#UR MIND IS SO GRAND YES

[muirneach]

not to grieve the life unlived over the stupidest things BUT… i wish i was into tennis during wimbledon 2023 i would kill to see the carlitos djokovic match in real time. like are you kidding meeee my all time fave guy vs my all time hated guy? in arguably the most important tournament of the sport? a FIVE HOUR GAME?? and carlos won making him one of the youngest winners and retaining the number one player spot and and and? dudeeeeee…. yeah carlitos is gonna win more slams but the first is always the most special to watch, especially after a game as crazy as that. i cant believe i got into this like half a year too late damn….

[cutieln4]

Kiss and Makeup | LN4 smau

lando norris x reader

summary: you are lando norris's makeup artist

fc: isabela merced

yourusername added to their story

caption: my face after waking up at 4 am to do ppl’s makeup

yourusername

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yourusername my life recently

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yourbsf you’re GLOWING babe

mclaren check DMs!

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caption: New stuff coming soon🤭

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user1 oh wow he's so handsome

user2 OMG IM SO HAPPY

user3 YAY NEW LANDO CONTENT

mclaren

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mclaren Some new bags have been released with our partnership with Tumi, check them out below!

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user1 he's so—HJQHSJCHJW

user2 wow😋

user3 i want to bite him

user4 I NEED HIM SO BAD

user5 anything you say sweetheart😍

user6 #needthat

user7 i'll cook and clean the dishes just one chance plsss

yourusername

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yourusername it was nice doing something else! thanks for having me! @/mclaren

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yourbsf remember me when you're famous😔

user1 IM SO JEALOUS

mclaren thanks for joining us!

user2 how does one get this job

landonorris thanks for letting me look at all ur powders!

yourusername haha ofc, anytime!

user3 OMG LANDO COMMENTED

user4 lando commented what does this meannnnnnn

landonorris

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landonorris gearing up for the next race

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user1 P1 i see the vision

user2 i love that helmet

magui_corceiro good luck!

user3 letsssgoo

yourusername good luck!

landonorris thank you! ;)

user4 🤨

user5 ?????

yourusername

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yourusername anyway i also have a life

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yourbsf body is tea tho

yourbsf GORGEOUS

user1 face card never declines

user2 i fear you are serving

landonorris pretty

yourusername thank you😊

user3 OHHHHH

user4 RIZZ?????

user5 oh to have lando norris call me pretty

user6 guys is this the start of something new?

user7 alright chill out zac efron

GQ

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GQ Racing, gaming, and padel, hear all about Lando Norris in his interview here

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user1 WOWZA

user2 another photoshoot? please tell me y/n was his makeup artist

user3 ZOO WEE MAMA🥵

user4 lando has been feeding us lately

user5 i can't handle this anymore

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caption: bros messing up the makeup😐

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user1 IM SO JEALOUS

user2 soooo are yall dating or what?

landonorris oops?

landonorris

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landonorris that's more like it

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user1 LANDO NORRIS 2X GRAND PRIX WINNER

user2 absolute domination today

user3 congrats!!

yourusername invite me next time?

landonorris yes ma'am🫡

user4 WHAT DOES THIS MEANNNNN

user5 im sick of them

maxfewtrell put a shirt on mate

user6 no we don't mind😊

yourusername

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yourusername who is this diva????

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user1 HELP I LOVE HER

user2 my b pose is naaastyyy

user3 he's so handsome

landonorris it's not too late to delete

yourusername but what fun is that???

user4 🚢🚢🚢

user5 so so jealous

user6 is she just like his permanent makeup artist now lol?

yourusername yeah he kidnapped me

landonorris for legal reasons this is a joke😑

user7 OMG

tumitravel

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tumitravel Lando Norris for TUMI

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user1 ok i'll buy the bag

user2 does lando come with the bag???

user3 yn is one lucky girl

user4 love how y'all just assume their dating

user3 well yes

user5 HOLY MOLY

yourusername wow whoever did his makeup must be really good

landonorris meh shes okay

user6 stop i love them

lando.jpg

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user1 HELP WHOS CAT IS THAT

user2 who u making heart pizza with??🤨

user3 if i say what i wanna say they'll silence me

user3 they're so dating

user4 🤫

yourusername aw cute cat

landonorris thx :)

user5 let me just sit back and observe

user6 yesss lando.jpg revival finally

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user1 where ya going?🙂

yourbsf gonna miss u when ur in singapore :(

user2 y'all so cute idec if you're dating or not

landonorris

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landonorris sing a pore

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user1 bruh

user2 hard launch on live tv goes crazy

user3 bro's just gonna ignore that EVERYONE saw that kiss

yourusername you can't keep a secret to save your life

landonorris oops🤭

yourusername you're lucky ur cute

user4 CONFIRMATION YES

user5 WAR IS OVER

user6 I WAS HERE

user7 okay but that was so fricking cute

yourusername

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yourusername muppet🙄

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user1 HELP

landonorris i said i was sorry pls

landonorris sorry again😁😁😁

landonorris where did you get these photos

user2 nahh that's crazy

user3 okay now i'm definitely jealous

user4 this is literally a wattpad story like wdym she's his makeup artist and now they're dating???

yourbsf i'd like to thank beyoncé

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[amourcheol]

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

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“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. 

[norrisainz33]

New Girl Pt. 2 || GR63

☆ summary: george has a new nonfamous partner who the fans absolutely adore

☆ pairing: george russell x nonfamous!reader

☆ fc & warnings: none

☆ requested: had a few people ask for a part 2 on this one so here it is!!

part 1 here

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

mercedesamgf1 has posted a video

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, georgerussell63, yourbff and 154,234 others

mercedesamgf1: asking george all of your questions ahead of the singapore grand prix!

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user1: the way his face lights up at the mention of y/n 😭

user2: no the way he respects her privacy is so wholesome

user3: georgie is the whole package i’m sick

user4: admin you are a real one for asking about y/n

mercedesamgf1: 🤭

user5: wait i think he’s hinting about y/n getting social media

user6: omg ur so right he def is

user7: he’s clearly so in love with her i’m so jealous

user8: god i see what you have done for others!!!!!

user9: y/n is just a girl and i love it

georgerussell63 has posted to his story

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user8: she’s so pretty what the heck

landonorris: you bringing her to padel or what ?

georgerussell63: how many times are you going to ask to hang out with MY girlfriend

landonorris: dude she’s awesome and i wanna be her friend tf

georgerussell63: she said she’ll come play with us 🙄

lilymhe: GORGEOUS VIEW. i’m taking her out next

georgerussell63: double date?

lilymhe: um no , solo date just me and y/n

user10: boyfriend george is unlike any other

user13: ok lover boy

user14: ahhhh she really is in singapore with you omg

user15: we stan our unbothered and not chronically online queen

georgerussell63 has made a post

liked by mercedesamgf1, landonorris, alex_albon, oscarpiastri, lewishamilton, yourbff, and 564,364 others

georgerussell63: when in singapore!

[tagged: landonorris, alex_albon, ynuser]

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user12: he’s so fine

user5: 🚨🚨 HE TAGGED Y/N 🚨🚨

user6: LOSING MY MIND OVER THIS

user14: THE QUEEN HAS ARRIVED

mercedesamgf1: obligatory padel post!

landonorris: you forogt to post the part where y/n and i beat you and alex

ynuser: yeah georgie where was the acknowledgement huh?

maxverstappen1: oh i like her already @.georgerussell63

alex_albon: i have no idea what you guys are talking about

georgerussell63: my bad everyone. yes, it’s true - lando and y/n did beat alex and i in padel

alex_albon: @.georgerussell63 noooo why’d you sell us out like that

user16: i wanna take a bite out of his thigh

user23: i hope singapore treats you well george

ynuser has posted to their story

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user7: a working gal ok i see you y/n

yourbff: great first story y/n/n

ynuser: thanks bestie ,, just wait till you see my first post

yourbff: i’m glad you’re finally leaving the stone ages and joining us on social media 🤍

ynuser: lmfao you know i hate attention like this

yourbff: then you fell in love with the wrong man 😂😂

ynuser: i did not - he’s perfect!! i just have to get used to it. working on ‘coming out of my shell’ as they say 🫠

yourbff: you and your shy self are perfect the way you are!!

georgerussell63: yes you are doing it right my gorgeous girl

ynuser: thank you 🥹

ynuser: also your fans are quick i never thought id be perceived like this on the internet 🫣

georgerussell63: hahah yeah they are. i’m sorry if it’s overwhelming darling

ynuser: seems it comes with the territory!! alexandra and lily been giving me some tips so don’t worry about me

georgerussell63: glad you have them!! don’t let the fame go to your head 😉

ynuser: HA i am not famous please don’t say that 😭

landonorris: oh some quality content

ynuser: thanks lando

mercedesamgf1: welcome to instagram y/n! looking forward to seeing you in singapore!

ynuser: wow thanks mercedes!

user8: you are so normal and i absolutely love it

user10: you’re giving all us fans hope

ynuser has posted to their story

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user10: stop you making bracelets and handing them out was the cutest thing i’ve ever seen

user11: you might be my favorite wag to ever exist ,, what do you mean you made bracelets to trade 😭

georgerussell63: blimey you are so adorable

ynuser: so are you!!

georgerussell63: how did i get so lucky?

ynuser: georgie 🥹 im the lucky one

georgerussell63: i’m definitely the lucky one. you’ve changed my life in the best way possible

ynuser: brb sobbing

yourbff: i’m so jealous of your life girl

ynuser: it might all be a dream idk

yourbff: nooo stop

user27: you being so shy and timid yet still taking the time to hand out bracelets with the girlies is true peoples princess behavior

landonorris: thanks for the bracelet! i think it brought me some luck

ynuser: gotta bring george some luck next 😭

mercedesamgf1: it’s such a pleasure having you in the paddock 🤍

ynuser: thanks for looking after me admin 🤍

user12: thanks for being so sweet to me and my friend this weekend!! never change y/n!!

ynuser has made a post

liked by mercedesamgf1, alexandrasaintmleux, georgerussell63, yourbff, lilymhe, iamrebeccad, and 7,234 others

ynuser: life recently can be summed up in one word.. surreal

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yourbff: absolutely fire first post tho i should have been in it

ynuser: next one you will be dw

user8: the queen has posted everyone stay calm and collected in this comment section

user11: where is that dress from i’m crying it’s so pretty

ynuser: would you believe me if i said tjmaxx?

user11: truly the most iconic answer you could have ever given

user7: you are the blueprint

georgerussell63: your beauty is surreal

ynuser: george russell you are everything

alexandrasaintmleux: stunning 🤍

ynuser: 🤍

user26: starting a y/n fan club as we speak! like this comment to join

user26: NOT GEORGE LIKING HAHAH

user27: thank you for giving us nonfamous shy girlies hope y/n 😭

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated. have a few works in progress that i’m hoping to get out this week. appreciate all of your support 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[chlmtsdoll]

omg i kinda need a fic of babysugar!reader getting corrupted by patrick alone bcs their tension is js amazing 😩 like yes pls tease her more when art and tashi is away…. god knows what happen

Loveddd writing that tension in nothing without you omg ur so right anon. What could happen when mean Patrick gets poor reader all alone ? Hmmm…

౨ৎ warnings: 18 + smut, p in v (unprotected sex), oral (m reviving), degradation kink, manipulation and heavy corruption, teasing, mentions of Art and Tashi throughout, short reader (size kink 🎀)

You begged Art and Tashi every day prior to the tennis awards ceremony to let you be their plus one for the night even if it was just once. You’d never got to get as pretty as you did for them to the outer public all too often, when you had really been just their own little secret for when the cameras were away and the couple was safe at home.

So you should of known better that you, their adorned little sugar baby, would be left alone for the night — but fortunately, with the keys to their estate in New Rochelle.

Having the place all to yourself was a apart of the allowance the couple gave you when they had to attend to press conferences or tournaments they had limited space to bring you along. And you never complained when the grounds of their beautiful mansion was left to you to do anything you wanted or absolutely nothing for however long they’d be gone.

And with the silence that coursed through the place — most girls your age with the privilege would throw parties or call up friends to fuck up the gorgeous abode. But not you. You’d stay put on the couch, being as pleasant as ever. Never making a mess, and only ever watching movies if you weren’t studying for upcoming midterms.

You were so good for Art and Tashi, so much to you’d almost forgotten the words of ‘left a little surprise for you on the guest bed.. just for when we get back.” Art mentioned to you with a dotting wink and smirk to what could be waiting for you before fixing his tie to run out with his wife. Even the thought of those little gestures of how they’d spoil you, come home to play with their perfect girl, seeing you all dolled up waiting for them at home made you flustered to your core even in the empty house.

You’d been ready to run upstairs just to see what it was Art had left for you — but that being just before there was a disturbance brought to the front door.

When you got up and tucked your feet into your slippers before minding to get it, you undid all the locks on the grand door. Letting the breeze in with a swing, your eyes went wide too quickly when the brunette with a menacing grin that stood beyond you looked up from his cracked phone to eye you down just outside the doorway.

Patrick stood in the cold of the night and you couldn’t have pushed to shut the door any faster.

“Hey, hey ! What the fuck is your problem.. ?” He spat as his hand rejected the way you attempted to shut him out without even a pitch, his grip beating yours on instant as he pushed the door open wide enough for him to invite himself inside aways.

You closed your eyes with a sigh of annoyance. One thing you did know is to avoid the daring man at all cost. Weather with Art and Tashi around, or when it was just the two of you — Patrick was a man of way too many words. Always teasing, picking on you like a sworn bully just because he could. Because it was amusing to him to try and snip on the pigtails of the pretty, much younger and energetic play thing his best friends kept around. And with you being just too full of admiration of the couple and anyone who was a friend of theirs — it just stained your poor little heart what the patronizing man put you through. To have to despise his presence.

“Why are you here ?” You spoke with furrowed eyebrows, voice timid and more serious as you tried to hide behind the front door, towering you, he made his way through the floor like he owned it, letting his denim jacket slip from his arms.

“What ? The couple leave you to color or whatever you do here alone ?” He scoffed, grin on his face mocking your fuzzy cardigan you kept on your shoulders to trying making you feel small for your shorter size as always. Although There was always an obvious flirtation to his teasing — the two sidedness of Patrick being mean as way to get girls just like you to do whatever he pleased always confused you. It was alarming. Like he’d want you to feel cornered and vulnerable so he could have his true way.

However he wanted.

“Awards ceremony. Why are you here?” You repeated yourself again and shutting the door with a lock, before you turned to face Patrick already making himself as comfortable as he pleased.

“For grown up stuff, baby doll. You wouldn’t get it.” He totally means trying to hang out with Art and Tashi, or bug them to hang out with him. “You really here by yourself?”

You nodded a bit and took in the darker haired man walking towards the living area. “Yes… and I don’t need a babysitter. They aren’t here so you’re welcomed to go.”

Patrick chuckled a bit as he looked down at you over his shoulder. “Do you ever relax ? I mean, fuck... Why don’t you.. sit with me. Keep company ? Just till they get back- - I know you don’t actually wanna be all alone, do you ?”

You folded your arms, tough pout forming on your lips. You just knew how this would go by now. How it always went.

Patrick would lure you an excuse just so he could try and have a go at what Art and Tashi got from you. Which was a complete different story the man who knew nothing of boundaries had no business being apart of. But it was just in Patricks nature to have what he couldn’t. The treat you are for them. Gorgeous and full of youthful energy after big games — Tashi had you give her husband the most dutiful back massage, an intimate time that would end up with you on your back some where in the echoing mansion, as the blonde got to fuck the purest moans out of you.

And all Patrick did was yearn for that use of you. It was what he devotedly wanted behind all his gimmicks. “No thanks.” You settled for with a moment of building courage to just say that to the man. You knew he’d have some words to spew back in defense regardless.

He chuckled. “Why so tense? A movie or two won’t hurt you.. or are you just scared I’ll bite?” You notice his hand along with his words, patting his thigh once he sat leaning against the cushioned seat to send a beacon call your way, and you just batted your eyes away.

“I have better things to do.”

“Bullshit. You just want to run off and what..?” His eyes scan your figure, he chuckled. “Touch yourself till Art and Tashi get back?” The man began and with a flustered heat rising to your face, you made a putrid expression of disgust before turning away from him without another word to say, your hair swung behind you as you muttered how ignorant the brunette was and he sat pleased with himself there in the living room behind you. Your ears couldn’t even endure anymore of his objectification. And you didn’t bother shooting a text to Art and Tashi that Patrick had stopped by for whatever reason because they’d surely be knee deep in talking with tabloids and press at this hour.

So, as a way to have as little interaction with the man as you could — you continued up the stairs to the near guest room where your small but lovely left gift from Art was waiting. With a little sideways smile returning to your expression, you shut the door softly behind you so the man downstairs didn’t bother. Your fingers laced through the silky bow holding it all together. This fabricated box you unraveled to reveal the new pretty edition to your wardrobe of wondrous pieces the couple spoiled you with.

A set of lingerie all dainty you were sure you’d be quite at home in for the next couple of days just for Art to toy with, only then sharing the way your heavenly hips would fit it with his wife.

Your grin spread at just the thought of their hands on you. Praising and cooing like the sheer temptress you were. A soft “oh.. you’re getting special treatment.” softly purred through your lips as you took in the lace garment and immediately shed off your comfy clothes.

You knew how much the couple valued their privacy and especially when it came to you. Their perfect little secret for behind all the cameras and sports media. Your body ? Their choice. It was part of the agreement you made when you came into their lives to be their after match sugar baby. And you did honor and respect that in every way — but as your painted finger tips taped against your phone in thought, it crossed your mind that a few pictures in the tiny panties couldn’t hurt if you kept them to yourself.

So in just a few moments you were on the bed. Only the light colored patches of fabric over your nipples covering you up, thong stretched thin across your ass and garter strap ruffling around your thigh felt nice and familiar. You felt your prettiest like this — dolled up and with the expectation to please the star couple whenever they got home.

You reached across the bed where you left your phone and that’s when you opened up your camera app. You let your body do the natural work it’s used to — posing for your own revealing string of teasing selfies. One’s you used to take for random guys before Tashi had you be ready for a face time at any moment while they were away and you couldn’t tag along, demanding you spread your legs and show her husband what he’d get to have after a grand slam. (If he made one) thanks to you he always did.

You were placing your phone at vigorous angels as you switched poses with a sugary smile being the only detail of your face in the photo. Too unfortunate your sweet doe eyes wouldn’t make the cut. You glide your fingers with pink painted tips innocently against your bottom lip as you turned your smile into a naughty little grin soon enough to the light of the camera. You couldn’t help but let your playfulness shine through, even in the set that was simply too tiny for a good reason.

You were having a bit of fun with yourself really. And your body is one to be confident in, feeling like the adorned little thing you were — that was until your phone was being dropped automatically the second you heard “holy shit” being croaked from the door frame.

Patrick was grinning like an idiot as he watched your now mortified expression turn bashful quick. You stashed yourself underneath a corner of the covers, “Patrick- what the hell !?” He’d already been laughing as he let himself fully in the bedroom while you’d been quietly cursing to yourself with a palm to your brow. Frustrated and guilty already, you avoided making eye contact with Patrick in preparation for the week you were about to have of him miking this to patronize you.

“So you were feeling naughty, huh ?” He chuckled and one of his hands go from his jean pocket to scratch against his untamed beard that framed his haughty smirk. He inched over to were you’d gone completely flustered beneath the comforter. “Get out. Just- please..” you huffed although your voice was only as fragile as it usually was around the brooding man, you dropped your head along with your expression in shame and he only grinned a little wider.

Patrick stared at you with that smile before he made a grab and snatched up your phone before you could even jump to stop him. “Let me just take a quick check of how pretty you look before they’re turned in to Tashi and Art.” his thumb casually scroll through your exposing photos as you yelped for him to quit it, and he only kept you at a distance much too easily from his taller height.

“Give it! Patrick! It’s not funny- -” you whined as you ran in circles around the brunette and attempted countlessly to leap for your phone, but Patrick laughed on as he held it up where you just couldn’t get your legs to reach.

“Fuck I can’t wait to see the look on their faces when they see their perfect little princess sneaking in nudes...”

You already had tears building in your ducts. You just knew that if Art and Tashi found out you weren’t faithful to their promises, being careless especially around such a careless man — and letting your spite lead your decisions of keeping what they gave you just between them. It could all be over in an instant. They couldn’t know what you’ve done. How poorly you acted without thinking.

You finally give up on your fight with Patrick that had really been you flailing arms at your phone as he tosses it between his hands so you couldn’t grab it. He messed with you like a toy. Patrick lived to play cat and mouse, and you’d fallen right into the trap.

“Patrick, please. Don’t do this… those pictures can’t be shown to anyone. I need my phone.” You sniff as you looked up at the dark haired man with watery eyes and he stiffed finally as did you. Course, tight grip of your phone in his larger hand. You watched as his green orbs now ran over your state — vulnerable in the pink lace that he was absolutely not supposed to be seeing you in right now.

Nearly every inch of your skin was on display, tits sitting too pretty, and the way the lines of the lingerie lined your hips, made the corners of his lips curve into a snarky grin.

You were asking him, just once, not to be an asshole.

And with a low tone, he was bound to respond like an asshole.

“I kinda like it when you beg.” The man was looking at you with eyes of the pure hunger and all you could do was close your own in defeat as you sighed.

“You really are afraid of them finding out, aren’t you?”

You nodded with your lip between your teeth. “They can’t.. you can’t tell them. This never happened, Pat. Please.”

You softly echoed again, throwing in calling him by half his name just to keep your chances sweet that he would eventually comply. The man chuckled as his eyes trailed off for just a fine moment before his expression got serious.

“So say I didn’t. If I didn’t… what’s in it for me?”

You swallowed hard. Bating your eyelashes in a moment of contemplation on what he could perhaps want from you. You hadn’t thought this far — and you didn’t have a clue.

“I- um- ..well- - what do you want?” You peered up at the man again, and this time, his stupid smirk had once again been making a comeback.

He eyed you. Your flower covered bra, with just a tiny bow in the middle. Then you again. Then of course, back down to where your smooth hidden cunt had been behind the fabric of your panties. Till his eyes finally land back on you again with a idiotic kind of smile.

You had to take a minute to wrap your head around it all. His wordless declaration until your eyebrows knitted with uproarious fear when it clicked.

“No.” You uttered.

“Well.. yeah.”

“No. Patrick… anything else- -” you pleaded as you began to sniff again and the man cut you off.

Patrick stepped a little closer to you, your pouty expression followed his gaze as you anxiously toyed with your hair and he slowly examined your frame again.

“You want these pictures to stay between you and me, right ? You don’t want your precious sugar mommy and daddy to find out about you slutting around the house when they’re away. It would make them so upset with you if they found out….” He made his tone sympathetic and only a little less poisonous, you nodded as you folded your arms timidly. “Then you’ll do what you have to do so they don’t know… yeah ?”

You nodded and listened up to his rant of your own mistakes. He caught you at a draw. The man’s green met your gaze even when he narrowed to read your doubtful head and wondering little eyes at how much you’d just been desperate to be seen as good for them. Tilting his head some, you stepped back as he stepped forward.

“I know what you want.” Patrick rose his hand to let a finger slide underneath the strap of your bra. Your wide eyes looked up at his dark curls to match his pupils. Tongue darted out to lick at his lips, he knew you’d innocently be oblivious to his hunger stride. All you could do was let him pull the strap down your shoulder just as slow as he talked.

“Good girls have to do what’s right for everyone. And I know your a good girl.” His voice grew softer, but lustful as he was now far beyond in your space.

You syncing up with his overall musk of pine scented cologne, cigarettes and numerous college girls he’d pick up in bars lingering off his sent.

You did know how dangerously he could lead, and you didn’t need to find yourself in any more trouble at last — yet something in the way the heat from his body had been melting into your senses, how his eyes made you feel like an intoxicated prey. And hands that were roaming your little figure that made you feel obligated to return in his favors.

You looked at Patrick as he leaned forward to your level only to whisper at your ear. You felt shivers like electricity from his next words.

“So get on your knees and be good for me.”

Patrick pulled away as he’d been close enough for his lips linger over your exposed skin, you trembled from just his teasing hands on your waist and voice too much for you to escape.

You eyed the floor where your feet landed, a little quiver in your throat — but a kind of lustrous flutter now taking over instead. And like that, you had been gradually lowering yourself down on both of your knees.

The man still standing above you showed his teeth with his next sideways grin, watching your hair spill back as you craned your neck to gaze up at him through your lashes.

“How do you want me?” You question, voice sweet as it always was while you’d been at such a naughty view for the brunette. He had chuckled with a little groan as he looked over your angelic grace in the garment you’d been in, all with eyes wide and not one thought behind them of knowing of all he harsh ways he could treat you.

“That set is- - something else on you, pretty girl… why don’t you suck my cock in it, hm?” with calculated intentions behind all his cooing, Patrick had already taking a swift of your hair into a nice ponytail and your eyes went trailing to the fly of his pants before you, hands shakily going to where they were intended.

You could feel the brunette’s hooded eyes on you as you began unzipping the fly, fingers tug at the hem of his boxers like you’d been too scared to touch, not ready for what’s beneath. “C’mon, don’t be shy..” his tone almost haunting. He knew he’d had you practically on strings and you did comply, taking them down just enough so his cock had been on display, hard and getting harder by the second, you stared — a little whimper escaped your tightening throat at the way his tip rose with the width of your eyes.

You glance up at Patrick’s face again, diplomat expression taking over suddenly. “You swear… none of it leaves this room?”

The man scanned the door way briefly before returning your gaze with a prideful smile. “It dies at the door.”

You breathed deeply before your hands were bracing the back of Patrick’s thighs. Knees with no cushion, already pained from the floor boards — the smooth skin of your lips were being pressed to Patrick’s thick member, leaving just one kitten lick on his reddened tip before your mouth was full of it. The brunette watched you with lips agape as he slipped your phone into his back pocket and used his other to swoop up your loose locks.

Your mouth had hallowed on his cock as you began sucking on him with as much as you could take — with how full he’d been in you orally, light moans echoing in your throat, his tip hit the back of you and Patrick cursed. “That’s it, baby doll. Nice and slow,” he watched as your lips ran up and down his foreskin, coating him in your saliva as you whimpered through your wet sucking.

Your head bobbed on him, and the man let out low groans of his own as his head let back at your heavenly warmth around him. As you looked up at him, the way he reacted to your work was enough for you to think just when you thought you’d distracted him with your pleasures, your fingers were gliding from his thighs to his back pocket. Reaching for where he stuck your phone, but your wrist was abruptly stopped and the man made a ‘tskk’ sound as he removed your hand. “Nice try angel.. I wouldn’t do that again.” He muttered before taking matters into his own hands and pumping his cock down you throat at a rougher pace. You whined helplessly and adjusted yourself so you’d sat on your own feet beneath him.

Patrick had let out a deep moan as he fucked into your more than perfect little mouth that was stuttering on just how much you needed him to keep your dirty secrets. And you, all wanting nothing to do with him earlier — now had tears streaming down your face as you whimpered and gagged on his cock. Stroke after stroke had your finger nails digging into the man’s jeans, his eyebrows hitched with his breath as he observe your teary eyes and wide mouth taking him,

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.. you’re gonna make me cum.” The man grunted as you moaned and he pulled you off his dick with a knotted grip on your hair just in time as you coughed vigorously.

Wiping your puffy lips with a sniffle and eyes welled up with tears as you narrowed with a cry, Patrick grinned while he’d already been jerking his cock, “you’re doing so well for me. Now open up..” his voice husked as he pumped his throbbing cock through his orgasm, letting his tip rest on your tongue the second your mouth was wide enough to let ropes of his cum spill on to.

You didn’t feel the cleanliness, and maybe that didn’t matter, because as Patrick had been cooing praises to you while he released on your tongue, you soon realized you’d been sitting with a wet puddle of your own.

“You know, while we’re at it, I can help with that..” Patrick nodded at the way you checked yourself and your neck craned to look up at him again when you heard his voice.

“But- - Patrick, we shouldn’t.”

“The damage is already done weather you like it or not, baby doll. You can get a little fun out of this if you let yourself.”

You didn’t exactly know how to respond, with what you’d already done being far beyond a bargain but a total price to pay especially since Patrick used his power over you at best. And with the dark haired man standing there only halfway putting his ravishingly large dick away beyond you — just sitting there on the floor, nervously toying with your fingers with a ache sitting in your core. You knew that since you’d been there, letting Patrick make you cum was all you could think about now.

His smirk returned when you rose to your feet and eyed him before walking back over to the bed.

“Okay.” You uttered quietly as it was now your back turned to the taller man who followed you over like a shadow, and you knew to surrender by now.

“God you look good..” his hands examined wherever they pleased on you now. Patrick’s fingers slid from the top of your breasts to the dip of your lower back to your ass, that he squeezed tight, making a hiss escape from you. And even though you hit him in the arm and it left no damage as he grinned to himself, you still let him do it.

Maybe you were acting quite slutty.

“You said you would help me, not grope me…” you spoke up in a voice that made the man laugh at your ought to be stern.

“Well, firstly I think sweet girls like you should say please.” He beckoned as his tongue darts out to lick over his lip while he panned down at you. It may be a signal to the way his cock was beginning to stand again at the sight of your breast near getting lose within your bra from the aftermath of the way he just manhandled you.

Your eyes shift anywhere elsewhere than his gaze. “Please.”

“Please.. what ?” His hands wrapped around your neck to pull you close, and you yelped a tad, he chuckled at your annoyance, but enticing want towards him.

You looked into the mans daring eyes and going against your own rules, in desperate fashion, you begged. “Please.. make me cum, Pat.”

Patrick glanced where your panties had a darkened spot spreading, damp as he grinned before letting his hand slip beneath so he could feel the soaked parts — you immediately gasped softly as you watched where he toyed with your slit to find your folds. It was like he found where you needed most as if he’d been a pro. Observing as your lips make a fine “o” shape when his pointer and middle slid against your clit and your poor heavy eyes met his again.

“I know you loved having my cock down your throat.” He rasped with a sly smirk, you quickly grabbed his bicep. One of his fingers made it inside of you, feeling him fill you with just his thick digits had your eyes wanting to role and you hissed out a whimper immediately. But fuck that. Patrick already wanted you moaning as quick as possible.

He pushed your figure on the bed and you hit the sheets with a noise as the man hustled to get your last bit of cover up discarded. You noticed the way his cock bounced as soon as he saw your smooth cunt be revealed to him and your eyebrows furrowed when your ache grew, moaning slightly through your bitten lip.

“Patrick, please.. hurry.”

He took your legs under his grip rough as the flailed and he made sure they were as far apart as he needed to handle you, “keep these spread for me.” Was all the man said before aligning himself with your entrance and making sure your slick had covered his tip finely.

You whined as you viewed him do the work of getting himself coated with your pre-cum. Patrick couldn’t take his eyes off your pussy that just looked a little too pretty and smooth, you could tell his head was going full with need to fuck you senseless. So when he started to slide in your hole with a jarring “fuck” coming from him and you moaned out a more high pitched noise with knitted brows — you kept your hands on the back of your thighs for the brunette as he only gets halfway before he needed to readjust you and himself.

“Mmm.. you’re too big, Patrick.” Came from you as your chest slightly heaved and the brunette had a dumb grin on his face again while he looked down at how sweet you looked all spread out for him, letting him get your tight cunt after all of this. By now you’d surely forgotten about your little photos and just how much he could ruin what was between your legs at this point.

Patrick was thrusting into you with no hesitation, letting his grunts fill the room on top of your pathetic mewls as he kept your hips steady and against the thigh while you slid up and down his dick. Your hands dig into the bedsheets near your head as your lips go fully agape and your eyes are being pulled elsewhere with the euphoric sensation of Patrick’s hips slapping into your cervix, “Oh ! Oh… fuck,” you hiss as you can’t help yourself but watch the man’s shaft run against your wet walls when he grabbed hold of your wrists.

And with a impressed grin, Patrick saw your fixed gaze go from totally oblivious to just wanting to be tossed around like a whore for him.

“You gonna let Art and Tashi know how much of a good girl you were for me when they get home, right ? No issues. Just you doing whatever your told… right sweet girl ?” The man coo’d as he let up one hand from your arms to cup your chin. When your eyes met his dark ones, you’d been holding a dazed smile behind your bitten lip with a plea for him to keep going.

As he’d taken your little photoshoot to ending up deep inside your precious cunt with a few tactics of his own, your photos count on staying between you and him.

With a small nod and “uh hu” you let Patrick make you cum.

[astonmartinii]

dj got us falling in love | lando norris social media au

pairing: lando norris x dj!reader

a new hobby can sometimes open many new avenues, sometimes even lead to love

landonorris

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landonorris: the morning after the night before

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user1 lando really be on his hobby game rn

maxverstappen1 so that's where you were the entire night?

landonorris i saw you dancing your heart out so don't complain maxverstappen1 you are overestimating just how much of last night i remember

user2 dj!lando unlocked ... does this mean photographer!lando is dead?

user3 he's so so sexy oh my

user4 the backwards cap is WORKING

danielricciardo so how long is this one gonna last?

landonorris i swear this is the one for me

yourusername

liked by landonorris, arianagrande and 1,204,556 others

yourusername: life recently... check out my boiler room set in the link in my bio it was super fun xxx

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user5 eating up the dj game i am obsessed with her

user6 i need to be at her next set or i'll become a threat to national security

landonorris sick set y/n !!

user7 bro what are you doing here? GET OUT OF HERE

danielricciardo ah i now see where the new inspiration came from ...

landonorris i need you to shut the fuck up yourusername awww thanks lando, send me some of ur stuff we can compare x landonorris on it 🫡 maxverstappen1 i don't know how you've pulled this off but i am impressed

user8 what actually is going on in this comment section

landonorris added to their story

[caption: bestest teacher in the world]

yourusername

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yourusername: life recently

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user6 ALERT ALERT MALE ALERT

user7 heavy emphasis on the mug rn

danielricciardo @maxverstappen1 whoa that hand looks super familiar

maxverstappen1 you're right daniel that hand does look familiar .... yourusername yall crack me up user8 lando you gonna let them do you like that? landonorris my pr officier said not to reply carlossainz55 bro... landonorris oh shit

user9 mclaren really keep all his brain cells i can't

silverstone

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tagged: yourusername, f1

silverstone: big announcement coming in fast ! y/n y/ln will be headlining the silverstone main stage for this year's british grand prix - the dj will take the stage for the sunday evening slot. see you all there!

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user10 idc this is fuelling my lando x y/n agenda

user11 i'm so fucking excited

landonorris i'll be there

oscarpiastri you are contractually obligated to be there mate landonorris let me be supportive !!! user12 oscar is done with the pining

yourusername thank you so much for having me !! i won't let you down

carlossainz55 by all accounts you're too good to do that user13 have they all just collectively given up on the secret? maxverstappen1 yes too much effort

landonorris

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landonorris: P2 in quali at home !! super, super happy, lets see what we can do on sunday

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user14 I AM LOSING MY MIND

user15 this is crazy i'm so proud

yourusername lets go landoooooooooooooooooooooooooo so sick

landonorris blah blah blah something about a certain someone being a lucky charm ;) yourusername does this mean paddock passes for life? landonorris it might have to

user16 they're so cute

user17 the crowd cheered when they showed her in the garage silverstone is ROOTING for this relationship

oscarpiastri let's get this bro

mclaren

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mclaren: LANDO TAKES HOME P2 AT HIS HOME RACE

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user20 OMG THAT OVERTTAKE AT THE START I AM GAGGED

yourusername unbelievably proud of you lando

landonorris love you too babe user21 BABE? user22 LOVE YOU TOO?

danielricciardo i saw that shoey man i'm so proud 🥲

landonorris miss you danny danielricciardo i miss you more yourusername am i a joke to you? landonorris i'm sorry i love you yourusername love you too ❤️

user23 why is danny always at the scene of the crime?

yourusername

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tagged: landonorris

yourusername: best weekend ever!! silverstone you're the best, my favourite crowd ever !! p.s. lando i am so so so so proud, though if you try to kiss me after a shoey again we're breaking up.

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user24 CONFIRMATION CONFIRMATION OMG

user25 them saying i love you under mclaren's post wasn't enough for you?

landonorris noted.

landonorris ALSO YOU WERE SO SO GOOD I LOVE YOU SO MUCH yourusername i love you more, thanks for the gig baby xx

maxverstappen1 do you take bookings? my birthday is in october

martingarrix i see how it is yourusername i'm not getting involved in this domestic you're on your own max

user26 god when is it my turn

landonorris

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landonorris: dj got us falling in love or something like that, love you baby.

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note: I'M BACK - so my absence was a lot longer than expected, i graduated uni (with a first, i'm so stoked) and my housing has been a whole mess. i worked at silverstone, hence the inspo for this imagine... ENJOY !!!

[chocsra]

idk abt others but yes i do eat up every single one of ur hs au bc it's so silly and yes i am looking at you with a chuuya plushie in my hand to ask for a dazai x reader hs au fanfic

✧ "YOU ARE THE CITY OF MY HEART"

☆ synopsis ↺: skipping class with your classmate, dazai yet again. but this time, you explore the ocean of your feelings together.

☆ content ↺: HIGHSCHOOL AU 15ZAI, musical prodigy! dazai, photographer! dazai, introvert! dazai, slightly ooc, fluff

☆ NOW PLAYING ↺: UNDERSTAND — keshi

☆ w/c ↺: 2k

you don't think you have ever lived without noise,

ever since you were a kid, you were talked your ear off by your parents, lectured by several adults, and screamed plentifully with friends. when there was silence, there was music to mask it. good or bad noise, it existed, survived, and was a huge part of your life.

but you,

Dazai Osamu, are probably the quietest person you've ever known.

the only sound you could associate with him was the shutter of a camera taking a picture—the same sound you've been continually hearing.

It was a regular school day, both dressed in full uniform, baking under the bright rays of the morning sun. There wasn't anything particularly wrong about this day. you could pick off the reddening leaves from bark-ridden tree branches and soak in the imprint of tree stumps, looking ever so similar to that of a fingerprint. it was a pretty autumn day; you just so happened to get to see that. you think, taking a withering leaf into the palm of your hand.

shutter.

"osamu, stop taking photos of me." —you chide, gently swatting the pointed camera out of view. the brunette in front of you, currently crouching, laughs boyishly as he removes his face pressed against the camera, gaze now overseeing the autumn sight before him. "sorry," dazai whispers, tinkering with a few buttons to review the photos he took. "you don't have to skip class with me, y'know." he murmurs, eyes glued to his camera.

he was a photographer, a pretty one at that. quiet and mysterious, you were rather surprised to learn that a boy reads fine literature and other classical means. sometimes, he picked up a violin or combined delicate fingers to gracefully waltz with a grand piano. his most prized possession was a camera, freezing the most beautiful of the intricacies of nature and people. but who was he? the boy who read books instead of taking notes in lectures, wavy chocolate brown hair that sun rays adored to find a home in, and a tall and slim build fitted in a school uniform and bandages. to capture the slope of his cheek, the deep hazel in hollow irises, and his olive skin. he was Dazai Osamu, a walking mystery.

so, you'd like to know where you stood with him in terms of relationship and if he even likes you at all. skipping class together, sneaking in your window at night, pretending to hang out with friends if it meant seeing him—it didn’t feel like something close friends did, like he was a secret you wanted to keep for yourself. but you couldn’t tell if that greed was reciprocated, if he was bored, or even considered you a close friend, a best friend. but instead of worrying too much, you only watch how his fingers work with a bulky camera, capturing nature's highs and lows.

“i know,” you twiddle with your fingers, grumbling, “class is boring anyway.” the brunette furrows his brows at the photos, brushing your excuse off, “this is shit. i think i’ve taken enough photos around the school.” he groans softly; you could practically hear his creative mind burning in the process. “did you delete the picture of me?” you question, standing over the lanky boy’s crouched form. “no, that one is good. i mean, the actual background, it's all repetitive.”

you tap a finger on your chim, “ahh,” you hum, pretending to understand his perspective. “winter should be here already.” the teenager grumbles under his breath before letting go of the camera to let it hang off his neck. you pace around slowly, feeling the surface of leaves crushing under your heels. “I mean, you don’t have to stay in school if you’re already skipping class.” you mutter, watching as a boyish grin lights up on his face. “you’re right, [y/n]! let’s go!”

a cold hand wraps his fingers around yours before dragging you to the nearest exit—"dazai!” you whine as the brunette drags you, “it’s cooooolllddddd!” you complain, your scarf nearly falling off as you run and run. hand in hand. this rather rushing feeling brings you a taste of memories you barely remember you had.

no one understood Dazai Osamu,

because he was a prodigy, he was something. something big, something great, something that made other geniuses seethe in envy. the boy had extraordinary intellect but a weak mind. no, dazai wasn't weak. he was just always unwell to a certain degree, and to most, it didn't take much to figure out—wearing long sleeves in summer, loving bandages for the comforting feelings even if he didn't need them, and reading books guiding the suicidal. dazai never hid it—that he was unwell, almost like a cry for help.

but for the genius that he was, nobody understood that.

but you did, in seventh grade. you were sniffling, pacing in remnants of snow as tears blurred your vision. though in your hazy field of sight, you outline the figure of one of your classmates approaching you, his tall frame catching the snowflakes from hitting your face. slowly, a boyish voice calls out.

"...are you okay?"

it was dazai, the stone-faced boy and talented prodigy. he wore a black trenchcoat, a little too big for his figure, and covered one of his chocolate brown eyes with bandages. you shook your head, a throbbing pain added from the tinge of snowflakes collecting in your hair. his stoic gaze never left you, standing there in the middle of a snowstorm, crying. the boy himself couldn't muster a feasible reason for walking outside in a snowstorm at this hour, so out of courtesy and a slight tinge of nervousness, he whispered, "let's go for a walk."

suddenly, nimble fingers reach out to grab yours; your fingers are used to originally wipe snot and cover your face. but dazai had no reaction to anything gross like that—like snot and tears. instead, he took shaky fingers into the cold ones of his own, pulling you gently along the sidewalk. you could barely make out his face or your feelings at the moment, only focused on his broad shoulders covered by that raven trench coat, soaking up snowflakes and the well of your tears.

from there, you walked and walked. hand in hand. soon running together with no particular destination—only feeling your body starting to warm up, sore feet clashing against snow, and his hand that never let go of yours.

Dazai Osamu never knew why you were crying, nor did you know what ever went through his head that day.

but from that moment forward,

you understood him.

soon, you were led by that same hand past pretty autumn leaves and into a foresty meadow, closed off from the rest of the world. several forms of wildlife scrapped by, followed by a murky pond under the sun's wake, surrounded by trees of reds and oranges. it perfectly provided what the school's campus couldn't—a sense of divergence reeling in the soft convolutions of your brain. "pretty, isn't it?"—the brunette chimes, panting from the long distance you two ran. "why'd you do that?" you grumble, rubbing your abdomen from an incoming sharp pain, "don't you have asthma?"

he immediately backtracks, shooting you an unamused glare, "that's.. enough." dazai huffs, before removing the strapped camera around his neck, "here, maybe you can take better pictures than i can." the boy chuckles shyly, a very drastic verbal response than his usual arrogance.

"hmm," a gentle hum slips past your lips, squinting one of your eyes in order to press the machine against your face. "i can try." after scouting the area with his camera for a few seconds, you began to snap a few shots at the darkening lake, carrying several leaves in its wake.

and as you paid full attention to the awaiting winter, dazai's gaze stayed on you, his autumn. his gaze softened and his slightly chapped lips parted in a momentary surprise, taking you in with every breath he took. Dazai himself loved photography; he loved capturing moments that would soon get lost in time. the brunette, with a talent for many things, found solace in photos. he loved to take photos of resting cats, dark sceneries you'd only find in an alleyway of a fantasy novel, and candid pictures of random couples on dates. dazai loved taking photos but detested that he didn't have a camera on hand at the moment—for he wanted to freeze this divine sight of you in the confines of his brain. your face, fingers, the dip and curve of every facial feature, and how the lighting kisses your skin and hair.

"how's it like? being a total genius?"

you were rather familiar with all your classmates, just curiously getting to know the mysterious musical prodigy, dazai osamu. it was a work period, and everyone in class already begun to slack off, especially since there was a supply.

and you knew that the lanky boy was eerily quiet when the school's athletic hotshot, Chuuya Nakahara, wasn't around. so, asking stupid questions won't exactly result in stupid answers, or so you thought.

"why? wanna be like me?" — he smiles teasingly, tilting his sharp jaw in your direction. "don't think someone who cries in the snow can do it, sorry." you freeze up and scoff, slightly embarrassed from the former interaction you had with him. "dick." a peaceful but awkward silence fills the air between both of you before the boy clears his throat awkwardly. "But i'd be willing to talk about it if you let me bother you at lunch.?"

the question itself caught you off guard. looking around at the chattering students, "i—" the brunette backtracked, hiding his face slightly with gauzed fingers. "Actually!—I am going to bother you. you're friends with chuuya, aren't you?" you shrug, eyes fluttering to the ground, "..i guess so, but i don't eat with him or his friends."

A breathless chuckle slips past the prodigy's lips before covering his mouth softly, completely ignoring you, "alright then, see you anyway, crybaby."

he hates himself for not knowing what to do with you, but he loved you more to let hate consume him, like usual. dazai wanted you; he didn't know what yearning was until he saw pieces of you in sunsets, rain and snow. he's felt destiny with his childhood friend, chuuya nakahara. but he's never felt something so desiring, pining — like he wanted to be with you every day. and maybe one of those days he'll feel you without the stupid gauze wrapped around his fingers. maybe one day he can hold your hand without the excuse of dragging you somewhere new. maybe one day, dazai will figure out how to ask you to be his, how to love you, because he's sure you're the one he wants to love.

"ahh, wait.."

you cock a brow at his shocked face, grabbing onto your sleeve as if the prodigy were reaching for the stars.

"I wish I were a painter, instead." the boy pouts, holding your sleeve childishly, pulling a chuckle from your throat, "why is that, huh?"

dazai's eyes, ever so empty and unfilled, now gleam, pretty and gentle. Softly reaching out to part a strand of hair behind the shell of your ear, gazing up at you feverishly. "usually, I'm so prideful about these things, photography.."

The prodigy clears his throat, his fingers threading through soft strands of hair tucked behind your ear. "But your eyes, they are really pretty." Your lips part bashfully surprised, overcoming your ability to move.

The boy continues as if his mouth was switched on autopilot: " So I wish I could paint them instead. I guess just looking works, too, though."

He smiles cheekily.

all you ever knew was noise,

but you, Dazai Osamu, had that kind of silence to keep you awake at night. Whether that'd be holding hands in a snowstorm, or the few moments he'd stare into your eyes.

Little did you know, that was the moment he fell in love. Or rather, the time it took him to realise you don't fall.

That love has grown before you can even realise it.

✧ chocsra™

[ktjislove1119]

(๑>؂•̀๑) how they act when they're drunk

pairing : p1harmony x male reader

rating : fluffy and comedy bc im funny <3

requested : yes !!! thank u for ur request <3 plss dont b afraid to send me some more, no matter who or if its ot6 (it just might take me a thousand years...) i love getting requests sm hehe

warnings : obvs mention of alcohol and being intoxicated

ᯓᡣ𐭩 yoon keeho

i see keeho as an EMOTIONAL DRUNK, like incredibly vocal about everything he is feeling at all times. he acts just like an incredibly clingy, emotional drunk that won’t get off of you. we already know how touchy he is when hes sober (rip jiung LMAO), imagine that when he’s 1. super sensitive 2. constantly wanting to feel love from you, his boyfriend, and 3. incredibly vocal about everything but especially — wanting to physical touch from you. you’d probably have to reason with him for twenty minutes why you need to leave him for twenty seconds just to piss.

“kyo, i need to pee so bad, i don’t think you get it,”

“no! you don’t get how, if you leave me here, i’ll die. i’ll seriously die. i think i’ll stop breathing or something.”

“that won’t happen.”

“you won’t know that for sure until it happens — and then what?!”

you eventually have to settle for bringing him into the bathroom where he has the right mind to just stand in the corner in silence while you do your business. it’s a really funny sight, his head hanging low and an obvious pout on his lips.

“i feel like” is the beginning of a lot of his sentences where he proceeds to explain everything he is feeling about everything in grand detail. it’s a cute thing he does, but sometimes you do have to cut him off because he has zero filter and could possibly end up offending someone (”i feel like that girl’s boyfriend right across the couch from us, that’s staring right at us, with the really ugly outfit is really, really, ugl-” “oh! wow, shouldn’t you be drinking some more water, kyo? hahah…”)

he apologizes several times throughout the night for being so bothersome, but really, it’s not that big of a deal. just because you have to listen to him ramble for a little longer than usual and sometimes choose your words more carefully, but it really isn’t as if it’s the end of the world. just be sure to reassure him at the end of the night that you didn’t mind keeping him company and stuff and he’ll be a happy man.

“i’m sorry for being so much when i’m drunk…and always saying i won’t get drunk like this again,” he whispers softly, his hand playing with your fingers as your sat in the now quiet living space. you retract your hand from his, moving it to play with his loose strands of hair.

“it’s okay, i don’t really mind, y’know? i’ll always be here,” your smile melts his heart and for some reason he starts crying.

“i just love you so much and i don’t know what i did to deserve you, you’re the perfect boyfriend and i’m just here crying, i’m sorry,” his sobs get progressively louder and it takes everything in you to not chuckle at his abnormally emotional self. you just comfort him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear until he properly calms down into an eventual nap.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 choi taeyang

i think theo is the type of drunk to either go COMPLETELY SILENT or COMPLETELY YAP someone’s ear off. he already has so much to say when he’s sober (he’s so funny i love him), so when he’s drunk, that either gets amplified to a million or completely shut down. the night could look like you constantly asking him if he’s okay as he stares off into the void or you having to constantly stop him from causing a really messy altercation with his unfiltered opinions. he acts like a complete prince to you, though, trust he will bat his eyes all pretty and pretend as if he didn’t just insult a person to filth right in front of you.

on the nights where he goes silent, you have to constantly just nudge him and ask if he’s okay. he looks up at you with wide, blank and slowly nods his head, which makes you reiterate your question, and he does the same thing. it’s a little bit scary how quiet and to himself he gets, but at least you don’t have worry about him bouncing off the walls idk. if he ever needs help with something or just wants your attention, he will just tug on you or your clothes, literally being silent the entire time.

feeling a lazy hand pull on yours, you turn to taeyang and raise your brows in question. he motions over to the bottle of water in his hands (that he had gotten himself when you weren’t looking) and makes a twisting motion with his freehand. obviously, you comply, opening the water bottle for him and handing it over without question.

“you feeling okay?” you ask softly, sitting next to him and brushing his hair aside. he nods after gulping down the water, leaning against your shoulder and taking a deep breath. he’s so mellowed out like this that he falls asleep on your shoulder and stays like that until he wakes. he goes to sleep thankful that he has such a patient boyfriend and a smile on his face, his hand reaching for and holding yours before he knocks out.

on the other hand, if you’re dealing with the loud and chaotic taeyang, i wish you all the best…this man is a straight menace. there is a high chance he could end up pissing off the wrong person at some point of the night and you need to drag him out of a situation before it gets really bad. he’s a very straightforward man, obviously, but when he’s sober he has a filter most of the time and knows the right time and place. when he’s drunk, that differentiation he has for that goes out the window.

“why did you wear those pants and shirt, they’re ugly together.” he says frankly to a drunk keeho, whose face scrunches up at the blatant insult and looks as if he is about to cry, which taeyang then eggs on, “wait don’t cry, that’d be really sad if the reason you were to cry is because of your own decision,”

“taeyang, enough! oh my god,” you say, pulling him away from the keeho who was now curled up on the floor and clutching his clothes.

“oh, hi, baby,” he grins and throws an arm around your shoulder, dragging you down immensely with his weight, “i didn’t see you there,” a cheesy line he says almost every time he’s drunk, “do you like my outfit today? i chose it with you in mind,” he blows you a kiss and you have to hold yourself back from smooshing his face with your hand.

“just shh, please, before you say something so cheesy-”

“woah! that girl’s boyfriend is really ugly! should we help her? do you think he’s holding her hostage?!” his loud, booming voice fills the room and it takes everything in you to not abandon him there to fend for himself.

immediately, you bow to the couple and say quick apologies and move to hopefully move taeyang away from the scene. but he just puts more gasoline on the fire by kindly saying, “miss, do you need help? put the number three up if that strange man is bothering you!”

“taeyang, please, shut up!”

ᯓᡣ𐭩 choi jiung

oh my god jiung gets really PHILOSOPHICAL, like really philosophical. and he gets a little sappy, but most of the time he reels it in before he gets overly emotional. out of nowhere, he’ll ask you the most complex moral questions or things about the universe and fate and stuff like that, then immediately follow it up with, “oh, well, whatever :D” as if he didn’t just make you rethink your life choices. but it ends up being a sweet behavior of his because it somehow ends with him bashfully praising you and being explicitly very thankful for the relationship the two of you have.

“i read somewhere,” he starts and you knew that you were in for a rough one, “that some people believe that they’re connected with their soulmate through an invisible red string. have you ever heard of that?”

“i have,”

“do you believe in it?”

“…i don’t know, that’s a really complex subject — fate and stuff,”

he shrugs, looking onward at seemingly nothing, “i don’t think it’s that believable but then i think about us and i start to believe in stuff like that,” there’s a long pause before he says, “but also, i think fate isn’t completely responsible for us meeting. i don’t know how to explain it, but i don’t want to give all the credit of our relationship to something like fate — i feel like we’re more than that, y’know?”

his question leaves you contemplating everything about your relationship, trying to think like jiung and imagine.

“if people believe that there is a string connecting them to their soulmate, they probably would leave everything up to fate and not actively search for their soulmate, right? i don’t think that was the case with me — well, i wasn’t always trying to find someone for me, but i don’t…hm, i don’t know how to word it. what do you think?”

“i think…” there’s silence as you think about how to formulate your words, settling on, “i just know i love you, jiung, it shouldn’t be that complicated.”

he processes your words for a couple of seconds before laughing as if you had said the funniest thing in the world. the type of laugh that makes him drop his jaw and release gasps for air from how hard he was laughing. his hand was now holding yours and he’s squeezing as if his life depends on it.

“you’re right,” he manages in between gasps of air, “you’re right. i love you too, that’s enough,” he drops his head into your shoulder where he hums in content, “yes, i should just think about how lucky i am to even have you — no matter how it happened or what the chances were because that doesn’t matter now. what matters now is that we are now together,” he links your pinkies together, grinning wide like a child, “i love it, how we’re so connected.”

“by that string you were talking about?” you tease, making him shake his head.

“no, just how we work together and how you love me and how i love you,”

his heartfelt words and unusually very sincere considering his current state, but you accept them with a genuine smile and knocking of his forehead against yours. a drunk man’s words are his sober thoughts, or however the saying goes.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 hwang intak

intak…he’s so funny bruh. he’s an ENTERTAINER drunk, the party guy that ends up getting all the attention, but really that wasn’t his end goal. he’s definitely the type to pretend to want all the attention on him, but really he just wants to impress you…even though you’re already dating…he wants to be the only one you look at and will put on a show in order for that to happen.

someone was urgently calling your name, following it up with your boyfriends and something about the pool. obviously, concerned for his safety, you drop everything and rush to the backyard where the pool was.

“oh, there he is,” intak cheers, walking over and picking you up with his strong arms, “i was wondering where my baby was,” he’s sloppily kissing your cheek after that comment and grinning ear to ear the entire time.

“what’s going on? are you alright?” you ask, immediately concerned for his health.

“i’m fine, are you okay?” he shoots back, tilting his head to the side with a pout, “you feel good?”

“i feel great, but someone said something about you and a pool so i came running as soon as i heard,” you explained, taking in the scene and realizing that there were now people eagerly awaiting something.

“oh! that’s nothing!” he cheerfully says, booping your nose with his finger, “mr. worry over here, huh? that shows how much you love me, y’know?” he begins dragging you off to go inside, but someone from the surrounding crowd shouts.

“wait, intak!! you said you’d hold your breath underwater for two minutes! come on, man, i already bet money that you’d be able to!!”

intak grins ear to ear, not at all bothered by the person shouting, “oh! i’m not doing that anymore, sorrryyy!!” his apology is elongated with his voice dragging out the last syllable.

“what?! you can’t do that!”

“i just did — pfttt!” he sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry before completely dragging you inside and into the house, “babe, wanna watch me stuff three cupcakes in my mouth?” he curiously asks, which you obviously deny in fear of his wellbeing (three cupcakes? he’d definitely choke on them and you were not aware of how to do the Heimlich maneuver).

“no, it’s okay intak,” you politely decline, making your way to the icebox that hopefully has spare waterbottles.

“did you know i could drink an entire water bottle in under seven seconds? here, let me show you-”

“no, no, it’s okay intak,” you repeat, grabbing his hand that was reaching for the bottle and putting it back to his side, “just drink the water normally okay?”

his eyes are just full of so much love, slightly tinged red, with his naturally red blushing cheeks and he obediently nods yes.

“yesss, sirrr!” he chants, going to drink the water at a normal pace.

after sitting down for a couple of seconds, you begin scanning the room for any free space you two could occupy. but intak interprets it as you losing interest in him so he says something drastic to get your attention again, “wanna see me do a backflip off the counter? i finally learned how to! (he did not.)”

“no, it’s okay, intak,” you repeat once more, smoothing out his hair and smiling softly at him. “how about i watch you get comfortable on the couch over there where you can take a breather?”

“well, as long as you watch me,” he agrees, a carefree smile on his face as he lets you guide him to the couch.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 haku shota

shota just likes sticking by your side when he’s drunk, a SILENT CLINGY drunk. hes an introverted extrovert so he only really wants to be near someone that he feels completely comfortable with, which at the top of that list would be you. he hangs by your side, almost completely silent. and when he isn’t silent, it’s the quietest random noises that he makes to get your attention.

“do you want some more water?” you ask your boyfriend, noticing that he was now nursing an empty water bottle. his big dark eyes look up at you and he nods his head in confirmation. you stand up to get the beverage and he follows suit, shooting up out of his sitting position and clinging to your arm as you navigate through the crowd.

it’s funny too because when he’s drunk he has a really weird and unexplainable possessive streak??? he is still silent when showing that possessiveness, so it really just looks and sounds like a jealous puppy that is following you around and trying to keep as many strangers away from you as possible. it’s cute since its incredibly harmless and it doesn’t warner any scolding or quick apologies from you whenever he does show any territorial behavior, instead you just look at his cute annoyed expression and appease him.

on the way to get his water, there was someone in the crowd that had recognized you and wanted to catch up. not seeing a problem with that, because there really isn’t any in the first place, you obliged and began chatting with them. it was a friendly convo, the person even greeting the silent shota by your side, but the man didn’t acknowledge them. after explaining how your boyfriend was a little out of it due to his intoxication, the person nodded in understanding. and shota thought that that would be the end of it…to his immense displeasure, the person didn’t leave you guys alone. and he was starting to feel more and more annoyed at their presence. he wrapped his hand around yours and squeezed tight enough that it got your attention. finally having your eyes on him, he batted his eyes at you innocently and motioned over to the empty water bottle you were still holding. remembering why you had even gotten up in the first place, you excuse yourself and soul from the conversation, which made smile in accomplishment.

“thank you,” he quietly whispers after accepting the water from you, leaning in for a soft kiss. you smile at his gentle behavior, immediately kissing back and then pulling away to let him drink some. he eagerly looks around like a lost puppy, as if he’s trying to find something. and just as you’re about to question him, he puts his head down in defeat and simply drinks.

“what was that?” you chuckle, bringing him in closer and smiling at his now slightly wet lips and sparkling eyes.

“nothing,” he says, leaning in for several more pecks in a row — which you obviously comply to. his clingy behavior and craving for your lips against his doesn’t falter at all through the night, but no one is complaining.

(he was trying to see if the person that was “bothering” you two earlier had seen the two of you be all lovey-dovey, but he couldn’t find them in the crowd)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 kim jongseob

jongseob is so funny when he’s drunk in the sense he’s a YAPPING and CLINGY mess, but SHYYY at the same time. at the beginning of the night, it isn’t that bad, to be honest. he’s capable of taking care of himself and standing on his own (literally and figuratively lmao) and even engaging in coherent conversation with others, but after a while he just wants to talk to you. yes, he’s still talking (probably about anything and everything too), but he just wants to stick by your side. oh, he’s also a really big blushing mess — acting like you guys are in middle school all over again and it's your first day as an officla couple, sometimes forgets you guys are actually dating and it’s not just a one sided crush (poor seobie lmao)

you and jongseob were sitting on the sidelines of the party. close enough that your legs were touching each others, but definitely not super cuddly on top of each other. your boyfriend was talking on and on about a vast variety of topics, sounding as if he was speaking in tongue twisters, but you really were trying your hardest to keep up. you were looking forward, but after hearing him stutter over his words a little, you turned to look towards him.

unsurprisingly, his eyes were already watching you and when you made eye contact he ducked his head down and began fiddling with his fingers. it was adorable, but it made you confused because ? did you have something on your face? or was he just not feeling good because the alcohol was catching up to him.

“you alright, babe?” his cheeks go ablaze at the pet name, but he aggressively nods his head to prove that he was fine.

“you wanna keep telling me about the progress of your island in animal crossing, then? i was really invested, y’know?” you grin and scoot closer to him, putting your arm around his seat and getting more comfortable.

“you were listening?” he asks quietly, hyper aware that your bodies were now much closer and you were leaning into him.

“of course i was, seob,” you answer easily, sighing in content. jongseob shyly holds your hand and moves closer to you, his face feeling as if it were going to explode from how hard he was blushing. he’s acting as if you haven’t been dating for the longest time.

give the two of you ten minutes uninterrupted and you’ll find jongseob shamelessly holding you close as he mutters mindless nothings as a way of staying awake. you offer several times to just go home, but he stubbornly argues that you two are too comfortable too move.

“i really like your eyes,” he says, studying your face and then pursing his lips, “but your nose is also really nice…and your lips, even your ears…unfair,” he sighs, dropping his head to rest on the couch cushion to his left as he faces you head on. you laugh at what seems to be a very serious dilemma for him, running your hand up and down his arm.

“what are you talking about, seob? you’re the prettiest guy i know, much prettier and more handsome than me,” you compliment to lift his spirits, but obviously all the sincerity is still there, “especially your smile,”

he buries his head into the cushion and you swear you hear him scream (?), but the music surrounding you guys could be making you delusional (you’re not he really did scream).

your boyfriend continues being a shy mess for as long as he’s drunk then begs for you to forget everything he said and how he acted when he’s sobered up because he’s so embarrassed.

[ravstars]

HELLOO this is like the first time I'm requesting here... umm so an idea came up to my mind, it's about Wanderer's little story about sewing a doll. It's on his character menu. He basically learns how to and sews a doll, and then he starts bringing it everywhere he goes... but what if his S/O discovered about/saw that his boyfriend had actually something to be attached to? IDKK feel free to do the request only if u want, if you don't mind I'd prefer a male S/O... that's it!! Ty for reading and for ur attention!!

(I find that so cute help me, HE HAS A DOLLLLL so cutie)

My doll ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

⌇Wanderer/ Scaramouche x Reader.ᐟ

જ⁀➴Fluff: See above for request <3

a/n: I hope you like the way I wrote it, Anon! Thank you for the request, I hope you have a great rest of your day ^^. I‘m sorry that you had to wait a little. HAPPY PRIDE, LOVES <3

You knew of some parts of Wanderers extraordinary history, having become his friend after Lesser Lord Kusanali introduced you to him. He hated every second he spent with you, he‘d say, with his signature scoff and a roll of his eyes.

Truth is, he had grown fond of the idea of spending time with your reassuring and caring presence, even when he felt like he didn’t deserve it. Not that you needed to know when you could just understand from the way he pulled his hat down when you teased him on the way to the Akademiya or from the way he‘d tolerate your occasional energetic behavior even after he had a long day. Even in silence, there was a mutual understanding between him and you, no words needing to exchanged for you both to know how you were feeling.

He hated it — Feeling vulnerable to you. He couldn’t help but cave on some nights, though, looking up at the night sky and watching the stars with you when you couldn’t sleep. So, yes, you knew of his past, even if not completely and appreciated every part of his vulnerability and trust. He knew he could trust you, he didn’t know if he should, though.

—••••—

“Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad.” Your laughter takes him out of his thoughts as you walk around Sumeru City, talking about whatever crossed your mind as Wanderer listened.

“I don’t need people to know about my personal affairs, much less if I’m involved with you.” He grumbled, clearly flustered about the encounter earlier at the Grand Bazaar. A merchant had inquired if you and the Wanderer were in a relationship, and even though true, your lovely boyfriend was too embarrassed to answer.

“So what, I am your lover, am I not?” He basically shuts down, turning beet red

“Shut it.” He pulls his hat down, speeding up to escape your teasing.

Suddenly, a rock gets in his way and he trips, sending him straight down on the sandy ground. His hat falls right off too, and he makes a startled sound. You’d think it’d cute if you weren’t just slightly worried but surprised too.

You kneel next to him.

“Wanderer?”

He has his guard up again and now both of your gazes land on what fell out of his hat.

“What is this?” You ask, snatching the object from the ground before he can, dusting it off.

It was a little and soft doll with white clothes and black hair, a waistband tied using a butterfly knot, and a clear, round tear at the corner of his eye. You pet the top of the dolls small head with your thumb before looking back at him. His brows are furrowed and he’s blushing profusely

“Give it back.” He says, but you just hold it. You knew Wanderer too well, you knew what he was thinking

“I’m not making fun of you, I like it. I love it, actually.” You slowly give it back, smiling gently.

“He’s my travel companion.” He puts it back, keeping it safe underneath his hat. You help adjust his hat and help him get up. You keep walking silently until he feels less embarrassed and finally talks.

“Thank you.” He says, mumbling quietly. You respond by humming, taking his hand in yours, which he then squeezes tightly. No one understood him like you, no one cherished him like you, no one loved him like you and no words could express your love for one another.

“Who does the doll represent?” You ask, curiosity overtaking you

“Someone from the past. It doesn’t matter, anyway.” He turns to you and , in rare occurrence, smiles at you, genuinely and sincerely.

“You’re the one that matters to me from now on. For forever.”

Forever — That sounds lovely, doesn’t it?

[ellstronaut]

[ ◉¯] tlougram [ ◉¯]

#just a silly AU

ellie is typing. . . ╰──╮

ೃ༄

[ ◉¯] ellie’s account reads like a tech-illiterate-social-degenerate

[ ◉¯] girl literally has 3k followers (boggles her mind how it’s even possible) all of varying degrees of sketchiness

[ ◉¯] her bio’s literally just her initials—ew (yep thinks she’s hilarious ) paired with “space is cool ig” [insert shitty space emoji]

[ ◉¯] tbh—she doesn’t really get the whole “influencer” thing (like what is she influencing???)

[ ◉¯] like the only reason she finally caved and made an account to begin with is because dina and jesse practically bullied her into it

[ ◉¯] which shows—her feed is a hot mess of random pics; memes, a random cat video she saved on her gallery

[ ◉¯] and don’t expect to be fed either—her account is D.E.A.D (you’d be setting yourself up for disappointment)

[ ◉¯] definitely the type to forget she even has an account

[ ◉¯] but best believe—when she does post, its spaced out between 2-3 months

[ ◉¯] maybe a handful of artsy-fartsy pics somewhere in between

[ ◉¯] but most of her pics are literally just sketches (she drew at the back of her physics book) random crap she thinks is funny, memes that only make sense to her, n the occasional trip to the museum/nature pics

[ ◉¯] and like a grand total of one—just one selfie (and yes she did delete the rest)

[ ◉¯] fun fact: she may or may not have accidentally liked one of Dina’s/Cat’s old selfies on a burner account

[ ◉¯] tried to do damage control by unliking almost immediately

[ ◉¯] since we’re being messy—(swears she’d kill anyone on site who dares bring that up but whatever) she once got a chat request from a bot thinking it was a real person 💀

[ ◉¯] spent weeks on end flirting and ofc had to gush about it (like the true degenerate she is)

ೃ༄

spacenerd: dude shes hot

제시: whos hot

[spacenerd has sent an attachment]

dinasure: uh ellie

spacenerd: ??

dinasure: gonna hold ur hand when I say this 😃

spacenerd: she replies quick tho plus shes really nice ;)

제시: bet

spacenerd: huh

제시: bro so is siri

spacenerd: siri cant say stuff like rate my tits??

dinasure: issa bot u moron 💀

[spacenerd has sent a voicenote]

▷ 0:00 ───|────── 0:30

dinasure: fuck no

dinasure: bro just block

제시: ^yea pretty sure @bot_bae ain’t real 😭

spacenerd: SHE SO IS

dinasure: chile…anyways so

spacenerd: u know wat

[spacenerd has left the chat]

dinasure: LMAOO cryingsh

dinasure: think u hurt her feelings

제시:no cap that is sad

dinasure: real like how tf u gonna get catfished by a bot and fall in LOVE 🙃

제시: YEAH bro really down bad for ( . )( . )

dinasure: PLSSSJH

[spacenerd has joined the chat]

spacenerd: IT WAS A GOOD BOT OK

dinasure: i have more chemistry with chatgpt

spacenerd: stfu

spacenerd: n D u dont get to come for me when u deadass fucked a twilight bot

dinasure: bitch its called rp

dinasure: n that was like ONE time

spacenerd: me when i lie

dinasure: i like my men less sparkly now!!!

jesse is typing . . . ╰──╮

ೃ༄

[ ◉¯] unlike ellie—jesse takes his social media presence very seriously

[ ◉¯] got like +8k followers (most of which are girls) cause that man is a snack (duh)

[ ◉¯] his whole vibe is mellow but cool

[ ◉¯] like his IG feed reads like an episode of Crazy Rich Asians (with the extra added thirst traps of course)

[ ◉¯] aka a perfectly curated mix of aesthetic photos, artsy shots, friends/family and ofc his dog Yeontan

[ ◉¯] definitely the type of boyfriend to post unflattering pics of his gf but not out of malice

[ ◉¯] but you know in a—i’m obnoxiously in love sorta way

[ ◉¯] he may be bilingual but he’s very much in touch with his culture—like dude got a bunch of pics of him back in the Motherland

[ ◉¯] ellie low-key tries to get him to teach her a few curse words in Korean but like 99% of the time ends up teaching her the wrong words instead

[ ◉¯] ofc his username is in hangul— (if anything it’s to make his mom happy—because yes he follows her back on Insta)

[ ◉¯ ] and yes he’s such a boy mom—dina and ellie give him a ton of shit for it

ೃ༄

spacenerd: totally know what that means frfr

dinasure: oppa?

제시: 죽을래?

google translation: you want to die?

[ ◉¯] it’s an inside joke, lord knows how many kpop stans flood his dms—in which he makes the point to block them on site (as he should lol) because korean he may BE—your oppa he is NOT

[ ◉¯] yeah—he makes it pretty damn clear in his bio “yall gotta stop with the BTS shit”

dina is typing . . . ╰──╮

ೃ༄

[ ◉¯] Dina’s THAT bitch

[ ◉¯] got like +30k followers—is the whole package; hot—effortlessly cool, funny, charismatic (it’s literally unfair)

[ ◉¯] ofc she’s been scouted by at least three modelling agencies

[ ◉¯] and her pictures? flawless—we’re talking gorgeous—goddess-esque—baddie

[ ◉¯] literally the worst part about being friends with Dina: is how ridiculously photogenic she is

[ ◉¯] can roll up out of bed, unshowered, bare-faced and still look hot af (god has favourites I suppose)

[ ◉¯] definitely the type to have the most engagement (via replies, comments, shares, tagged—you name it)

[ ◉¯] absolutely loves sharing her hot girl adventures/outings—fr the embodiment of hot girl summer

[ ◉¯] expect an assortment of her hiking, visiting galleries, cafés, festivals + parties, and of course her many different fits (not that anyone’s complaining)

[ ◉¯] bio reads: my mom thinks I’m cool

[ ◉¯] don’t get me started on her simps—if delulu were a person, it would be Dina’s cult of fanboys

[ ◉¯] one time a dude wrote her poetry—straight up typed a whole ass sonnet ( Shakespeare reincarnate but in simptongue)

[ ◉¯] in which of course her friends had to add their two cents

ೃ༄

spacenerd: its always ily but never

spacenerd: my queen i kneel, my heart it weeps 😞

제시: lmaooooo 💀

[ ◉¯]not just down bad— we’re talking the most absurd, thirsty/depraved comments—

whitedevil commented: Id let you ruin my life

christian.not.jay commented: feet? 🤤

chrislovesyou commented: looked at my girl and sighed

ೃ༄

[ ◉¯] imagine the heartbreak if they ever found out she has a whole ass man (cue what does she SEE in him)

[ ◉¯] so much salt it could fill a whole an entire ocean

cat is typing . . . ╰──╮

ೃ༄

[ ◉¯] Cat’s account oozes creativity—doodles, sketches, watercolour—digital art the whole nine yards

[ ◉¯] her feed is basically one giant art gallery—like an extension of her art portfolio

[ ◉¯] so if you’re looking for an artsy feed, look no further

[ ◉¯] def an alt girlie (lowkey goth/punk lite) aka dark and edgy but with a soft side to her

[ ◉¯] and by lowkey I mean a beautiful—soft, kind of morbid artistry

[ ◉¯] the vibes she exudes with the outfits, piercings, the makeup and tattoos? (Chefs kiss) high key hot but intimidating

[ ◉¯] not too keen with the whole parasocial thing— “eh it’s nice having people look at my work, but not for me” kinda vibe

[ ◉¯] the type to solely use it for promotional purposes that and activism (btw NOT just for the brownie points like would deadass go outside, touch grass and do something about it)

[ ◉¯] definitely advocates for the environment—supports charities and organizations who fight against systematic oppression (racism, misogyny, etc.)

[ ◉¯] which is one of many reasons why Ellie’s got a huge fat ass crush on her (if it wasn’t already so obvious)

[ ◉¯] proudly Asian—wears it like a badge of honour and is the first to call out racists (and homophobes) any KIND of bigotry tbh

[ ◉¯] her bio reads—“life’s too short for shitty music” and “gay btw” :)” y’know for the losers that might need a little disclaimer

[ ◉¯] not a fan of stupid Asian stereotypes

[ ◉¯] you just know she gets a ton of gross fetishizing DMs (like why do they ALWAYS have an anime pfp)

[ ◉¯] because ruthless she can be with her clap backs

ೃ༄

tagging my besties @bonnibelblanca @adhdprincess ily

[lady-of-endless]

omg hai ! i was waiting for u to have no pending hcs. can u write some hcs about bruno and giorno preparing to and then proposing to their s/o? :> love ur stuff btw ;3

Author's Note: I'm so sorry for making you wait. Thank you for this request and above all thank you for your appreciation. Seeing you in my notifications makes me happy. Hope you'll enjoy it! The GIFs are not mine and I thank the owners.

Bruno Bucciarati, Giorno Giovanna x reader proposal headcanons

Bruno Bucciarati

- He will take care of everything alone, planning each detail. At least that's how it goes at first for only a little while because the others decide to join in, too happy that he finally decided to take this step. He will be pestered with crazy ideas from everyone.

- At first, he thinks about doing something big for you, after all, it's what you fully deserve. Something elegant, grand. But he starts thinking that it probably wouldn't be comfortable and heartfelt for you. He fell in love with how profound you are so something fancy and over the top wouldn't be as impressive to you as others think.

- After feelings of excitement and joy because he had reached this point in his life, comes nervousness. A heavy worry about what can go wrong. He's anxious and it's rare to see him like lose his cool like that, it's visible to everyone. However, Bucciarati will slowly calm down by replaying in his mind all the conversations you two had about the future so many times. He wants to make all the dreams you have about this moment come true.

- However, the strongest emotion of all, it's devotion. Devotion is a very powerful feeling that comes from a sense of commitment and loyalty. For Bucciarati, it also comes from a sense of admiration and respect that he has for you. He wants to show you all of these with this proposal.

- He decides to propose to you on a trip to the coast of Napoli. More precisely, his hometown. The last time he was there, his heart was torn apart, now he wants to create a new memory there, a loving one that is going to heal even the last thing in him that's broken. Some might say that it seems too self-centered but it's not. You asked him to take you there so many times after he opened up about his childhood and what happened.

- One late night, Abbachio will notice Bucciarati alone looking at the ring, lost in thought. He will understand right away that Bucciarati is asking himself if you'll say yes to him, after everything you know about him and everything you've been through because of him being a mafioso. Abbachio will sit down next to him sighing, before reassuring him that your wish to be with him will surpass anything, he just knows it.

- Of course, Bucciarati wrote down his confession and even memorized it but as he gets on one knee, his mind goes blank. He ends up talking from his heart.

"I know I was supposed to wait until the right time, but my heart can't stand without telling you. Everything feels right for me when I'm with you. I never thought I would be so lucky to find someone like you and not be taken away from my life. You fill the missing pieces of my heart. Will you marry me?"

Giorgio Giovanna

- He too prefers getting everything done alone and that's why he doesn't tell anyone, knowing how the others will want to be involved with the preparations. However, everyone starts noticing how he's more distracted than usual but no one knows what's on his mind that's so important.

- He wants to do something intimate, different than those basic ideas he has seen, and away from any hassle. Giorno thinks that this moment is only yours. A profound moment between your bound hearts.

- Giorno chooses a sunny place, close to the sea. More exactly, on the Amalfi Coast, where the Bougainvillea flowers bloom (visual). Why? Because he knows how your face lights up when he uses his stand ability and flowers bloom around. His heart also skips a beat when he sees you around flowers, it makes it look like his paradise. And because it's a calm place not many know about.

- The emotion Giorno feels the most is longing. Longing, that sense of yearning for something or someone. Giorno yearned for you and now he yearns for a future with you. It took him some time to make this transition, but now it's so very intense.

- At first, for a long time after deciding it's time to propose to you, Giorno doesn't feel nervous about it because he knows that you two shared a dream for a profound commitment. But in time, as the moment approaches, there is one question that makes him overthink everything.

- Giorno sometimes will look at you from afar and clench his hand around the ring in his pocket. One time, it's noticeable. Mista stepped closer to him, sensing something wrong, but not saying a word yet. Without moving his gaze from you, Giorno asks himself in a quiet tone so that Mista can hear too, if he will be able to make you this happy forever. Mista nodded, understanding everything but not knowing how to reassure him. He tells Giorno that because he worries about your happiness, he is already halfway there.

- Giorno doesn't want to write down his confession, thinking that such a thing shouldn't be planned. He wants to speak from the bottom of his heart, holding your hands as he always did when he was alone with you. However, when he's on one knee, he starts wishing he had written down at least some phrases because he's lost. When he looks into your eyes, he knows, he is ready.

“As I look at you now, I realize that the world is a better place with you in it. I cherish every second we have together, and I feel like I can breathe freely when you are beside me. I don't want a future without you. I, Giorno Giovanna, have another dream now. To make you happy. Will you let me try and will you marry me?”

[zarnzarn]

You made me obsessed with poly Odysseus Athena and Penelope I can't spend a minute without thinking about those three

Sometimes a relationship really is just a husband, a wife and a 7 ft tall goddess

HAHA IVE SUCCEEDED COME WALLOW HERE IN MY LITTLE CAVE POOL OF MADNESS HELP ME MAKE MORE!!

but fr I'm so glad you and so many people enjoyed!!!!!!!! they're constantly taking up space in my mind also, i just very much enjoy their craziness together!! here's some more ideas I had for my specific au:

-Olympus is Fucking Scared. imagine ur cold, unemotional stepsister suddenly going from :| and :/ to :) and :D because of three random guys. they're happy for her but ares also regularly begs them to consider the fact that Athena has been replaced by a robot

-Penelope is giddy because FINALLY she can let go of all her etiquette and court the hell out of the beautiful giant woman who's been a part of her life for so long. they have a bit of conflict at the start as Penelope goes full throttle on the romance and Athena is,, overwhelmed and uncomfortable because her feelings are really mixed on it.

but eventually they find a middle ground, where pen and athena have hairbraiding sessions together every morning and pen sends her off with flowers in her hair, maybe some jewelery they both compromise on; weave together flirtingly; Athena'll accept the occassional grand romantic gesture even if she's blushing and rolling her eyes the whole time. and yes she very much still seduces Athena into bed and drags her off into dark corners to make out- of which Athena complains often but never says no too. sometimes she doesn't want to participate, but she's always down to watch <3

-odysseus and Athena don't change much in dynamic post reunion; bffs usually found teasing each other or bickering, except this time they kind of see it when Penelope points out that there is a Lot of Tension, since they're also leaning into each other's space with smirks half the time. they can admit it to each other, but if anyone asks directly they actually are deeply mortified by the fact that they like each other, tsundre style <3 one conversation with hera had them both actually gagging lmao. if left alone together their first instinct is to nap on each other, and maybe their second or third would be to fool around. fourth, if there's a place to spar around; they're quite physically violent with each other and can't quite understand everyone else's mild horror at this- they've literally been fighting since they've met.

(pls imagine hera coming to ask questions of flower arrangements and walk into athena blocking a sword to the face and swinging a kick at odysseus' torso, both of them smiling wide as if they're not trying to kill each other. hera was Not Pleased.)

-telemachus is appearing soon so I won't talk abt him or the rest of the family but! they r also walking around like a bunch of ants to come meet Athena when they feel like it

-athena has a few strands of grey hair from after meeting them. she loves it.

-they try to ignore the rest of the pantheon, for obvious reasons. Athena and Zeus don't talk yet, even though the latter is almost daily trying to reach out to her and awkwardly try to discuss the wedding.

-both of them often come to sit on Athena's throne during Olympus gatherings. whisper and crack jokes to her, very relieved to not be the ones ruling. it takes a bit to get used to the sight of Athena smiling with her hair braided and flowered, leaning into her new spouses fondly, but everyone's very happy for her.

[aekatty]

𝔦𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔫 𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔲𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔢....

if the sun refused to shine…baby, would i still be ur lover?

a/n: my first angst, no judgement pls >.<

⋆.ೃ𐦍*:･⋆𐦍.ೃ࿔*:･

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

18+ !! MINORS DNI

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

cw: angst, troubled love, established relationship, mentions of past intimacy (sexual & emotional), slight cursing

tags ✮⋆˙ oneshot, angst, distantlover!zoro x y/n, gn!reader, falling out of love trope,

now playing: intro (end of the world) - ariana grande

“Do you love me?”

“What?”

“Do you love me like I love you?”

He couldn’t lie when he felt surprised hearing those words out of your mouth, “Yea, why?”

You sighed, “I’ve been thinking…we’ve been distant recently and it’s making me question our relationship.” You sat next to him as you laid back on the cushioned seat. The somber blue tint illuminating on both your faces as you guys sat alone in the aquarium room. It’s quiet.

He went silent for a minute before letting out a soft chuckle, “You’re pulling my leg, aren’t ya?”

“I’m not joking, Zoro.”

The way you said his name struck a nerve in his body. He wasn’t used to this type of confrontation, rather, he wasn’t used to feeling this type of way at all. He hated it. It was like his heart strings were tugging at him as if it purposely made him uncomfortable.

You huffed, “Five weeks…” You felt your lips quiver as you swallowed the lump in your throats. You wanted him to understand, “That’s how long it’s been since we’ve held a proper conversation, since you’ve kissed me on the lips, since you told me I love you.”

“Babe-“

“Don’t mess this up, please.”

His mouth went dry at your words. He has so many questions pooling in his head. Yet, he couldn’t find the right words to answer you. His mind went blank.

He choked on his words, “I guess I’ve just been really busy training.”

You looked up at him with saddened eyes, “Is that really it?”

Fuck. The realization hit him like a truck. He questioned his inner monologue, did he really love you? You’ve been together for a year now. It felt like forever ago when you first became a part of the crew, you automatically clicked with everyone with your bubbly personality and generosity. The first time he laid eyes on you, he couldn’t help but be drawn to your aura in a different sense. The way you walked, the way you talked, the way your eyes locked with his; It drove him nuts. You were just so alluring the swordsman couldn’t understand the feeling forming in his stomach. Was he nervous?

During those two years, his feelings only grew even more for you. Everything was all confusing. He was a swordsman for christ’s sake, he don’t have time for sappy love. Yet, you lingered in his mind like a treadmill. He wanted to pull on the emergency stop so badly, yet…he still kept running.

The day you asked him out, he couldn’t help but feel his heart explode into pieces. You were just so beautiful/handsome, he felt like he didn’t deserve you. The devil on his shoulder was practically yelling him to run away, yet his conscious was practically telling him to say yes. You both shared your first kisses that day.

“I love you.”

“and, I love you.”

The months turned into a year, you experienced everything together. Sure, there were moments were you both had alone time for yourselves. Pretty arguments turned into “make up and forgets.”

But, this time felt different.

Whenever you kissed his lips, his heart didn’t flutter like it used too. He stopped initiating sex even in times when he needed relief. It was like you just became a blur in his mind as he started feeling himself slip away from your embrace. He wanted to love you back…but he just couldn’t. Each day felt like his grasp was slipping away from you. He couldn’t. He couldn’t admit it.

“I’m tired. I’m tired of waiting, avoiding the truth, running in circles for you.”

“We’re 21, not 19 anymore…For fuck sake, Roronoa, I just want you to hear me like I hear you.” Your lips quivered as you choked back tears.

“No, [name], listen. I do love you, I just got caught up with bulking up I just unintentionally isolated myself.”

Slap

The sound of the hard contact of your hand to his face echoed before the sound of water bubbling in the tank continued.

“I’m- I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did that.”

He rubbed the impacted area, “Heh, I guess I deserved that.”

Even in times like this, he had to still be a bit humorous…You hated it.

“The faster we talk about this, the faster we resolve this.”

He gulped, “If I tell you, you would hate me.”

“I will hate you more if you don’t tell me.

“…As you wish.”

It was taking everything for you to not tear up from anxiety.

“I feel as if our paths are just too different.”

You knew it. You fucking knew it.

“Was I not good enough for you? Was I lousy in bed? Did I do something to piss you off?” You spoke in a panicked tone as you held his hands.

He gently squeezed your hands, “No, [name]. I just…I just don’t feel anything for you….not anymore”

You felt tears fall down your cheek before wiping it. It was like the world stopped hearing those words. Deep down, you wanted to beg him to take you back…But all you could do was just lightly punching his chest as you sobbed your feelings out.

“I hate you, I hate you so much.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he sighed as you halted your light punches to his chest.

“So you don’t love me anymore…”

He gazed into your eyes with a gentle look, his voice had deepened, “Of course I love you, but just not the same way.”

You went silent as you decreased the pressure of your hands in his grasp, “You’re right…”

“We’re just on two different paths…”

You stroked his cheek with a smile, that same smile that was plastered on your face the moment you said your first I love you, the moment when you first stepped onto the Thousand Sunny’s. A smile that made him fall in love with you.

“I want to ask you...”

The room had become silent. Not even the ambience sound from the aquarium tanks could reach your ears. The sound of your heart pounding screaming in your ears as you coughed up your words.

“If the crew splits up permanently or if we move on…Hell, if we’re on the brink of death, old age or not,”

“Would I be the one on your mind?”

His eyes widened at your question. He felt as if his thoughts were running laps in his head.

He scoffed, “Of course, you were my first.”

You smiled, “Lemme ask you this again: Do you love me…like I love you?”

The knot in his stomach tightened as he contemplated his decision. No more kisses, no more dates, no more intimacy, no more i love you’s.

“Even if the sun refused to shine, I will love you forever and always.”

You wiped your wet tears and snot, “If the moon ever goes dark, I’ll love you back.”

You kissed his cheek before walking out the aquarium and headed to your cabin.

As he heard the door close, he couldn’t help but drop to his knees as tears fell onto the cold floor. For the first time, the swordsman felt vulnerable to his emotions and it was burning him deeply. He caressed the scar on his torso, before muttering curses to himself.

———

“Luffy, calm down! The food isn’t gonna run away, you know!” You snatched the plate from the hungry boy.

“Come on, [name]! It’s not my fault Sanji’s cooking is delicious!” He used his rubber powers to steal the plate from your hands and ran out the dining room with it.

You laughed at your captain’s actions when suddenly, you felt hands snake around your waist. As you turned around to see who was the culprit, you yelped as you felt soft lips touch yours.

“Ignore that idiot, my love. I’m surprised he doesn’t have diabetes yet.” He shot you a cheeky smile which caused your face to heat up.

“Sanji, I’m gonna dump you.”

“NOOOO MY SWEET [name]. I’LL GIVE YOU A THOUSAND KISSES IF THAT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER,” He starts to cling onto your leg like a kid throwing a tantrum.

You laughed before kissing his cheek, “Oh don’t worry, baby, you can make it up tonight.” You wink at him jokingly.

Oh man, the mess you’re gonna have to clean up from the amount of blood he let out hearing that…

“Christ, how are ya’ll this loud at this hour,” the hungover swordsman yawned.

“It’s noon, mosshead,” sneered at him.

“Whatcha say, curly brow?!”

You facepalmed before slapping their faces to shut him up.

“This is getting old, guys,” you nodded your head in disapproval.

They both apologized before they went back to glaring at each other to which you gave up on.

———

As you finish cleaning up, you turn to face the green-haired swordsman, “Oh, and Zoro.”

He felt his heart stop for a moment before replying back to you, “Uh- yea?”

“Don’t drink too much, I don’t want you dying of alcohol suffering,” you jokingly giggled before taking the sake bottle from his hand.

He laughed before shooting you a smirk, “Trust, Il be fine.”

You smiled before the cook wrapped his arms around your shoulders, “Come, Mon Cherie, let’s get away from this evil ogre-”

“SAY THAT TO MY FACE, YOU CURLY BROW ASSHOLE-”

“Ooooookay this is our cue to leave,” you laugh awkwardly before pulling your blonde boyfriend out of the dining area.

Zoro felt his smile fade as he watched you look at your new boyfriend with loving eyes. The same eyes he would gaze upon when you both were still together.

He grabbed another bottle of sake from the cabinet before chugging it down like water. The thought and sight of you with another man, especially with one of his crew mates, was like getting stabbed with his own swords. Maybe those feelings didn’t go away like he said that night.

All he could do now was stare at the ceiling while swishing the alcoholic beverage in his hand. Maybe he shouldn’t have let you go like that he thought to himself.

Will I still be on your mind?

He chuckled to himself before finishing the remnants of the bottle, “Dumbass, if she’s moved on then…maybe it’s time I move on.”

Maybe there was another universe where we got married and had kids, maybe there was another time where I didn’t lose feelings for you.

Maybe there was another time where the sun did shine…

Maybe in another lifetime…

[moodymisty]

Shawty PLEASSSSEEEEEE give us some general headcanons for Jagahatai Khan (with maybe a little nsfw if ur feeling generous)

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's note: sure thing homie, we all love our White Scars primarch.

Relationships: Jaghatai Khan/Fem!Reader (because of two prompts mentioning pregnancy)

Warnings: NSFW, Tokophobia/pregnancy mentions but other than that nothing

SFW

One of Jaghatai's favorite activities (while yes his jetbike go zoom) is to accompany you as you ride one of the horses. While he might be too big for them now, he still enjoys walking beside you, either holding the horse's reins as you take in Chogoris' atmosphere, or just watching you play around.

Would rather kneel to your level than pick you up. Though he sometimes picks you up and puts you on things to be at his level, which everyone of course finds hilarious. The Khan and his tiny beloved, his legion jokes.

Is one of the less stuck up primarchs, and is more willing to be affectionate. Particularly snarky comments will often get you a teasing kiss on the temple.

Given the sheer size difference you normally sit on his thigh, or on the front half of his jetbike.

If you're not native to Chogoris, he definitely enjoys it if you attempt to learn about his home planet. It's often regarded as barbaric and not important in the grand scheme of the Imperium (other than having been the homeplace of a primarch) so having his beloved adopt some of the culture or even the language definitely means quite a bit to him.

NSFW

While he does genuinely enjoy those horseback rides with you, a large reason why he does is how he can take those moments to have a moment truly alone with you. It's not uncommon at all for him to go out, leave his legion and everyone else behind and just roam the plains with you. You'll both return hours later, and your clothes are far more disheveled than they were before, covered in grass stains, and you're sitting oddly on horseback. You usually retreat to your private quarters after that, and Jaghatai remains in a much better mood than he was before.

One of the few primarchs that actually doesn't mind not being a power top every now again. Don't get him wrong he's still completely in control, his hands grip your hips like a vice as you ride him and he knows you'll waver under his voice, but he doesn't mind leaning back and letting you work for it a bit.

He knows he can go fast, but he loves to sometimes be painstakingly slow. Watching you crack from frustration into fully begging him to fuck you faster and harder is like wine to him.

While everyone says that Horus is the one with the breeding kink, I think Jaghatai is up there as well. It’s just a feeling.

Sometimes when his mind wanders while you’re asleep he imagines the soft swell of your belly, and how he’d love to watch you struggle to ride him with it.

[cherrysurf]

congrats on your 200 💫💫can i have taro and cherries (friends set us up) as the toppings in waffle cone? i’ll have the cheesecake bites. ill have it with suna rintarou 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Unexpected interest

suna rintarou x f!reader (no proofread)

thank you to @massacremars for helping me figure out the plot for this fic 😞🙏🏻 bless up chat

Osamu was just about sick of hearing you complain about being single and the lack of men at your door “blah, blah, blah yn you know you’re lucky i’m a good friend and i’m willing to listen to you complain about this.” he said slurping on his ramen. “then help me out instead of listening to me complain.” you rolling your eyes “sigh. I don’t know if I can. But I'll try.” he says because he really is sick of this all. “How are you gonna do that?”

you asked quirking your eyebrow at him as you eat your food “i’m going to set you up with an old friend of mine, this saturday get ready i’ll have everything planned and text you the time before hand.” he says smirking at his grand idea “ermmm okay fine.” you say shrugging trusting in the gray haired man’s words—

after osamu had gotten home from yours and his lunch he called up atsumu for his grand idea “sunas still single right?” osamu asked, “Uh yeah, I think so, why?” atsumu said. “you remember yn?” osamu mentioned “oh yeah, how is she?” the blonde said over the phone. “she’s good but annoyingly single and can’t stop talking about it so i want to set her up with suna since he’s coming back to town this week” osamu tells him the plan “ah i see helping her out, so why are you telling me and not him?” atsumu questioned “Because I need you to help me talk him into this date” osamu said “and how will I do that?” Atsumu laughed. “bro figure it out and fast i told her Saturday is gonna be the date.” osamu added “WHAT?! that’s not enough time” atsumu said yelling “work with what i gave ya gotta go bye” osamu quickly hung up the phone. “ughhh i just wanted to sleep bruh” atsumu groaned—

atsumu called suna later that day “yo rin” atsum said “what’s up?” suna asked a bit confused because as crazy as it was atsumu never called out of the blue like this “I was wondering your single? and need some action in your love life because you have none and you don’t want to die alone right?” atsumu added “uhh i guess? where are you going with this tsumu?” he said sick of the blonde haired man and his antics “look osamu wants to set you up with one of his friends, she’s super pretty and cool i think you guys might hit it off, but you’d have to plan the date for this saturday” atsumu said really fast “are you kidding me?” suna said “nah, dead serious come on bro it’s not bad just do it for me and samu” atsumu added “ima do it for the girl because if she’s dealing with osamu and coming to him with her problems she must be struggling” suna said “perfect so text osamu ask for her number and set it up peace out my work here is done.” atsumu said feeling accomplished. “yeah whatever” suna said rolling his eyes.

Texts between osamu and suna;

S: send me that girls number so i can set up the date with her

O: wait u actually said yes?

S: yea?

O: dam, ok here you go (xxx) xxx-xxx

S: thanks

O: lmk how it goes…

Texts between suna and yn

S: Hey this is Osamu's friends, he the one who set you up on a date with me.

Yn: oh yeah, Hey! i can’t believe he actually did LMAO

S: yeah anyways what’s ur name?

Yn: it’s Yn, and you?

S: suna. So for the date i’ll pick you up at 9, dress casual unless you wanna meet there

Yn: no i don’t mind, uhm sure sounds good see you then suna!

S: see ya.

fast forward to the day of the date you’ve haven't been on one in forever so you were nervous about it all especially it being a long time friend of osamu’s and atsumu’s, you may have spent an unhealthy amount of time picking a “causal” outfit but you found one (after many double checks with all your friends) and pinterested many tiktok hairstyles for the days following up to the date but everything went smoothly until you get a text saying he’s going to be on his way, your stomach fills with anxiety because you have no idea what he looks like this was all new to you, surely osamu and atsumu wouldn’t set you up with someone ugly right? right? you try to push down all the worries and woes of your mind and triple check your outfit.

16 minutes later you get a knock on your door and you’re greeted by a tall dark haired man with beautiful green fox like eyes with a beautiful bouquet of lilies of the valley flowers, “how did you know…?” you asked him looking at the flowers, which makes him nervous “uh i asked osamu, i didn’t want to come empty handed” he said shyly “their beautiful….can i go put them away really quick” you say looking up at him which caused his heart to burst and beat like a drum a sensation he hasn’t felt since his first crush. “yeah-h sure” he said, staring at you “cool! I'll be fast.” you say grabbing them as if they were ever so delicate you threw out the old wilting bouquet of flowers and got new water to place the beautiful flowers he got you in, “okay all ready to go, shall we?” you say smiling which only made him more nervous “yeah let’s go.” he said smiling—

Suna was never the super shy type he wasn’t super cocky either, but how can he not feel nervous when he’s in the car with this beaming sunlight next to him, you radiating warmth and love. How could have you been single for this long? He questioned that he was also wondering if the date he planned wasn’t good enough for you now he’s rethinking everything while basically driving on autopilot to the destination. You sat there looking through the window happily. Suna seemed like a nice guy, he was sweet, he opened your door for you which was yes the bare minimum but it all felt so special with him.

The date was a fun night market with food vendors and small shops and fair rides. Your eyes lit up at the lively atmosphere, suna noticed of course he noticed it’s like his eyes were stuck on you this whole time.

After many foods, silly rides, suna almost throwing up, cute photo booth, and petting goats and calling them atsumu and osamu. The night was ending you both got sleepy, as you walk back to the car with a smile and blue tongue from the shaved ice and a small white bunny as a prize from the game suna won it from, and suna with red tongue and a smile on his face seeing you glow and scream in delight at all the rides. He couldn’t be happier that those twins finally did something good for him “thank you for this suna i had a lot of fun.” you say gripping onto his arm “yeah id love to do it again sometime…. maybe something more formal?” he said looking at you to find you with your eyes sparkling “REALLY?! "I'd love too suna” you say staring at him “yeah, and you can call me rin” he said smiling “rin, mmh i like that” you say savoring his name on your blue stained tongue, him engraving the sound of your voice in his brain.

[jesterwriting]

Hellooo! I hope ur well !! Would it be a bother to ask for a head cannon/scenario list, with Zoro, Nami Sanji and Law? Reader’s lost in their own head, tries to let it out through battle- ends up with just needing to be in the comfortable, silent presence of their crew-mate/captain afterwards? You can take it however direction you want-!

Feel free to skip if it’s too much to ask!! Sending you lots of love and good wishes, hope you have a good day/night and take care of yourself 🫶💞

pairings: nami x reader, zoro x reader, law x reader, sanji x reader

word count: 1.8k words

contents: fluff, gender neutral reader, slight descriptions of depression, don’t fight when youre distracted or youll make your blorbos grumpy and worried

note: this was cute! my favorite way to spend time with someone is sharing a room with them hehe :3 i hope you enjoy these headcanons!!

Cat Burglar Nami

She is so focused on her own fight, she doesn’t notice how lost in your head you are until it’s over. Once everything dies down, that’s when Nami scolds you. If you’re in a fight, you give it your full attention, you could get seriously injured if you don’t. Nami knocks you upside the head for it, with love, of course. You’ll be nursing a bump for the next few hours, though Nami will grab you an ice pack if you whine about it enough. She rolls her eyes, but loves how you lean into her touch when she places the ice on your aching forehead.

Your thoughts are still racing as you pace up and down the length of the Sunny’s deck. If you looked in the mirror, you would swear your eyes were spirals. You couldn’t be alone, not right now, not unless you wanted to go crazy. To make things worse, your head still hurt. Nami sure packs a punch, though you know it's only because she cares. You’re lonely, and while you know she is busy navigating right now, you want her company.

The first thing Nami says when you find her is, “I’m still mad at you!” However, she doesn’t make you leave when you sit on the floor and lean your back on the wall. You watch her hands move, fingers curled around a pen as she works on a map. She narrows her eyes at you when she catches you staring at her, reminding you, yet again, that she’s still angry about you putting yourself at risk. When you give her a sheepish grin, she sticks her tongue out at you before getting back to work. Neither of you speak. As time passes, she relaxes, shoulders slumping and brows furrowed as she focuses. The comforting sound of pen on paper soothes your ailing mind. By the time you realize the sun is dipping under the horizon, your ice pack has melted and is nothing more than a sack of water.

Nami looks at you out of the corner of her eye. “Do you need another one?” When you say yes, she smirks and calls for Sanji, who comes running equipped with dinner and another ice pack for you. Her food is so good, you have to try it, stealing a sneaky indirect kiss from you when you share her fork. With Nami as company, you feel a lot better than you did before.

Roronoa Zoro

He notices quickly that you’re lost in your own head mid-fight — Zoro trusts you, but he can’t help but keep an eye on you during battle — and barks at you to get it together. You were hoping to take out your frustrations on the enemy, only to have clumsy footwork because you couldn’t stop thinking about how upset you feel. Zoro is blunt, but his harsh words come from a place of care. If you get hurt because you’re not paying attention, it’s no one’s fault but your own. That doesn’t mean he won’t worry if something were to happen. After the fact, he will double down on his reprimands. Everyone on the ship is counting on you, not only yourself.

You’re even more frustrated with yourself because he’s right. It’s hard to keep his words out of your head, mingling with the thoughts from earlier until you feel absolutely exhausted. You need peace. Somewhere quiet to lay and stare up at the sky for a while to remind yourself how little you are in the grand scheme of things. To you, your problems may seem big enough to swallow you whole. To the sea, they are nothing. The moon doesn’t care how inadequate you feel, the stars cannot fathom how tired you are. You climb up into the crows nest to be closer to them, in hopes that their indifference will rub off on you.

That’s where you find Zoro. He’s napping, though he acknowledges your arrival by cracking open an eye and giving you a nod. You take that as a sign that it’s okay to join him. With a deep breath, you settle next to him and stared up at the sky, tracing the constellations with your pupils. Zoro’s breathing eventually evens out, his loud snoring filling the space enough to drown out any of the negative thoughts that threaten to spill over. No words are spoken between the two of you, they don’t need to be. You enjoy having the presence of another body next to you, the heat from his skin so close by warming you from the nighttime chill. With the white noise of Zoro’s breathing, and the warm blanket of his presence soothing your thoughts, you drift to sleep.

The next morning you wake up with your head on his chest. Zoro is awake, acknowledging you with a grunt before he scoots out from over you and leaves the crow nest. Not before sending you a smirk, as if he hadn’t been letting you cuddle him for the better part of an hour, “Sleep well?”

Trafalgar Law

He notices you’re lost in your own head before the fighting even starts. Law is observant, he knows you like the back of his hand, studying your expressions and mannerisms until he can name your emotions before you can even recognize them. It’s likely he recognized your frustrations the night before, choosing to give you time to work them out on your own. If you don’t, he benches you. Don’t try to fight him on it. Unless you’re able to work through what you need to work through in the next ten minutes, you’re sitting this one out. It’s not that Law doesn’t trust you or have faith in your abilities, he knows that the enemies you’re about to fight are strong and you need to have your whole head in the game. He can’t have you getting hurt on his watch because he failed to recognize the signs that you might be suffering under mental duress.

After the battle, the ship is loud and full of celebration, none of which you want to take part in. Maybe you don’t feel like you deserve it because you didn’t do anything, or maybe you were just too exhausted, being alone with your negative thoughts while the fighting went on. Unable to stand it, you left in search of somewhere quiet. Not alone, you weren’t sure if you could handle being alone right now, but with someone to breathe the same air. If there is one place on the Polar Tang that would be quiet, it would be wherever Law is.

Law raises an eyebrow when you slink into his office. He’s in the middle of reading a book, one leg crossed over the other as he lounges in his chair. “What do you need,” He asks. You shrug and say you don’t want to be alone right now. Law can understand that, gesturing quietly to the chair across from his desk before he’s absorbed back in his book. You share the silence well. While you count the ceiling tiles, you listen to the sound of Law turning the pages of his book. Occasionally, Law will clear his throat, but that’s the only sound you get from him. It’s comfortable, companionable even. You could do this more often. Law’s presence is sturdy and makes you feel safe, the thoughts that run rampant in your head quiet in your captain’s presence.

Hours pass like that, until finally, Law closes his book and announces he’s going to bed. That’s your cue to leave. Before you’re out of your seat, Law asks if you feel any better, smirking a little to himself when you confirm you are. He enjoys sharing a space with you, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud. You’re welcome back in his office anytime.

Black Leg Sanji

He is always watching you during a battle, just out of the corner of his eye. Sanji is naturally protective, especially of those he loves. Asking him not to worry about you during a fight is like asking a dog not to bark. Due to this, he notices how lost in your head you are almost the second the fighting starts. He takes care to watch your back, driving back the worst of the assailants to make up for your worse than average performance. After the fighting dies down, he asks if you’re doing alright and reminds you to take care of yourself in case something happens. He won’t always be there to protect you. Sanji doesn’t know what he’d do if you got seriously injured on his watch. More than likely, he’d blame himself for not protecting you properly.

You don’t have to seek Sanji out. After the fight, he asks if you would like anything to eat, offering to let you spend time with him in the kitchen while he cooks. Whether you’re hungry or not, you at least take Sanji up on his offer to spend time together. You still can’t think straight, the battle being nowhere near satisfying in getting your emotions out. Being alone right now is not high on your list of priorities. The two of you fall into step with each other as you make your way to the kitchen, and already his presence is a balm to your racing thoughts.

Sanji is truly at home in the kitchen. You know that now more than ever as you watch him cook. It’s like a dance, one he knows perfectly, and there’s a certain sense of grace to his every move. At first, Sanji will try to make conversation, though he slips into a comfortable silence when you explain you would rather not talk right now. He understands, offering you a kind smile before he’s back to work at the counter, chopping vegetables and sprinkling spices into the food. The comfort of a home cooked meal is just what you need, especially since Sanji cut the vegetables into the shape of little hearts. So focused on your meal, and Sanji’s beautiful blue eyes, you can’t remember what you were so upset about.

After you finish your meal, Sanji is insistent that you let him know you feel better before you leave. Give him a big smile and watch him flush, starry eyed at your expression. He feels better now that he knows you feel better. Anytime you need, you can come find him and he will spend time in silence with you, happily cooking you a meal.