was the biggest piece of shit to grace the halls of his university—and the planet, if dramatics were in order. If you thought that Vernon was a filmbro, then Mingyu was Filmbrother. Filmcomrade. Filmnemesis. 

It was as if you could hear the thoughts churning in his head. “You can be honest, you know. He did dump me at the end of the day.” A smirk began to appear. “Say your worst.”

The reassurance did not help. “I mean,” he started, swiping your card, “He’s okay? I haven’t talked to him enough to have an opinion on him.” 

A half-truth—that should suffice. 

But because the fates like to shit on his head every now and then for kicks, they decided to leave you unsatisfied with his answer. “Or, you can keep lying!” 

Excellent intuition, really. “I’m not!” he exclaimed, slapping the card back on the counter. “I really don’t know much about him.”

The big man upstairs was testing him even further, when, with a determined gaze, you set your elbows atop the surface. You leaned closer, tilting your head to the side as you inspected him, and Vernon blinked back at the sheer lack of space you had created. His mouth twisted, eyes frantically darting at the features of your face, not quite taking in the entirety of your being. Your vision seemed to work perfectly, because it caught the slight flush at the tops of his cheeks, where it was just pale skin seconds before.

Your smirk deepened. “Judging by your blush, you’re either terrible at lying…or,” you offered, voice lowering a little as you drummed your fingers against the counter, “You’ve never had a hot girl this close to you.” 

Fuck everything and everyone, because that only made him blush more furiously. You could not help the chuckle that escaped, deciding to cease torturing him and take your card. “I’ll not say the answer, Mr. Filmbro, but I think you already know.”

Since he had no plans of turning into a human form of a ketchup bottle, he evaded the topic entirely, instead focusing on interrogating you. “You still haven’t told me how Mingyu is related to the movie list you made.”

That seemed to hold your interest. “Oh, of course!” Putting the list back into your bag, you began, “Well, the list holds my ex-boyfriend’s favourite films. I wanted to know your opinion on a few.”

He could not contain his sigh. Oh, he had an opinion on these films that you mentioned. Again, he would rather be buried with his thoughts on the specific genre than ever tell you. The curiosity, though, was eventually going to eat him alive.

So much for minding his business.

“I mean…” he began to think, trying to find the right words. “I don’t mind them? Godfather is a good film, but I’ve seen better from Brando. I like American Psycho, but again, people tend to miss the point of the movie.”

As you nodded, listening to his two-cents on the movies you mentioned, he paused, furrowing his brows. “Why do you care about my opinion?”

You smacked your lips together, folding the list back. “I don’t know much about you, Mr. Filmbro,” you began, “But you don’t run a filmstore without knowing a thing or two about the films you sell.”

“So?” He crossed his arms atop the counter. “Shouldn’t you have asked the guy who you made the list about?”

“Trust me,” you said, your smirk turning more into a rageful flash of teeth, “I know exactly what he thinks of these films.”

Don’t particularly know what to make of that comment. “Well, I don’t know what my opinion for these films is going to help you in any way.”

“It has helped.” You paused then, waiting to see if he would egg you on, asking how his seemingly tame opinions would play into the grand scheme of things. “All part of my master plan.”

Master plan? Vernon may have been interested before, but he was certain that, before, he could have hid it without letting you catch onto it. In a sudden flash, though, as if his mouth was beyond his control, he regrettably slipped out the words which had you smiling more than he would have liked.

“What master plan?”

He almost closed his eyes. Shit. Now I’m fucking invested.

The corners of your mouth, lifting upwards, had him almost nervous. “I was hoping you would say that.” 

Great. Brilliant. Fantastic. Fucking Stupendous. Vernon could not think of other pretentious synonyms. “I will tell you, Mr. Filmbro,” you began, once again settling your locked hands on the counter, “If you help me out with it.” 

That had his eyebrow shooting upwards. “What does that mean?”

“Exactly what I intended.” A pause. “Look, I know it’s a little crazy…being asked by someone to help in some mysterious plan. But hey!” you added, “You know who the target is, and you know I can be trusted.”

“Calling your ex-boyfriend a target makes this sound like a contract killing. Also, I actually don’t know that,” he corrected, crossing his arms. “The only thing I know about you is your weird obsession with children’s movies.”

“Well, buddy, that’s basically my entire personality, so you don’t need to know any more!”

Vernon sucked in a breath. “I don’t even know your name.”

Your eyes darted to his features, the sharp brows, the speculative eyes, the flared nostrils. His lips, which were twisted in a curious, bemused line. “That’s an easy problem to solve.” You decided to battle his frown with a smile. “_____.”

_____. At least he knew one important thing about you. He swore Mingyu had mentioned your name before, but then he should not also hold certainty—that boy’s favourite subject had always been himself. 

You snapped him out of his thoughts. “This is when you tell me your name now…or do you enjoy being called a filmbro?”

Man…he could not look you in the eye afterwards. “I don’t…” he got out, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “And it’s Vernon. Chwe Vernon.” 

“Vernon,” you repeated, lips curling upwards. “Alright, Vernon, since both of us know each other’s names, you can definitely help me now!” 

The said-boy tried to smile, which was more a grimace. “Well…”

“Tell you what,” you said, trying to find something in your bag. “Wait, give me a second…shit, where is that piece of paper…?” You finally managed to fish a crumpled piece out. “Right!” After catching sight of a pen lying around the counter, you took it and scribbled something quickly, sending it his way.

Taking it, he looked at the messy scribbles—your number. “You’re looking at it as if I passed you a death threat,” you snickered. Vernon gave an uneasy smile. “Just think it over. I need movie expertise, and there’s no one else I know who can help me more than a guy who runs a film store.”

The boy behind the counter listened to you, paper still in hand. Maybe Mingyu made some points breaking up with you—you did not know who Vernon was, save for the name that was tied to him, and the job he was forced to do by his parents. Realistically, he had to decline, because if he has ever learned something in his life—or from watching a myriad of golden age romantic tragedies—is that you never trust the beautiful, crazy girls. 

“Hey,” he heard you say, and he swore your chirp had softened. “I’ll go ahead with my plan in a week’s time. If I don’t hear from you, then I’ll know your answer. You don’t have to tell me now.” When he looked at you, he saw your expression shift. “That’s why I only gave the paper.” 

He supposed he could appreciate this sentiment. “Thanks,” he could only say, pocketing your number. “Is there…anything else you want? Aside from the—” a snide glance at the DVD set—”the movie?” 

“I saw that,” you scoffed, taking hold of the movie set. “And no, I’m alright. I’ll bother you about children’s movies another time.” 

“I’ll make sure these children’s movies are all conveniently sold out when you come,” he countered without thinking. 

You could only shake your head, trying to contain your laugh. “Careful, or I just might bother you after the plan.” 

Vernon did not know what he felt at that notion—would he want that? However, he did not have time to ponder, since you were already heading for the door. As you nearly left the store, bell ringing, he did not hear the door close. He glanced up, catching you looking at him with an indecipherable expression. “Yes?”

You waited a moment before parting your mouth. “I hope to hear from you, Mr. Filmbro.” 

With that, you swiftly exited the store, leaving this Mr. Filmbro even more helpless than he was between the seven days between your first encounter, and now this very second. 

“JO MADE SENSE WITH FRIEDRICH AT THE END. SHE SIMPLY…NEEDED A MAN AFTER PINING FOR LAURIE.”

The professor listened in the small circle, the rest of the students typing or writing down the answer. “Like, realistically,” Mingyu went on, twisting his mechanical pencil between his fingers, “The whole point of the movie is her relationship with Laurie, and that was shattered the moment he married Amy. Friedrich was like…” he pouted in thought, furrowing his brows. “The light at the end of the tunnel…does that make sense, Minghao?”

The said-man nodded. “Interesting take,” he noted, walking closer to the circle he was teaching. “So you agree that Jo needed Friedrich at the end of the film?”

“Absolutely.”

There were a few murmurs around the room, majority of them agreeing with the golden boy who was sitting at the head of the circular, white table. Vernon, who was sat one girl away from him, typed furiously in his laptop, adding to his notes. MINGYU IS A FUCKING IDIOT…CINEMATICALLY ILLITERATE…BORDERLINE MISOGYNIST…Okay, perhaps he was exaggerating on the last one, but his analysis of the question pissed him off. 

Did Jo need Friedrich at the end of the movie? Was what Professor Minghao had asked them about an hour ago. Vernon knew the answer immediately, and, although did not share it with the seminar, was surprised to be disagreed by the majority of the class. Not surprising, however, when his class was filled with men who could not imagine a woman in a film wanting anything else but a man beside her. 

Whatever, he thought, straying from the web page and instead checking the release date for Oppenheimer when he heard your name crop up amongst the discourse in the table. 

“Did _____ actually?” 

“Oh, yeah, said she thought Jo should have been on her own.” A click of tongue. “Not surprising, coming from her.” 

Vernon instantly perked up, fingers pausing on the keyboard. Not surprising? The boy was actually floored at that opinion—and how valid you were for expressing it. 

“I mean,” another girl, right next to him, chimed in, “Didn’t you say she was really stupid, Gyu?”

“God, I don’t know where to begin,” Mingyu said, aghast, and the boy who eavesdropped felt a little dread at every word that escaped his mouth. “Everytime I watched a movie with her she always got bored, or argued with me when I tried to explain shit to her.” 

“I remember we sat with her while we were tryna do our film project last semester,” the boy beside Mingyu recalled. “She had no fucking clue who Martin Scorcese was, man!” 

The group audibly gasped, save for Vernon, who could not help himself, refusing to mind his business. Nasty habit this—he made a note to call you out for this later on, should you walk into his store again. 

Fuck. He did not want that. Of course he did not. He should stop thinking about it too. 

You, that is.

“She’s gotta be the dumbest one yet, Gyu,” the boy snickered, snapping his laptop shut. 

“You don’t even know the half of it,” the dumper groaned, raking through his locks. “You know she was always watching those fucking Disney princess movies?” Vernon’s eyes widened a little. “Man, I remember she wouldn’t get enough of them. Like, what are you, six? Why the fuck am I watching a movie about a midget dragon?”

Then, Mingyu said the words that made the eavesdropper’s spirits shot down. 

“_____ may have been hot, but she was one stupid bitch. Thank god I got rid of her.” 

The others agreed. He may have spoken more on the matter of your lack of media literacy, but the professor was back, and the seminar had quietened, all in focus. 

All except for the boy who had not given his two cents on the matter, frozen solid at the conversation that occurred. What the fuck was that? He had first thought, over and over to the point that he nearly typed it in the seminar document. He had always known Mingyu was an asshole, but what he said about you gave him a very uneasy feeling.  

What sent him over the edge was that a lot of his grievances sounded identical to Vernon’s own words. 

Miss Disney Hag he had called you—to your face he had insulted your taste in films, and you had only laughed. He wondered how you felt when it was Mingyu amplifying those very opinions on a daily basis. 

A frown marred his features. Damn it. He knew he was a loser, but he did not know he was an asshole. Like Mingyu…

Vernon visibly shivered. 

As Minghao voiced out the objectives for the second half of the seminar, the boy brought his hand into his trouser pocket, slipping out the paper. He looked over your number, the messy scribbles dancing in his eyes. Darting to his phone on the table, he held it in his free hand, looking over the contacts. 

“Damn it,” he said under his breath. 

Was he going to regret this? Most probably. Will you probably make him do something that would result in a fatal injury, and land a permanent stain on his social record? One hundred percent. 

If he knew these things already, then what he should have done was toss the paper in the nearest bin. What he did instead, as he typed in some vital information in his phone, was something that changed his life (or at least the life he will live for the next few weeks).

vernon: u dont have to wait till next week 

vernon: ill help u with the plan

There. And now, he shall wait.

Which, he pondered as he saw the immediate response, was not very long. 

normal disney enjoyer: wait who tf is this??

Oops. 

vernon: oh mb this is vernon lmao

vernon: from the filmstore

normal disney enjoyer: oh damn why didn’t u say so !! freaky ass text 

vernon: ??? ive said it now tf

normal disney enjoyer: and im happy u have ;)

Well. Vernon sighed a little, trying to focus back on his work, but to no avail.

Let’s see what you have in store for the next week.

VERNON WAS WONDERING WHETHER HE STILL HAD TIME TO KILL HIMSELF. 

It could be quick—maybe if he jumped in front of the next incoming car, full speed, he might suffer a haemorrhage in his brain, and die bleeding out as his parents took him to the hospital. Of course, that does mean that it would be slow and excruciating, but he thought that nothing would be as painful as whatever you had planned for him.

Come on…maybe it won’t be that bad. Perhaps his thoughts were spiralling too quickly. Perhaps his assumptions of you were a stretch, and that all this anxiousness, pent up in him, would wash away the moment he saw your car pulling up to the store’s driveway.

He felt himself prepare mentally as, eventually, your small, red car slowed in front of him. Right before him, he saw the passenger window roll down, and he caught sight of your smiling face, teeth showing. 

Perhaps it truly would not be as bad as he imagined. 

“Get in loser, we’re going trespassing.”

Nevermind.

“Oh my God,” was the unsatisfying answer to your perfect reference. Seriously, you should not bother saving your precious material on such a lame boy, but there was something so exciting about his eyes sharply rolling, colour staining the tops of his cheeks. “I’m not doing this if you’re going to quote terrible movies the entire night.”

“First of all, fuck you. Mean Girls birthed half of your customers.” You flicked the lock on the passenger door, pushing it open. “Second, you don’t have a choice. You’ve agreed to ruin Mingyu’s life.”

“First of all yourself, I did not agree to that.” Begrudgingly, he settled shotgun, snapping the car door shut. “Second, Mean Girls was a waste of Rachel McAdams’ talent.” 

You scoffed, starting the car. “I don’t take opinions from men who can’t drive.” 

This shut the boy up nicely, clamping his lips together in quiet shame. He wished he could argue with that—you, he feared, had a good point. Despite that, it was not his fault that his parents insisted on the reliance of public transport; the bus was his greatest villain—aside from the middle school kids in his store that always ask for the next FIFA game. 

You could not help taking a second glance at him, chuckling at his defeat. “Don’t be sad, Mr. FIlmbro,” you reassured him, changing gears. “I like my men a little pathetic.” 

That did not help at all—his eyes widened, gawking at you, but you were already looking ahead, pressing your foot on the accelerator. 

“Jesus!” he exclaimed as he held onto his seat, taken aback by your sudden rush of speed. “I thought you wanted to kill Mingyu, not yourself!”

“My bad,” you only said, turning right. “I’m just so excited! You know, getting there.” 

“I can see that,” he mumbled, looking away from you into the back. Strapped in with the seatbelt, bizarrely, was Sofia’s Disney Princess Set, as if the dozen-movie box was a toddler in need of extra assistance. What the fuck…?

“I’m having these films in pristine condition, Vernon,” you explained, though it still made no sense in his head. “You understand, don’t you?”

Of course not. “Sure.” 

He waited for further explanation, which, as the silence continued, you decided to throw him the conversational bone. “I don’t just carry the set around with me, you know.”

Sure. “Of course not.” 

“It’s relevant to today’s plan,” was all you would offer, speeding more to reach the destination quicker. Vernon held onto the belt a little tighter, still eyeing the movie set rather suspiciously before focusing back on the road. 

The drive was not long—perhaps thirty minutes at most—but he knew he was leaving the rougher parts of the city when nicer neighbourhoods welcomed his vision, the litter on the roads disappearing, instead trees in an orderly line painting the sides of the pavement. The further you drove into these suburbs, the more he was surprised at the sheer luxury of the exterior of these houses; granted, he did not originate from poverty, but his idea of a holiday was three days in the comforts of his bed, bingeing the Miyazaki collection with a lifetime supply of mint chocolate chip ice cream on his lap. 

Vernon had to save his mouth dropping to the seat of the car floor when they rolled into the Kim household’s drive. 

He was aware that Mingyu derived from wealth—the former could not help noticing his pricey, flashy brands every time the taller boy sauntered into the Film Sound classes, but he did not expect this Bridgerton-ass looking house, nestled in between the other million-dollar homes in the neighbourhood. He was greeted with a clearer picture the closer you parked in their drive, surprisingly empty; it was around that moment that you noticed that all the lights were turned off in the house, almost a haunting image. 

The boy was on his way to make a comment about your terrible spying skills when you rebuffed him immediately, saying, “I know what you’re thinking. I have it covered.”

“Please tell me, Miss Bond, how are you planning to carry this out?”

You offered him an incredulous look. “I don’t know what that reference means, I’m too pretty.”

His answer to that was a thin, long line of his mouth. You chose to ignore it completely. “Mingyu’s parents are out of town right now, and his sister’s on a ski-trip in Austria.”

A glance of confusion. “In the middle of March?” 

A shrug. “You know what rich people are like.” Weirdly enough, he knew exactly what you were talking about. “But it worked out great for us.” With a hard exhale you got out of the car, the boy beside you reflecting your actions. “All the easier for what we have to do.” You opened the car door behind the driver’s one, unstrapping the seatbelt and carefully bringing out the movie set. 

“How’re we getting into the evil lair, then?” he asked dryly, crossing both his arms. “I assume the millionaires don’t happen to put a spare key under the carpet?”

“Imagine,” you said, sighing melodramatically. “I tried making them do it so I could sneak into his house, but for some reason, Mingyu never agreed to it.” 

“I wonder why,” he muttered.

“Worry not, young grasshopper!” You strolled to the very right of the house, where a thin wooden door was almost hidden from view. “Where there is a door closed, another is mysteriously open.” 

With a hard push, the door trudged back, swinging heavily away. He stared at it, not quite believing how someone can be so careless to keep their gates unlocked. “Another weakness of Mingyu’s—” You pointed at the cleared path into the house—”whenever he leaves from the garden, he never locks the gate.”

Vernon could not quite believe it. “Either the wealthy are incredibly secured in their safety, or stupid as fuck.”

“I think you know the answer to that,” you joked, going further into the journey, ushering him over. Like a siren calling his name, he followed you, unaware of the shit you might be getting him into. 

Into the fancy garden they arrived, clean-cut hedges bordering in dozens of flower bushes, peppered also with a few fruit trees—berries of every kind ripening on the green. While Vernon admired the natural luxury, you hurried to the nearby shed, where a ladder was situated right beside it. “Quick, help me out here!” you shouted in a whisper, ushering him over. Dropping the DVD set for a moment, you grunted as you held the large ladder up with his assistance, slowly making its way to the brick wall of the house. “Wait, line it up against that window over there,” you instructed, jerking your head towards the far right window, no doubt on the second floor. Once the ladder was lined up properly, you moved the boy out of the way, shaking the rails to make sure it stayed put. 

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” Vernon muttered, watching you take the Disney Princess set in one hand, the other making the first step on the calendar. “We can still…you know, not commit breaking and entering.” 

“You can happily leave, Mr. Filmbro,” you offered, looking up at your destination. 

That had him scoffing. “My ass is not walking two hours back to my house.” 

“That seems more like a you problem then!” you chirped. “Now are you following me up, or pussying out?”

Once again, pussying out seemed like the obvious choice for the boy. He was not made for missions such as these—he was merely meant to watch other people act out said missions in front of his television. Unfortunately, because he was too far away from the film store, it was either sitting it out, waiting for you to come out and do something diabolical, or at least watch over you should you cross a line (if the latter were the case, then Vernon had already failed). 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he kept uttering like a mantra, waiting for you to climb up enough to hold onto the ladder as he began to follow after you. He made the mistake of looking up as you climbed up, and he got a full, HD view of your ass. He tried his very best to look away out of some semblance of respect, but you also made the mindful decision of wearing the shortest skirt known to man. His fuck, fuck fucks! rang louder, causing you to shush him.

“Stop freaking out, my guy!” you called out, right on the top of the ladder. “I know my ass is crazy built but this is not the time.”

“That’s not why I’m freaking out, _____!” he countered, but knowing you, you did not care for his explanations. He only waited as you pushed open the slight-open window, all the way to the top before climbing inside.

As he reached the top of the ladder, he watched you dust yourself before glancing back at him, ushering him inside. “Here goes nothing,” he said to himself, hands on the top of the window ledge as he put his foot on the sill, pushing himself inside. 

Vernon dropped into the unknown room, an oof! leaving his mouth as he landed rather ungraciously on his feet. Quickly, he looked up, surroundings rather dimmed due to the lack of lighting. Still, with the help of the moonlight, he could slowly make out the huge smart TV in the middle of the bedroom, beneath it a wide shelf filled with DVDs, some opened and scattered on the carpeted floor. The bed was on the opposite side, right next to the window the two of you had entered in, black and gold sheets tousled and unmade.

As you turned the light on, the boy then made out that Mingyu, in fact, did not have a bed frame, but just a mattress, with the sheets barely done properly.  The wall on his left was a full black-shutter closet, where he could see the collection of his designer clothing behind the gaps. Posters were plastered on the rest of the walls, most of them being the Tarantino classics —a reclined, raven-bobbed Uma Thurman watching him with bedroom eyes being the most prominent—with certain papers of autographs also stuck next to the posters. There was another poster—American Beauty and the girl surrounded with rose petals—which had him quickly looking away.

“Jesus,” was all he could say, but he supposed he should not have judged. He himself had only his posters in his room—except he did not have the same taste as a middle-aged incel.

“I know.” You looked around at the familiar space, and the memories you had made here. “Imagine having sex in this hellsite.”

Then the image of you having sex with Mingyu on that messy bed came into his mind, and Vernon could have combusted then and there. “I can’t imagine,” he mumbled out, walking to the door, opening to make sure no one was inside. “_____, are you sure no one’s here?”

“Swear on my life, Mr. Filmbro.”

He had to trust you now—or you had very little respect for your life. 

He kept eyeing the DVD set you had in your hand. “Are you still not gonna tell me what we’re doing with that?”

You marched over to the shelf beneath the TV, settling yourself down. “Come here and I’ll show you.” You patted the empty carpet space next to you for added emphasis.

Hesitantly, he obliged, sitting cross-legged next to you. Finger pointing as it scoured the shelf, you carefully brought out one of the films from Mingyu’s selection, all the while sliding out a Disney film from your own set. “Now, tell me,” you began, as you showed him the two movies. “Do you think The Dark Knight and Mulan are a good match?”

First pulling a face at the choice, he then resorted to keeping his twist of features as he turned to you. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“So like, you know Mulan is a woman disguising herself as a soldier in order to defeat the Huns and save her father’s honour, right,” you explained, though you had a small feeling he was not particularly listening. “And Batman is the same thing, except he dresses up as a fucking bat…stupid furry.”

Vernon could not understand how you compared one of the most beautiful, nuanced depictions of a broken, three-dimensional superhero into a furry, but he needed to get to the bottom of your plan, once and for all. “No, I mean, what are you doing? Why the hell are we here?” 

You tutted extra loud. “I’m gonna swap the CDs, dumbass!” You held up the princess movie. “Thought Mingyu could say to me that Disney princess movies sucked, huh?” Then, the classic DVD’s turn to rise. “Let’s see how he’ll like watching a talking dragon in China instead of a talking bat in Fantasyland!” 

The boy could only watch, shock growing with the successful swap of the movies, the secret Mulan CD safely tucked into the The Dark Knight’s DVD case. “It’s Gotham, actually,” he murmured, but he knew you were not listening. “Wait, _____, we really just snuck into your ex’s house to swap a few movies?”

You looked up briefly as you began opening another DVD case. “I mean, if you want to trash the place, that’s fine, but you can’t do anymore than what Mingyu’s dirty ass hasn’t done already.”

Fair point. “I think you’re going insane. Like, clinically.” He kept looking at the door, which was closed shut. “He’ll kill us if he catches us.” 

“Forget about us, you’re barely doing anything!” you exclaimed, tossing some of Mingyu’s movies to him. “Can you actually help me instead of complaining?”

What he should have done was argue with you properly, perhaps even make his escape and leave you to dig your own grave. Sure, he could not drive, but was it not just three pedals, a wheel and a dream? He could have left, never to see you again. 

But then his eyes wandered to the Inception DVD scattered beside you, no doubt collateral damage as you took out the other Nolan films, and saw a Disney Princess movie sitting beside it. Sleeping Beauty, it read out, with the picture of some skinny blonde chick slumbering with a man overlooking her. He thought it a bit strange, almost creepy how this brunette was watching her. 

And then an idea came into his head. 

He closed his eyes for a fleeting moment, clamping his lips together. Please forgive me, Mr. Nolan, for what I’m about to do. 

Hand reaching out to grasp both DVDs, he opened one of his favourites, unclipping the CD. You glanced at him, swapping the movies around. You could not help your stare lingering a little, watching his lips pout, brows furrowed as he fixed the new CD in the Nolan set, as if the task was a serious one. Well, it was a serious task for you, but you expected more complaining. 

When he looked up, he managed to catch a small smile on your lips before he quickly looked away. “And now you’re slacking,” he accused, closing the DVD and setting it atop the newly improved. 

“What’s the plot for Inception?” you asked him, cracking open The Princess and The Frog. 

“I thought you knew, since you laughed at me for saying it was my favourite.” 

“I don’t know the full thing,” you admitted. “The only reason I knew about it was because Mingyu never shut up about it…sorry about that, by the way.” 

Vernon sighed. “It’s fine…if I made fun of your Disney favourites, then bullying me for Nolan isn’t the worst…I think.” He looked at your new suggestion before picking out Alien from Mingyu’s selection. “A thief has to implant an idea into this powerful guy’s mind, and he does this through infiltrating other people’s dreams. However, he has to be asleep while he does it.” 

As you began to laugh, he threw you an irritated look. You shook your head, unable to erase your smile. “That’s a really good match.” 

His eyes widened for a moment, mouth parting. For a moment (and he did not know whether he was going to regret making this assertion), he did not care for Christopher Nolan’s disrespect, after seeing your reaction.

With that, the two of you sat in near silence, the crisp opening and closing of the DVDs, the sliding of the discs being the only sound between the two of you. The Princess of the Frog was successfully matched with the Alien—you, unsurprisingly, had not watched the movie, but Vernon had watched both (one against his will, which you could guess), and thought it the best match. Brave was slotted into The Revenant's case, while Beauty and the Beast went straight into Pan’s Labyrinth’s. 

“Okay so…” the boy held up the Pocahontas CD. “Native American princess falls for the coloniser? How the fuck are you defending this?”

You could only offer a sheepish smile. “The soundtrack is really good?”

“Knowing Disney,” he crowed, cracking open the DVD, “They probably have a song on how terrible the poor Natives are.”

You eyed him, surprised. “How the hell did you guess that?”

First, Vernon made a face, as if he himself could not believe his excellent intuition. Then, he only laughed a little, taking out the Dances with Wolves DVD from the shelf. “I’ve watched enough Disney movies with my sister to know how they work.”

“Oh, so you have watched them?” you mused, watching him exchange the discs. “All that time I thought you only watched what Mingyu watched.”

“No, I watch foreign indie films like an asshole,” he clarified, shutting the cases, and putting Dances with Wolves back on the shelf. “The thing is, I still have my grievances against the super popular films. You know the list you mentioned to me the other day?” You nodded. “Most of these film junkies get off on those movies. I’ll admit I like them, but I’ve seen so much better.” 

You snorted. “Like Inception?” Vernon watched you for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek. “What? You asked him, tilting your head. 

He followed your movement—he too, craned his head, his brown curls cascading along his forehead. “Like Inception…and better.”

“Better?” you gasped out, fingers rising to your bottom lip in shock. “Does Mr. Filmbro prefer a movie over Nolan’s grand—no, best release ever?!”

“Ha, ha,” he monotoned, only adding to your amusement. “It’s still his best film! But,” he added, shrugging a little, “I may or may not have lied to you the first time we met. Inception’s not my favourite movie.”

“What?!” you could barely contain your grin. “Oh my God, if I find out it’s a fucking Disney movie, I’m never letting you live it down!”

“Let’s not go that far,” he jeered, earning a harsh nudge of your elbow. “Hey! You should be thanking me for my honesty.”

“How about you extend that honesty and tell me which movie is your favourite?” 

Vernon mocked a ponder. “It’s a hard pass.” 

“Come on!” you pressed, scooting a little closer, almost reaching out as if to nudge him some more. “You’ve already committed a felony with me. Telling me your favourite movie is naturally the next step.” 

“Because that’s obviously how normal human interaction goes,” he countered, sarcasm clear in his voice.

“Tell me.” 

“No.”

“Tell me!” 

“Hmm…no!” he repeated, assembling the last of the DVDs. “Maybe if we raid Mingyu’s house next time.”

“Oh?” Leaning closer, you paused his hands on the movie sets. “Do you want there to be a next time?”

It was then Vernon realised the implications of your question, a consequence of his own suggestion. It was almost comical, how his eyes widened like full moons, and he immediately shook his head. “Now you know that’s not what I meant.” 

“Then what did you mean?” you asked him, and the way he exposed a slight stutter at your question had you laughing. “Would you want to see me again?”

What Vernon wanted to tell you was no, no, no, because another second with you would end with all the blood in his system rushing to his head, and other places. Damn everything and everyone, he would want to see you again—no. No. He wouldn’t. He would not. 

“You haven’t answered the question,” you said, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

The boy was about to stutter out an answer when the two of you heard a door slam downstairs. 

You whirled back, eyes instantly darting to the door. They then focused back on you, widened very much like his not long ago. “_____,” Vernon muttered. 

“Mr. Filmbro…”

The furrow of his brow appeared for a split-second before it disappeared at the shuffling underneath. “What the fuck do we do?” he gulped out, looking around to find anywhere to escape from. This was it—he thought he was getting away with trespassing just because you had convinced him to, but that fuckass ex-boyfriend was going to catch them in his bedroom, two inches away from kissing you, and—

“Wait,” you then said, catching his wrist in your hand. He barely had time to react to it before you shot up from your seated position, hauling the boy along with you. He stumbled, but then you nearly made him fall flat on his face as you ran to the shutter closets, sliding them straight open. The inside was a mess of branded clothing and boxes of sports equipment, but there was one opening with just enough for two people in trouble to hide. 

You first went in, and, with a harsh tug, pulled him in with you. He crashed into you, but you had enough control to slide the shutter door shut. There was so much commotion that when you both finally stilled, breathing harshly as you heard Mingyu enter the room, Vernon blinked back to see your face about two inches away from him. 

He was going to yelp—strong on going to, because you sensed his incoming shock, and smacked your hand against his mouth. His eyebrows could have touched the top of his forehead, but what you noticed the most was the warmth of his skin, burning the longer your touch lingered on his lips. 

The smile you offered him as you put a finger to your lips had him almost passing out. 

“Yeah, man, come round whenever,” was all Vernon could hear, still not comprehending Mingyu’s speech due to your hand. “No, Minseo’s not here, what the fuck? Why do you wanna know where my sister is?” 

Slowly, ever so carefully as not to alert him, you pulled down on one of the blinds of the shutter, spying the movie which he was about to see. Vernon should have been following your movements, but he could only sense you, inching closer and closer to him till you were pressed against him. Of course, you were only trying to better your vision of your ex-boyfriend, but the boy beside you could not focus. The hand on his mouth—God—he needed, so badly, to be put down. Your fingers were soft, and although his lips could not help brushing against your palm, everything in him resisted the urge to react.

Quickly glancing at your accomplice in glee, you dropped your hand from his mouth, silently urging him to watch. He could have rebelled against your pulling away, but he instead obliged. Bringing his face next to yours, he glanced at you one last time before peering at the vision that welcomed. 

There he was, the golden boy, raking his hair as he strolled into the middle of the room, observing the TV before him, and the DVD player sitting at the bottom. He kept humming, as if agreeing with whoever was on the phone. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll go to that party later…no, I’m not bringing _____! You know about that already!” 

The boy in hiding quickly snuck a peek at you, who soured a little at the mention. “Hmm? Yeah, whatever. What? Nah, I’m just gonna watch a chill movie before leaving.” Mingyu scanned the films on his shelf. Walking over, he leaned down, sliding out The Shape of Water from his collection, cradling his phone between his shoulder blade and his craned head as he opened the DVD. 

Vernon could not help pulling a face at Mingyu’s choice of a ‘chill movie’ being a film about a mute woman wanting to fuck a water creature. You probably did not understand the reference, but by the growing anticipation on your face, you only cared about the scene you two had created, and was about to unfold just then. 

Mingyu slid the CD into the player, pressing play as he made his way to his frameless bed, settling down in the sheets. “Yeah…no, no, it’s just starting.”

The two of you could hear clearly the opening credits, which began with the most obnoxious opening music of Disney’s intro. Vernon was taken aback by how Mingyu did not realise it from that very moment, but considering he was too busy chatting pure shit on the phone, laughing to himself, the boy assumed he was simply waiting for the action to occur.

“Any minute now, Mr. Filmbro,” you whispered, oh-so-fucking close to him. He did not respond, merely a nod.

Craning his head to see through the shutters, he noticed the animation come to life, the ship within dangerous waters sailing with uncertainty. He snuck a quick glance at Mingyu’s face, which started garnering a little confusion. 

“Are these extra credit scenes? I don’t remember any of this,” he heard the OG filmbro complain. 

You could not help the snort that escaped you. Vernon glared at you, but with little effect. “What?” you whispered. “I don’t remember him being this thick.” 

“What the fuck is this cartoon…” the two of you heard Mingyu pipe up. Finally, the buffoon is realising this is not the two-time Oscar winning animation, but the four-time Oscar winning CGI. “This wasn’t in the director’s cut.”

You still could not believe how your ex-boyfriend was taking this long for the realisation to hit. Even when Eric jumped up on the screen, holding onto the ship’s ropes, the watcher only regarded the character intently, as if he was somehow part of the stranger film. 

Only when, fifteen minutes in, Atlantis is finally introduced that something clicked in his brain. Mingyu tilted his head, thinking out loud. “What the fuck…?”

Getting up from where he sat, he ended the call, informing whoever was on the other side that he would meet later. He took out the CD from the player, examining its exterior. “Can’t see shit on this CD…” He was not wrong—you were smart, choosing the discs which did not have any images, confusing the boy all the more. “Maybe I put in the wrong one…”

He shrugged it off, taking out The Dark Knight instead, another easy, breezy movie to watch when The Shape of Water did not pull through. Now Nolan was a hard one to criticise—Vernon himself was a huge fan, but seeing Mingyu try to watch it irked him. A good thing, then, was it not, that he was bound for a second surprise?

Repeating the routine, he slid the secret CD, settling back into his frameless bed. “Great minds, huh?” you whispered to him, and Vernon only rolled his eyes, not enjoying the dig against him in the slightest. 

“You dated him,” he griped, watching the movie start up.

“Waste of good looks,” you whispered, your partner-in-crime nodding in agreement. The movie beginning had you both falling silent as a bird of prey hits on one of the soldier’s heads. The scene is set in the cold mountains of China, but the sole audience does not catch it immediately. 

“So fucking weird…” Mingyu trailed off again, leaning forwards. “This isn’t the robbery scene…”

Of course it was not—the idiot would not witness one of the best film openings in Vernon’s humble opinion. He would not feast his eyes to the workings of Joker’s bank robbery, nor the cold one-liners from the incapacitated bank manager. 

No, what he was served was the Huns crossing the Northern border, which, as the boy finally began to clock after a good ten minutes, was not what he was expecting.

“What the…” once again, he heaved himself up, walking over to the player. “Now I know something’s wrong…”

Both you and Vernon stretched further close, as much as the closet would allow, to peek at Mingyu’s frustration as he brought the CD out once more, examining the back and front. He then took out some more of his favourites, opening their cases and taking out the CDs, observing them closely. He was suspicious now. How could he not be, when he was expecting incel excellence, but was greeted with the same shit his younger sister—his crazy ex-girlfriend, even—would usually watch.

He blinked back. 

His deathly stillness had the two trespassers pausing. You two looked at each other, faces losing any humour, perhaps recognising that he had clocked on. You watched the scene as Mingyu rapidly added one CD after another, expecting one movie only to have a Disney-fied replacement, completely botching his plans. Every movie that received such Disneyfication further enraged him, the grit in his teeth heard, the tick in his jaw visible. 

The final straw was when the Godfather was slotted in, his all-time, unmatched favourite. There was darkness for the first few minutes, and he sighed too quickly in relief, about to lay back on his mattress. 

Then, a curly-haired girl, a toddler at best, in huge green glasses becomes visible, being told to open her eyes. 

“Is this where magic comes from?”

“What the fuck?!”

And as a conversation between the little girl and her elderly grandmother blossomed, there was a specific dialogue which sent the young boy over the edge.

“This candle became a magical flame that would never grow out…and it blessed us with a refuge in which to live…a place of wonder…An Encanto.”

You nearly burst out laughing. 

Mingyu, on the other hand, could have seen red. 

“Who fucked with my CDs?!” he demanded to no one in particular, though in his mind he knew there was a culprit. “My fucking CDs, man!” 

“Did you do the Godfather swap?” you whispered, barely able to contain yourself.

“Two special families with one heir that doesn’t feel connected to their lifestyle.” Vernon grinned at you, impressed with himself. “It was too easy.”

“Where did you even find the Encanto DVD? It wasn’t in our set.” 

“I found it in his little filmbro shelf.” He ticked his head towards the boy in physical agony. “My guess is that his sister is a Disney fan and left it in his mancave.”

“Oh my God,” you got out, watching the melodramatic scene of your dear ex show rage akin to a teenage boy losing Call of Duty online. 

“That fucking bitch,” he guttered, over and over again as he threw the Encanto CD across the room. Those words came out, and the boy behind the shutters stiffened. Okay—there is rage, and then there is straight up promise of violence. Vernon may not be much of a knight, but if they were caught, he knew he would have to protect you.

He hoped to everything that existed that it would not have to come to that—Vernon would rather fake having a heart attack and have you drag his body out of the Kim Manor. 

It seemed as that might have been a real possibility, until the boy called out a threat to a name they were not expecting.

“Minseo, I’m gonna kill you!” Mingyu roared as he stormed out of the room, undoubtedly on his way to destroy her room, even take his anger out on her Jellycat collection.

As you heard his frenzy disappear down the halls, the trespassers took this as the opportunity to escape the closet, Vernon already creating a little distance in case you come too close and cause his passing out.

“We need to get out now,” he declared as you crept out of the wardrobe, his head whipping to the door which Mingyu left from. 

You nodded, not quite looking at him as you dashed straight for the final DVD. “Oh, Jesus,” He groaned, watching you scramble for the movie, trying horrifically to hide it within your clothes. “You do realise he can come in any second!” 

“Okay, okay,” you said, hurrying over to the window. “Wait, you can go first.”

Vernon raised a brow, following after you. “How come you don’t want to go first?”

You only ushered him further, grinning. “You can peek at my ass again.”

“My eyes will be closed,” he sniped, already carrying it out, trying his absolute best not to imagine your ass in his mind—maybe stakeouts for goofy purposes were not for the weak-willed. “You know, just for that alone, you’re going down first.” 

“Whatever suits you, Mr. Filmbro,” you almost chanted, aggravating him all the more as you stepped out of the window, beginning the trek down. 

He looked down as you descended with one film in hand, still stealing glances at the only door in the room, terrified that the boy would burst through the door, see you both and bring about his downfall. Subconsciously, his fingers hovered just before his mouth, biting the skin around his nails. He knew he should have run himself over with an oncoming vehicle. A messy plan, but still fool-proof. 

“Stop panicking and come down here!” your voice snapped him out of his anxious frenzy. “I know you’re biting your nails off right now!”

The boy instantly repelled his hand, instead furrowing his brow. A little irritating—scary, as well, really—how predictable he was in your eyes. How quickly you had figured him out.

“Alright,” he said, absent-mindedly as he reached for the windowsill. He peaked down again, not realising how far down the descent truly was. Rationally, he knew it was not the worst drop he’d seen on the first floor, but the nerves had started affecting his mind. Now, this entire time he was watching you take one step, two steps down, but he did not have the strength to follow you. 

Still, he knew it was now or never.

Vernon was going to be at your heels (or, more anatomically correct, at your head) when he heard a shuffle from behind him.

He whipped his head around, anticipating the worst.

The worst arrived in all his golden-skinned, empty-headed glory. Holding one of his DVDs, Kim Mingyu stood at the doorway, his eyes widening with every second they beheld the intruder, one leg out of the house, the other a moment away from heaving him up.

Oh. Jesus. Christ.

“The nerd from film theory?”

Vernon’s face dropped. 

The Nerd from Film Theory? The Nerd from fucking Film Theory? 

It was then and there, in that exact moment of time, that the filmbro in question did not give a single care for what the popular boy thought of him. Vernon knew everything about this boy (whether he wanted to or not); his every class, his every terrible friend, even his film preferences, thanks to yours truly. Yet Mingyu did not even know his name—did not even bother to remember.

It was because of that that he managed to garner some essence of his bravado, finally settling both feet on the ladder steps. 

He also decided to add in some corrections to Mingyu’s knowledge. 

“Jo March did not need any man after Laurie…in fact, she did not need any male support, asshole.”

For added effect, he raised his middle finger, as if the burn was sick enough to hurt. 

Mingyu’s devastating response was a confused tilt of his head, clearly not understanding his reference. 

It was enough time for Vernon to hurry his descent down, catching the former more off guard. 

“What the fuck—” was all the boy heard before he quickly tried to travel downwards, feet nearly slipping on the steps by his sheer carelessness. Mingyu’s head popped out from the window, and saw the great ladder leaning against the sill, shocked gaze lowering to where Vernon was descending to.

When his eyes found yours, he could have choked on his gulp. Even more so when you smirked at him.

“_____?”

As Vernon finally dropped off the ladder, dusting himself off, he watched the two of you, staring each other down. When he gauged Mingyu’s fear of you, there was a small part of him that was filled with admiration.

Mingyu’s demand sounded more like a whimper. “What are you doing here?”

You only curled your lips further upwards, grinning like a wild animal. It chilled your ex-boyfriend to the bone when you held the Tangled CD up for him to see, with your other hand raising your middle finger. 

“This is for calling me a stupid bitch.”

His mouth dropped open. That gave you just enough time to grab onto Vernon’s hand, enveloping your fingers around his wrist. 

And run for your life.

Vernon let out a yelp as he was yanked forward by your hold, barely hearing Mingyu’s loud curses and retreating back into the house, no doubt to follow after you two—the trespasser could only guess, much too occupied by your hand, a guiding beacon of mischief, never absent in his life as you ran and ran and ran out of the garden, out of the sleek maze which you two first entered, catching sight of the open garden gate.

The boy heard distant footsteps coming from the house, and as you both saw your car parked beyond the greater gates, you fished out your keys, finally letting go of his hand to dash over to the driver’s side, jamming the key in the lock. Vernon let out a startled noise as the car unlocked, wasting no time to jump inside, heart beating loud enough for the entire neighbourhood to hear. Mingyu appeared at the main doorstep at the exact same time, even more shocked to realise he had not noticed his ex-girlfriend’s car casually parked before him. 

Just as you climbed inside, swivelling the keys into ignition, Mingyu began to run after the car, a mere ten seconds between him and catching you two.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, _____, just start it already!” the nervous boy in shotgun begged, his head swivelling back at every chance, heart lurching at every metre closer the filmnemesis crept.

The car revved to life at your signal.

It was time to get the fuck out of here. 

“GO, GO, GO!” Vernon screamed at the top of his voice, fisting the handle at the roof of the car as you slammed on the accelerator, racing out of the driveway with Mingyu’s bellowing following after you. Of course, since he was a mere, enraged college student, and you both were in a (slight) state-of-the-art vehicle, you zoomed out of the neighbourhood, his curses fading with every turn further out, you managing to escape. 

Vernon, because he had never done such a thing before, was still screaming to leave for the next ten minutes until you had had enough, swerving to the side of the road, not far from his DVD store. You almost crashed into the nearby park, frightening a few birds that expected peace within the sidewalk trees, only to be disturbed by a troublesome ex and a film-obsessed loser. 

You gushed out an exhale, fingers gripping tightly to the wheel, almost as stunned as the boy beside you, who seemed to take in the town’s worth of air in his little body. But then, you realised the gravity of the situation, the sole movie at the back which could not be swapped, and the valiant escape from something you never thought you would come out of alive.

Just then, you burst into laughter. 

The boy whirled his head to you, who could not stop the tumbles of laughter that escaped your mouth, hanging on to the car wheel as you cackled and cackled like the Wicked Witch of the West. Well, that was what you thought you sounded at that time, but you, as always, did not care.

Only that you were wrong—at least in Vernon’s eyes. You were wrong, because if you were laughing like some Disney villain, then he would have been more pissed off—enraged even. He was instead in awe, shocked at the raw guffawing that spluttered out of you without shame. Had the two of you not evaded a great danger? Nearly been arrested for your legally ambiguous behaviour? 

For the first time in his life, he was not embroiled with dread. 

There was no anxiety in his body, no essence of panic at the consequences of your actions. No, he could only stare at you and your mirth, and find himself raising his brows, the beginnings of a scoffed laugh creeping from his lips. 

The more he looked at you, the more his own laughter joined yours. 

And then you were both laughing, giggling beyond control at the narrow escape, and the near crash against some tree. Vernon knew how stupid this whole situation was, but strangely, he did not seem to care—not when you did not see it like that. A very odd prospect. 

After a few minutes, when it finally seemed as if you would settle down, you sighed, leaning back into the driver’s seat. “We should do that again.”

Despite the amusement lingering, he immediately shut the idea down. “Not a chance.”

You admired the ancient lining of the tree’s bark in front of the car. “The way you were laughing with me just now, you’d think you want to commit crimes from now on.” 

A dramatic roll of eyes. “I’m not going to jail. They don’t even have a TV there.”

“You and your fuck ass movie collection…”

That brought out another chuckle from the boy—you smiled at the notion. He then looked at the rearview mirror, where the last movie was splayed, all alone and away from the others. “Kind of a shame we missed out on one last movie.”

“Right?” You followed his line of sight. “Fuck, Tangled of all movies?”

“Wait, isn’t that the one with Rapunzel?” 

You let out an impressed hum. “A week of seeing my face, and you’re already catching on!” A mischievous raise of brows. “Another month with me and you can sing all the tracks from the film.”

“You really shouldn’t have this much faith in me, _____,” he said, shaking his head. “Plus, this might be the one movie I didn’t watch with Sofe.” He saw you perk up at the new name. “My sister. She’s the one who forced me to watch all those Disney films years ago.”

“I like her already,” you mused, a finger on your chin. You paused for a bit, looking down at your shoes, settled lightly upon the pedals. Then, you started the engine once more.  “So…Tangled is the only one you haven’t watched, huh.” 

A glance at you. “Yep.” 

You looked back, hoping to reverse away from the tree. “Right…” You checked your watch, the car slowly moving out of the pavement. “Interesting…super duper interesting.”

It was something insane, fantastical the way Vernon’s nerves seemed to hum at the implications. “I don’t like where this is going.”

“What? I just said that it’s interesting you’ve never watched Tangled…”

The boy scoffed, crossing his arms. “This is where you’re gonna force me to watch the stupid movie.” 

But then he caught the look of surprise on your face, as if you had been caught. “Oh, Jesus, you’re not gonna let me out the car, are you?”

“No, no!” you countered at once, raising your hands. “Well, yes as in I was hoping you would watch the movie with me, and no, I won’t force you.” You sighed a little, fingers back on the wheel. “You’ve already done so much today. If you want to go home, I’ll drive you straight there.”

He watched your expression, the prepared acceptance, the anticipation—the sliver of hope, hiding itself amongst the flurry of other emotions. In all honesty, he was tired; the entirety of this evening had exhausted his social battery (which he doubted he had to begin with) and he still had some sound image work left back at the college studio. If it was any other person asking, he would have happily bunked them off—pretended that he had suddenly developed a terminal illness in the span of minutes, and begged them to drive him back home to ‘live out the rest of his days’.

You, on the other hand, were a problem. He could not let you down—not anymore. Not after today.

When he let out a soft sigh, you were anticipating the worst. Then, he revealed the answer. 

“Let’s watch a fucking Disney Princess movie.”

VERNON DID NOT WANT TO WATCH A FUCKING DISNEY PRINCESS MOVIE. 

The moment you opened the door to your house—a shabby, student house about twenty minutes from campus—stepping inside, he realised there was no way back, and that he had to humour your wish, or else lose respect in your eyes. 

As you brought him down the small hallway, leading into the little living room, you quickly grabbed the takeout boxes of your flatmates, murmuring hurried apologies as you left the room. The boy looked around, the slight cracks of the blue walls, the 32” TV sitting at the opposite end of the fraying couches. Posters of Bridget Jones, Notting Hill, and other Hugh Grant movies were plastered on one end of the wall, while Vernon nearly had a jumpscare when he caught a life-size cardboard cutout of some Disney hero—this one unrecognisable. 

“That’s the love of my life you’re staring at,” came the voice behind him, and he whirled to see you, a huge bowl of popcorn cradled in your hands. “Why’re you standing in the middle like an idiot? Sit, sit!” Vernon obliged, making to settle on the sofas when you tutted. “Are you mental? No, sit on the bean bags near the TV!” 

How stupid of me to assume I could sit on furniture designed for sitting, he meant to crow, but the moment he settled on the bean bags, he instantly preferred their malleable comfort. When he let out a relaxed sigh, you huffed out a laugh, propping the bowl before him. “See?” 

“I was gonna say…” Vernon trailed off, watching you press a few buttons on the DVD player. “Where’s the CD?”

“Already in,” you said, picking up the remote as you settled in the beanbag next to him, scooting closer. Catching a look at his face, you bellowed, “Yes, Mr. Filmbro, I watched it recently!”

“How recently are we saying?”

“...yesterday evening.” 

“And this is the masterpiece you wanna show me,” Vernon murmured, sneaking a look back at the cardboard cutout. “Don’t tell me he’s the floozy that’s leading the film.” 

You turned the TV on. “Fine. I won’t tell you.”

He then looked at you. “Oh, Jesus.”

“Trust me!” you then reasoned, putting a hand on the boy’s knee—the mere touch had his brain rewiring, nerves all ceasing to work on the one point where your touch remained. You really had to stop—first your hand was on his mouth in that damned (blessed) closet, and now this soft reminder. He tried his best not to fix his eyes on your lingering fingers as you carried on, “This film is a modern classic. I promise.” 

Well shit, he thought. When you looked at him like that, you could have convinced him that Quentin Tarantino was a better foot fetishiser than a filmmaker. 

“Okay,” he said, almost believing in your words. 

With that, the landing page for the movie turned on, and there were the main characters; he assumed the chick with the long, blonde hair was Rapunzel, and the man behind her—which, Vernon thought, did not deserve to be celebrated as a life-sized cardboard cutout—was the love interest. Whatever. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” he mumbled as you pressed the fated Play, anticipating the worst. 

And as the two of you fell silent, Vernon still holding out on the popcorn, watching suspiciously at the screen, the voice of a man flooded the TV speaker.

“This…this is the story of how I died.” 

The boy immediately reacted, face dropping. “The fuck?” he got out, catching the WANTED! Poster of the very man he bad-mouthed not two minutes ago. 

“But don’t worry, this is actually a fun story…and the truth is…it isn’t even mine.” 

“Wait, this dude is already dead?” he asked.

“Just watch the movie!” you answered impatiently, making the boy sigh and lean back into the bean bag.

“This is the story of a girl named Rapunzel. And it starts…with the sun.”

You wanted to keep your eyes rooted to the screen, watch the unfurling of Mother Gothel’s backstory, but that was precisely when the incessant complaining began. 

“Now why are we already getting context of some random witch’s actions? Less telling, more showing, man!” Vernon kept his arms crossed, shaking his head at the TV. “Oh, great, poor little king and queen in their big ass castle!” 

“Having basic sympathy will take you great places, my guy,” you merely said, scoffing down the popcorn in the bowl. “Their kid just got stolen by some crazy bitch.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured, piping down once more when the flashbacks ceased, and the present day was introduced into the story. On the screen, a small, green chameleon entered, camouflaging himself behind a pot of flowers. He guessed that the chick with the long hair—Rapunzel—would be finding him, and, lo and behold, he was right. In all fairness, though, it did not take a film degree to work that out.

He also did not need a film degree to guess that a musical number was about to be introduced, not even ten minutes into the movie. That he worked out all by himself, when the guitar riffs sounded. Beside him, you instantly brightened, smile widening as TANGLED morphed on the screen, the song about to begin. 

It was around that point when, as he spared you a glance, he realised you were about to sing along.

“Oh, Jesus—”

If his life was a romantic film, this would have been the perfect setup; the girl that made his heart flutter was seated dangerously close to him, bean bags already touching with shoulders barely following, watching the cheesiest animated movie. He could have seen the shot now, with his gaze turning rose-y as you would open your mouth and sing along to the song. Of course, you would sing beautifully, better than the original singer, and he would sit there, absolutely mesmerised. 

Oh, he was stunned alright. 

“SEVEN AM THE USUAL MORNING, LINE UP—!”

The boy flinched at the sheer volume of your chant—screech would be the better word for it, for he guessed singing was not one of your natural talents. 

You could not see his judgement at all, eyes closed and clutching your fists to your chest, continuing the song. “START ON THE FLOOR AND SWEEP TILL THE FLOOR’S ALL CLEEEEEANNNN—!”

A scoff escaped him, not quite believing the scene before him. He was shocked to silence, the movie’s music now in his background, the forefront being your attempt to outsing the princess. Either no one had told you how horrendous your singing was, or you simply did not care for the opinions of others. A part of him hoped that it was the latter—for you to be so comfortable in singing away, despite what others thought, made his judgement disappear. 

Shamelessly you sang the entire number, up to the point where the scene cuts and the supposedly hot love interest—whose name was Flynn Rider, apparently, which he should have known if he just read the poster at the start of the movie like a normal viewer—was now trying to steal the crown jewels. 

Vernon was too busy thinking about how stupid ‘Flynn Rider’ was as a name to realise that another song had just started. Immediately you changed your tune, your tone lowering, almost sultry. 

This time, you looked at him when you started singing. 

“Look at you, as fragile as a flower…”

“Ayo?” A glance at the TV screen, where Mother Gothel was now singing. “Another song?”

But you did not answer his question, only singing further as you reached your hand out to him. “Still a little sapling, just a sprout!” You continued, and, at that, your hand patted his mess of curls atop his head, mirroring Mother Gothel’s actions. 

Blinking back repeatedly, he could not even shrug it off, stunned once again by how you were casually able to touch him and not feel anything—while his entire system shuts down like a lagging desktop when it tries to run the Sims. 

The overdramatic flair was present in your singing, changed from the sweetness of the previous song. It was crazy how you remembered each word, not slipping at any chorus—you were a true fan, a committed admirer of the film. Even he could not comprehend knowing every single line of his favourites. 

It was admirable indeed—to love a film as you did this one.

It was what made Vernon smile a little, turning away from your melodrama and focusing on the screen, where Mother Gothel now threatened to never be asked to leave the tower. Again.

This time, he would give the movie a chance. Thank God he decided to wake up.

The movie picked up the pace instantly—he had not expected Flynn to meet—and be whacked out by Rapunzel’s frying pan—so quickly, and had reflected her dejection when the mother screamed at her. He could tell where this was going, especially with the thief now in the closet, but he found himself grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl without turning away from the screen.

By the time the third song of the movie came around, he was taken aback that it arrived further in, surrounded by the thugs of the Snuggly Duckling. Without realising, he turned to you, anticipating you breaking out into a song, but you were merely watching the movie, bobbing your head along to the beat.

Noticing his stare, you glanced at him. “Expecting a show?”

“Since you were giving them out without request, I figured this time would be like any other.”

You snorted, grabbing the popcorn. “I’m saving my heavenly voice for the best song, actually.”

Vernon mocked a gasp. “So you’re telling me Mother Knows Best isn’t the best feature?”

“Don’t chat shit, Mr. Filmbro, because Mother Knows Best is one of the top five.”

“I look forward to seeing which song you’re holding out for,” he only said, turning back to the movie again. The popcorn ran out about this time, and you shot up from your bean bag, promising more as you exited the room, leaving him to continue. 

By the time you returned, the protagonists were escaping, chaos ensuing all around them with the guards, his partners and that eccentric white horse chasing them. Ending up in the cave, they recognise a lack of way out, and although Vernon was aware that the movie ends on the happiest note, a small part of him filled with dread. 

That dread disappeared instantly when Flynn confessed his little secret.

“Eugene Fitzherbert?!” The boy demanded.

You chuckled at his disdain. “Yeah, Flynn Rider was hotter. Eugene Fitzherbert ages him about forty years.”

“Flynn Rider was silly, but Eugene is straight up diabolical.” 

“He is still fuckable regardless!” you shushed him, raising your pointer at him. “You wish you had his sex appeal.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, let me just change my name to Bartholomew Whiteman real quick.”

“Hey!” you whacked him on the arm, this time laughing heartily at his quip. “Let my man live!”

He decided to spare your fictional man any more bullying, taking in the town atmosphere where the two adventurers and Maximus had now ended up. “Ooooo, the castle dances are my favourite scenes!” you gushed, scooping popcorn in one hand and eating with the other. “Wait, look, look at the braid!”

“Jeez, I’m looking!” he insisted, watching the girls braid Rapunzel’s hair. Flynn—which Vernon is continuing to identify him as, because Eugene was too much for him—stared at her longingly at the results. Vernon used the popcorn as an excuse to gaze at you matching Flynn’s longing at the screen. Your head rested on your knees, locking your hands in front of them, forming a lazy smile. This smile remained throughout Rapunzel and Eugene’s activities, even to the point when the couple were settled in a boat, waiting for the lights. 

“It’s happening,” you declared, the smile widening as you released your legs from your hands. “Oh my God, it’s fucking happening!”

Raising the volume, the boy watched the screen, where thousands of lanterns were sparking alight at the king and queen’s signal. The lanterns’ lights broke across the borders of the town, melting into the sea, the docked ships. Rapunzel had not noticed though, too busy dropping flower heads upon the water’s surface, Flynn helpfully holding out the bunch. 

As the princess dropped another upon the waterbed, she finally noticed the beginning.

It was then Vernon heard your favourite Disney song.

“All those days, watching from the window…All those years, outside looking in…” 

You followed this time, not as loud as the other songs, quiet and soft, as if letting the blonde shine in her song. “All that time, never even knowing, just how blind I’ve been…”” 

You exhibited the same excitement as Rapunzel, who, noticing the lanterns, threw off Flynn’s balance, hanging onto the curling bow of the boat.

The boy, however, was not really focused on the screen.

Because the music that surrounded the two crept into his ears, playing the strings of his senses; because the lights were off save for the TV, shining its dimmed lighting upon your face, making you glow with the dark purples, blues, golds of the Tangled scenery. He lost all interest in everything because you were looking something out of a daydream, watching the events of the movie as if they were scenes of salvation. The two of you were definitely not on any kind of boat, merely sitting on bean bags. Despite all of that, he began to float—swaying from where he sat, as if he was truly settled on water. 

“Now I’m here—” You put your hand to your chest— “Blinking in the starlight…now I’m here, suddenly I see…”

You kept singing the lyrics, voice more subdued than your last outbursts, and Vernon could only watch you, the pure love of this song radiating off your very pores. Vernon’s anticipation rose with every octave of the singer’s voice rising, eyes never leaving your face, the parted mouth. 

“Standing here, it’s oh! so clear…!”

As the viewers themselves were about to observe the thousands of lanterns Rapunzel witnessed, Vernon himself waiting, he made the mistake of averting his gaze from you, if only to see the grand reveal.

It was what made you unconsciously envelop your fingers with his, clasping his hand with yours.

He whipped his head to yours, eyes widening to the point of spilling. 

You were already looking at him. 

When you sang the next lyrics, Vernon could have melted molten.

“I’m where I’m meant to be!” 

And as the lanterns surrounded the protagonists, lighting up the entirety of the night, you sang the chorus to the boy in your little college flat, no one to witness it but two of you.

“And at last I see the light! And it’s like the fog has lifted!” 

Your voice was hoarse now, all the screech-singing catching up to you. Vernon, in another lifetime, would have instantly resisted, ran for the hills if it was literally anyone else in the room but you.

“And at last I see the light! And it’s like the sky…is new…” 

But it was you—you holding his hand tightly, you looking at him with the light of the lanterns in your eyes, you opening up to him in your little haven, away from anyone else. Granted, you could have offered this performance to anyone, but he liked to think—shit, he was truly hoping—that you would not have done this for anyone else. 

You would have only sang your favourite song to him. 

“And it’s warm, and real, and bright! And the world has somehow…shifted…”

Vernon watched you halt a moment, waiting for the next verse, your hand tightening in his. 

“All at once…everything looks different…”

You were right—the world had shifted underneath him, stilled under the dimmed lighting of this dingy living room. The two of you now faced each other, music still tuning from the TV, but the characters long forgotten, as if they never existed. Yes, you were right in that everything looked different, seemed different, as if he was seeing you for the very first time. 

“Now that I…see you.”

Shit. You were rather beautiful before him.

You paused then, watching his reaction. You tilted your head, thoroughly amused by the sheer awe that radiated from his face, but then you noticed his chest rise and fall, more unevenly the longer you observed him. 

The next detail you caught was how his eyes darted down—down to your lips.

It was the lips, which were watched so intently, that parted.

You attempted at a little humour. “Out of all my talents, I guess singing isn’t one of them.”

But Vernon did not respond with words. Sure, he would have agreed with you, but singing was irrelevant now. Out of all these infinite talents you possessed—your natural charm, your ease in making him laugh, your trespassing and eventual escaping of such crimes—Vernon could not have given less of a shit about singing. Not when you were before him, bathed in an unnatural, extraordinary light, soft music playing in the background. Almost as if he had adorned the rose-tinted glasses, courtesy of the universe.

In any romantic comedy, he would have kissed her.

The boy was not known to be courageous—anything but brave. Real Life, Not Clickbait Vernon would have left by now. The Real Vernon should have pussied out. 

You, however, looked a little too beautiful to be treated with cowardice. 

“Are you going to kiss me, Mr. Filmbro, or are you gonna make me wait till the end of the movie?”

He parted his mouth for a split second, gob-smacked at your question. The twinkle in your gaze, though, had him spluttering out a harsh chuckle, craning his head down at the sheer absurdity of it all. But then he looked up, smiling, not quite believing what he was about to do.

“I should make you wait.”

That was what he said. What Vernon instead did was finally grow the two balls that were supposed to be hidden in his pants, leaning in and pressing his lips against yours. 

Now the boy always wondered whether the movies were right—when mouths would touch, move against each other, whether a fire would ignite between souls, whether one really felt as if they were not of this world.

It seemed like Hallmark-level bullshit to him, but the moment his lips touched yours, he began to float out of this room. A soft hum reverated from you, approval at his actions, and he could have burst as he felt you smile against him. 

Maybe Disney was right. God, he really did not want to be in such accord with that stupid corporation, but they were onto something with the fireworks, the orchestral singing when couples kiss. He himself felt a choir-like chant all around him as he brought his hand to your face, angling it slightly so he could gain better access, boost your pleasure as he delved slightly deeper.

He was unstoppable. He was alive and ecstatic and delirious, opening his mouth wider, his other hand now finding your waist, snuffing out any distance between you two. It was not like he was a pro in these situations—he had only ever had one serious girlfriend, and that was at an age where a boy could get away with merely ‘french-kissing’ (as the kids back then would have gloated) your significant other. Again, he may have fooled around a little in college, too, but never had he experienced this haze of lust, this newfound desire. 

This desire enhanced further when you slipped your tongue from the seams, sliding it along his as an invitation for more, and he could have honestly thanked that heinous hag Walt Disney for making movies you adored so much, to the point of showing him and landing him in this situation. Of course he indulged you, opening his mouth enough to let you inside. The sensation of your tongue slipping past his lips had a soft noise releasing from his throat. 

Tangled was all but forgotten, the two of you too occupied being entangled with each other. You pulled him even closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, fingers brushing against the ends of his hair. The soft touches had every strand of his locks standing on edge, a wave of delight washing over him. 

You were sagged into the bean bag, Vernon’s weight upon you sinking you further, but you did not mind it—relished it, his scent engulfing you, the sighs and soft murmurs of his every exhale haunting your eardrums. Who would have thought that a boy who could recite every Joker quote from The Dark Knight—Virgin Supremism you termed the talent—had this kind of game hidden underneath? How was he able to ignite such powerful emotions from you?

How was Vernon ‘Filmbro’ Chwe able to make you feel so good you did not realise Tangled finishing right before you?

The two of you could have spent all night intertwined in each other, perhaps would have gone past the boundaries of mere making out. However, between the haze of his soft whispers to you, your own mist swimming in your head, you heard the starting music of the DVD reverting to the home page, and like instinct you opened your eyes, finding that the movie had ended.

You must have paused, because Vernon immediately stopped, concern staining his pretty features. His knitted brow, eyes laced with nervousness, shamed you for ever stopping. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

“Oh, no, no!” You felt like a fool for the answer you attempted to give him. “It’s just, um…”

He followed your line of sight, turning around. Once he realised, he looked back at you, you surprised to find a little shock replacing his concern. “We were going for that long?”

Your smirk had his stomach knotting. “This is what happens when you make out with someone you like, Mr. Filmbro.” 

He could not respond, looking away as his flushed face managed to redden some more. You only laughed at him, playing with the hem of his shirt, his arms still steady as they caged you. “You are so lucky, you know.”

He quirked a brow. “And why is that?” 

“I would never miss the second half of Tangled for a man.”

It was so incredibly stupid, how he felt a semblance of pride at the notion.“Happy to know I’m an exception.”

“You do know I’m gonna make you watch it again so you can say you’ve watched it.”

Vernon tilted his head to the side, lost in thought. You watched him, anticipating. “This is the part where you say you’d rather Mingyu jump you than rewatch Tangled.” 

“Well yes, but…” He glanced over his shoulder, where your shelf of DVDs were stacked, a particular movie which had caught his eye previously now standing out all the more. “I, uh…” 

He looked back at you, and the self-conscious glint in his gaze had you watching his every movement. “I was hoping to show you my favourite movie instead.”

You were ready to make a comment on how you prided on avoiding Nolan films like the plague, but then you remembered the conversation at Mingyu’s house. Your eyebrows could have touched your hairline. “You said I could never know.”

“Well…” a small smile escaped him, slowly pulling himself away. “If I am to be your exception, _____, then I suppose you can be mine.”

Gaping at him, you could only keep silent as he, with great effort on his part, heaved off you, making his way to the shelf. He was lucky, you thought—had he been a moment slower, that comment alone would have had you kissing him again. 

What quickly caught your attention was him sliding his pointer finger through your collection, a series of your favourites. The anticipation was rising, you not quite believing that Mr. Filmbro’s favourite film was within your arsenal. Weeks ago, you would have bullied him relentlessly for the ironic hypocrisy.

When he pulled out the fated DVD, you let out the greatest laugh.

The boy instantly frowned, but you did not realise, cackling and cackling away at the selection, the final boss of Vernon’s favourite film, nestled between his fingers. “Shut up,” he mumbled, but again, you did not hear him, lost in the shrill sound of your laughter, erupting the room to life. 

“Oh, Jesus—” Your chortling did not seem to stop, almost to the point of hiccups. “Your ass…this entire time—!”

“And suddenly I’m leaving!” Vernon announced, getting up and about to drop the DVD. 

He did not last long in his determination when you grabbed onto the end of his shirt, grinning still. “Thank God you’re not a Nolan kiss-ass…that’s all I’m saying.”

All he could do was stand like an idiot, the tips of your fingers caressing the skin just above his trousers. “But I am a Nolan kiss-ass,” he murmured, crossing his arms. 

“That’s what I thought, too, but this film—” you jerked your head towards the prize in his hand. “You’ve redeemed yourself.”

“Stop it,” he only said, crouching down to pull out the Tangled CD, replacing it with the new, and, in his opinion, improved movie. “This is why I didn’t want to tell anyone.”

“And nobody will know,” you assured him, watching the movie’s main menu pop up, the PLAY option highlighted. “This’ll be our secret.”

“First the trespassing,” Vernon began, sitting down beside you, “Then the tampering of movies, and now this.” He grabbed the remote, about to play the movie. “How much more are we gonna sneak around?”

You looked at him, and the smile you offered him had him glancing away—only for a second. “Have you not had fun, though? Sneaking around with me?”

Normally, in a situation where he had zero balls, he would have evaded such a question, not fanned the flames of your fire. But tonight he had watched a Disney movie with you, felt your fingers caressing his skin, had even kissed you in the purple hues of Tangled’s light. Tonight, he could conquer the world.

What would answering a heated question do any harm?

Vernon locked eyes with you then, trying to fight his smile. “I think I could have fun with you anywhere…in secret or for anyone to see.”

As something in your gaze shifted, he turned the film on (an entendre which was completely intentional). 

Once again, the two of you were in the same position, watching yet another film, this time another’s all time favourite. The narrator began in a strange, European accent, explaining the tale of an unfortunate princess, much like Rapunzel, and her dire situation. 

Although it was undoubtedly his most treasured film, the boy had a very hard time paying attention when all he could feel was that penetrating stare of yours, capable of revealing his very soul from beneath his measly shirt. Even when the stranger main character was introduced, following his main routine in his strangest abode, Vernon was not particularly concentrating anymore.

Not when he heard your voice, a soft question amongst the gaudy music of the 2000s. “Do you mean that, Vernon?”

And perhaps it was because you said his actual name, especially when your voice sounded like…like that. Like something from a perfect movie soundtrack, akin to the end-credits of an unforgettable TV show. 

Because he was too occupied with simply admiring you, he merely nodded, biting the inside of his cheek.

And because you were too busy admiring him, his words, the entire night where you had felt pure, euphoric joy, you did Mr. Filmbro a little dirty by making a decision that negated his film.

You shifted closer once more, hands reaching out to hold his face. 

This time, Vernon was prepared when you kissed him.

There was a certain eagerness in your lips this time which was newer—more enjoyable to his senses. It made sense now, why all these couples in movies made out for hours and hours on end. He felt as if he could kiss you forever, move against your mouth, delve inside until his tongue memorised your very imprint. 

You moaned a little louder this time, and the very sound had his heartbeat racing, moreso when, as he pressed you against him, shifting upon his beanbag, he knew then and there that something in the air shifted.

Last time, you had stopped. This time, there was no such indication—the very thought had him skirting his hands around you, holding you tight enough to never let go.

Still—even with such possibilities, there was no way you and him would escalate to the point of losing his virginity.

Whatever happens though, he will still watch the end of his favourite film. 

Whatever happens, Vernon would not be having sex with you if Shrek was playing in the background.

VERNON LOST HIS VIRGINITY WITH SHREK PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND.

Certainly not his greatest achievements, considering he could not focus on his favourite movie, but it was certainly not his fault. You were—to put it quite plainly—hot as fuck.

He did not leave until the very next day because—as he had stated that night—he still wanted you to watch Shrek, and did, somehow, end up watching it properly. You did not stop teasing him, and he did not stop shutting you up by kissing you senseless. 

Unfortunately, the boy did have college the next day, so he had to leave at some point, but not without promises of meeting you again. This time, however, you two did not continue the crimes he committed with you. You and Vernon were not modern-day Joker and Harley Quinn.

When the two of you were not terrorising Mingyu’s livelihood, you decided to hang out at the filmstore, where it all began. Vernon would host weekly movie nights, and both of you would eat popcorn and watch each other’s recommendations, scoring them differently in accordance to what was most important for each other.

For the film majoring student, the rating was influenced not only by the actors’ performances, but also from the intricate storyline, the character developments, their relationships. A story, for him at least, was about relationships. Good cinema was about the chemistry between two actors, the emotional connection they had not just with each other, but also their effect on the audience. The actual editing of the film, too, was another bullet point in his criteria.

Your rating, on the other hand, differed slightly. 

“Michelle Yeoh is such a MILF,” was your only comment upon finishing Everything Everywhere All at Once. 

This comment nearly made Vernon lose his mind. “One of the greatest movies of this decade, and this is your only input?”

“But am I wrong, though?”

Vernon sighed a little at that—at the end of the day, you were absolutely in the right. There was a reason Crazy Rich Asians went platinum in his dingy little room. 

Of course, it was not just his personal recommendations that played. You had compiled a list of your all-time favourites, going beyond Disney’s borders, and Vernon was introduced to the dashing timeless genre of the rom-com. Now having a younger sister who (he thought) was a basic bitch meant he did possess some knowledge of the genre, but he had never really sat down and watched a rom-com without falling asleep in Sofia’s bed. 

For you, though, he braved the most famous romances, which he found himself enjoying more than he would have liked—more so when he found one of his favoured actors in 10 Things I Hate About You.

“Heath Ledger singing was something I never thought I needed,” Vernon commented as the ferocious couple finally kissed. 

“And this is the same fella who was the Joker in your little Nolan film,” you reminded him, as if he was not aware already. “Oh, and he was the gay cowboy in that movie.”

“Gay cowboy?” His confusion lasted for approximately thirty seconds before he groaned, pushing you over on your beanbag. “My god, are you talking about Brokeback Mountain?”

“Yes, that one!” you exclaimed, picking up the TV remote. “My guy has range, but him as a high schooler is still my favourite role.”

“You do realise how bad that sounds, right?”

“You know what I mean,” you said, waving him off as you began searching for the next movie. “Now, Two Weeks’ Notice or The Proposal?”

Vernon endeavoured to weigh in on the options. “Which one do you think I’d like?”

“Well, both have Sandra Bullock in them…”

He looked over both DVDs. “Now that’s a white woman I can get behind.” 

You scooched a little over to him, locking your hands together. “We can watch something you like…” When he knitted his brows together, not quite answering you, you went on, almost unable to look him in the eye. “You’ve been super nice, you know…sitting through all my favourites.” 

The boy could not help it, unable to let a smirk slip. “Is this _____ appreciating me for once?” The beginnings of his shit-eating attitude did not develop, since your smack on his arm completely snuffed it out. “Ow, damn!”

“You deserved that,” you muttered, beginning to scoot away until Vernon’s hand on your wrist stopped you. 

When you focused your gaze at him, he already beat you to it. “Let’s watch both today.” 

It was silly, how that made your heart beat faster. “Really? You would watch two rom-coms in a row?”

As his hand pulled you closer, his stare had you almost—almost—nervous. “I’ve done worse for you.”

“Very true,” you said, absent-minded, more lost in the twinkle of his eyes. “Very, uh…good point.”

Vernon thanked all the higher bodies that may have existed for the pure, unadulterated rizz he was attempting to spew. “I’m full of good points,” he crowed. “Now, are you going to stare at me all night, or are we going to watch Sandra Bullock?”

Although your cheeks burned, you pushed him off, earning a chuckle from him. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Mr. Filmbro. The only man I’ll be staring at will be Ryan Reynolds in The Proposal.”

All of the boy’s suave attitude dissipated at his shock. “The Deadpool guy?!”

“Ryan Reynolds did have range before,” you explained, shaking your head. “Then the superhero bug bit him.”

“What a shame,” he only said, as if Vernon did not follow the Deadpool universe to the point of possessing special editioned comics in his room. Still, he happily slotted the CD inside the player, and excused himself to make more popcorn for the two of you.

As the boy prepared snacks, glancing back every time at the opening scene, he managed to sneak a look at you, eagerly watching the screen. 

He could only smile, putting all the popcorn in the huge bowl before hurrying back to you. 

THIS WAS PROBABLY THE FIRST TIME YOU WORE A SUIT TO A CINEMA. PERHAPS THIS WAS THE FIRST TIME YOU WORE A SUIT AT ALL.

Admittedly, it was not as if you had intended to go into the cinema in formal attire—or, at least the only formal clothing you had. Your first plan was to steal something from your father’s wardrobe, but when you tried it on, it did not fit properly, and you refused to look like an idiot in public.

Not that you cared much about looking like an idiot in public before, but there was another person to look out for. And that person, although had already done embarrassing enough actions for you, did not want to push it further. One more ceremonious act of humiliation, and Vernon would have run a thousand miles from you—or that was what you thought. 

You observed your cinema fit one last time before your bathroom mirror, fixing the lapels for the nth time. Your rented three-piece suit was almost a second skin, waistcoat snug underneath the tweed jacket, matching coloured trousers adorned alongside. You borrowed some Oxford brogues from a friend, which made you realise that you had more posh friends than you knew. You tried to find a hat similar to the one Cillian Murphy wore in the promotions, but because you did not have the wardrobe of a middle aged man, you resorted to let your head rest. 

All of this elaborate planning to see Nolan’s (apparently) greatest release yet—Oppenheimer. 

Because the cinema was not far away from you, you decided to walk, messaging your date to let him know that you were on your way. You were certain he was already there in the cinema; Vernon, since you had started hanging out more with him, had only ever talked about Nolan’s upcoming epic. You swore if you recited the IMDB plot out to him during sex, he would have spunked within minutes (a mental note to experiment on that later). His excitement had you booking midnight release tickets, which consequently made him so happy you thought you had invited Nolan to the town cinema. 

The night, furthering along, had beautified the black sky, stars twinkling on your journey. The consistent vibrations from your phone indicated the boy’s imminent excitement, and you smiled, double-checking your formal attire once more. You would have romanticised the nighttime further but living in student area brought you right back to fearing slightly for your life, so you quickened your step, cinema already a close speck in the distance. 

You knew you were nearer to the destination when the flocks of pink and black grew, the cowboy hats and fake pipes all piling up in your vision. Seeing the pink reminded you of Barbie’s influence, also being released tonight alongside the more serious counterpart. 

A small part of you really wanted to see the midnight release for the new movie. The original plan most people were following was either to watch Oppenheimer and then Barbie, or the other way around. You were so close to procuring tickets for the latter, but decided that it was important to accompany Vernon to the seemingly bigger release. After all, you were never as excited about films as the dear film major you had rather grown to like.

Another vibration of your phone, and you finally decided to stop ignoring said-film major and text him, possibly informing you of his arrival.

mr. filmbro: yo where u at

mr. filmbro: they’re too many pink mfs out here im getting suffocated

You rolled your eyes.

_____: im coming to save u kitten.

mr. filmbro: :0

Once you were inside, it was a complete sea of pink and black and grey. Two sides, which one would assume would be opposing, were all celebrating, sharing their drinks, anticipating when the theatre doors would open to let everyone in. Within this myriad of fans, you tried to search for the most mentally ill one—the one who you were certain had a finer three-piece set than you, who would have happily stolen Cillian Murphy’s set clothes to truly honour the movie. 

Strangely enough, after a few minutes, you could not find him, even after confirming your seats. You searched for anyone wearing anything devoid of colour, but did not find the boy. This time, you decided to bother him, calling him and pressing the phone to your ear. 

“Where are you, kitten?” you purposely growled, lowering your voice an octave. “Daddy’s waiting.”

“Kitten actually killed himself after hearing that,” was his purposeful monotone. 

“Can you resurrect yourself for me real quick? I’m tryna find where you are.” 

“I’m next to the Oppenheimer popup.” Immediately you tried to find it, scouring through the crowds. “I figured you’d find me easier.”

Scoffing, you ignored the Barbie stalls, walking further ahead. “How very smart of you to wear Oppenheimer clothing while standing next to it. So much easier to find you, isn’t it?”

He did not retort back, instead inciting your excitement. “Wait, I think I can see you…?”

Your eyes darted over to the fresh faces of the Nolan fans, all taking pictures of the cast pop-ups. What you were observing were the men and women, all lack of colour. 

What your gaze ended up on was someone completely different. 

What you were expecting was a mini-Oppenheimer, the too-large blazer, the sashed hat upon pretty brown curls. What you received instead was a boy engulfed in all the pinks of the colour wheel.

Pink was the colour of his top, bubblegum pink the colour of the stringy fur coat sporting over said shirt. Magenta was the colour of his flared trousers, whilst rose was the colour of his converse. What topped off the entire look was the hot pink cowboy hat, sitting perfectly upon his wavy locks, completing his fit—a fit which was perfect for the Barbie movie. 

It was around that point that he caught on to your stare—through the oceans of opposing fans, he, too, finally found you.

Vernon heard your curse murmur through the phone. “Oh my fucking God.”

That was when his own gaze roamed over you, shocked and shameless amongst the crowds. Not that the crowds mattered, not anymore. He was a little nervous, he had to admit it to himself, only because there were so many people, and they were only watching for the fad, for the trend. A part of him wanted just you and him in this midnight cinema, the biggest official date yet. 

But then seeing you here, in all your black-clad, Oppenheimered glory, had stunned him to his core. Although he had specifically brought you here to watch the movie, he had completely expected you to arrive in the pinkmania fit. Because you had kindly booked tickets for his anticipated film, he thought at least to participate in the Barbie craze fit.

It was like instinct, how his steps gravitated towards you, his phone still pressed against his ear, very much like you. You followed him slowly, hearing his ragged breaths through the speaker, watching him walk closer and closer until you both were a mere couple of feet away.

Only then did you drop the call, your hands at your sides as you admired him. It was a while before any of you spoke. 

Like always, you spoke first. “Tell me the fur coat is yours.”

A ghost of a smirk. “Sofia’s.”

“Stealing’s like second nature to you now, isn’t it?” you taunted. 

Like always, he dodged your taunts. “I thought you were gonna wear all pink.”

“I thought you were gonna wear all black.”

He tilted his head. “Well, I thought since we were watching both movies…”

Your confusion was clear, the corner of his lips curling further up. “Wasn’t Oppenheimer first?”

He then went inside his flared trouser pockets, fishing out two tickets—its colours matching his outfit. “I know how much you wanted to see Margot Robbie be silly.” 

“I did!” you exclaimed, taking the tickets from him, admiring how pretty they were designed, especially when compared to the Oppenheimer marketing tickets. In your admiration, though, you noticed a detail which had your excitement faltering. “Wait, are you sure? It says the movie’s at the same time.”

Vernon then checked the timings, mouth parting. “Oh shit. Didn’t think about that.” He shook his head, mouth straightening in a line, dejected. “This is what happens when I try to do something romantic.”

“I have to give points for effort,” you offered, bringing your hands to his wrist. “Hey, it’s okay. Let’s watch Oppenheimer, honestly. Cillian Murphy is still hot when he’s old.”

“No, no,” he countered, clasping your hands on his wrist. “It’s chill.” He glanced down. “Let’s do Barbie first.”

You attempted to argue him on this, but he simply let go of your hands, with his one hand wrapping around your waist, and the other hand’s wrist being checked for the time. You bit back a smile at his mere actions, relishing his fingers skirting under the suit, the waistcoat. “Vernon,” you attempted. 

“_____,” he said back, staring at you with an awe that you would have deserved had you worn a couture gown, not some rented hand-me-downs. 

You knew he would not take no for an answer now. “But what about Oppenheimer?” you asked anyway as the two of you made your way to the cinema. 

Vernon only pretended to think extremely deeply of the situation, making you elbow him playfully. “Now tell me, Dear Disney Hag, how did we enter Mingyu’s house?”

“Why, we walked straight in!” you answered like an over-enthusiastic student, in which he sarcastically clapped for you. 

“Right on.” As you both walked towards the Barbie theatre, the opposing movie was being screened right beside you, where people were bursting in. “See how everyone is walking in right now?” He gave you a knowing glance. 

That knowing glance had you scoffing in excited disbelief. “My God! Look at you, all ready to commit crimes!” you looped a hand around his arm. “I have taught you well, young man.”

He patted your arm. “Mr. Filmbro has come a long way from chatting shit about your movie taste.”

“So you admit it?” you leaned in. “Disney makes better movies than your flop directors?”

“That’s a completely different claim,” he clarified. “My taste in films is objectively better.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact you're watching the Barbie movie before Oppenheimer.”

He rolled his eyes, tugging you closer. “That’s ‘cause I like you a lot, Disney Hag…”

You did not stop your smile from lighting up your entire face. “You’re not the most insufferable filmbro I’ve dated I guess…”

”I better be the last filmbro you date,” he muttered, watching over the last of the crowds, where they now stood, waiting to enter the theatre.

The longer you waited to answer him, the more incredulous his face became, brows knotted in disbelief. You only chuckled, leaning in and pressing your lips upon his. Of course, he was taken aback, but surprises like these were pleasant, welcomed with open arms as Vernon closed his eyes, pulling you in. 

The moment the line started quickening you broke away, only to make sure no one skipped in front of you and him, and thus deal with yours and his passive aggression. You could not help the giggle that escaped you at breaking away from his lips, relishing in his dazed state. 

Honestly—you truly would not have minded being anywhere with him.

When it was finally your turn to go inside the Barbie screening, you held tightly to his hand. “Let’s go, Mr. Filmbro.”

Vernon only smiled. “Right behind you, _____.”

And as the two of you entered the theatre, hand-in-hand, the boy learned that perhaps he, too, would have gone anywhere with you. 

[tokoyamisstuff]

This Is New For Me

Loki x Reader

Summary: Life on Asgard can be straining - especially if the God of Mischief has taken a liking to you.

Warnings: Loki being so terrible at flirting it physically hurts, bullying, this got way angstier than I initially intended

Words: ~2800

A/N: I’ve written this trying to distract myself from personal problems, but honestly I can’t think straight rn. Dunno I kinda hate how this turned out but here you go I guess...sorry.

Loki Odinson must really despise you.

No matter how often Thor would stand up for his brother and try to justify his behavior, there was no other explanation for you other than that he must truly hate you with every essence of his being.

In the beginning, having been invited in the palace to train magic under the Allmother sounded like a once-in-a-lifetime chance - yet all that’s left from your initial excitement had been replaced by pure annoyance.

Lately, whenever you knew that you had to attend class with that certain raven-haired prince, your insides would churn before you even arrived.

Weeks have turned into months, never once ceasing his condescending remarks or childish pranks. Of course, he wasn’t called the God of Mischief for nothing.

All nine realms had tales to tell about his sheganinans - yet with you, he seemed especially invested. There was not one encounter where he could leave you at peace, always ending with you being victim to his wicked humor. 

The man did not seem to respect you at all - and it made you furious.

Today, you’d show him just what you were capable of!

“Greetings, great Allmother.” Polite as always, you bowed deeply in front of your queen, her magnificent presence still making you jittery beyond belief.

“No need for formalities, my lovely student” she responded heartily, only making you admire her even more - until a loud, exaggerated sigh cut through the calm atmosphere.

“Her again?” There he stood, maintaining his defensive pose as he rolled his eyes at you. “Mother, why would you keep on bringing a lowlife like her to defile this holy place?”

This was probably the millionth time that Frigga apologized deeply for her son’s behavior, and you were always amazed by her patience with him. How could a person so formidable end up raising such a troublemaker?

But then again...if she believes that there is good in the God of Mischief, then so would you.

“For today, I have prepared a spell that can only be cast by two mages at once”, Frigga explained, while Loki would still not bid you a single look. “So throughout this lesson, you will need to work together to succeed.”

Irritation was clearly visible on his face - and if you were perfectly honest, you weren’t really fond of that idea either. Yet if it was your scolar’s wish, none of you would protest.

“Spontaneous creation of complex concepts puts a huge stroll on one’s mind and body, so do not be frustrated if it doesn’t work within the first try.”

The idea was simple: Create a blooming meadow in midst of the palace floor, since creating life would be way too complex - only masters of the sorcery arts could take this spell to completion.

You and Loki were now sitting on the bare floor in front of each other and only now you realized how tense he had become, sweat dripping from his forehead and biting his bottom lip.

Was your presence really so terrible that he couldn’t bear with it?!

“Hey” you whispered, taking his hands to form a ring just as instructed “Don’t worry, we’re gonna get this!”

“I don’t need your encouragement...” he spat between gritted teeth, now that you noticed his palms were just as sweaty as his face seemed to be.

One second. Two, tree...fourty....a hundret and two...

“Relax” Loki repeated to himself as if it was his mantra - but now, with your fingers entangled in his? Sheer impossible.

Distraught, he shot his mother a desperate look, just for her to point  towards you, sitting cross-legged and seemingly completely relaxed.

Since your eyes were closed, Loki took this chance to observe every detail of your face, without having to fear that you’d notice his little infatuation.

By the norns - you were as fair and bewitching as always. So way, way out of his league. An unreachable, vigorous being. No angel, valkyrie or similar could ever reach up to you - at least in his eyes.

Was this what they called love at first sight? Loki only knew those sentiments from novels he always ridiculed before he got to know you.

Slowly and steadily, Loki aligned his breathing pattern with yours, picturing the cycle of energy the two of you formed. Carefully, he began infusing you with his magic, trying his best to allow yourself do the same to him.

Another minute passed by and you were finally able to let your magic flow through each other’s bodies entirely, like a serene stream.

With things being like this, he felt so different from the Loki you knew.

His magic was strong, indeed - but so gentle, warm and somehow comfortable to be coated with. You wondered-

“HEY!”

As soon as Loki slapped your hand away, breaking the cycle, all of the flowers that had previously bloossomed through you would wither in an instant.

“What the hel do you think you’re doing, you mewling quim?!” Loki shoutet as loud as his lungs allowed him to, while his mother’s face distorted in second-hand-embarrasment at her son’s choice of words. “Who do you think you are?!”

“I-I’m sorry, I just-” You only wanted to scan his emotions through the magic bond you shared, just peek under the cover for a mere second - what was he so afraid of you to find?

“Know your place, woman!” The god pointed at you before he rushed up, ignoring the ache in his heart as he saw your face contort in sadness. “You are beneath me, never forget that!”

Why were you even surprised?

“You’re right” you sniveled quietly as you balled a fist in your dress, and Loki hated himself so much that he wished to just disappear. “My apologies. You don’t have to put up with me ever again.”

As always, instead of fighting, you made your leave without ever fighting back.

Frigga’s pleads for you to stay and talk this over were all for naught when you rushed away, muttering curses directed towards youself rather than anyone else.

Instead of scolding her son, she’d punish him through her silence, furiously shaking her head as she rushed away as well.

Why did he always have to ruin everything?!

The God of Mischief was very well aware that whenever you were close, his mind went completely blank - and that made him panic.

Never before he had felt so goddamn vulnerable in front of anything, terrifying him beyond belief.

And Loki loathed that feeling: Losing control over himself, being reminded once again how alone and  unloveable he is, facing a goddess as stunning as you are every single day.

So he concluded it to be best to cope like he did all those millenia: Cover up those insecurities, shove his anxieties in the back of his heart and protect his heart from anyone coming close.

Good thing you believed that presumptupus, disoblinging duplicity of his to be his true self.

That would make it easier for the both of you, having as much distance as humanly possible. Vicinity could become dangerous terrain.

Yes, he would only save you some time - it would be a waste if you would try to actually give him a chance, just to be let down by what kind of disappointment he truly was.

But it wouldn’t end here - since the only way Loki Odinson first and only communication was through causing mischief.

A scream of yours startled the servants early in the morning, with your personal maiden being the first to rush to your side.

“Milady, wha-” She stopped in her tracks as she saw you standing in front of the mirror, touching your scalp in disbelief, where everything had been cut short.

That was it. Enough of it!

Dismissing the servants, you took a scissor and tried to at least make an acceptable hairstyle out of the mess he had made, before you would leave to the royal garden.

“You!” Pointing towards Loki, innocently sitting on a bench to watch the sunrise, you screamed and let a strand of hair run from your fingers to the floor. “You did this!”

“Now relax, would you” he chuckled, wearing his smug grin like a trophy as he defendingly held his hands into the air. “You should be grateful, it looks much better like this.”

Next thing he knew was the feeling of your backhand, mercilessly crushing against his collarbone.

Usually, you’d be shocked at yourself, for you had never been a person to choose violence ever before - but right now, you were too full of anger and hurt to even realize.

“You conniving craven pathetic worm!” you exclaimed, breathing heavily as you swung yet another fist towards the prince - however, he grabbed your wrists, trapping you in his hold.

In his life full of wrongdoings, he had been called worse than that - yet still, hearing insults coming from you of all people shot arrows through his heart with every word escaping his lips. Not that he’d ever admit, though.

“It was just a little prank.” Loki would’ve never thought that his actions would affect you this much. “What are you so worked up about?”

“All this time I believed there could be a good person beneath all that...but now what?” The compassion you detected in his eyes were only upsetting you even more. “You are a selfish, cruel and terrible person, and I gave up on you.”

Loki let go off of you, staring at you in disbelief:

You actually believed in him, all this time?! That was impossible!

If anything, the Odinson had always believed you to ignore his existence completely, if he wouldn’t use such drastic measures to attract your attention.

“Wait a second, I-”

“I hope you know that you deserve to be alone...” you sniveled, turning around to face him one last time before you fled the scene. “And you always will be.”

Several minutes had passed until Loki had given up in silencing he voices inside his head that told him you were right: He was indeed a despicable being, tainting your pure goodwill - repelling anyone that would still be willing to give the God of Mischief a chance.

Out of a whim, he jumped up from his place, wanting to rush after you. He was very well aware that he was probably beyond forgiveness by now, yet he at least wanted to make things up to you - even though he had no clue where to start.

“Calm down, Lady Y/N.”

Thor’s voice drang to Loki’s ears just a mere second before he saw that particular heart-wrenching scene unfold in front of him:

You were lying in his brother’s arms, crying to your heart’s extend while soothed you, softly petting what remained from your hair.  Loki remained hidden in the shadows, even though his guts told him to stab his brother right here and now.

“My brother...you know-” The God of Thunder was trying to find the right words, even though poetic speeches were not really his forte. “It’s just his speecial, twisted way of interacting. Who knows where he got that from.”

“I rather wonder if he realized how his behavior truly makes me feel” you snapped back, unwilling to keep defending him. “Weak and worthless, that’s how I feell. And every time our ways cross, he’s making it worse!”

By the gods, Loki never wanted to make you feel that way, let alone think such ways about yourself! He of all people, who knew best what its like to feel unfit and nowhere near enough.

Loki grabbed the fabric of his shirt tight, feeling that his heart might burst if he didn’t. It took everything in him to not let out a loud sob and be caught - but then, his brother snapped him out of it with an impossible question:

“Do you still love him?”

“L-Love might not be the right word, I mean-” Lately, you had let Thor in on your secret admiration for his younger brother. “With the way he’s treating me, and all-”

You just couldn’t help being drawn to him against all reason. After everything you had endured, just to be close to him - and he never even acknowledged your feelings.

And still, here you were, crying over a man that didn’t want you.

“Lady Y/N?”

Loki’s voice made you panic, immediately wriggling out of Thor’s embrace. The Odinson understood immediately, nodding towards his brother before leaving the two of you alone.

“Since when have you been standing there?!” Panic dropped to your stomach, wondering just how much he had heared.

“From the very beginning.”

Before you could even think about what to do now, Loki summoned a dagger, cutting off his raven locks in one swift move. “Wha-”

“Please, accept this as means of apology.” The man now dropped to one knee, humbly facing the ground. “I have never intended to make you doubt your most perfect self.”

Frantic, you were scanning his voice, face, anything for the slightest hint of a lie - but nothing. Loki seemed determined and sincere when he looked up to you, hesistantly taking a hold of your hand.

“This is new for me...” he uttered under his breath as his lips graced your knuckles, and only now you realized that he was trembling ever so slightly. 

“I-Is that another trick?!”

“What kind of vicious being do you think I am?” Well, after everything he had commited it was only natural of you accusing him. “There are lines not even I do not cross.”

Only for a brief second your heart felt a little bit lighter, as his eyes were locked with yours, lost in this moment you have been waited for so long...

...a little too unexpected, right?

Suddenly, you tugged your hand away, and Loki could only sigh in frustration. Of course it won’t be that easy for him to gain your trust. “I don’t need your pity, Loki...”

No matter how he racked his brain around the matter, he had burdened your shared past probably beyond the point of repair.

That would be his last chance, maybe the last time he’d ever see you again. He was so desperate in his attempt, and yet - what else could he do?

So for the first time in millenias, the God of Mischief decided to speak from the heart for a change:

"Y/N, I-I...As I said, this is new for me, so...” he cleared his throat before continuing, stress literally dropping out of every pore. “From the first day we’ve met, you...I mean...you were the most magnificent being I ever laid eyes upon, and...when I think about it now, I-I may be enarmored with you.”

Your eyes widened at this wholeheartedly confession, a sincere smile playing on his lips in contrast of sole tears running down his face.

Never before you had seen him like that: Flustered, vulnerable, and honest...

“I thought to be unworthy of your affection, so I tried to belittle you, to...I don’t even know. I’ve been told many times I am quite assertive of anyone but myself. I-I mean, I am a mess...I don’t understand my own feelings and thus drive away any chance of happiness, and...how could you ever-?”

“Mhh...” you silenced the man as your lips crushed over his, falling straight into his arms. It took Loki quite a second to fully grasp the situation before deepening the kiss, his arms wrapping around you as if you’d disappear if he was to ever let go.

“Y/N...” the prince gasped when your lips parted from that breathtaking kiss - and this time it was you who wore that thug grin on your face.

"Apology accepted” you giggled, just to smother the face of this flabbergasted man in yet another thousand smaller kisses.

This had to be a dream, he thought...and immediately, a wave of guilt washed over him. He did not deserve this in the slightest.

“Now, don’t give me that look.” Cupping Loki’s face in your hands, you gifted him that heartwarming expression he had ignored for so many years, thinking it was not meant for him. “That kiss wiped my memory from everything you’ve done...by now.”

Out of sheer, genuine happiness, Loki leaped from the floor and excitedly swirled you around in his arms.

After another kiss that would kick the air right out of your lungs. the god would peck a more gentle one afterwards, as sweet and tender as no one ever thought he could be.

Even if it’s gonna be a long way, Loki would prove to be worthy of your love.

“Lady Y/N...if you are to believe in me, then I swear I will be on my best behavior from now on!”

"Let's see about that."

[ray-ray-writings]

i really just love some sbi...maybe a drabble of the reader being awake for like 40+ hours and they’re streaming? so their chat is like spamming “go to beddd” and the reader is stubborn but eventually all of the sleepybois join her vc and are like “go to bed rn” so she does and they all express their concern afterwards and the reader confesses that they are feeling like they aren’t good enough and have to keep streaming and they all comfort her? reader is tommy’s age btw !

This is such a good idea lol... P.S. Enjoy this hurt/comfort because I have an SBI imagine coming out tonight and it’s all hurt and like very little comfort... It’s so sad guys... But enjoy this now lol. 

So like I imagine that you wake up at 7 am, do your things to get ready for school, and go to school. You’re in school till three and then you get home, grab a snack, and go to your room and begin your stream. You do a lot of things on your stream which causes your stream to go for nine hours. Thank god it was Friday and you didn’t have school the next morning. But you’re yawning so much that chat begins to beg you to end stream and get rest. You try to brush them off, but they threaten to get Philza and so you huff and say your goodbyes before ending your stream with the promise that you were going to go to sleep… Yeah you lied.

Instead of getting into bed, you down a few energy drinks and begin editing for a new video you wanted to upload. That takes a few hours and so by the time you’re done, you realize the sun has come up and you’ve been editing for many many hours and have been up for over 24 hours. Regardless of the fact you’re tired, you are like, “well I can’t go to sleep now! That would throw off my sleep schedule, and I wouldn’t be able to stream and that would disappoint a lot of people... plus I’m not tired!” And so you begin making more content that you plan on uploading. As well as doing some of your school work. After a while, you glance at the time and realize you have to start stream soon. So you quickly save everything that you’re working on, go to the bathroom, go to the kitchen, grab a few snacks and some more energy drinks before heading back to your bedroom and beginning to stream again. So for a while you’re playing your games and talking to chat and somehow, probably because a donation asked you how your night went, but you let it slip that you didn’t actually go to sleep the night before and chat explodes. They beg you to go to bed and get the rest that you need and so very much deserve, but you ignore them. “Guys, I’m fine! I’m not even *big yawn* that tired… okay I know that looks bad but seriously I’m *yawn*.... Chat please” But they don’t stop spamming, asking you to go to sleep, but you refuse. You think that if you don’t stream, you’ll lose everything you’ve worked so hard to build. Your fans would slowly realize how bad of a streamer you are and you would lose everything. While you’re lost in your thoughts, people have started to spam the Sleepy boys, explaining what was happening. Philza is the first to see the worried tweets and immediately contacts Wilbur, Techno, and Tommy asking if they know about what’s happening. They don’t and so they decide to ring you as a group, after all if they all ask you to go to bed, there is no way you’ll be able to say no to them. You get a text from Philza asking you to join a Discord call and your attention snaps to chat. “Alright, which one of you snitched on me to my dad? What?” You demand, imitating a Tiktok you once saw. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sw2v42-nG4c . Your phone buzzes again and this time it’s Wilbur also asking you to join the call. “And my brother’s too?” Chat begs you to join the call and so you let out a sigh and do what you’re told. As soon as you join the call, Wilbur’s voice fills your ears, “What are you doing awake?” “It’s nice to see you too Will… Techno, Phil, Tommy…” you greet, ignoring the question. “Go to sleep. You haven’t slept in 36 hours.” Techno deadpans. “Coming from your Mr. Insomniac” you shoot back. “Sleep” Tommy demands causing you to roll your eyes. “No” you mock, “I’m *yawn* fine guys. Really thanks for the check in, but I’m *yawn* fine.” “Those two yawns say otherwise.” Nothing seems to be working so Phil pulls out the big guns. “I will call your parents if you do not end your stream this instant and go to bed.” And you know he isn’t joking and if he does that, you’re parents will ground you. So you let out a defeated sigh but mute and deafen yourself in discord, wishing chat, who is now celebrating, a goodnight before ending stream. You unmute and undeafen in discord to wish the others a goodnight. “Goodnight Y/N… One question before you go though… Why would you do that to yourself. You obviously knew you needed to sleep, why push yourself like that. You know your fans would understand” Phil asks softly. And you don’t know if it’s the gentleness of the question or the fact you hadn’t slept in 36 hours, but you burst into tears. The boys let you cry it out, all a bit worried but not wanting to pressure you into talking or wanting you to feel bad. Once your sobs calm down, you apologize, “Sorry. Sorry. I’m just overly tired and emotional… But… It’s just that I’m not good. I’m not good enough. And I know that. I really do. But somehow my fans don’t. So I have to keep it up and push myself because if I don’t they’ll realize. They will realize I’m a fraud and that I’m not good enough and they’ll leave me and then you guys will leave me too and I’ll just lose you and I can’t handle that… Sorry, you probably don’t care. You didn’t need me to dump that on you like that… sorry.” The boys are silent for a moment. Their hearts ache at the confession. How could you not think that you’re good enough? You’re such a good and dedicated streamer and it shows in the content that you produce. It’s actually Tommy that’s the first to talk. “That’s bullshit” “Tommy!” the other three scold. “It is! Y/N is such a good streamer, one of the best on the platform! And they’re still so young! You’re fans aren’t going to hate you because you take time for yourself. In fact they’ll probably be more irritated if you don’t take care of yourself. You’re a good streamer Y/N… A great one. Of course you’re good enough. And you’re never going to lose us… We love you. You’re one of us.” Everyone is shocked at Tommy’s mature words. But they agree 100%. “He’s right kiddo, you’re never going to lose us. And you are a good streamer, but in order to be that good streamer you have to take care of yourself.” Philza chimes in. “Phil is also right. Do you know how hard chat bullies me when I don’t take care of myself? Really hard. Our fans love us and they want what is best for us. Taking care of yourself is a must kid.” Techno jumps in. “What they said” Wilbur deadpans causing everyone to break into laughter. “What? It’s true! You all said everything I was going to say! Stop laughing at me!” He whines, causing you to laugh harder. “Thank you boys. I feel a lot better… I’m going to go to sleep now… For real this time. Thank you. I love you.” “We love you too” they all chime back. “Goodnight” “Goodnight” and then you disconnect from the call. Sitting in your chair for a moment, allowing you to collect yourself before standing from the chair and wandering over to your bed and collapsing, your eyes closing and body shutting down into sleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. You were really lucky to have such amazing friends… Goodnight reader. Goodnight.

[nitewrighter]

Hi Nite :) Could use some cutesy Gency fluff rn. Have a quick short or interactions in mind?

I miss them... 🥺

Here's some pre-fall stuff from when Genji was still getting used to his limbs.

----

Genji's arms thudded against the limbs of the training dummy as Mercy stood tensely by with her tablet, observing and taking notes. The impact didn’t feel quite right--he could feel the reverberation of the metal at his organic stubs on impact. He was in a gray training jumpsuit--more of a wrestling singlet, really--that left his organic arms and legs exposed. 

“You don’t have to--” Mercy cut herself off at a particularly loud thump of one of Genji’s blows landing, “You don’t have to go too fast, it’s just about maintaining blood flow and muscle movement, and building up coordination.” 

Genji didn’t respond, mostly just glad he had something to hit now. He let Mercy’s commentary dull to a quiet buzz at the periphery of his consciousness as he fell into the movement of punching and kicking. He heard an audible sigh from Mercy, recognition that he wasn’t actually listening, and just let himself fall into the motions more and more. Not strong enough. Not fast enough. None of the blows hitting right. Get it better. Get it right. How could he avenge himself against the clan and Hanzo otherwise? How could he make them pay if he was just a stupid, pathetic, bloody little science experiment--? He moved to pivot into a devastating back hand strike when a sharp pain suddenly flared along his side and he seized up with a grunt.

“Genji?!” Mercy looked up sharply from her tablet and her eyes widened.

“Nngh--” Genji’s hands went to his side as she briskly walked over and stooped a bit to where his hands were.

“How bad is it?” said Mercy.

“I wouldn’t stop if it wasn’t bad,” Genji said through gritted teeth.

“May I?” Mercy said, her eyes flicking up to him.

Genji scoffed and glanced off, shoving the shoulder strap of his jumpsuit/singlet off and letting Mercy pull it down slightly to examine his ribs.

“No bruising to indicate internal bleeding--skin irritation near the prosthetic is well within normal range...” Mercy murmured, “Where specifically does it hurt?”

Genji pointed at the bottom of his ribs with his thumb with a grunt and Mercy felt at that point for a few moments.

“Is the pain still as sharp as it was when you were moving?” Mercy asked.

The question came so easily to her but Genji felt his ears burning

“...no,” he said a bit stiffly. 

Mercy gave a sigh of relief, “Just a muscle stitch then.” 

“A muscle--?!” Genji scoffed, “No--something has to be--I don’t get stopped by cramps!” 

“Maybe not with your old body, but---” Mercy caught herself.

“There’s--there’s stuff in me now, how do we know it’s not... stabbing?” said Genji.

“If you want, we can stop for the day and I can take a closer look,” said Mercy, tucking her tablet against herself.

A low growl of a scoff rumbled in Genji’s throat and he glanced off. He didn’t want that. He was glad to be standing again, he was glad to be moving again, he didn’t want his own paranoia about all the things jammed into him to leave him bound to an infirmary bed or examination table again.

“Or I could give you something mild for the pain--?” said Mercy

“No,” Genji nearly cut her off with his answer. He didn’t want his rage to be dulled. Didn’t want anything slowing him down.

Her brow crinkled and her mouth drew to a thin line, and he couldn’t maintain eye contact with her when she was making that face.

“Just---” Genji made a pushing gesture at her, “Give me space. I can handle it.”

“We still need to take it easy--” Mercy started.

‘If it’s just a stitch, I can handle it!” Genji snapped. He remembered Sojiro’s voice. Breathe through it. Breathe through it. He took a few deep steady breaths. “It’s fine,” he said, the pain dulling with his breaths, “I’m fine.”

Mercy backed up a bit and Genji re-centered himself to a ready position. He gave himself one more steadying breath before he threw himself back into punching and kicking again. The stitch was still burning in his side but he ignored it as best as he could, focusing on the breath, focusing on the impact of the punch, the recovery. But he had already begun to feel the creep of exhaustion with that last pause. No, he couldn’t be tired, not yet. Did all those hours looking like an idiot in horse stance until his entire lower body was on fire mean nothing? All those early mornings sprinting around Shimada Castle, racing after Hanzo with the cold damp on his skin and his breath fogging in front of him? All that conditioning, all that work, all of his time that the clan ate up for their own ends, Hanzo had taken it all away from him. And here he was struggling to work up to a fraction of what he was previously capable of. Keep at it, keep at it, let the rage power the limbs. But even rage could only take him so far. There was a high pitched ringing in his ears as he watched his own strikes get slower, sloppier, but still he kept pushing himself. 

“Genji--” Mercy’s voice was distant with the pounding of his own heart in his ears, and the strike of his limbs against the training dummy, “Maybe you should--” But he just kept going, just kept hitting, and she quieted down. She was making that face again. He could feel her making that face, and he kept striking.

Don’t pity me. Don’t you fucking dare pity me.

That burning stitch in his side was little more than an afterthought, but the limbs were slow, heavy. His lungs were burning and he was drenched in sweat. With his prosthetics he smelled like pennies. Smelled like blood.

Metal. Stupid. Useless.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, didn’t want to know how much time had passed, when he finally slumped forward, supporting himself on a training dummy that was just as damp with his own sweat.

“Just--breathe--pushing yourself too hard could make the healing process even slower,” Mercy warned. 

“I know what I can do!” Genji said through gritted teeth. He hated the metallic ring of his own voice now.

"I know it’s frustrating, but even with state of the art prosthetics, you can't expect to get back to your original speed that fast," said Mercy.

Genji let himself drop to his hands and knees, panting.

“You have no idea how frustrating it actually is,” he snarled, not looking up from the floor.

"Your body has lost a significant amount of its original mass... it's going to be a while before your stamina returns, too," she said quietly.

Genji kept panting. She stepped away from him briefly and he looked at his own hands on the floor. He clawed his fingers, both organic and prosthetic, across the mat in frustration.

“Here,” She stooped over and held a water bottle out to him. He glared at the water bottle.

“You’re still human and humans need water,” said Mercy flatly. 

His eyes flicked up to her face and he reached out and sullenly took it. He didn’t break eye contact with her as he drank from the bottle, trying to read her expression. There was exhaustion in her eyes, there always was, but there was something in the line of her mouth now, not quite that pitying pursing, her lips nearly parting like she had something to say, and yet at the same time didn’t. She settled down to a kneeling position beside him on the mat. 

“All these... things I say... I’m not trying to dismiss your feelings. I know you’re angry. I know you feel cooped up here and you want to get out there so you can get to work stopping the people who did this to you.”

Killing. Stopping’s just a side effect of killing, Genji thought but he said nothing still panting. 

“I want you to have your body working the way you want it to just as much,” Mercy went on, “But this isn’t something you just... power through to. You’re angry--I know you’re angry--but the more you fall into that anger, the more cortisol and adrenaline your brain pumps out--the more your body believes it’s trying to survive and shunts down numerous vital functions, rather than putting its energy towards repairing itself.”

Genji was still panting but hearing it put in such technical terms caught him off-guard. The body believes it’s trying to survive...

“Just...” Mercy sighed a little, “Have a little faith. Everyone here wants you at you at full capacity as quickly as possible just as much as you do. Even if we’re all...” she shrugged a little, “Annoying and preachy about it.”

Genji snorted at that before letting himself collapse onto his side and then roll onto his back, his chest still rising and falling with a shudder of exhaustion. Mercy pressed one hand against the mat, then lowered herself, laying down flat on the ground as well, staring at the ceiling.

“...why are you on the floor?” muttered Genji.

“Seemed like the right place to be,” Mercy mused, “...there are multiple times a day I wish I could curl up on the floor, and this seemed like a good chance.”

Genji snorted again. “You’re funny,” he said glancing over at her.

Mercy glanced over at him and smiled.

Genji sighed again and looked up at the ceiling. “You want to know a really stupid thing that’s pissing me off about all this?’ 

“What?” said Mercy.

“It’s... hitting me that I really liked my body. I mean, I was hot before all this.”

Mercy snorted.

“I was!” Genji insisted.

“I know!” Mercy blurted out and then caught herself, “I mean--” she cleared her throat, “Yes, it’s very jarring to have your appearance suddenly changed without your consent.”

“...so you agree I was hot,” said Genji, a bit smugly.

Mercy scoffed.

“OKay--Sorry--I’m being obnoxious. What I’m saying is... there was so much about it I took for granted, even with all the training and the conditioning the Shimada clan put me through...” he sighed, “And it’s gone now.”

“Not gone, necessarily. It’s... different. It’s changed. That doesn’t mean you can’t make it your own,” said Mercy, “That doesn’t mean it can’t be beautiful. That doesn’t mean it isn’t beautiful now.”

Genji paused, then gave her an ‘Are you fucking kidding me’ look. 

“Okay, we can work our way up to that,” said Mercy with a slight eye roll, “Just.. in my line of work you see a lot of... nastiness... so you kind of have to look for the things that give you hope. And a lot of the time that can make you come off as...” she huffed, “Completely out of it to some people. Stupid. Ignorant.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” said Genji, “Preachy, sure, but stupid?”

“Just as much of a charmer as your dossier stated,” Mercy said flatly.

Genji huffed and a long pause passed between them on the floor. Genji took stock of the exhaustion in all of his limbs and lifted his prosthetic arm up toward the ceiling, examining it the way the light hit it. “...you think I’ll be able to do what I could do before?” 

“Do you want my honest opinion?” said Mercy.

The question-as-answer made Genji tense slightly and he propped himself up on his elbows, glancing over at her. “Yes...?” he said slowly.

“I think you can be even more,” she said, not looking at him, staring up at the ceiling, “I just hope who that is, is someone you like.”

[duskholland]

Mob!Tom is a little mad at you for something n the reader is keep on saying sorry but he's just too hurt to let this go rn. Then reader tries to kiss him but he turns away but she begs him to kiss him n in the end he gives in and kisses her really hard n he's like you do something like that ever again I'll never forgive u n they're both in tears n then they kiss each other n cuddle for hours.

cute! also sfw! contains mob themes and brief references to violence.

— it’s mob monday !! —

“Tom, I’m sorry.”

Silence.

“Tom? Tom, c’mon. Look at me.”

There’s a frown on your face, and as you reach out to rest your hand on your boyfriend’s shoulder, a soft sigh slips past your lips. Tom’s blanking you - sitting on the edge of the bed, looking straight at the wall. He gives no indication that he’s listening to you - shows in no way that he feels your fingers as you press them to your shoulder. He is, simply, ignoring you.

“Seriously? The silent treatment?” 

You’re frustrated now, tetchy and curt. Pushing back the irritation that simmers in your chest, you release a breath and kneel at the bottom of the bed, shifting your hands to his knees. The material of Tom’s expensive jeans feels nice beneath your fingertips, and for a few moments, you drag your touch over his thighs. 

“Please, baby.” You look at him with as much strength as you can muster. “I’m sorry.”

It’s only when you reach up to touch his face that Tom snaps to action, one of his hands going to wrap around your wrist and keep your palm away from his cheek. His fingers are cold, but his grip is soft, and the pained sigh that slips past his lips makes your heart pang.

“Stop it,” Tom says. He looks at you, eyes cool, lips pulled into a straight line. “I don’t want to hear it.”

You grit your teeth. “I don’t understand why you’re making such a huge deal out of this,” you mutter. “I didn’t do anything that you haven’t done before.”

Tom’s eyes bulge, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “Are you being serious?” He drops your hand, standing from the bed. You move out of the way, sitting up on the edge of the mattress and watching as your boyfriend paces the carpet in front of the bed. It’s late - 11pm, the outside world shrouded in darkness. Tom’s in a bright white shirt, bloodstains marring the fabric over his right arm and chest. The stains match the blood on your dress. He’s breathing heavily, running a hand through his hair, Rolex glinting.

“Tom,” you try again. “You’re blowing this out of proportion-”

“Am I?” Tom pauses, turning to face you. He pulls his arms across his chest, looking at you with such an intensity in his gaze that it makes your guilt increase by tenfold. “You- you- went straight in there and tried to take out a fucking dealer, love. You almost got yourself killed.”

You wince. The evening… Well, the evening hadn’t exactly gone as planned. Your fault? No, but neither was it Tom’s. 

You’d gone as his plus-one to a club, and things had been fine until one of Tom’s rivals had come out of nowhere and pulled a knife on him. Forgetting rule number one of dating a mobster - always wait for backup - you’d stalked right after them. You’d swung a very expensive bottle of champagne at the goon’s head, and then spent a terrifying five minutes with Tom as their backup had arrived, and he’d tried to keep you from falling victim to their attempts at retribution.

So maybe it’s fair that he’s angry, but you’d done it for him, out of love and concern. 

“I was trying to protect you,” you say. You look down at your hands and pick at the golden bangle wrapped around your wrist. “I didn’t do it to annoy you.”

Tom sucks in a deep breath, his eyes closing as his jaw twitches. He’s fuming, you can see it. See it in his clenched fists and his deep breathing and his reluctance to look you in the eye. He’s holding it back, but you can see it, burning away, bright beneath the surface. He wants to yell or storm out, but he’s staying. You take that as a sign that he’s open to you.

“Tom.” You stand up from the bed, a little wobbly on your feet as you approach him, softly. He’s still as a statue as you put both of your palms on his shoulders, but you feel him relax a little bit when you touch him. Tom opens his eyes, and you meet those beautiful golden browns, a little softer, now. “I’m sorry, alright? It won’t happen again.” A small smile finds your lips as you shift a palm up to cup his cheek, his face cool to touch but soft and familiar. 

“It can’t happen again,” he mutters, voice clipped. “You can’t be so reckless.”

“I know, I know.” You’re a little distracted by the curves of his mouth, and bite your lower lip as you look up at him, smirking softly. “Kiss and make up?”

Tom frowns, his eyebrows pulling together. “No.” 

“No?” Hurt seeps into your tone, and you step a little closer, puckering your lips. “Don’t you want to kiss me?” You have both of your hands on his face now, and slip one of them back to rest in his curls. Tom smells of faded cologne. 

“Y/N.” Tom’s tone is still tight, and he sighs again. “We’re not finished talking about this, I’m not- We’re not just going to sweep it under the rug, you almost died-”

“But I didn’t.” You lick your lips, looking at him with wide eyes. “C’mon. Kiss me.” You need it. You need the reassurance that you can get through this, that he isn’t really mad, just upset. You feel as though you’re floating in the clouds, your mind left back in the club, caught up in the exhilarated fight. “Tom, Tom, Tom-”

Taking a shot at it, you try to dive in to kiss him, but Tom side-steps, ducking away out of your grasp as he weaves around you, groaning. 

“It’s not that easy!” He says. Tom walks over to the dresser, unclasping his watch and throwing it onto the wooden desk with a clatter. He turns to look at you, fire in his eyes. “We can’t just kiss and make up, love. This is… This is more than just an argument.” Next to go are his cufflinks, shiny and bright as he presses them into the jewellery dish. “This is serious.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you reach up to massage your temples. You don’t know what else to do. It’s been an hour since you got back from the club, an hour of trying to break him down from every angle. You’re at the end of your tether. 

“Please,” you ask, voice coming out a lot weaker than you’d intended. Your tone cracks and Tom’s head snaps back up in your direction. “Kiss me.”

There’s a pause. The air between you crackles, and you find yourself rubbing at your eyes, trying to push down the nervous tears that threaten to spill down your cheeks. You can’t bear to think about what you’ll do if Tom continues to be so cold and detached, feel horrible even thinking about it. Your heart shakes in your chest. 

Tom walks to you, finally, pushing your hands from your face and replacing them with his own. Two warm palms cup your cheeks, and he kisses you - hard. 

It’s deep, passionate. Salty tears mixing with your mouths, a force behind his kiss so pronounced that it pushes you back a few steps. Your top teeth knock together and you whimper, grabbing onto the back of his head and anchoring yourself in his loose chestnut curls. Your fingers shake, but he continues to keep his lips on yours, his thumbs padding over your face. 

Tom pushes his forehead to yours when he breaks the kiss, staring at you with deep, concerned eyes.

“I love you so much that it terrifies me, Y/N,” he murmurs. He’s speaking so calmly, so deeply, like his words are some kind of sanctified secret. “If anything ever happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do.” 

Your nose presses to his as you nod against his head. “I’m sorry,” you say again. He’s holding your cheeks so tightly that they ache. “I didn’t want to mess things up, I panicked. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Tom hums. “I know, I know, darling.” One of his hands goes down to your waist, and he pulls you in closer, winding his touch around your back. “I know.” 

You bury your head in his neck, exhaling a deep breath as Tom strokes over your back. For a few moments he holds you, but then he walks you back towards the bed. You trust him well enough to let him manoeuvre you - even go so far as to let him gently push you down onto the bed and lie opposite you, pulling you in close. It’s a tight hug, a hug with your face pressed into his chest, his arms wrapped around you, and it’s quiet. So quiet you can feel his heartbeat against your ear. 

“Never scare me like that again,” he mumbles, spacing the words with kisses to the top of your head. “I will never forgive you if you get yourself hurt for me.” 

You peer up, tilting your head until you’re looking at him straight on. Tom’s hair lies messily across his forehead, but his eyes are cooler now, softer. They grow warmer too when you lean in and kiss him again, the touch gentler than before. 

“Okay,” you agree. “I won’t be so reckless again. Promise.” You shuffle in a little closer. “But I’m always going to fight for you, Tom. I will never, ever, sit by if you’re in danger.” When he opens his mouth to argue, you cut him off. “No, don’t you dare tell me that I’m wrong for that.” You raise a stern eyebrow. “You can’t lay there and tell me to sit by when you’re in danger because both of us know you’d set the world on fire if anything so much as grazed me.” You run your fingers through his hair. “I love you just as much as you love me, and I will never let you get hurt.”

Tom’s quiet for a moment, but then his mouth sags into a smile. He sighs, looking at you through tired, loving eyes.

“I love you,” he says, “for all your stubbornness and persistence.”

You chuckle, leaning in to kiss him gently. “You wouldn’t have it any other way,” you tease.

“No.” Tom kisses your nose, eyes sparkling. “I wouldn’t.”

[ahtsumu]

atsumu: 1, kevin: 0 ; miya atsumu

↳ pairing: miya atsumu x professional women’s volleyball player!reader

↳ synopsis: miya atsumu realises that he’s tired of keeping your relationship “low-key” with a little help from an overzealous fanboy.

↳ genre(s): fluff, humour!!

↳ warning(s): profanity

↳ length: 1.5k words

↳ a/n: surprise!!! lol i have way too many wips rn especially with requests but i wrote this as a little break from all the angst and stuff hence the cheesiness ☺️ enjoy!!

Miya Atsumu was caught in a kerfuffle.

Earlier that day, the twenty-three-year-old setter for the MSBY Black Jackals made the executive decision to come to watch you–– his Mario Kart player number two, his houseplant co-parent, the air-guitarist to his air-drummer, the Karaoke Night pink-lyric-singer to his blue–– kick some volleyball ass in the V. League Division 1 Women's Volleyball Tournament finals. 

The problem?

You played wing spiker for the Schweiden Falkes. 

There was nothing problematic about being a wing spiker on a Division One volleyball team. What was problematic, however, was that the Schweiden Falkes was the sister team of the Black Jackals’ sworn enemy, the Schweiden Adlers. To rub more salt in the wound, the Adlers had won every single game against the Jackals since Atsumu joined (not that they hadn’t prior to his arrival). And to make matters even worse, as one of the nation’s most sought-after athletes, he had to “appeal to both investors and the general population”. Miya Atsumu was supposed to be a marketable bachelor. And he was not.

Miya Atsumu was also not supposed to be at the finals of the women’s volleyball tournament. 

That was the biggest problem of them all. So maybe, actually, Miya Atsumu was mildly ensnared in a few kerfuffles.

The two of you had agreed to keep your relationship low-key from the start and were nearing two years of private, domestic bliss. Questions about each other in interviews were responded to with short and nondescript replies. Outings in public were conducted without physical contact. And despite how Twitter was almost a diary to Atsumu, he’d never once tweeted your name in his life. But as dull as your relationship seemed in public, the two of you were a different story in private. In private, he would find any way to touch you–– a hand in your back pocket, your legs draped atop his thighs, soft lips trailing up from the neck to each other. In private, sweet nothings were proclaimed and not whispered, laughter bubbled like a stream that never ran dry, and Atsumu said your name over and over again like it was habit.

But that didn’t change the fact that, right now, Miya Atsumu was not supposed to be in the nosebleeds of the Sendai City Gymnasium, even if he was hundreds of meters away from the nearest camera.

All the bigger kerfuffles fell quickly to the back of his mind, however, when a smaller and more irritating one presented itself to him. 

A snotty voice declared one row behind Atsumu’s hooded head, “Oi, you’re in the way of the view, jerk.”

Normally, Atsumu would have turned around with an equally cocky sneer on his chiselled features, “the fuck did you just call me?” locked and loaded behind clenched teeth. But when he turned around ready to deliver that exact line, he saw through his black shades that the owner of said snotty voice was none other than a scrawny prepubescent boy.

And that boy (along with the two equally snot-faced twerps beside him) was wearing your jersey number. Suddenly, all the irritation left Atsumu’s face. Was this your little fan club? A wicked cackle threatened to leap out his mouth. They were so annoying. But also, he mused, kinda cute.

“Was I?” he asked with an innocent expression on his face. It was the same one he used when Osamu would accuse him of stealing his clothes (he totally had), or when you would accuse him of eating the last slice of cake in the fridge (he totally did). “I hadn’t realised.” He really hadn’t. He just wanted to milk this for as long as he could.

“Yeah, you were.” The kid crossed his arms, glaring down at the shady guy one row below. “I can’t see the game anymore.”

“Oops–– my bad.”

“Shut up, Kevin, you were watching Y/N!” one of the brats exclaimed, punching Kevin’s shoulder.

Oh? “Yer a fan of Y/N, hmmm?”

“She’s pretty,” Kevin said immediately, shrugging. He just said it out loud like that? So easily? With a subtle wince, Atsumu thought back to the ridiculously long time before he’d admitted his ‘smidge of a crush’ on you. Yeah, unlike you, stupid. “I’m gonna marry her someday.”

At that, Atsumu’s competitive streak jolted awake. He felt himself sober up a little. Not if I marry her first, you little shit.

Bidding the trio goodbye with a bright grin, he turned around and strolled out of the stands. But he didn’t stop there. He stepped into the elevator and rode it straight down to ground level, sailed through the athlete’s entrance with a swipe of his card, and jogged his way to the side of your team bench, making it just in time to see you spike the setpoint past one of their player’s outstretched arms. 

It landed straight on the baseline.

The roar of the stadium scattered into hushed whispers. No one moved. “In,” Atsumu growled under his breath, tapping his feet against the floor. “In in in in in––” He clenched his hands into fists. If they don’t count that as in… 

Finally, the line judge pointed her arms down. The referee nodded.

And all around him, the crowd erupted into cheers.

As confetti fell from above and the Falkes’ victory song began to play, you ran from the court and into a celebratory team hug, screaming ecstatically in each other’s faces. Atsumu, beaming, ducked out of view, not wanting to steal that glorious feeling of a victory hard-earned from you or your teammates. But when the cheering died down, when the hug dispersed, when the television crews started slithering in your direction, he returned to his position behind the bench. And suddenly regretted all the decisions that had led him to that very spot.

Admittedly, Atsumu hadn’t considered the possibility that you wouldn’t want him at your game, but now, standing just metres away from you, he did. His hands suddenly felt very cold and equally moist.

As if on cue, your teary gaze landed on his figure. Your eyes were narrowed in what seemed like a warning. (Really, you were just trying to see better through your tears.)

Oh, no.

Atsumu spun around to make a run for it. At that moment, however, one of the coach’s assistants who’d been sent away to run an errand returned, barrelling through the same door he was heading towards. 

Colliding in a spectacularly embarrassing fashion, Atsumu’s sunglasses flew from his face and his hood blew off from the force of the impact. Disguise in tatters, he could only turn around sheepishly around his hands stretched out, palms up like a magician at the end of a trick.

“Surprise?”

Maybe it was the rush of victory still fresh in your bloodstream or maybe it was simply your brain going haywire, but with complete disregard for you and Atsumu’s original agreement, you ran towards him and leaped into his arms.

“Woah,” he wheezed, instinctively pulling you closer into his chest. “Was not expectin’ that.”

“You’re so stupid,” you murmured, nuzzling your face into his neck. “What are you up to, ‘Tsumu?”

“Unkerfufflin’ myself,” was all he said before gently setting you down. His eyes darted over to the place where Kevin and his gremlins had been and, when he realised that spotting them from here would be useless, lazily flapped a hand in their general direction.

“Some brat said he was gonna marry ya,” Atsumu explained after seeing your brows crease. “I felt I had the duty to save ya from that disaster.”

“By?”

Atsumu blanked. “Er, I, uh, hadn’t thought of that part, actually. I didn’t think you’d be happy to see me here, y’know, considerin’ our agreement and that look on yer face ya had earlie––”

Rolling your eyes, you yanked on his hood, bringing his lips down to yours. His arms snaked around your waist as he deepened the kiss–– he couldn’t help it, it was a knee-jerk reaction by now–– without so much as a second's consideration for the reporters that had swarmed around you like ants to honey. 

You pulled away just a few beats later, both breathless.

“What was that for?” he asked with his forehead pressed against yours. Despite being doused in the blinding flash of cameras and deafened by the barrage of questions shot in your direction, the two of you continued to speak as if you were in your own little world.

“You were about to word-vomit on camera and give Osamu a lifetime’s supply of blackmail,” you replied, giggling. “I thought I’d save you from that disaster.”

Hearing his words come out from your mouth, Atsumu’s eyes waned into little moons. “Consider me saved, doll.”

The noise around you grew louder. You sighed, knowing that the two of you would have a lot to deal with later. As if reading your mind, Atsumu intertwined your hands. I got you. And the unease receded. You’d figure it out together.

“Y/N! Y/N! Are you pregnant?”

“Y/N! Atsumu! When are you two getting married?”

“Can you tell us anything about that steamy kiss?!”

A shit-eating grin crawled onto Atsumu’s face as he grabbed the microphone from that last reporter. “Gladly,” he said, looking into the camera.

“How’s that for bein’ in yer way, Kevin?”

And for the next few hours that the world spent having a meltdown over Kevin’s identity, you and Atsumu remained blissfully tucked away in the comfort of your apartment, playing Mario Kart, baking celebratory cookies to the High School Musical soundtrack, falling asleep to the sound of each other’s heartbeats.

[movedyourchair505]

Imperituro

Alex is beautiful. That’s it. That’s the honeymoon. (sneaky collage feature of the man we all love rn who could legit play NN Alex in a movie)

- chapter navigation -

The wind was cool, the ocean air pleasantly refreshing, but even from where she was laid back in the centre of the deck, Jade could make out a sheeny layer on Alexander's skin, his hair damp, loose strands falling over his forehead every now and then, the wedding ring particularly noticeable somehow, reflective in the sun whenever he brought his hand up and raked his fingers through his hair, or gripped the steering wheel of the small motor yacht he had acquired for them in advance, Peitho, presented his boating license for which had come to a surprise even to his wife.

His linen shirt was fully unbuttoned, moving in the wind like the matching trousers, the white material a stark contrast to his tanned skin, the black ink and scars. A pair of aviator shades was sat on the bridge of his nose, the glasses tinted orange, the gold frame as reflective as his ring and his chain and she was unable to take her eyes off him, unsure when exactly he was looking right at her, when past her, her own hungry gaze obstructed by her own sunglasses. The sun was warm on her skin, the breeze as Alexander picked up the speed welcomed as it cooled over the oil, the sweat all over her body. She took a deep breath, had just closed her eyes to relax when she noticed him slowing, heard him before she could lift herself up to give him a look.

“Jade...”

He pushed his sunglasses up into his hair, squinted against the sun, but his eyes were fixated on her body, the way she was sprawled out flat on her back, the bright red string bikini that had not covered up much of her now completely discarded to the side. He was in no way surprised, appreciative if anything, reveled in the view she offered, especially with no one but him around to enjoy it.

Her lips curled into a smile as she caught his gaze, her heart skipping a beat as he slowly strode over once the boat had come to a complete stop. “Alexander...”

The corner of his lip twitched upward as he came to sit down next to her, his focus unshaken, his fingers itching to put his hands on her. “Made yehrself rehyt at 'ome, eh?” he drawled, licking his lips. “Dun't mind if I join yeh...” He cleared his throat, scratching at his chin. “I mean, I am the captain after all.”

She smiled, humming complacently, tilting her head to the side as she propped herself up onto her elbows to watch him closely.

“C'mon, darlin'...” He pursed his lips, his hand reaching to come down on her thigh, humming appreciatively when she shifted her legs apart for him. “Get up in me lap.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, slowly pushing her own sunglasses into her hair. Despite the ocean air, the rose-scented oil on her skin, she was instantly surrounded by the spice of him, the irresistible smell that was so uniquely her husband.

“C'mon...” he urged. “I kno' yeh can't 'elp yehrself.”

She knew exactly what he wanted, wanted him, but she also gagged for his appreciation and attention. “Alexander, what is it that you want?”

He swallowed, his skin stretching over his adam's apple prominently. “Jade, I kno' wha' yeh need.”

“I think I'd rather know what you need, baby...”

He pressed his lips together, his gaze never leaving hers. “Fookin'ell, yeh're 'ard work todeh...” His hand squeezed her thigh lightly, but he shifted to lower himself down the small step, slightly below her before she could respond, had in no time taken a hold of her thighs and pulled her down, earned himself a desperate whine the moment he got to work on her, could taste sweat and oil and the sweetness of her, instantly craving more, his grip tightening, nails digging into her skin.

She'd been dizzy from the sun, the glass of champagne she'd had with breakfast, but the demanding heat of his lips, relentlessness of his tongue had her writhing, hopelessly light-headed, aching to push her hips into the bliss he offered, as well as squirm from the intensity, but the moment she shook, attempted to move, his grip tightened further, one hand clamped down on her hip, the other reaching to squeeze her breast, then his fingers closed around her throat, in complete control of her body, the muscles of his arm tense. “A-Alexander...”

“Wha', darlin'?” he rasped against her, his voice vibrating against her wet skin, sucking on her clit, then covering her entirely with his lips, his tongue toying with her, leaving her breathless and unable to form a coherent sentence before he heard her voice, felt in shaky.

“I-It's so hot...” she whined.

He lifted his gaze up at her, met with her desperate gaze, as well as a gorgeous view of her body on display for him, under his absolute mercy. “D'yeh want meh t'stop?”

“N-No...” came her choked response, so close to her release, panic flickering in her eyes. “No, please...”

He lifted his head, licked his lips clean, his fingers instantly replacing his tongue as he came to climb over her, blocking the sun and she got the sinfully beautiful view of his face, enhanced only by the pleasure he evoked with the lazy strokes of his fingertips between her legs which spread further for him instantly, twitching upwards, desperate for more.

“Jade, I'm gunna 'ave yeh rehyt 'ere...” he announced, the intensity in his eyes merciless, wild with lust.

She couldn't help but admire the sharp edge of his jaw, the way everything about him was so effortlessly luxurious. She wanted to see it all. “B-Baby...” she whined as he shifted to discard of his trousers, though held her in place with his hand remaining around her throat, as well as his eyes pinning her down. “P-Please take this off...”

He cocked an eyebrow, his eye twitching, his chain hung loosely from his neck, his hair falling into his eyes. “Wha'?”

She nodded, begging him with her eyes, trying to push the shirt down his shoulders, dragging her hands over the muscle, the tattoos, the scars. “Yes, baby, you're so hot...”

A smile played around his lips and he sat up momentarily, shrugged out of the shirt before he was right there again, insistent on taking her breath away and she could hardly brace herself, his nails digging into his shoulder, eyes wide as his forehead rested against hers and he filled her, bucked up his hips to bury himself inside her, drunk on the sounds that fell from her lips as she clung to him, wrapped her legs around him to take him deeper, shook from the tight fit. “Y-Yes...”

His own breathing was heavy and he took a hold instantly of her wrists, left her with no leverage and no other choice but to take him, his lips attaching to her neck, desperate to add to the marks he'd already left on her with his hands, his lips, his teeth.

Her eyes fell shut despite the desperate urge to watch him, restricted by his large hands, her lips close to his ear as she whimpered each time he rolled his hips into hers hard, had her writhing beneath him, trying to meet his thrusts.

He slowed momentarily, smiling to himself about the way she tensed, took a breath and he stalled, built her anticipation before he bit down her neck, pushed all the way inside her again, his own breath shaken by the way she squeezed him, gushed around him, desperate to adjust, the way she relaxed when he filled her so heavenly it felt like somewhat of a fantasy, but the strangled moan of his name was beautifully tangible and nothing felt more real.

“Tha' it, doll?”

She nodded eagerly, her legs wound tighter around him desperately. “Y-Yes...” she cried, cold tears rolling down her warm cheeks.

“Mmmm, all mine...” he drawled in complete fascination of her, admiring her desperation. “Feel good, dunnit?”

“I need you,” she whined.

He chuckled, withdrawing his hips, unwinding her legs from around him, watching the pleading look widen her eyes, loved how badly she needed him. “Turn 'round for meh, doll...”

Jade swallowed, wanted nothing more than for him to get his way, have his way with her, but he looked irresistibly gorgeous, like it should have been forbidden for her to look at him, she refused. “Baby, no...”

He raised his eyebrows. “No?” he asked, an edge to his voice that had her tighten around nothing.

“I want to see you,” she whispered, ready to defy him, but she was practically salivating at the view of him, the way he'd looked above her, illuminated by the sun, all of him fully on display. “Please,” she added. “I'll ride you, get on my knees, anything...”

His obsession with how desperate she was for him prevailed over his irritation, her complete devotion to him leaving no room for a sense of punishment, he knew how devoted she was to him, but the fact that her eyes were on him so hungrily, he wondered if she could tell the attention unsettled him and he maintained the expressionlessness of his features, moving to sit and gesturing pointedly, seemingly unimpressed. “C'mon then.”

She needed no telling twice, climbed into his lap with ease, eager, one hand on his shoulder, the other at the back of his neck for leverage as she sank down on him, her hips shaking, despite the lack of surprise whining when his hand pushed down down on her thigh to force her down on him fully straight away, the other pressed flat to the small of her back to arch her into him, made the stretch burn blissfully.

The strangled moan so close to his ear had him drunk on her instantly, breathing her in, bending her body the way he liked as she started bouncing on him, though held herself back, the way she watched him offering the most exquisite view of her and he couldn't help but let her get what she want while drinking her in, the subtle shimmer of the oil dipping her body in a beautiful golden glow in the sun.

Her fingers were wound into his hair, his entire body tense when she pulled, then he relaxed, the tightness leaving his taunt muscles, his head shifting into her touch and she pulled again, couldn't get enough of the need on his face, the way his lips parted when she sank down on him, his eye twitching, his skin sheeny and beautiful, his chest heaving with breathlessness, the muscles in his neck tight, his collarbones prominent, jaw locked.

“'eeere she goes...”

The drawl of his voice, deep and guttural, shook her, had her sinking down on him further, wanting to feel more of him, though as much as he controlled her, she knew she'd struck a nerve, he was intensely aware of the fact that he held her full attention, could not possibly deny her what she wanted, but it wasn't just the way he filled her as possessively as she craved, wasn't who he was, she was looking right at him, right through him in a way he looked only at her. But she couldn't help herself, wanted to give him everything he gave her, working her hips faster into his, desperate to worship him. “Y-You're so hot, Alexander, f-fuck...”

“Jade,” he growled, his voice shaken with pleasure. He ached to take control of her. “I wanna fookin' ruin yeh...” His grip tightened on her, moving her.

“Oh my god...” she whined as he forced her down hard, reveled in the way he was unpredictable, uncontrollable when he lost himself in need. “Y-You do...”

He tutted, though couldn't quite hide how affected he was by the way she drew him in, her eyes desperate. “Let meh fook yeh rehyt, doll...” He bucked up his hips, almost let go then and there from the way she fell against him, cried his name. “Oh, sheh's close...” he taunted.

She clung to him, tried to keep the pace, but the pleasure was overwhelming her, the intensity of him taking over her body. “M-May I p-please...” she choked out helplessly.

He smoothed his hand up her back to arch her against him before his fingers came to close around her throat and he drew her back to look at her, a sunlit view of her face smooth and relaxed with overwhelming pleasure when she shook on his cock, the only leverage the way she squeezed him, was at his unconditional mercy as she let go and he instantly followed suit, his moan shaken by a breathy chuckle at the way she purred when he twitched inside her, filled her, knew she would have lost complete control of her posture had he not tightened his grip on her throat, amazed at the way she stared before her eyes rolled back into her head as he choked her, his ring pressed into her skin, her afterglow disrupted by another orgasm that made her tremble.

“Fooookin'ell, Jade...”

Her vision was a blur for a moment, her entire body tingling, the ocean rushing in her ear, the scent of it mixed with sweat and smoke and the sweet spice of the men that held her safely, his touch on her the only heightened sense and tangible for a moment, and she merely grew weaker when her eyes refocused and she saw the satisfied smile on his face, lifting her off him gently not to overwhelm her, but she wanted more, tried to steady herself on her knees when his hands cupped her face and he kissed her, the intensity of his lips urging, passionate, possessive and drawing back just before she would have run out of breath, staring up at him as he rose to his feet, brushed back his hair from his face and squinting up into the sun, stood in all his glory, shiny, sunkissed, toned, curved, sculpted flawlessly.

“Mio dio, I adore you...” she whispered.

His eyes widened, his head tilted to the side. “Darlin', c'mon...” he said, waving off the awe in her voice, though watching her closely as she came closer, crawled to him, lifted herself up shakily, her nails digging into his ass, grabbing a handful while her mouth enveloped him, licked him clean, lips wrapped tightly to suck around him, releasing him just before she could overwhelm him and he brushed her hair back lovingly before dragging her up and wrapping his arm around her to pull her close. “C'mon now...”

She blinked back at him, pressed herself closer, barely allowed a look at the softness in his eyes before he was kissing her again, forcing her lips apart in a breathless moan.

He was unable to contain himself, regretted now that he'd stopped her. “Fook, I can't get enouf of yeh,” he rasped as he drew back, the lust in her eyes irresistible. “Why dun't yeh get back down and I use yehr pretteh mouf until I'm readeh teh 'ave me way wif yeh...”

She needed no telling twice, sinking back down on her knees.

“Nice 'n slow though, doll,” he warned, stroking his fingers through her hair again, the deep drawl of his voice in contrast to the softness in his eyes, unable to conceal his own need for her. “Y'kno' yeh get greedeh...”

She stared up at him, licking her lips. “I love you, Alexander.”

He swallowed hard. “Fookin'ell, Jade...” His voice was trembling. “Pupa, ti adoro. Ti amo, amore mio.”

[samanthadalton]

So we meet again part 2

since a few of you guys wanted a part 2 i thought i would give it a go, hope you enjoy. I wanted to do a mix between past and present so i’ve stated which parts are the past etc also there’ll be a part 3 which will be the finale, I’ll write that soon 💜

pairings: Poppy x Bea 

taglist: @cloud9in @somewillwin @alleycat97 @baexpoppy @save-me-the-last-dance @helpconfusedpersonhere @dopeyouth @iamsimpforpoppy @alexlabhont @thedaft1 @veenast @cloakanddaggerthings 

wordcount: 3.4k 

slightly NSFW also there might be swearing, i can’t remember tbh (it’s like 2am rn im sorry) 

also part 1 is here in case you need a refresher💜

--------

Bea and Poppy roll around in the bed, playfully, as Bea peppers kisses all over Poppy’s body, while pressing her body into the mattress. 

“Bea that tickles.” 

“Really?” Bea removes her hands from Poppy’s wrists and begins tickling her sides. 

“Please..stop..” Poppy says in between giggles and huffs. Eventually Bea moves her hands and is met with a pillow smashing into her face. 

“OW!” Bea cries out, as she rubs her face, a hint of a smile ghosts on her face. 

“I told you I hate being tickled,” Poppy huffs, expertly hiding her smile as Bea continues rubbing her face. “I’m sorry. Want me to kiss it better?” Bea pouts, nodding her head as she inches forward puckering her lips. Poppy rolls her eyes, placing a chaste kiss on Bea’s lips and just as she pulls away, Bea crashes her lips back into hers, eliciting a moan from the strawberry blonde. 

“That’s a kiss,” Bea teases, in retort Poppy playfully shoves her before leaning against the headboard. Bea lays her head on the pillow, shifting her body to face her girlfriend. “Hey can I ask you something?” 

“You’ll ask even if I say no,” Poppy jests. 

Bea leans up on her elbows, her expression sobering, “look Pops, these last two months have been amazing but I want to take you out on a real date.” 

Poppy groans, “not this again Bea.” 

“Hey, hey, let me finish,” Bea says pleadingly, Poppy rubs her temples, her silence indicating for Bea to continue, “I like what we have right now, just chilling and making out and stuff but I want to take you out on a real date. Somewhere public where I can show you off and make random strangers jealous of me because I’m dating the prettiest girl ever. All of this sneaking around is just reminding me of college.” 

*Flashback* 

As Bea climbs through Poppy’s window, her leg gets caught  in the curtains and she tumbles onto the floor, as the items on Poppy’s desk, plummet to the ground. 

“God damn it Farmsville, why not alert the entire sorority of your presence?” 

“Geez, it was an accident,” Bea dusts herself off, before picking up the fallen items and placing them back. “So what the hell is so urgent that you have me in your room at 1am and why couldn’t I go through the front door?” 

“Ew, don’t say it like that.” Poppy scrunches her nose up in disgust, “it’s not like that.”

“So why am I here?” 

“You’re number 1 at Belvoire now, think of this as my final consultation before you officially become queen.” 

“I was named queen the second they gave me the award, and I certainly don’t need any advice you have to offer.” 

Poppy visibly becomes irritated, her face etches into a scowl, “remember that I ruled this school for 3 years, and judging by recent events like your little plight with Kingsley, you’ve already got some enemies. Remember heavy is the head that wears the crown.” 

Bea lets out a humourless laugh, “don’t worry I have a plan.” Poppy raises an eyebrow, intrigued, “I’ll do the opposite of everything you did. I won’t backstab my friends, I won’t be a bitch to everyone and I’ll treat everyone with kindness and respect.” 

“Don’t forget Hughes, it was exactly that kind of subterfuge that got you in my spot in the first place.” 

“No, it helped me get into the top 15 I’ll admit, but everything else was careful strategy and just being a decent human being. You would be surprised how many people were desperate for your reign of tyranny to end.”

Poppy huffs, “funny how you act like people hate me so much when they would do anything just for a fraction of my attention.” Poppy takes a step forward, a sneer expression on her face. 

Bea snorts, “get off your high horse.” 

“Eurgh no farm jokes.” 

“I- I’m not going to even comment. So is that all you wanted or was there something else?” 

“What else do you think I want?” 

“I thought this was going to be about what happened at the fountain.” Poppy freezes for a split second, a blush creeping up on her cheeks, her mouth hangs open but no words come out. “Oh come on Pops, don’t act like you haven’t thought about what happened at least once or twice over the summer,” Bea flashes a smug grin which seems to bring Poppy back to reality. 

“Please,” she scoffs, “you’re giving yourself too much credit, that kiss was mediocre at best.”  

Bea raises an eyebrow, “liar.” Bea takes a step forward, “That kiss was mind-blowingly good. So good that on the first day back at Belvoire, you needed to make up a dumb excuse for me to sneak up to your room at 1am.” Poppy presses her lips together in a thin line, her eyes carefully roam Bea’s, waiting. Without any hesitation, Bea places her hands on Poppy’s hips, pulling her close to her as she presses her lips against Poppy’s, desire instantly building between the two of them. 

Poppy feels her eyes rolling to the back of her head, as Bea peppers kisses on her neck, and has to stifle a moan when Bea runs her tongue over her jaw. 

“Bea…stop with the foreplay.” Poppy feels Bea’s lips quirk up against her neck, but Bea continues kissing her neck, only frustrating Poppy more. “God Farmsville,” Poppy growls, she pushes Bea away from her and pulls her towards her bed, before straddling her lap. 

“Taking charge?” 

“I always take charge,” Poppy retorts, her lips ghosting around Bea’s until she playfully bites Bea’s bottom lip before sucking on it. “But I’m feeling nice today,” Poppy runs her forefinger down Bea’s body, evoking goosebumps, “so maybe I’ll let you be in control, just this once.” 

“So you’re planning on doing this again?” Bea teases as her lips quirk up into a wide grin as she flips their positions, pushing the strawberry blonde deep into her mattress, already locked in a passionate embrace before Poppy can retort. Bea places her hands around Poppy’s wrists placing her above her head, her eyes piercing into Poppy’s as she does so, in an attempt to demonstrate her dominance. Just as she leans in for another kiss, a loud series of knocks breaks them apart. 

“Hey P, you up?” Veronica’s voice rings through the room. 

Poppy silently motions for Bea to leave as she erratically flaps her arms towards the window. Bea wordlessly runs to the window and just as she’s about to climb out Poppy whispers, “don’t tell anyone about this, now hurry up.” 

*Present* 

Poppy averts her gaze from Bea, a guilty look on her face, “I’m sorry but college was different. I wasn’t ready for the world to know about us, I mean I barely understood what I felt for you.” 

Bea stares at Poppy with a hopeful look in her eyes, “but now you do.” She takes one of Poppy’s hands in hers, “look there’s no expectation to be super fancy, we can do something lowkey, just so we get a feel of being out together in public.” 

Poppy sighs, “fine.” Bea’s face lights up and Poppy can’t help but feel the butterflies in her stomach, “so where were you thinking?”

“I was thinking we would go to my restaurant.” 

“Digne d'une reine? That’s kinda high maintenance no?” 

“No, I meant Farmsville. I think it’s time for you to see the restaurant which you inspired.” 

Poppy bites her bottom lip, unable to stop herself from smiling, “okay.” 

……

A few weeks later, Poppy and Bea finally find the time out of their busy schedules to have their first date. As Bea leads Poppy into the small diner, Poppy stands awkwardly to the side as Bea leads her into one of the booths in the back. Poppy’s gaze darts around the room, wondering why the restaurant is so busy on a Sunday evening. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” Bea calls out to Poppy who looks lost in her own thoughts. 

“Yeah, great,” Poppy gives her girlfriend a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, as she nervously darts her gaze around the room, feeling as if all eyes are of them. 

Bea senses Poppy’s discomfort and reaches over the table, taking Poppy’s hand in hers, “hey if you wanna go…” 

Poppy violently shakes her head no, “no, I said it’s fine Bea.” She pulls her hand out of Bea’s and sits in silence until the waitress approaches the table handing the girls’ a menu each. 

“Hey Bea,” the waitress flashes the girl a bright smile, as she stands with a notebook in her hand. 

“Hey Cecila, how’s it going today?” 

“Not bad, it’s been kinda busy, but we miss seeing your face around here.” 

Bea lets out a small chuckle, “Don’t worry I’ll be back next week for a bit. I’m just glad we have you looking out for this place here otherwise it would’ve gone down in flames, literally. Jerry would’ve accidentally set fire to the kitchen if it wasn’t for you.” 

The waitress lets out a boisterous laugh, causing Poppy to furrow her brows as she reaches over, possessively interlacing her hand with Bea’s. “Hmm, funny.” The women stop laughing and look over to see Poppy’s unimpressed face. Bea expertly hides her smirk as she realises what’s going on. 

“Cecila,” Bea clears her throat, “this is Poppy-” 

“The girlfriend,” Poppy interjects. 

Cecilia gives Poppy a bright smile, “I was wondering when I was going to meet you! Bea would not stop talking our ears off about you.” Cecile playfully pushes Bea shoulder with her hand, “and she told me you were gorgeous but you are even more beautiful in person.” 

“Thanks,” Poppy bluntly replies, twirling a strand of her hair. 

“Well I’ll come back in a few minutes so y’all can look over the menu in the meantime.” Cecile gives a polite smile before moving to the next table. Once she’s gone, Poppy slips her hand out of Bea’s, but just as she lets go, Bea grabs her wrist pulling it back, a wide grin plastered on her face. 

“You’re jealous,” she says matter of factly. 

Poppy scoffs, “I don’t do jealousy, shut up.” 

Bea smiles, clearly enjoying herself, “yeah you are.” Poppy stares daggers at Bea, a scowl appearing on her face, “you don’t have to worry, I don’t think Cecile’s husband and kid would appreciate her leaving them for me.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah, she’s super straight, and married.” 

“Oh,” a blush appears on Poppy’s face as she looks away embarrassed. The strawberry blonde pulls away her hand as Bea loosens her grip on her wrist. 

“This isn’t the first time you’ve been jealous.” 

Poppy raises an unimpressed eyebrow at her girlfriend, “what the hell are you talking about?” 

“Come on, the Christmas party? Don’t tell me you don’t tell me you don’t remember.” 

*Flashback*

As the months went on, Bea and Poppy would meet up a couple of times a week for casual sex. They had set some ground rules, they can only meet up in Poppy’s bedroom, no cuddling afterwards, Bea would either have to sneak out through Poppy’s window or through the back door of the sorority if everyone else was asleep, and  no feelings could be involved. Poppy had been adamant to Bea about how sex was only a release for her frustrations and for the girl not to read too much into it because it meant nothing. But the Christmas party was just the beginning of the lines starting to blur. 

Just as Bea enters the frat house, she takes in the spirited atmosphere of the party, the loud thumping bass music, drumming in her ears as she makes her way over to the drinks station, pouring a drink for her and Zoey. 

“It’s really loud!” Bea shouts over the music. 

“What?” Zoey replies, as she takes one of the cups from Bea’s hands. 

“What?” 

“Yeah totally. Hey I’ll catch up with you soon, there’s a super cute girl over there.” Zoey lumbers over to the other side of the room, leaving the girl on her own. For a while she mingles with a few different groups, an obligation for the queen of Belvoire, but when Veronica begins not so subtly flirting with Bea, she can’t help but flirt back, especially when Veronica looks this good. 

They standing in the corner of the living room, as Veronica begins whispering into Bea’s ear about the party and how idiotic the football team look while playing strip pong but when Poppy walks through the living room in a skin tight pink dress, all rational thoughts are thrown out of the window for Bea. 

As if she can feel the girl’s eyes on her, Poppy swings her hips slightly as she walks past, a glimmer of a smile of her face, as Bea’s eyes follow her until Veronica breaks her out of her reverie. 

“You okay?” 

Bea deftly glances at Poppy to see her casually talking with Chloe, paying no attention to her, “yeah I’m good. Dance with me?” She holds out her hand which Veronica accepts as Bea leads her into the makeshift dance floor. Veronica presses her body against Bea’s, her hips grinding into Bea’s front, Bea places her hands on Veronica’s hips, only enhancing the friction between them. 

Poppy looks over to see Bea and Veronica dancing together as feels a burning sensation in her chest, it wasn’t jealousy, she wouldn’t admit to that but she did not enjoy seeing Veronica rubbing herself all over Bea. She leaves the house pulling up Bea’s contact info and texting the girl to meet her in her room asap. 

“I’ll grab us some drinks.” Bea nods as Veronica stalks off towards the drinks table and when she feels her phone buzzing in her pocket, she pulls it out to see a bunch of messages from Poppy saying it’s an emergency. Bea makes her way to the door but Veronica steps in front of her, 2 cups in her hands. 

“Are you leaving?” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry I just have to be somewhere,” Bea darts out of the house, leaving an abandoned Veronica who stands near the front door, confused.

“What’s the emergency?” Bea pants as she runs into Poppy’s room, not bothering to knock, while Poppy is standing near the door and is almost rammed over by Bea. Without a word, Poppy pulls Bea in for a kiss, her hands eagerly hooking around Bea’s neck. 

“Hey, wait,” Bea pulls away, anger written in her face, “what the hell Pops, just stop for a second.” Bea slightly pushes the strawberry blonde back, as she looks down on her. 

“Just please Farmsville, no talking, just kiss me,” Poppy replies, her tone almost begging, almost. 

Bea hesitates slightly, she’s not used to seeing Poppy so desperate, but she gives in. Poppy kisses Bea with urgency, her tongue already tangling with Bea’s, as she moans softly into Bea’s mouth. Bea guides Poppy to the bed, still locked in a kiss as she runs her hands down Poppy’s body, before she moves her hands to her back and begins unzipping her. 

“In a hurry Farmsville?” 

“As sexy as you look in this dress, you look even hotter without it.” Poppy doesn’t say anything but she gives Bea a smile as Bea’s hands continue wandering all over her body. Bea’s fingers ghost around Poppy’s inner thigh, causing the strawberry blonde to squirm slightly, as her hips rise off the bed. 

“Hughes please,” captivated by her pleading, Bea gives her, her thumb begins circling around Poppy’s button as her fingers just tease her entrance. 

“Say my name,” Bea whispers in a low gruff voice and unhesitantly, Poppy moans out Bea’s name. Bea pumps her fingers into Poppy, as she kisses her intensely, even after she feels Poppy’s juices all over her fingers, she continues moving against her, letting her ride out her orgasm. Once Poppy slumps down on the bed, Bea places her fingers in her mouth, tasting Poppy’s desire before pulling the strawberry blonde in for one more kiss. Bea remembers the rules and slides off the bed looking for her clothes before Poppy’s soft voice calls out to her. 

“Stay.” 

“What?” 

“Did I stutter? Stay, it’s late so you might as well stay.” 

“That’s not in the rules.” 

Poppy becomes irritated as she frowns at Bea, “I was just trying to be nice but whatever, leave if you want.” 

Bea knits her eyebrows together, unsure of what to do but against her better instincts she slides back under the covers, while maintaining a safe and wide gap between her and Poppy. “Thanks,” she mumbles out as Poppy just hums in response. 

The atmosphere becomes dense with awkwardness, as they lay in the bed together, unfamiliar with this territory. It isn’t until Bea speaks out that the silence is broken. 

“Hey can I ask you something?” 

Poppy sighs heavily, “even if I say no you’ll still probably ask.” 

“Probably.” The girls slip back into silence until Bea turns on her side, facing the strawberry blonde. “Why did you pull me away from the party?” 

Poppy shrugs, “I was sexually frustrated and our agreement consists of us letting out those frustrations.” 

“But you seemed pretty okay to me, I mean I saw you talking with Chloe and then I was dancing with Veronica and-” Bea falls silent, realisation dawning on her. “You’re jealous.” 

“You know what, I changed my mind, get out.” 

“Come on, I was just dancing with Veronica, I wasn’t going to sleep with her.” 

Poppy glares at Bea as she narrows her eyes, “whatever. I don’t care what you do with her anyway.” 

“Sure.” 

The girls fall back into an awkward silence until Bea feels sleep creeping up on her. Just as she closes her eyes, she hears Poppy’s voice. 

“Bea, you awake?” 

“Hmm?” Bea humans quietly. 

“You awake?” Poppy whispers. 

“Yeah, I am,” she replies, fighting back a yawn, “what’s up?” 

“What do you wanna do once college is over?” 

Bea purses her lips in thought, “it’s kinda stupid, you’ll laugh.” 

“I probably will but tell me anyways.” 

Bea lets out a short laugh, “I've always wanted to own a restaurant.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah.” Bea turns over to face Poppy, she can only make out a few of her features in the dark, but she sees Poppy’s big brown doe eyes staring straight into hers, “I’ve found food as my comfort. My family loved to cook, and growing up on a farm meant we were surrounded by fresh ingredients everywhere. My mom actually taught me how to cook and I’ve been using them as guinea pigs to test out new recipes ever since.” Bea can see a smile appearing on Poppy’s face and can’t help but smile back as she reminisces about the past. “So what about you?” 

“My fate has already been written out for me. Take over the Min Sinclair business and rule the world basically.” 

“Is that it? You’ve never had any other dream?” Poppy shrugs. “Come on, there must be something.” 

Poppy sighs, “I like to draw.” 

“Really? Do you have anything you can show me?” 

“As if Farmsville, it’s private.” 

“Fine, it was worth a try.” 

The girls fall back into silence, only this time it isn’t awkward, it’s almost refreshing. After that night, their nights weren’t always physical, sometimes they would sit there and talk about everything and nothing, and they shared things even their closest friends didn’t even know about each other. 

*Present*

“I was not jealous.” 

“Fine, whatever you say.” 

As the date continues, Poppy visibly relaxes, enjoying the atmosphere of the restaurant as well as the company, as soon she forgets all her earlier doubts and begins truly enjoying herself as she laughs along to Bea’s stupid jokes while telling a few stories and jokes herself. Once Bea pays the bill, after fighting with Poppy for five minutes about wanting to be the perfect gentlewoman, Bea takes Poppy’s hand in hers and leads her to the exit of the restaurant. 

“I have a surprise for you.” She gestures to the huge blank wall at the entrance of Farmsville. “Surprise!” 

Poppy raises an eyebrow confused, “it’s a blank wall wow,” she says her voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“Well it is for now until,” she twists Poppy around, pulling her back to her front, as she whispers against her neck, “you work your magical artist skills and turn it into something beautiful.” 

Poppy gasps as she turns to face Bea, “wait you’re letting me paint it?” 

“Yep, even though you didn’t show me any of your work, I know you’ll do something amazing here, I’ll even pay you if you want.” 

Poppy shakes her head, pulling Bea in for a long kiss, “you’re the best you know that.” 

“Yeah I am pretty awesome.” Poppy grins pulling Bea in for another kiss.

[shoichee]

Omgomg, congratsss on 200!!! You deserve all of ittt💕 could I have 15 for akashi pleasee? Thank youu!!

HI ANONIE, I’m flattered that you think that I have 200 REEEE but it’s actually just a 100 milestone hahahaha;; hope you’re lurking around on my blog rn and sorry it took a while, but without further ado.... i present to you

Akashi x Reader

15. “Stop pretending you’re okay, cause I know you’re not”

Word Count: 2696

prompt list here

Note: we need more boku-akashi, i repeat, we need more SCARY AKASHI (SHAMELESS plug of another boku-akashi fic i did here)

»»—————　☼　—————««

Everything changed after that violent rainstorm that day.

You did not know what happened in Teiko’s gymnasium that practice, but no matter how much you try to probe Momoi, Murasakibara, and even Kuroko about it on separate occasions, none of them seemed willing to divulge anything to you. It seems like everyone suddenly became a different person in just a single day, and you are left completely in the dark, grasping for nothing and having no clue what to do.

“H-haha…” Momoi nervously stammered. “Honestly, I think it was just a really bad day for everyone… I’m just concerned for Dai-chan…” And with that, you remember her dashing away to the stairs to cut the conversation short. You wonder what she meant about Aomine.

“Hnn,” Murasakibara hummed dismissively. “Practice is just getting annoying.” He never said anything more, and his silence spoke louder than words to you as he stared down at you with his peripheral vision: “leave now.” And so you reluctantly leave, your mind swirling with even more questions than you had prior.

“Ah…” Kuroko said. “Mm, well, I worry for our team… is all, but please don’t worry about us too much, (y/n)-san.”

“Kuroko?” you called out, deciding to drop the topic seeing his slight discomfort.

“Yes?”

“Do you know where Seijuro is?”

He flickered his gaze to the floor for a quick second before he returned his eyes to you.

“... I don’t know.”

“That can’t be helped,” you reassured him. “I’ll look for him myself. Thanks, Kuroko!” As you ran outside to head towards the gym, Kuroko stretched out his arm in a feeble attempt to stop you, but his fingers barely grazed your hair and ended up clasping air as he watched you with dread at the inevitable harsh truth you were about to encounter.

After all, who had the heart to tell you that Akashi Seijuro wasn’t as he seemed this entire time?

Gasping for air as you creak the bulky doors open, you immediately notice the lack of lights turned on, with only the evening sunlight filtering through the foggy windows from the 2nd floor giving the gym its light source. Amidst the stretched shadows on the court, only Midorima stands alone with his basketballs, shooting constant half-court shots in complete silence. Akashi was nowhere to be found.

Noticing your presence, Midorima turns around irritated, ready to berate the offender who interrupted his practice before he registers that it was just you. He sighs and puts the basketballs back into their storage basket before he gives you his full attention.

“I’m assuming you are here for Akashi,” he says, pushing up his glasses that had been slowly sliding down his nose from the sweat.

“Yeah—”

“He’s not here, nanodayo. He already left a while ago. I’ve been given charge of locking up the gym for the night.”

“Is… that so?” you said, scratching the back of your neck. “Well… I guess it can’t be helped, right? So, aha… I’ll see you tomorrow practice then?” Midorima only gives you a firm nod before he turns around to start mopping up the gym floors. Not wanting to partake in the awkward, distant silence between the two of you, you promptly left the gym, taking extra care to close the doors quietly to not disturb the greenhead inside.

That was… odd, to say the least. Akashi has always waited for you to walk you home together. It wasn’t that he had to, but he’s always insisted on walking you out of concern for your safety and gently teasing you that he wanted to spend a little more time with you. It was simply a small custom you two shared over the year you were together. Even if he couldn’t make it, he would always let you know beforehand either personally or through calls and texts.

Your heart feels unbelievably heavy and you’re not quite sure why.

———

During times like these were when you really hated the fact that Akashi was in a different class than you. Your mind constantly drifts back to last night when you dialed him a few times to have a casual talk with him but received nothing but empty buzzes on his end. Figuring he was very busy, you decided to just go about your own schedules and send him a small text to him before you went to bed.

Seiji, I hope you’re not over-exerting yourself. I have many things to talk to you about, and I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Goodnight!

But that morning, you checked your phone to find that there wasn’t a single notification from him. Opening the messages, you blankly stared at “Seen.” underneath your last text. And it hurt.

Even now, you still feel that you’re overreacting and jumping to conclusions way too fast over something so trivial. But he’s always made a point to communicate with each other, and if he was too tired or if he wanted to be left alone, he would’ve told you clearly. You have no one to confide in about your turmoil; you weren’t very close with the other “Generation of Miracles” and no one else knows Akashi better than them. It wasn’t a huge deal at all, yet why do you feel so afraid of what’s to come?

Your heart feels unbelievably heavy and you’re denying the possible reasons why.

“(y/n)-cchi?” Kise noticed you walking to no particular destination. “What are you doing here?” When you tell him that you’re looking for Akashi, Kise gives a strained smile as he pats your head in an almost consoling manner. “Haven’t seen the captain since practice two days ago.”

“Two days ago? Kise, did you forget there was practice yesterday?”

“Had a photoshoot, couldn’t make it,” he shrugs. “Besides, it’s not like I’m gonna be punished if I choose to ditch anyways.”

“Ditch?”

“Yep~ as long as we win our games, he doesn’t have a problem.”

“That… can’t be right.”

“Who knows what he’s thinking?” he sighs. “Geez, but he can really be scary, I don’t know how you’re dating him.” Kise turns to the vending machine behind him to slot in two coins for a soda. “Do you want one too?”

“Um, it’s okay,” you said, more fixated on his previous words. “Seijuro isn’t scary… he isn’t like that.” Kise turns around to face you again with a can in his hand, and he sighs before he tousles his own hair.

“I guess you know him better than I do, so maybe he was just having a bad day,” he says. “If you’re still looking for him try one of the empty classrooms, I’m sure he’s off playing some shogi by himself or with Midorimacchi.”

So here you are, scouring the hallways for all the empty rooms on all the floors, trying to find the redhead. When you find Midorima walking towards your direction in the hallway instead, you briskly walk to him to intercept his path.

“Sorry to bother you, Midorima-san,” you hurriedly say. “I know it’s been annoying to hear this but…” You pause, and Midorima instantly knew what you were going to inquire about.

“He’s down the hall to your left. Take the stairs and go straight ahead.” When you thank him profusely and start to head off, Midorima is still watching you from where he was standing.

“(y/n)-san.” At the call of your name, you stop to turn back to face Midorima from the end of the hallway. “Your sign is at the lowest of the luck rankings according to the Oha Asa today. Your lucky item is a dictionary, but I can only advise you to be careful.” You only answer him with an exasperated smile at his antics before you continue on your way.

As you rush to the room Midorima described about, you think of how you are going to confront Akashi. Were you going to chastise him for yesterday? Give him the biggest hug? Pout at him about how you miss him? Ask about his day? You shake your head and decide to just focus on looking for him first before anything else.

You wonder why he was here in the secluded part of the building. Did he often come here prior to today? You take a deep breath and sigh in relief in seeing your boyfriend through the door.

Smiling, you let yourself in before closing the door wordlessly.

“Seiji—”

“I’ve been expecting you, (y/n).” You freeze at the sheer coldness of his voice. There he was, back to you as he languidly sat on a chair with a knee propped up. He continues to clink his shogi pieces around the board as if your presence didn’t warrant his full attention. But there was no mistaking that it was, in fact, Akashi. Only he would have his uniform blazer so free of wrinkles and stains.

“Seiji… what’s wrong?” You approach him worryingly, extending your hand to him as you walk closer. But as you reach within hand’s grasp, your gut is screaming for you to stop and turn back, to run far, far away and never look back. You ignore your body. You know you’re just being overly antsy and jumpy from recent overthinking. “You were nowhere to be found at all yesterday, and I just… was so worried—and you didn’t even reply to me at all!”

“Those things are unnecessary. The only thing that matters is victory. Surely you know this, (y/n)?” Your hand freezes and drops to your side. He drops his propped leg from his chair before he turns his head to the side to eye your shocked expression. “Why do you look at me as such?”

“Seijuro,” you whisper. “What’s… what’s gotten into you? What happened at practice that day? Everyone’s been acting weird, and I don’t know why!...”

He moves his gaze back to his shogi pieces and starts toying with the wooden chips. “That day was when I realized that I was absolutely naive and foolish. Order and absoluteness cannot be contested and questioned. The winners can never be denied… That has always been the policy of Teiko’s basketball team. I have realized that in order to accommodate this, I must become absolute and ensure that this team will continue to contribute to its legacy. I am certain the others must have come to this conclusion as well.”

“Seriously, Seijuro,” you plead. “Talk to me, if there’s something troubling you, from basketball to your personal life, I’ll be there for you… so please… please don’t be so cold to me.”

“Me? Akashi Seijuro troubled by such trivial matters? Your assumptions are arrogant but amusing nonetheless.” Akashi stands up from his chair, leaving his shogi pieces unattended on the desk. He slowly strolls to you, his eyes boring holes through you from the unnerving intensity they exuded. You slowly back up instinctively, until your back hits the door. Akashi stops to stand a few feet in front of you, but his eye contact continues to be relentless in intensity. “Though, I must admit, there is one thing I’ve been pondering about, so you are correct that I do have something in mind.”

“W-what is it?...” You don’t know what else to say. What do you say to a stranger who has the physical appearance of your boyfriend? Can someone change that much in just a single day? This Akashi Seijuro… was now only the empty shell of the Seijuro you knew and loved for some time.

“It seems that in my naivete, I had decided to date someone like you, but I wondered what would happen if I told you about all these inevitable changes I will bring to ensure absoluteness. I wonder if you’re even essential in helping future victories come to fruition.”

“What are you trying to say?...” you say, your voice slightly peaking at the end. You wring your hands together in anxiousness as you try to hold back volatile emotions from becoming apparent on your face. Akashi continues to observe you with an impassive poker face. “I don’t… I don’t understand!... I’m the ‘trouble’ that’s on your mind?...”

Your heart feels unbelievably heavy and you’re afraid of the possible reasons why.

“Seijuro,” you start sniffling, cursing your emotional dams for cracking so easily. “You’re always like this, shouldering all the burdens of being president, captain, and top student… you always told me not to worry, yet you always insist on helping me out… could you just… stop pretending you’re okay, cause I know you’re not!?” You end your sentence in a frustrated shout, cheeks feeling hotter as you feel more tears sliding down.

Akashi flinches at your words and parts his mouth in mild surprise, but soon enough, he returns to his composed self, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

“It is clear that we are both at an impasse. You do not agree with me, and that is fine. However, you are not necessary in what I need to achieve anyways. Keeping you around will only hold me back.”

“N-no… are you saying that…”

“From now on, we are strangers, (y/n). This is a farewell.”

“S-Seijuro, wait! You can’t just decide for the both of us like that!” You step forward and try to reach for him in desperation, but before you can react, Akashi slaps your hand away and stares down at your pitiful state.

“Do not touch me so casually,” he coldly says. “And do not address me like that ever again. Know your place.” With that, he holds his head high as he promptly exits the room without sparing you a glance, leaving you and his shogi set behind.

“S-S-eiji…” you softly wail. You sink your body into a squat as you struggle to hold back unadulterated tears with your arms. “Wh-why? Why? Why, why, why?...” Every moment, every memory you shared with Akashi within the past year was nullified in just a span of a few minutes. Your life feels shattered right before your eyes as you can feel its fragments slipping through your fingers still, and it hurts. It hurts so badly, and you don’t know how you can face the Generation of Miracles from this point on without breaking into sobs. They all reminded you of him too much. But you knew that if you avoided them, they wouldn’t care too much; after all, you only knew them through Akashi. Now that your connection to him was severed, there was truly no reason to speak with them anymore.

You sniffle and stand up after several more minutes of quiet agony, and you look over to the desk where Akashi’s shogi pieces are. You bite your lip, trying to stop the fresh tears from coming. You give a shuddering exhale before you stretch out your hand, hesitating before you gingerly pluck a piece off the shogi board. If you couldn’t salvage the broken pieces from your relationship, perhaps this piece can be a substitute for all those fragments. Thumbing through the woodwork, you can still feel the remnants of his warmth moments before. At least this way, you still have a piece of him with you, even if you know you can no longer be by his side anymore, much less talk to him.

You debate with yourself to try to confide about this with someone from the Generation of Miracles, but as your eyes spot them, you can’t help but notice the cold and distant gazes they embody, and it only reminds you of what Akashi has become. For the rest of your Teiko years, you dutifully avoid having as many interactions as you can with them, especially when Kuroko inquires about your relationship with Akashi on a few occasions.

The next time you would see Akashi in close proximity is when you decide to come to watch the Winter Cup finals with a classmate friend, who insists you to come watch once they hear that you used to attend Teiko.

When you lay eyes on him again, your heart feels unbelievably heavy once again, even more so with Akashi’s shogi piece sitting in the pocket of your uniform button-up shirt.

[gureishi]

OkAY SO HELLO AGAIN

my cat Tiko is EXTREMELY VOCAL to the point where he gets on my nerves almost every day. HES MEOWUNG HIS HEAD OFF RIGHT NOW LIKE BRO WTH I JUST GAVE YOU SOME ATTENTION

my mom's better at handling him than i am. im just way too easily irritated. AND LIKE he doesnt just!!! come over to me or my mom for attention! like bro you can just chill on my lap u know and i'll give u attention buT NOPE.

jdvdhsj okay sorry that turned into a mini rant

anyways sometimes i snap at him or even slam on the table (to make noise) to get him to be quiet (thats like, when im in school or trying to focus on hw, art, or writing -- or otherwise not in a position to get up and give him attention). doesnt always work lol... but i just get so frustrated. and i always feel bad but i honestly cant help it; i have a bit of a short fuse, at least when it comes to irritation (rather than anger). occasionally i pretend to through like, an eraser at him, but thats not as common.

so i guess im just wondering how saeyoung would react in those cases? especially the first ones. and i suppose this could get a lil angsty... i only say that because i can feel rn that i would probably feel so guilty for behaving that way in front of someone other than my mom.

it also has to do with that "getting stuck" thing. its hard to actually get up and move sometimes. AND IM ALSO A HUMAN WHO HAS THINgs to do and i cant always entertain Tiko just because he's bored or thinks something is wrong just because we've been sitting in one place for more than 2 hours and appearing to not do anything... smh

msvdjsbsj gosh this is probably so weird and specific lolol sorry 😅 but it is an almost daily thing for me.

and gosh this whole thing probably makes me sound like a monster 😭😭 if it means anything, i would never actually hurt him :(( and i never have in the 10 years we've had him. i just get frustrated so easily and his meow is very loud and sorta high pitched and piercing and persistent... sighh

[417]

You certainly do not sound like a monster! As I’ve told you, we are constantly whining at the dog because he is so very loud (and yes, we should train him better, and we’ve tried, but he is also anxious and my street is very chaotic 😭)

So anyway: I very much get it ❤️❤️❤️

Hmmmmmm what to call this...?

Saeyoung with an MC who gets annoyed at her loud cat

Everyone knows Saeyoung loves cats. What you also know, of course—and what he sometimes forgets—is that he doesn’t actually know anything about cats.

He is startled by the meowing, at first. He is fascinated with your cats: he thinks they are beautiful and charming and adorable and perfect in every way (much like you). He didn’t really expect them to be loud, though. 

His first instinct, of course, is to meow back. He has endless energy to play with the cats—after all, he hasn’t grown up with them, and he only sees the things that are exciting. And of course, they will end up in a long conversation, Saeyoung and the cat. Lots of meowing. Very vivacious meowing.

And look, if you’re in the right headspace for it, it’s pretty cute. He really just wants the cats to understand him. He wants to be their friends. (He wants to make sure he has their blessing to be with you, but that’s another story altogether.)

But if you’re not in the right headspace—you’re working, or writing, or drawing, and need some peace and quiet—it’s not so cute anymore.

It’s automatic: the cat meows, and you snap in response. You’re frustrated; you’re trying to focus, and the incessant noise pushes you over the edge.

And that startles Saeyoung, too. He’s never heard you snap like that before.

Immediately, you feel terrible—you’re hit with a huge wave of guilt. And it is double guilt, because he is here, and you love him, and you don’t want him to think badly of you. 

And you love your cat, of course. You didn’t mean to snap the way you did; you don’t want this beloved boy to think you are a horrible, cat-hating monster.

A moment ago, you rose out of your seat. Now, you sit back down slowly. You don’t really want to meet his eyes.

“Sorry,” you mutter. Your face feels hot. “I didn’t mean...”

He doesn’t say anything right away, and you can feel his eyes on you. You feel like you might cry. Oh, you think—he hates you now.

And the cat is meowing again, because of course he is.

“Hey.” Suddenly, Saeyoung is in front of you. He’s jumped up onto the table and pushed your work to the side—he’s peering down, trying to look in your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You put your face in your hands so you don’t have to look at him. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that,” you say into your hands. “Don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Gentle, rough fingers on your face—and he’s tilted your chin up so you can’t help but look him in the eye. Ah, and for a moment you are lost there, as you so often are: his gaze is soft, and bright, and intense—once you are looking, it is impossible to look away.

“It was loud,” he says. “I get it. But why are you...?”

He cups your cheeks in both hands. And he probably shouldn’t be sitting on the table, but—but—his hands are warm and he is looking down at you with such deep affection in his eyes. 

“I got frustrated,” you tell him. “But I didn’t want to—I shouldn’t—act that way in front of you.”

His eyes widen. You didn’t expect him to be surprised, but he is—and he is blushing, which seems strange.

“You were trying to—?” He shakes his head, like he doesn’t quite understand. “Okay. Here’s what you have to know.”

He is still holding your face. And this is fine—you could feel his hands on your cheeks forever and it wouldn’t be enough.

“I love you,” he says firmly. “You...know that part, right?”

You laugh—perhaps a little wetly. You do know.

“My love is not conditional,” he continues. You take a shaky breath. “I love you when you’re happy and energetic. I love you when you’re working hard and focusing. I love you when you’re sad and need comfort. I love you when you’re irritated, or frustrated, or angry,” he says.

It is a flood of words, and they wash over you like a rushing river. Your heart is racing.

“You don’t have to act any way around me,” he tells you. “That’s part of the deal.”

The cat is meowing again, but you hardly hear him. Absently, you reach over and pet him. Saeyoung grins.

“And you love your cats,” he adds. “And I know you’d never hurt them just because you’re upset.”

You nod. It’s true. You wouldn’t.

“C’mere?” he asks. He holds out his arms and—oh, he is still sitting on the table, but—you stand, falling into him, resting your head on his chest. He wraps both his arms around you and squeezes you tight.

“You know the same goes for you, right?” you mumble, your voice muffled by his t-shirt. He giggles at the way you sound and presses his lips to the very top of your head.

“No matter what?” he asks. 

“Of course.”

He meows.

Oh, and he is meowing at the cat again: back and forth, as if they are chatting about the weather.

“Saeyoung!” 

You pull back and he smiles apologetically. “Still love me?”

You roll your eyes. You pet the cat. You pet his head.

You do: of course you do. Unconditionally.

[evakuality]

Hanna, episode 9

1.  Hanna is such a sweet character.  Occasionally it’s easy to forget that, but even in the face of her own hurt and justifiable anger at Matteo and what he’s done, as soon as she realises he’s going through some shit, she not only doesn’t pursue her anger but asks Jonas to hug him for her and give him best wishes.  Honestly, I love her so so so much.  I don’t actually much recall the way this scene goes in Eva’s season, but Eva always felt tougher (? I think that’s what I mean?) somehow.  I mean, I know Hanna doesn’t let it lie forever (good for her!) but she has so much compassion in this particular moment.

2.  I adore that Hanna is wearing this ‘stronger together; shirt when she’s talking with Jule.  This is always such a great moment - the girls realising that actually they need to stop tearing each other up and actually place blame where it needs to go.  This scene with Jule is also much nicer/better than the previous one.  I really do think that’s because the stuff with Leonie was SO emotional that the Jule thing had no time to breathe.  But here it’s a) much longer and b) is given the space it deserves, and Hanna is being so proactive in such a positive way.  Love this for her.  Also, look at this gorgeous yellow surrounding this scene.  It’s so warm and calm and it calls back to those soft colours of the early season, but it’s so much stronger and brighter.  I like that we’re kind of getting a return to Hanna’s true self (if that’s even a thing) but it’s not so washed out and pale.  My girl is getting stronger.

3.  Hanna and Jonas.  Awkwaaarrrrddddd.  But also this hallway/stairway they meet in is so cool.  I love how many different textures this place has.  Also, it’s a bit.... hmmmm.  I don’t know, it feel so artificial the way they are giving us this information about Matteo’s family.  It could arguably have come out (the stuff about his mother anyway) more organically earlier in the season.  It’s good to know, but the execution isn’t the best.  I do like the bit with Sam and Jonas.  I mean, not ‘like’ as in approve, but like as in I like the way it’s executed.  This is so real for this age, and it really felt like it could be genuine.  I also really really like how Hanna’s immediate reaction is to try to settle Jonas, to give him the same attention she used to, and how natural that also feels.  But of course, he’s still in pain and so it doesn’t work.  But it does show just how well connected they were - and lends weight to what Hanna was saying about how she has genuine feelings for Jonas.  It wasn’t just about stealing a boyfriend.  I really do like the way these clips bleed into each other, bits from one informing what comes into another.

4.  I do like these little girl squad moments.  And while Kiki really does get on my nerves, it’s nice that they are all thinking about and concerned about her.  It’s nice when they support each other.  Still.  She still really hasn’t grown up, and is still chasing that whole popularity thing at any cost.  She’s at risk of losing genuine friends, and of seriously damaging her health.  But we know that, and it sucks what’s going to be coming for her.  

5.  Ahh, the karaoke is so much fun!!  I really really do love this whole bit.  It reminds me of ho0w much fun we used to have doing it.  Though I was never good enough at singing or confident (or drunk!) enough to do it by myself, so full kudos to everyone here who did it.

6.  The thing with Matteo is also super well done.  The acting here, from both of them, is really great.  Her voice changes when she asks if he’s better and when she says he’s trustworthy you can see on his face that he knows that she’s caught him before she even has to say anything.  This is always a moment I like in these scenes - when the Isak character is so close to the verge of admitting that he likes the Jonas character, and the Eva character goes in an entirely wrong direction.  And it is really well done here.  His little face when he realises she hasn’t got it, and the absolute irritation in her voice when she says that’s no reason to be doing all this fucked up shit.  I’ve seen people saying they don’t like the way Matteo is acted in this season, but it’s very much consistent with how he develops later, particularly given the changes in his life situation rn.  It’s a lot in the face and the body language, and I guess again because Matteo is subtly different to Isak you might see that as ‘bad’ but I really like it.  I like that they’re two different characters who happen to go through a similar life path (and I did go over that at length in this series of posts starting here).  The acting really has been great this season imo.  Even when it was finding its feet early on, Hanna always resonated and rang true and it’s still true here.  And the really nice thing is, you can see here that they are and have been good friends.  So when she tells him she misses him in s3, you can believe it.  You can see it here, how upsetting this is for her.  

7.  I’d forgotten just how much is in this clip.  It’s roughly half of the entire episode!  And oh.  Kiki.  Again, I think the acting is so superb, from all of them.  But Lea infuses so much into Kiki, that as irritating and hard headed and just plain horrible as she can be sometimes, you can’t help but feel so much for her.  This moment is awful.  You can feel how lost and unhappy she is, and while the other characters are bemused (Amira’s face when she grabs the mic is amazing), I can’t help but feel so sad for her.  I also find the way Druck moves PoVs occasionally to be a strange choice.  But it does allow us to get this little insight into Mia before we’re with her fulltime (and ick.  Alex needs to learn boundaries and back off - how does he even have her number?  Do we find that out?  I don’t remember).  

8.  The whole thing with Hanna and Jonas is so painful, from the wistful looks between the two of them, to the scene together and how that all plays out, and I really like that the way it’s shot is so awkward and just a bit ‘off.  The fact that Jonas is singing a Matteo song (to Matteo, no less), and then ends up singing it to Hanna.   Then they’re not properly framed in the shot at the end, and it almost feels designed to make it uncomfortable.  They clearly have a great connection, but at the same time nothing has been talked about and so everything is just subtly ‘wrong’ and that’s why this whole bit works for me.  It’s all off, kind of difficult to parse, and leaves the episode in this place where things are not really right.  They’re not right with Mia and Kiki and they’re certainly not right with Hanna and Jonas.  

This is such a difficult episode in so many ways.  You can see why it’s called ‘crashes’ - so many things are crashing down for so many people.  So much is packed into this last clip too, that it must have been really intense when it aired.  And so we’re close to the end - one to go.  Which is a bit sad because I really really am going to miss this revisit of Hanna.  I’d forgotten just how much I love her because it’s been far too long since I watched her.

[m0e-ru]

eight months in somebody actually asked me abt visualive instead of me immediately annoying ppl about it without former notice. I might actually write properly for once 😳😳😳

OK OK!!!!! In this essay I will.... I will.... Visualive Adachi.... Visu/BURSTS INTO TEARS/

OKAY OKAY for real I just care Visualive so much (as someone who can’t fully understand Japanese AHAHA)

First I’ll add some foundation about what Visualive really is, then I talk abt Adachi in the latter parts of it because this is technically the first time I’m properly talking about this hehe 🐿

T....table of contents???

Visualive

Visualive the Evolution

Masami Itou

Visualive Adachi

Visualive the Evolution Adachi

Terms and Legend

VL - Visualive

VLE - Visualive the Evolution

stage - shortened for “stageplay”

面白い - omoshiroi (it’s just that specific)

Yuuya - VL Hero name

Hayato - VLE Hero name

Baba - Hero

Masami - Adachi

Taniguchi - Dojima

Saotome - Daisuke

Mamiya - Izanami

I add honorifics but sometimes I forget the hyphen intentionally or unintentionally I’m sorry if it makes it hard to read lol

all links have automatic timestamps for easy viewing. i mean. i hope the timestamps work

VISUALIVE “Persona 4.” A stage adaptation of SMT: Persona 4 by Atlus. It adapts the first part of the story, from the hero’s arrival to after recovering Mitsuo Kubo from the TV world. It also ends on a cliff hanger, showing a teaser of Shadow Naoto being projected on the screen.

It takes up a speedy recapitulation of the hero’s spring life, before slowing down and showing in depth his school life in summer. A day before Morooka-sensei’s death, there is a little skit with Kou, Daisuke and Adachi. The hero walks into the conversation before the two other boys leaving, and Morooka-sensei walking in on the student and detective. The next day follow’s the teacher’s death and the Investigation Team (IT) begin investigating their new lead.

From the words “visual” and “alive,” the niche of this stage was meant to be the fusion of live acting and visual digital projections. All seen from the stageplay with the colorful cast of actors and CG animations being projected on the screen. This offers an opportunity for characters to summon their personas, perform cool visual effects, change the backdrop, or even confront their own Shadows.

Performed in Sunshine Theater from the 15th to the 20th of March 2012. The screenplay was written and directed by Shintaro Asanuma from the theatrical group “bpm.” The video production produced by Shutaro Oku, a film director and visual planner. He later takes over as director for VISUALIVE THE EVOLUTION, the sequel stage. The stage music was produced by Shunsuke Wada, with a special show exclusive vocal track sung by Shihoko Hirata.

On this note, I haven’t seen any sort of original soundtrack released for any of the stages and I’m SO SAD. The last song in Mitsuo’s boss fight was such a BANGER and literally EVERYTHING ELSE Marvelous, Wadasan please take my MONEY

Regarding the cast, there were some special accommodations for Teddie, Rise, and Nanako, all of which did not have live actors at the time. During the casting, actors for the three characters could not be found or simply left the directors unsatisfied they couldn’t cast anybody. An exception for Rise, who was able to have a live actor in the sequel stage. It has been stated that there weren’t any “pretty boy” actors that fit the “Teddie Criteria.” While there weren’t any child actors that were believed to portray Nanako well.

Teddie was only ever seen in his bear costume while Rise was busy talking through a call, all voiced by their video game cast. Nanako has never appeared on stage, only being scarcely mentioned in the script. Again, this is different in the sequel stage where her role was extremely important and was shown as a screen projection.

VISUALIVE “Persona 4” THE EVOLUTION. A sequel stage. Beginning abruptly in the middle of Shadow Naoto’s boss fight, the story continues from there until the “true end” of the game’s original story. *Certain characters are introduced while others have been reintroduced. And on a personal note, when it’s all comedic in the beginning, it’s all for what’s coming right after.

I don’t know if I’m salty or just find it really funny AHAHA I might go talk abt it some other day with more context ehehe

Performed in The Galaxy Theater from the 3rd to the 9th of October 2012, only a few months after the PSVITA Persona 4 Golden release, which is July 2012. The screenplay was now written by Jun Kumagi while directed by Shutaro Oku. And music production finally taken over by Shoji Meguro himself.

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HAHAHA this is starting to look like a wiki page. moving on. I might start rambling rn

(warning LONG !!!! aaa,,)

My thoughts on the stage adaptations. For the first Visualive (VL) I believe it’s pretty close to canon! I enjoy the characterization and how much love and care was present when handling the entire production.

Actors were busy playing the game itself, wherein a PS2 was present in the practice room. Along with magazines and game guides explaining the game’s story and the characters itself. Actors performing together and even improv acting together to get a grasp of their characters. All of them knowing well of Persona 4 as a well loved game, delicately handling their characters and hopefully performing them right while making the audience happy.

The staff taking care of each other while the director and video producer, Asanuma-san and Oku-san, working together well to make their vision into a reality.

The same thing happened with VL the Evolution (VLE) and literally every other good stage. Except... I feel the script kinda got out of hand with too much liberty where it feels a bit more disconnected from canon. But! It makes up for it in its content, whether comedic or (INCREDIBLY) dramatic! It’s great as its own story at that point. So in this case, I like to take the first VL and get to connect it canon, while I don’t know what the hell happened in VLE to the point I’ll just enjoy it as its own content.

These opinions deserve its own essay, post whatever bc I have SO much to say abt this. ANYWAY. VL ADACHI

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Tohru Adachi is portrayed by Masami Itou (伊藤マサミ), a screenplay writer, director and an stage actor himself. He does have a single character voice role along with a fellow troupe member in the same franchise, but mostly works as the former three. He is part of Asanuma-san’s entertainment group “bpm.” On a similar note, Masashi Taniguchi, Dojima’s actor, was also part of their group from 2011 to 2016, which may explain their good synergy as the boss and the bumbling fool dynamic. I mean, somebody’s gotta get hit in the head every few skits.

With Masami-san being an important part of the cast, he doesn’t appear as often as Taniguchi-san in backstage content like the VL bonus disk or the official blog. Mentioned in his own personal blog, he had been busy with his roles as assistant director (I am assuming also for VL).

Also fun to note, because his role is mainly comic relief, he has been using his liberty to change up the material almost everyday making each performance exciting. This also leaves some other actors jealous of his freedom in his role, such as Saotome-san, Daisuke’s actor.

---

VL Adachi really has a... how do I say this? an adorable speech pattern (THE SAME SPEECH PATTERN THAT DROVE ME MAD TRYING TO DECIPHER I THOUGHT YOU WERE A CITY BOY OSSU OSSU MY ASS /shakes you violently/). Overall, he really fits the loose lipped bumbling fool, and his accent really makes him seem more casual and invested. What I’m saying is... VL Adachi either actually has genuine empathy or he actually has more energy to fake it (compared to some other edgelord. i mean you saw my p4ga analysis. I’m sick of him lol ahaha).

One of my favorite ways to explain this (OTHER THAN CHAIR CAR ADVENTURE MY BELOVED WE’LL GET TO THAT LATER) is the rice field scene with him and Dojima. It’s overanalyzation time 🎉

(43:04)

While investigating, Adachi whines about being tired while Dojima smacks him in the head. In this case, it’s established that Adachi doesn’t want to be there, yes? It’s the country, it’s hot and it smells like green.

"Ah... Dojima-san..! Why don't we take a break? (...) There really is nothing out here... Is the criminal still even here at all? (...) I wonder if I've passed being a rookie yet. Haha, but this city doesn't even have convenient transportation. I can't go to leisure lands (recreation, amusement parks, arcades, ect.) and head home at all."

Adachi then tries to tell Dojima a story. “when I got to this city after being newly assigned, I met an interesting guy (...) Yeah, I remember that the cherry blossoms haven't bloomed yet. So, I was driving my car and got near the station and--” Dojima gets a phone call.

Adachi politely puts his hands down waiting for his boss to finish so he can finish the story. Again and again, Adachi attempts to talk to Dojima about a story he’s so persistent trying to tell someone about. It was so 面白い that he would find someone to talk to about it. Even being polite and patient enough to wait for a chance to speak. He even gets fed up with it and blows up in front of his boss, clearly irritated he’s not given a chance to talk.

Sure, it could be Adachi feeling fed up like a normal person where someone agreed he to listen to him, before being constantly ignored. Or Adachi trying to be a more annoying whiny brat, depending on where you look at it.

If the story wasn’t too “interesting” to Adachi, he would’ve just brushed it off and stopped talking to Dojima entirely, or start up new small talk, or even complain some more. But no, he had a story he wanted to voice out so bad that he got irritated that the one person in the vicinity couldn’t listen to him.

Only after Dojima told him to continue their investigation elsewhere did Adachi finally stop and focus on something else. Maybe that story was for another day, or maybe it was never meant to be told.

What if it was just original (game) Adachi? He’d find a way to squirrel out of the investigation as usual, or push Dojima to “investigate” elsewhere. “Hey boss, don’t you think it’s hot? Why don’t we go elsewhere? We’ve seen this place too many times to count and I doubt anything new’ll turn up. How about we take a break at Junes, y’know? Where it’s cool? C’mon boss,” something like that.

og Adachi is just really annoying and silly to me. Some grown man thinking he can freeload because he never gets anything out of putting in more energy and effort? I don’t care how tall he is, I will smack him in the head.

Yeah VL Adachi whines, too, but at least it doesn’t look like he’s going to escape and waste his time somewhere else. He just sucks it up stops trying to leave the situation.

Or maybe I’m getting this all wrong and VL is exactly the same and my rage just gets dampened because of Masamisan’s execution of character hmm...

SO. What was his story about anyway? The one he really wanted to share to Dojima?

I mean... it’s obvious enough

First day in town? Spring? Actually mentioned driving a car when literally out of every single persona 4 media at the time was there not a SINGLE mention of Adachi having a car OTHER THAN the same stageplay it’s being mentioned in?

A story, from somewhere around uhh four? five months ago? was something that he remembered so dearly and was willing to share despite it obviously embarrassing him even if he puts the blame on a certain somebody in the same story?

Or maybe it’s because he really had nothing to talk about ever since he realized all his stories from the city weren’t actually that funny or interesting in the first place.

BUT then that would mean out of all the things he could talk about—more whining, complaining, complimenting, small talk—he insisted about talking about this story in particular.

Okay, look. I’m just. Just. As someone who talks too much, of course I have things I actually want people to hear out of all the bullshit that comes out of my mouth. And if the thing I actually want people to listen to doesn’t even get heard, I’d go mad.

Sure, Adachi’d be fine when his complaints or intentionally unfunny jokes get brushed off. But a story of a guy that he thought was so funny, interesting, 面白い gets ignored, he really blew up, even just for a split second, maybe.

And ALL the things that happened in that story—on his first day in Inaba! His car got dented, he had to deal with a weirdo dumbass employee that knew zero personal space, yelled in his ear, who didn’t know how to do their job, got his station reputation messed up on the first day, got his ass grabbed, got (unintentionally?) mocked for his lame stories, and got his car dented for the SECOND time. Probably MORE

And he STILL wanted to talk about it /punches through concrete wall/

yes I’m overthinking about this of course i am

This little tidbit of VL Adachi kinda makes me go insane sometimes—his entire characterization in VL in particular. It was really refreshing to see and how they included both of his characters in it, his facade and how irritated he is of a lot of things underneath. And how flexible his character is immediately working with other characters when there’s sudden improv to balance the situation. Like him and Dojima, Morooka, the attendant, or even Yuuya (hero) himself.

I’ll take Taniguchi-san’s messing around in the VL bonus backstage disc in place of Masami-san being so busy he couldn’t appear in it as often as other characters.

For stagetime that lasted for fifteen minutes or less, my appreciation for VL Adachi, even if he was just comic relief, really rocketed. I say VL, bc Adachi the edgelord he’s supposed to be in literally every other media is something I analyze separately.

I haven’t even gotten to VLE oh my GODDDDD

Like I said, I don’t really regard VLE close to canon but as something to be appreciated for what it is by itself. But the way Adachi was characterized there, in or out of character, still struck me.

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Yes, there was his strange fan-agreed-canon which is,,, now canon obsession with cabbages (not that that’s a bad thing lmao). There was also him being a lot more jumpy and intimate in a clowny way, patting people on the shoulder or even downright hugging them just to mess around. Even FORGETTING who the same goddam loser who grabbed his ass almost a year ago is. But like, can’t blame him they literally changed their actor (and screenplay writer) AHAHAHA

ha... no more comedy, only dorky sword fights now

(speaking of sword fights I think it’s a fun thought how Mamiya-san [Izanami, also one of the youngest in the cast] admitted it was his first time doing sword fight choreography and even thanked Masami-san and other staff members for guiding him)

One thing unintentionally in character was Adachi accidentally nabbing the sushi overdosed in wasabi. Masami-san didn’t actually account for a joke sushi and didn’t immediately eat it—until Taniguchi-san (who also made Dojima go off his shits compared to VL) jokingly yelled at him and even riled up the audience for him to eat it. He even went off stage to get water just for him to eat the goddam sushi.

And Masami-san did! (kinda choked, but he’s fine).

Continuing from the same scene, while being overly giddy about sushi dinner (and I mean overly--he was singing about it while hopping to the Dojima residence), he tried to remind the two, Dojima and Hayato (hero), that Nanako was sleeping. Probably where she was sick if the scene was translated from the game.

(30:07)

And... the dramatic parts of VLE

Adachi was the one who reported to the IT that Dojima was chasing Namatame in the rain. While Naoto was discussing Namatame’s journal entries, Adachi, as giddy as he is, took it from Naoto’s hands and reveled in the discovery of evidence so childishly(?). He even ran to Dojima when he began regaining consciousness and immediately called the nurses to help him wheel Dojima to the ER.

Then, The Hospital Scene™️, right after Nanako flatlines.

(1:02:02)

Adachi, who recently walked into the scene, immediately worries about Dojima and IT who were ALL crying. He looks down, devastated—before yelling how Dojima’s heading to Namatame’s room.

He yells in terror and the same grief at his injured boss, all while running past and even jumping over children, who fell to the ground sobbing, to get to him. He continues yelling in a pained fashion while immediately reprimanding Dojima to stop. He gets carried by the collar before being tossed to the ground at Hayato’s feet, all while being pat by the same boy.

Dojima makes his speech about how unfair it is for the ‘killer’ to be alive when his daughter isn’t. When he finally falls to his knees, Adachi rises from the ground, humbly saying he’ll do his best to take care of Dojima (or something like that I’m in tears I literally can’t do VLE’s hospital scene i h8 this). He finally starts crying along with everyone else, being pushed away again but still tries again, trying to usher his boss away from the door.

With the help of the guard in front of the door, they all disappear off stage

please... I know this scene doesn’t need that much translation because of how important this scene is in the entire story. and I know my narratives aren’t enough so just,,,, just watch it please it’s so much more than this. everyone’s acting was just spectacular

(1:08:47)

So, after the IT (YOSUKE. JUST YOSUKE. good job Mae-chan) stop themselves from k wording Namatame, it was ADACHI who reported Nanako’s miracle recovery. He ran to the same corridor where they all cried in, even panting and falling to the ground in relief trying to report the good news. Then he pats Hayato on the shoulder and says he’s going to Dojima.

With this... /slaps roof of half of VLE/ ALL of this....adachi.... adachisan.... he Cares™️..... holy shit.....

now. comparing to the game. do you even remember what og Adachi did? did he.. even do anything?????

(56:39)

NO!!! he just stood there!!!! being a bumbling fool but.... inappropriately!!! man. he didn’t act concerned enough.

adachi: /walks into a bunch of kids crying outside a hospital room/ “lmao why tf are y’all crying? did uhhh what’s her face uhhh nanako. did she d word or something? rip, I guess lol” LIKE????? CAN YOU IMPLY FASTER

and then he’s like “wgat hmm Where’s Dojima-san Heading Because That’s Not The Way To His Room 🤔” and only when he’s asked he actually mentions he’s heading to Namatame’s room and still needs to get choked by a first year for the room number like..... zero consideration

and his boss??? where his daughter he loves so much just??? di*s???? and he’s so devastated he’s doing what he can that very moment while he’s so numbed of thinking of the consequences???? And adachi goes “uhh boss that’s illegal” LIKE. BITCH. /punches through a concrete wall but harder/

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And??? His confrontation scene??? Like, I know they mashed it up w his tv confession scene to save stagetime for other scenes BUT IT WAS SO MMBMBMBMMGN /gestures in a good way/

(1:15:56)

UM?? guy behind everything??? in a vulnerable area where he could easily get physically assaulted bc hes not in the tv world w his persona?? Trash talks women like he absolute misogynist he is??? getting yelled at by a bunch of kids and YELLING BACK IN THE SAME AGITATED MANNER even TAUNTING THEM then and there to GET HIS ASS?????

og Adachi was such a pussy he got caught and just scurried off into the TV world where he ended up having powers like...ok....scared of getting beat down by a bunch of highschoolers unless you have powers...ok....

he only taunted them to get him when he was in the tv world too.....he rlly couldn’t say shit in the real world huh... lol

(yeah yeah this shows how VLE Adachi knew abt his TV world powers which would make you think if he ever went into the tv world and came back out alive. Or he’s really just a badass who doesnt give a shit abt anyone’s opinions and CAN beat anyone’s ass. i have a separate thing abt this but bc i like to laught at vle rather than overthink its own lore i might. not. idk lol)

and ??? VLE Adachi can??? He can swordfight??? he doesn’t even NEED a gun—he even reflects bullets w his blade (but apparently he can still get slapped by a flying fan more often than any other attack). His fight choreo was just...so poggers. He’s like short villains done good—like??? he’s short compared to everyone else!!! but he makes up for it for stuffing all the energy inside him while is bursts out making him him the over energetic gremlin he is!!! go VL adachi!!!!

(am I low key making fun of Madono-san in the TUUSH stageplay I’ve seen four minutes of? maybe)

OK!!! Yes I was gushing abt Masami-san again back to Adachi.

It’s portrayed that while not being afraid to admit his crimes, he also goes out of his way to be a bastard and have the gall to get a bunch of kids to fight him, one on eight. He can use a katana, probably a narrative dark reflection of the hero, Hayato which I thought was nice—and he can fight!!! It also shows his persona, yes, but...it doesn’t make it clear if he’s overwhelmed by his Shadow like in the game, where his eyes were yellow and he was emitting a dark aura.

But it gets interesting how he sees he’s getting overwhelmed and starting to lose his edge towards a bunch of kids. He falls to the ground even banging the floor like a whiny brat while literally the IT tries to tell him to turn himself in. Again, like a brat he tells everyone to shut up—before getting incapacitated. While some of the IT rejoice, he bolts up unaccepting of his defeat—before getting hit in the stomach.

(1:23:54)

And his words from when he drops his katana, “Why..?” He grabs the foldable chair against his stomach, and with a remorseful look in his eyes, he says “I’m sorry..!”

THEN HE BACKFLIPS—then Hayato slashes him.

In a tone of disbelief, he goes “no way...” and collapses to the ground, being possessed by Ame-no-Sagiri.

Blah blah blah then Teddie rockets himself into the eyeball spy cam and then they both explode aaaaa

Teddie survives but I really don’t know where Adachi went. Not even a mention by Dojima if he turned himself in or was ever found—or I need to review VLE for the 48274827482nd time hehe

WHOO then the whole cast appears for the dance number at the end of show YAHOO