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amourcheol · 5 months ago

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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 vernon who owns an outdated film store, fem!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.

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fashionteahouse · 1 month ago

Text

out of your league - paul x reader

AN: super glad that you guys still enjoy this series :x i’m gonna try to do a better job at updating it 💜 much love to you all and thanks for the love and support ! <<prev >>next

You stare at Emily’s smile as you whisper out a simple question.

“..Does it hurt?”

She shakes her head.

You agreed to go to lunch with her. She claims it’s been a while since you both have spent some alone time together.

It was huge. It was reddish and it looked fresh. She seemed lighter. Especially in the eyes. She looked even more happier if it were possible.

“Does it hurt to touch?” you ask and reach your hand and she swipes your hand away. Your hand is back in your lap. She was protective over it.

She hides the mark with her hair.

“Did it hurt when you got it?” you ask her.

“A bit….He did it while…We were you know…Climaxing.” she says in a whisper.

“Is that what’s supposed to happen?” you ask.

“Well, I don’t know…Old Quil says it could’ve helped relived the pain better.”

“Wow.” you breathed out.

“You think Paul will do it?” she asks before she takes a sip of her drink.

You shrug, “I don’t know..Maybe. He might.”

“You two are getting married soon. It’s basically the wolf marrying you.” she says. You nod.

“It’s like…I can hear what he’s thinking. He can hear what I’m thinking…It’s so surreal because it’s like imprinting times ten.” she says in a lovesick trance but she seemed very relaxed.

“Does it freak you out?”

“Surprisingly, no. Not at all.” she says with a light laugh.

“I’m happy for you.” you say and she beams with a smile.

Slowly, you walk in the home, closing the door. You hang up your jacket.

You were alone.

You close the door to your personal studio space. As your fingers worked the clay sculpture, your mind was focused on Emily’s mark.

It looked painful to anyone who didn’t know what was going on. Knowing how you felt around Paul and being imprinted to him, you wondered how it would feel when it’s amplified.

You were almost finished and you heard the door creak open.

His hands lift up the window.

“You need some fresh air in here.” Paul says and you pause your activities.

“Hello to you too.”

He grinned and planted a smooch on your face. You chuckled as it was sloppy on purpose.

“I’m hungry. You hungry?”

“Nah…Not really.” you answer.

“You’ve been here all day I bet.” he says.

“No..I went out to lunch with Emily earlier.” you tell him.

“Oh.”

“But, I can still make you something to eat.” you say as you rise up and go to wash your hands.

“You’ll never believe this shit.”

You bust out into a laugh as you plate his food, “What?”

“We have a female shifter.”

You raise your eyebrows.

“But…Why are people still shifting?” you ask thick in confusion.

He says a quick thank you before he digs in, “Who the fuck knows. I guess there’s still nomads out there.”

“So..This has never happened before?”

“No.” he says.

“What’s her name?”

“Leah Clearwater.”

You froze.

She was older than you. You definitely heard of her and seen her around only a handful of times since she was fairly popular. You both had never spoken. Last that you heard, she moved away after a couple years after graduating high school.

“She moved back?”

“Yeah.” he says with a sigh, “She’s a motherfucker to deal with.”

You would’ve laughed but you just couldn’t.

“What…What does she do?” you ask.

“It’s a fucking Sam marathon. I thought Sam was the bad guy as well but he can’t help who he imprints on. Even if it was her cousin.”

Things were starting to make sense.

“So….She feels Emily stole Sam from her.” you state. He confirms.

You sat in silence as you then hear how her little brother Seth, had also shifted.

Damn.

“How old is he?”

“Fifteen.”

“Poor kid”. you say quietly.

The next morning, you and Paul made your way to Emily’s.

Paul pushed open the door and sitting in a chair with her arms crossed, was short haired girl with a mean look that’s permanent on her face.

She looked over at you both. She looked a bit different since the last time you saw her, she had perfect dark long hair. It was cut now.

“What’s up, Paul.”

He nods at her greeting. She turns her head, glaring at Emily’s back. Emily turns around with a slight smile, you could tell she was a bit uncomfortable as she set food on the table.

You have a seat and the tension was so thick, a knife would’ve shredded in half from trying to slice it.

Sam strolls in with the others. They all say hello to you and Paul, a young boy comes in last as he eyes you curiously. You wave and his eyes light up with boyish charm and waves back.

“That’s Seth, Y/N.” Sam tells you.

“Nice to meet you.” you tell him politely.

“Yeah, you too.” Seth says.

Bella and Jacob sits next to you after Bella gives you a quick hug.

You were pleased to see that Angela came as well. She sits next to Embry at the large table. Quil and Jared bicker with each other as Kim sits quietly.

Things were okay until you noticed that Leah didn’t touch any food. Her plate was empty and her arms were still crossed as she glared at Emily. The entire time.

“You’re not gonna eat?” Jared asks her.

“No… Not her food.” Leah says bitterly as she tilted her head to continue to glare at her. Emily’s feelings looked hurt but she tried her best to keep her spirits high.

“Just eat, Lee.” you hear Seth tell his sister quietly. She only looks at her brother and he immediately gets the idea before he gives up on persuading her. She returns her glare back to Emily.

“Me and Jake’s going to the beach after this. Are you coming?” Bella asks you as people fell into other conversation.

“Sure. I’ve been cooped up lately.” you say.

”Y/N, what are you working on?” Emily asks, trying to ignore Leah’s hard pressed look.

“J-just a clay sculpture.” you say.

“You make sculptures?” Seth asks you. You just nod, “Yeah, something like that.” You were feeling the air be heavy. You hurry up to eat so you can leave.

“Slow down.” Paul tells you softly with a chuckle. If only he knew.

Plates were cleared as you rise up to take your plate to the sink.

“Do you want me to take yours?” you heard Kim’s voice. You turn from the sink and see that she was talking to Leah.

“Do whatever you want.” Leah says, still not letting Emily catch a break.

You felt a tap on your arm and see that Jacob was steering Bella out the door with his arm around her shoulder.

You follow them out.

You let out a breath when you both got to the beach.

Jacob cracks up.

“What. Was. That?” Bella asked as you all sat on a fallen log.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Leah.” Jacob says. Bella chuckles.

“That was so intense.” Bella says.

“Be glad you don’t have to see inside her mind.” Jacob says and grimaced a bit. You look at the waves.

“What did Emily even do? Did they not get along growing up or something?” Bella asks.

“Emily came to town when Sam went missing, she was supposed to help Leah find him. Sam imprinted on Emily. Emily rejected it at first but the pull to each other was too strong she just couldn’t ignore it anymore. Leah thinks Emily was creeping around with Sam the entire time he was missing and..It’s a mess.”

“Jeez.” Bella says.

“I mean…Sam couldn’t help it…Right?” Bella then asks. Jacob nods, “He can’t. Imprinting just happens.”

“I do feel bad. She has to watch her cousin and ex be together like it’s nothing. God, that would kill me.”

“Yeah. They were like sisters too. During the summer Emily would come here or Leah would go to Neah Bay.” Jacob says.

“Her brother is nice.” you say quietly.

“Yeah. He’s a good kid..Too bad he has to deal with this.” Jacob says.

“He’s like the polar opposite of his sister.” Bella replies.

Jacob chuckled at that.

“They were gonna get married too…” Jacob says.

“Damn.” you and Bella say at the same time.

“She’s definitely gonna freak when-” you freeze before shaking your head.

“What?” Jacob asks you.

“Nothing…” regretting that you opened your mouth.

“What? What? Spit it out.” Jacob says.

You breathe in, “You didn’t hear it from me…But…Sam marked Emily.”

“What?!” Jacob asks you in shock and his face showed he heard the biggest piece of gossip known to man.

You motion for him to quiet down.

“Wait, what? What’s marking?” Bella asks, not wanting to feel out of the loop.

“Shhh..” you say.

Jacob chuckles as he tells Bella, “It’s the solidity of the bond between the imprint and wolf. You don’t have to do it, but it’s like taking the imprint a step further. It’s not even a step, it’s just a whole new level.”

Bella eyes are frozen with slight shock, “Yeah, she’s gonna freak.”

“So Emily’s been covering it up.” Jacob observed.

“Yeah. She told and showed me over lunch.”

“When Leah finds out, we have to hide all of the knives.” Jacob says trying not to laugh.

“I don’t think she needs all of that. She will just tear Sam to pieces with her wolf.” Bella says.

Both you and Jacob hum in agreement.

You all make your way back to Emily’s after some time. Many of the others were gone. You heard talking in the living room.

That’s where you went.

“I’m so surprised you haven’t met your match.” you heard Leah’s voice say. You enter and Paul is lounging on the couch as he looked at her, “Nobody can beat me.”

“That cockiness still didn’t leave you.” she says with a grin.

“You call it cockiness, I call it confidence.”

Leah snorts as she looks up for a bit with a soft smile. It was the first time you seen her smile since meeting her. She looked at you when she realized you entered with Bella and Jacob. She didn’t say anything.

You go to sit next to Paul.

She gets up and goes out.

“Where are you going?” Paul asks her.

“Wherever the wind takes me.” she says humorously.

Paul shakes her head at her with a soft grin. He takes a look at you.

“You staying for dinner?”

“Maybe.” you say with a slight shrug. He then lays in your lap. Your hand rest in his hair.

“Jared told us you guys have a pool.” Jacob says.

“Jared needs to keep his freaking mouth shut I swear.” you mutter.

“Hey, what about me?” Bella says as she leans against Jacob.

“You get a pass… Jake still has to earn it.”

“Aw, what?” Jacob says as you and Bella chuckle.

Dinner was slightly better. Leah wasn’t there to make tension. Emily seemed much more relaxed.

Jacob being immature kept giving you and Bella looks. You only subtly shake your head at him.

“What?” Paul asks as he noticed.

“Nothing.” you say.

“So..Did you and Paul get a date yet?” Emily asks.

“Umm…No.” you say.

To be honest, you’ve been so busy with work that you didn’t get started on wedding planning.

“How come? This is exciting.” Bella asks.

“I’m loaded with commissions right now.” you say.

Going independent was supposed to make things easier. Now, it just seemed like people were tugging on your arm, fighting over you almost. The only good thing about it, seemed to be that you could keep all profits to yourself.

“I could help.” Jacob says.

“Yeah, no thanks.” you say. Sam and Paul laughed.

You closed the door to your small studio room, only for it to open again.

“Come on, Y/N.” Paul says.

“I’ll be there in a few.” you say as you sit down on your stool.

“You’re almost finished anyway.”

“I know. So, let me just finish.”

He stands there for a moment before eventually leaving you alone.

By the time you were finished, it was way past midnight. He snored softly in bed and you plant a small kiss on his cheek before laying down right next to him.

Larry invited you to his upcoming birthday bash in LA.

“Bring your fiancé.”

“If he says yes.” you say as you walk around a bit with the phone to your ear.

When he came in from patrol from earlier that morning, you step back from his smooch. He furrowed his eyebrows as he leaned back in. You softly smile.

“I want to ask you something really quick.”

“What?”

You tell him all about going to LA. He sighs. “I can’t. I would sneak out but, Sam put me with Leah for patrols.”

“Oh…Why you and not anyone else?” you ask as he pulled you into his lap as he sat on the couch.

“She doesn’t give me hell as much as she gives the others.” Paul chuckles a bit, “Sam’s words.”

You then chuckle a bit.

“Did you know each other before?”

He paused a bit. He then nods.

“Yeah…We weren’t tight or anything but she was actually cool before all of the Sam and Emily shit.”

You nod.

“Take Bella.”

“As if Jacob would let me.” you joke.

“You both went to Florida. He will be alright.”

You caress his cheek, “But, will you be alright?”

“I will miss you like crazy. But, I would rather you go where there’s sun instead of locking yourself in that damn room.”

“Hey, leave my room alone.” you say and he grins.

Bella looked up at you with excitement.

“Um yes! I would love to go.”

“Okay.” you say with a grin.

You sit down at the table after she placed her dinner for Charlie in the oven.

“What about Jake?”

“He will be alright…It’s LA. Come on.”

You laugh lightly.

“So, I get to meet the infamous godfather. Is he all macho?”

“No.” you say chuckling, “He’s actually really sweet. He will show us great hospitality.”

She’s happy with this.

“He asked me to bring Paul but..”

“Patrol?”

You nod.

“That sucks…Hopefully a time will come when they get travel with us. They’re the ones who really, I mean really, deserve a vacation.” Bella says. You agree.

You came home. Paul was asleep on his stomach. You were about to climb right into bed with him but you instead smooth your hands on his back.

He groaned awake and you stop feeling bad that you had woken him up.

“No, no, no. Keep going.” he says thick with sleep. You continue, applying pressure.

“Did you talk to Bella?” he asks.

“Yes. She said yes without hesitation.”

“That’s good…I did not want you going alone.”

“It’s LA. There’s no vampires.” you say with a soft smile as you climb on him to get a better angle.

“Yeah. But there’s guys who are human.”

You roll your eyes playfully but you wince a bit as you heard pops in his back but he hummed a satisfied noise.

“I have this right here. I don’t need anyone else.” you tell him.

He turns over and you’re still straddling him. His hands are firm on your hips. Your eyes immediately close as he forced them to move against his rock hard length. You open your eyes up to find that he was sleeping naked this entire time.

Soon, you’re pressed against him as he sits up and you’re sinking down on him with a breathy moan. His hands grip your back as you grip his. You felt the nips and open mouth kisses on your neck. He was god as you kept chanting it. He grunted as he asked you if it felt good. You agree with almost incoherent words.

You ate breakfast that he made you in the morning as you looked at him. He stuffed his face which made you chuckle a bit.

“What?”

“…I was just thinking..” you start.

“What?”

“Do you want…To mark me?”

He stops chewing.

He doesn’t answer.

You look at him.

You only resume eating as if you didn’t say anything. He did too. Eventually.

You wait with Bella at Emily’s while she waited for Jacob to get off of patrol.

Leah was there. She ignored Emily.

“I made brownies. You girls want some?” she asks as she entered the living room where you all where.

“Um..Sure.” Bella says. She rises and she looks to you. You rise as she was a bit frightened to walk past Leah by herself.

In the kitchen you both take slow bites. You both hoped that Jacob would hurry up. Sam made things worse by entering the kitchen from his bedroom.

Not even caring that Leah was in the living room, he places kisses over Emily’s face. She smiled a bit before pulling away and pushing a plate of brownies in his direction.

“You’re the best.”

You hung your head.

You heard a scoff. You look up to see Leah in the doorway of the kitchen. Pissed.

“That’s what he used to say by the way.” Leah says bitterly.

Sam sighs a bit as he realized his screwup.

“You’re a great baker as well. I’m sure you didn’t lose your touch.” Sam offered.

“Fuck. You.” she says with such weight.

She stormed out and you didn’t have to guess that she was in her wolf. Jacob comes in and hugs Bella. He takes a look at the environment as he eats the remainder of her brownie.

“What did you say this time?” he asks Sam.

“I just complimented her baking skills.” he says quietly.

It was silent for a moment before Jacob took it upon himself to silently let you and Bella know that you all could leave.

As you both were leaving out, Kim and Jared were entering the home.

“Em baked?” Jared says excitedly as he smelled the air.

“Go nuts.” you say quietly.

He doesn’t open the door but stands on the porch with Kim.

“Wait..Is it safe to go in?” Jared asks with caution.

“Yeah..Leah just left.” Jacob says.

“Oh.” he says with a slight wince as he takes a look at all of your faces.

“Why do you guys act like she’s the devil or something?” Kim asked. It’s quiet for a moment.

“We’re not.” Bella says.

“Please. You guys are. If it were any of you, don’t say you all would be smiles.”

“You ready to go?” Jacob asks Bella impatiently and she nods as she turns and takes his hand.

As you all walk to Jacob’s home, he shakes his head.

“We’re not mean. Right?” Bella asks as you both wheel your bikes.

“No. She’s just been trying to be Leah’s friend for some reason.” Jacob says.

“Really?” you ask.

“Yeah. Leah will be pleased to have a member of her fan club.” he says as he wheeled his own bike.

Coming back to Emily’s to see if Paul got back, you find him in the living room saying goodbyes to Leah.

“Alright see ya, Lee.” Paul tells her. She goes in and gives him a hug and he returns it.

She doesn’t look in your direction as she leaves out.

“You ready?” you finally ask him.

He nods once.

You both decided to walk home but it was silent.

“We should go sit at the beach.” you suggest quietly.

“Nah…”

You nod as you continue walking.

Paul flopped down on the couch as soon as you two came home.

“Come on, watch this with me.” he says as he was happy that his favorite movie was on.

You groan a bit, “I wish I could.”

“Why do you wish?” he asks.

“Deadline. Especially since I have to leave.”

“Oh…Hurry up so you can catch some of this.” he says trying to keep a cheerful attitude. You smile a bit.

Paul was asleep on the couch when you came out. It was very late, almost morning. You shook his thigh gently as you tried to wake him up but he was deep asleep.

“Paul.” you call. He blinks awake.

“What? I’m watching tv.”

You chuckle, “Liar.”

You pull his arm to tug him up and he gets up. He lays his head on your shoulder, almost making you fall but he catches you with a chuckle.

“Would quit acting silly?” you say. He’s still laughing.

His face was neutral as he watched you pack.

“It’s just the weekend right?”

“Yeah.” you say.

“What time again?”

“Sunday morning. I promise.” you say.

He watches you some more.

The day you and Bella touched down, you all went to an interactive art show. Bella made sure to bring her camera.

Larry’s girlfriend then made him a birthday dinner.

“No fucking way.” Larry laughs as he opens his gift from you.

“Happy birthday.” you say with a smile.

“Thank you so much, Y/N.” he says and gives you a big hug.

You sculpted him a piece of decor for him.

You appreciate the intimacy of the dinner because the next day, that’s when his party began.

For it to be Larry’s birthday party, the guests that came and brought people, made it into the own party. You now understood the dinner the day prior.

People who weren’t even in the art scene were there.

You hold Bella’s hand. It was the first time you seen someone snort a line of coke as if it was nothing.

However, things were better as you both unknowingly made funny conversation with a musician.

“Wait that sample came from you?!” Bella asks in surprise.

He nods with a chuckle.

“Are you making new music?” you ask him.

“Yeah. I just have to make the cover but my album is about to drop.” he says.

“Do you need someone? Y/N is an artist.” Bella nudge you with her elbow.

You wave it off but he looks at you.

“For real?” he asks you seriously.

“Yeah but, go with your original plan.”

“No, no. What type of art do you do?” he asks with great interest.

He hands you your phone back after he swiped through photos.

“Before you leave, we have to link up.” he tells you.

Bella came as you talked ideas with him. It was the first time you were in a professional studio.

“You put cool ranch doritos in this?” Bella asks him as she bit and chewed on a baked chocolate chip cookie.

He smiles and nods.

“It works.” she tells him.

He let you and Bella listen to his songs to get the idea.

“Okay…I got it.” you tell him as you set down your pencil.

He nods with a smile when you show him the ideas.

While Bella slept, you stayed up as you worked on the agreed art direction.

You send it to him right when it was an hour before it was time for you and Bella to board the plane to go home.

You came home and Paul made it seem like you were away for twenty years.

“I should go away more, I like this treatment.” you joke and he makes a disapproving noise.

You chuckle.

At the bonfire, you prayed that Leah would understand imprinting. Seth was just happy to be there. You watched as he followed Jacob around when he arrived with Bella.

“I saved you some burgers and hotdogs, Jake!” Seth says happily.

“You’re the best.” Jacob says to him with a grin and ruffled his hair.

Paul tugged your hand to sit next to him.

Leah came, but with something. A hydroflask.

“You want anything?” Paul asks you. You shake your head as you didn’t want to say yes, only to not eat it.

He tells you he will be right back.

Leah sauntered over and you didn’t expect her to sit next to you.

“Hi.”

You look at her, “Hey.”

“Y/N..Right?”

“In the flesh.”

She chuckled.

“So…You’re dating Paul?”

You nod. She nods.

“How long?”

You tell her.

“High school sweethearts…” she says and looks at him, “It does kind of suit him…. I can’t hate on it.”

You nervously smile as you hoped that Bella would hurry up with getting food with Jacob.

She touched your arm.

“Want some of this?” she whispered. Her mischievous grin made you chuckle. You take a sniff. You make a face that made her laugh.

“I don’t really drink all like that.” you say.

“What?” she asks surprisingly.

“If anything, I’ll blow down here and there.” you say. Her eyes lit up.

“You got some right now?” she whispered excitedly.

You chuckle a bit, “Not on me…But hey, maybe we’ll make a day of it.” Her of all people needed it.

She grinned.

“Hey, you’re less annoying than the others.” she says in a hushed tone.

“Um..Thanks.” you say.

“No, seriously…And then…The girls Paul used to entertain used to be all..” and she makes a disgusted face that didn’t make you jealous, but it made you laugh a bit.

“He did tell me you guys like..Seen each other around.”

“Yeah..Yeah..We did..” she says and thinks off and you have questions.

“Did you guys know each other well?”

She laughs. She covers her mouth to muffle her laugh.

“I’m sorry….You seem cool..I wouldn’t want to lay it on you like all….Damn…I really don’t want to be messy.” she sincerely says and it makes you freeze at her. She looked uncomfortable. She only slightly shakes her head as she looked at you.

“What…What do you mean?” you ask trying to keep your voice light.

“I…I mean…We were young and reckless so..” she says trying to brush it off.

“Hm..” you mused.

“I don’t want to make things weird for you…I’m surprised he didn’t like…Warn you or…Tell you, at least.” she says in a hushed tone.

She wasn’t taunting but she takes a drink to stop talking. It was clearly the alcohol. She was spilling out her words.

Paul is coming back over you two and she calls out his name.

“Didn’t we know each other?” Leah asks.

“Leah…Just shut up.” he says.

“Come on, let’s joke about it. It was a long time ago. You’re with her now. I mean..She has the right to-“

“Leah. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” he snapped at her.

Her smile doesn’t fade.

“Paul.” she said his name in a tone that let him know that it was unnecessary for him. She then looked at your uneasy face and looked back at him.

”We know each other well. Tell her how well we know each other, Paul.” she insists as she hits his arm.

It was one look that made you freeze.

It was the look that showed he was seething.

“How…Well?” you ask with your eyes down.

“….Its….Before we dated.” he says quietly.

You look up at his chagrined face. You felt your heart form cracks.

“He always hung around us older kids and I found out very soon…He was very mature for his age.” Leah joked. She said it low to where nobody looked over in the direction of the conversation.

You still get up and not even daring to look back at him calling your name.

You rest your hands on your knees as you felt sick while you were on your way home. Shaky breaths came and that gave Paul enough time to catch up with you.

“Just tell me the truth…No matter how bad it is.” you whisper.

“Let’s go home first.”

“Just tell me now.” you whispered.

He swallowed.

“It happened when her and Sam was fighting one time…Me and you weren’t even talking to each other yet... They broke up for a brief period of time…Way before the shifting stuff even happened..We were….”

He took too long to explain.

“You had sex with her….Right?” you choked out, interrupting him.

“Yeah….But, it only happened once.”

“Okay.”

He blinked at you.

“So, that’s why she was acting weird towards me…There was plenty of opportunity for you to tell me knowing she was going to be around me.”

He couldn’t say anything as he looked down.

You turn with that and finish walking back home. He was so silent, you didn’t even realize that he was behind you when you went to shut the door behind you and it stopped due to him taking it over and shutting it.

“Y/N…Let’s talk about it.”

“I’d rather just forget it…You had a past…I won’t hold it against you.”

“Yeah but-“

“Just drop it, Paul…..Please?” you whisper. He takes a look at you before looking down. He nods.

“You can go back to the bonfire…I’m just gonna..Work on…” you trail off as your thumb points towards the room you loved to work in.

“I don’t want to go back…Not without you. If you’re not going, I’m not going.”

You’re quiet for a moment.

You just grab his hand.

”You’re my bestfriend. Why are you so afraid to tell me things?”

He relaxed. Shoulders dropped and you almost didn’t recognize him.

“It’s hard Y/N. I don’t want you to be disgusted with me. I was wild.”

His tone alone made you pull him in close and he smothers his body with yours, it made you incredibly but deliciously nervous.

“It was ‘in the moment’ type of thing. It’s why it’s never happened again. I should’ve stayed in my place...” he says.

“How do you feel…When you look at her?” you ask him.

“ I feel..She does deserves better..I never want to experience that..Ever. That’s why I don’t want to lose you. Ask me whatever you want, I will answer.” he says.

“Will you not keep anything else from me? I get you have a past…You didn’t learn those skills from fiddling with your thumbs.” you say and you hear his chuckle.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not going to judge you.” you reassure. He nods.

It was a nice day as you waited for Jacob to pick up the phone.

“Speak.” he greets.

You roll your eyes.

“Trying to go swimming?”

“….You mean like cliff diving?“

“Oh we can do that. I was gonna suggest my pool but-“

“No! Bells is with Angela though.”

“I don’t care, you can still come. I kind of want to talk to you anyways.”

He hangs up and he’s over.

You both float after an ultimate splashing session.

His face is dripping with disapproval, “You're kidding me right? You let him off way too damn easy.”

“Jake, I don’t want to fight with him.”

“I don’t care…If it was the other way around he would’ve popped his lid and you know it.”

“It’s not like he hid the fact that he got around back then anyway.”

“But still.” he says rolling his eyes.

“He was loyal even before the imprint.”

“Is that how you’re looking at it? Seriously Y/N. You give him way too much grace. I’m not hexing you but let a guy give you the smallest, I mean the smallest amount of attention, watch how he acts. I bet the words ‘I won’t judge you’ won’t come out of his mouth.” he says quoting you.

You swim away a bit and you say dismissively, “Yeah, yeah.”

Emily closed her cabinet as she was trying to make everyone a dinner with the help of Angela.

“I can get it for you.” you tell her as you set your sketchbook down.

You get your keys and Leah perks up from the couch.

“You’re going to the store?”

You nod.

“Can I come?”

You freeze a bit before you nod again.

She compliments your car. You say your thanks.

Leah boredly flips through the magazines at the store. You grab what Emily asked to get.

“We don’t have to go straight to Emily’s.”

You look at her.

She walked by you a bit as she played with her light jacket pocket. You knew the smell.

“I hate all of this…I have no friends. No period…A fucking wolf…Who the hell did I piss off so bad?” she asked in a hideout by the beach. It was very easy to miss.

You squint as grey leaves your open mouth as you speak, “No period?”

She takes what you were offering in your hand and she takes her turn, “I don’t even want to celebrate because I don’t even have an imprint..Like you all do.” she frowned.

“You’ll find your person.”

“Do not talk to me about that when you’re the last person to open your mouth.”

“First of all..” you accept your turn again, you blow out the drag after you held it, “Paul was the last person I would ever thought in a billion years, I would ever even talk to.”

“Yeah but..I would kill for that…The only person who could make it all better…Is happy…Free from feeling how I feel…Why can’t he feel…Just a second of how I feel?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry…I didn’t want to make things weird. I wish it didn’t happen, the post clarity was just…I was drunk when I started running my mouth..” she says.

“I’d rather that to happen than me going all of this time not knowing.”

She doesn’t say anything for a while before asking, “So…Does this mean I still get an invite to the wedding?”

“Sure..Why not.” you say with a grin.

You both made your way back to Emily’s.

Coming in, you set the bag down on the counter. The cooking food smelled so good as it wafted through the home.

You slowly sit down next to Paul as he watched you. He discreetly sniffed and he knew what took you so long. It was faint but, he’s been around you long enough to know. He doesn’t say anything.

“We were gone all of that time and nothing is finished?” Leah asked out loud.

You break into a chuckle. Leah hearing you laugh, eventually made her laugh. You’re laughing together.

Talking surrounded you as you tried to watch what was on tv but you instead watched the colors and zoned out.

You wish you brought a sketchbook.

Emily does finally says that the food is finished. Paul gets up from the couch and takes your hand.

“Oh my god…This is really good.” you tell Emily.

“Aw, thanks.” Emily says.

“Like…So good.” you say. Jared smirked.

“Leah likes it too. She’s almost finished with her plate already.” Jared points out.

“I’m hungry.” she says with her mouth chewing with food.

“You hungry too, Y/N?” Jared asks with humorous glint.

“What?” you ask as you chewed. Jared saw how hooded your eyes were when you looked over at him and he chortled to himself.

“What?” Kim asks him.

“Nothing.” Jared says as he finishes out his laughter.

You only brush it off and continue eating.

“So, when will the work that you did in LA come out?” Sam asks.

“Soon…Real soon.” you say in a lax tone.

“We have to go back. I had such a great time. California changed since the last time I was there.” Bella says with a smile.

“Right? I mean I would live there…But like…Christmas though. What’s a Christmas without snow? I gotta have snow on Christmas.”

“I thought you hated the snow?” Kim asks.

“I appreciate it….It sets the tone.” you halfheartedly say.

“I agree.” Angela speak up with a grin.

“It does. The first time I seen snow was when I started living here. I hate anything cold and wet but Christmas time doesn’t feel like Christmas without the snow.” Bella says to you.

“I made dessert.” Emily then says.

“Oh my god, yes.” you say with a smile as you put your hands together for a moment.

“No way, you’re still hungry.” Jacob tells you. You ate two entire hearty plates. He’s never seen you eat that much. He voiced it out.

“I have.” Paul simply says quietly with his hand still on the back of your chair.

“News to me.” Jacob muttered.

Jared leaned on the counter as he drinks a cup of juice.

Your eyes stayed on the sink.

“Who would’ve thought that was the way to pull Leah in?” he says in a hushed tone.

“Shut up.” you say laughing a bit.

Leah still didn’t speak to Emily during the days you would still come over.

You sat on the couch as Paul was on patrol with Jared.

Kim said hi to Leah. She only waved to her but flops next to you with a grin, “Hey.”

“Hey.” you say.

“What’s that?” she asks as she sees you doodling.

You just let her look at it. She then asks if she can look through the whole book.

You let her. She takes her time with flipping through each page.

As you were washing dishes at home, Bella texts, double texting you to look online. You do.

“Oh, wow.” you say as you stand at the sink, looking at your phone. The water is still running.

Paul shuts the water off as he looks at you, “What?”

“Look! Look!” you say with a smile.

Your artwork was posted.

“Y/N. One of the most talented people I got to meet and I’m so grateful. Without her, this album wouldn’t have been visually made. Making this album cover with you was great and such a magical experience as we were able to go all out with creativity. You have a real gift for capturing beauty and I’m not just talking about the art itself ♥️ Seriously though, I appreciate her and her mind sooo much. Hopefully, you all appreciate this album just as much as I do. OUT NOW!”

He stared at the picture of you two hugging each other tight. He swipes, there’s another picture of you two not being serious and being silly. He swipes over and there are more where you two were sitting close as you both worked on ideas together.

It displayed the fun you had. He took a look at your face and the faint smile you displayed as you looked at the pictures with him.

You watch as his mood change. Your heart beat faster as you his face hardened.

“What is it?” you ask.

He gave you a face that showed he was annoyed. You close your eyes as your smile faded.

“What is it?” you ask again slowly.

“Don’t act dumb.” he says deadpanned.

“I’m not.” you say with slight annoyance. He reads out loud, not hiding his distaste for a section of the text.

“You have a real gift for capturing beauty and I’m not talking-“

“Here we go.” you mutter. But he still finishes reading over your spoken statement.

“What do you mean here we go?….You were just crying the other day about me and Leah and then turn around, you don’t think there’s anything wrong with this. That’s a love letter, not an accolade….It sounds like you rocked his world.”

You glare at him as you snatched your phone back. The audacity of him.

“I can’t relate. You two actually fucked!” you snap at him.

He clenched his jaw before rolling his eyes, “It was a long ass time ago.”

“Aren’t you even happy for me?”

“I am Y/N. I am. What you did was amazing. I’m not happy about his wordplay though.”

“I don’t know. I made something for someone and you’re thinking I opened my legs for him all because he gave me my flowers… That’s totally unfair. You’re thinking every guy wants to hump my leg. Get over yourself.”

“You don’t want to get me started. Remember New York? With Cullen?”

“What. Are. You. Talking. About? You’re not even making sense.” you grit out, feeling so angry that tears were threatening to form.

“Had I not told you to come home, you would’ve stayed longer and I know for a fact you two would’ve started a little fling.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you say as your vision is blurry. You storm out. You shut the door to the bathroom as you sat on the floor with your back against the door.

Your knees were to your chest as you silently sob, mostly due to frustration.

It was as if you two didn’t know each other at all. It was like two strangers in the home. He slept on the couch. It was like that.

“I’m sure…You two will get back.” Bella says quietly.

“I don’t even know…He’s acting stupidly possessive.” you grit out as you threw a seashell in the ocean.

“The message was nice…He will get over it.”

She didn’t know. She didn’t live with him. But you still give her a silent thanks for her trying to support.

You blinked awake as you were used to waking up alone for the past two weeks.

As you showered, your mind wondered why you two were always butting heads. After all, he was your soulmate and it was as if fights were just easy to collect.

Paul came in while you were sitting on the couch with a book. He was heading for the hallway.

“Can we talk?” you ask him.

He opens the hallway closet and grabs a towel.

“About what?”

“Come on, don’t act like a kid.”

“Take your own advice.” he throws back. You glare up at the ceiling before calming yourself down.

“What we’re doing is toxic. We’re always fighting. I just want us to get along.” you carefully say, trying to be the bigger person.

“I want us to get along too. Which is why I don’t get why you’re trying to hold onto old shit that happened a long time ago.” he says and sets the towel in the bathroom.

“You brought up Edward and New York.” you scoff.

“You brought up me and Leah.”

“That’s not fair and you know it. It’s apples to oranges.” you say with frustration.

“Okay.”

“Okay…So..What?” you ask him, not knowing what’s next.

“We talked.”

You move off of the couch as he started walking. You grab his arm to get him to turn around. He peered down at you.

“Say you’re sorry.” you tell him.

He sniggered. You felt yourself get angry. So angry you wanted to slap the smile off of his face.

“For what?”

You step back.

“You know what?… I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. In fact, I give you my deepest apologies.” you tell him calmly. He looked confused.

You slid your ring off.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

You set it on the coffee table.

He barked out your name.

“This isn’t healthy…I said yes to the loving, caring, secure Paul…. Not whatever this is.” you say.

“Put it back on.”

“I will, when things between us get better. We’re not even married yet and you’re sleeping on the couch like we’re about to sign divorce papers.”

“Fuck…Fuck. I’m sorry! Okay?”

You pick your book from the couch and he grabbed your arm as you tried to leave to another room.

“Let go of me, Paul.” you say in defeat.

“No.” he says.

You look at him.

“No. I want to marry you, Y/N. I’m sorry if I’m being an asshole. Okay, I admit I was being an ass but this…This isn’t worth it, okay?”

You look down for a moment.

“Just please put it back on. You don’t have to talk to me ever again. You can scream that you hate me all you want. Just please put it back on…Please?”

He extends his arm to swipe it up in his hand. He takes your hand and you watch as he slid it back to where it belonged. His hand actually shook which made you freeze.

“Do you even believe me?” you ask him quietly.

“Of course I do. Just ignore me being annoying, alright?”

“You’re very annoying.” you say softly. He looked up at your soft smile and softened his anxious face.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” you say quietly.

He lets your arm go. You walk away and entered your art space with the close of your door.

You don’t make anything. You instead rest your head in your hands.

“How did everything become so hard?” you asked in your mind.

Paul opened the door when it was late, you were asleep at your desk with your head down.

Trying his best to not wake you, he scooped you up in his arms and carried you to the bedroom.

It was the best sleep of your life as you both slept pressed together. Little did you know, it was the best sleep of his life as well.

You woke up with a gasp. Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to have clarity in your brain. You look down with a sigh and it was the most erotic scene you’ve ever seen.

Your head fell back into the pillows as Paul opened your legs wider and you clutch onto his head. Your eyes squeezed shut as you shuddered with a blinding light behind your eyes.

You both sat in the car as you squinted from the morning sun. You held a donut to his mouth as he took a bite that made you widen your eyes with a genuine giggle.

He chewed and you blink. It was weird. You looked through the windshield of the car, peering into the empty parking lot as you wanted to draw fish. The sky had a great blue. You immediately thought of the ocean.

You slump next to him and he had just swallowed.

A burst of bubbles warmth was in the presence of just him. Reaching over with a thumb and slowly graced the poked tongue that slowly made its way out of your mouth on the left over powder.

You sit back as you didn’t know what made you do such thing, only to find him with a lax grin.

He tilts his head back as he leans to tease your mouth with his. You leaned trying to catch his lips but they moved with his movements of not fully capturing yours.

You eventually break into a smile before leaning back into your seat.

Coming home, he seemed to not forget what you did in the car.

You try to lounge on the couch only for him to pull you in a kiss after sitting down next to you. The heated energy went right to your core as you couldn’t help but hook your leg to rest it a bit on his knee as he held your head to continue eating at your mouth.

You both connect on the couch as you both move your naked hips in sync. You squeezed your eyes shut a for a second as your body moved forward and swallowed all of him. Paul groaned deeply as he held your body as he moved his hips. He lost track of what was what. You couldn’t even think beyond the intense emotion of each other’s bodies molding together.

You both weren’t even kissing, but you both sighed out in each other’s mouths.

You climb off of him as he lifts you up in his arms.

Your hands fall onto the bed as he hovered over you and kissed your back and your shoulder blade. He nudged you onto the bed. As you turn and lay on your back, he opened your legs as you look up at him.

You whisper out his name as he started to grow again. His touches seemed to be amplified with desire. The desire licked the deepest parts of you.

He pulled back from the sensual kiss that smacked off of your mouth, he rubbed himself to get hard again against the white spilled substance that was between your legs.

The extra lubrication was making it hard to stop the erotic noises from spilling out of your mouth.

Paul had never experienced something so moist in his life. His hips lazily thrust as your body screamed in satisfactory tingles.

Bella smirked at the joined hands as you both walked into Emily’s.

You join her at the couch with a smile.

“Where’s Jacob?”

“He’s coming with Sam.”

“Alright, I’m off.” Paul tells you and mushed his lips to yours before leaving once Sam and Jacob entered the door.

You and Bella chill in Jacob’s garage as he tinkered on Bella bike.

It was acting like it didn’t want to start.

You sketch out the idea you had while Bella and Jacob fell into conversation.

The passion project made you feel excited because you haven’t made anything for yourself in such a long time.

Paul was worried when you locked yourself in the room but a couple of hours passed before you come out, fingers covered in pigmented paint.

He watched you wash your hands in the bathroom.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him.

“Nothing…Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” you answer and then he saw your smile. You touch his arm.

“Come look.” you encourage him and he follows you into the room.

He was pleased to see the window open.

The picture was vibrant and he moved toward it. He picks it up carefully with such interest.

“Careful. It’s not dry yet.” you say. He nods as he looks at it.

“Who is this for?” he says. He smiled as he held it up with such admiration but delicately.

“No one.” you say shyly but he managed to kiss it away.

“Can I have it?” he asks excitedly.

You nod meekly. He gives you a handsome smile.

“I love this..I love you.”

“I love you too.” you say feeling a burst of warmth inside.

You breathe out trying to be steady but it was hard because your back was pressed against Paul’s chest.

“Thank you.” he says in your neck.

“It’s just a painting.” you say with a light chuckle.

“Yeah but it’s your painting.” he says.

You wake up the next morning and see that Jacob texted you that Bella’s bike was fixed and invited you to ride with them.

You held onto the wall with one hand as you tried to get ready. You felt dizzy. Paul placed a kiss on your neck. His hands are covering you.

You’re lightheaded as you blink and your vision is spotty. You rush to the bathroom.

He heard you emptying your insides as you gagged into the toilet. He knocked with one finger knuckle.

“Y/N…Are you alright?” he asked through the closed door with deep concern. You gagged again. You cough.

“I’m okay.” you say while straining as you flush the toilet.

You clean your mouth and you shiver as you enter the bedroom.

“Are you sure?” Paul asks as he rubbed your arms.

You nod and clear your throat.

“I just need to lay down.” you say with your heart beating. You pull back the covers.

“I can take you to the doctors.” he says.

“Paul, don’t overreact. I’m fine. I promise I will tell you if I feel worse.”

He looked at you as you hurriedly stripped off your clothes. You’re under the covers, feeling extremely tired.

The bed felt like heaven. Paul was pulled in as he looked down at you. He was soon joining you in bed, not caring you weren’t feeling well.

He makes you lay on his chest instead of the pillows. Sleep claimed you fast.

Birds chirped as you look at Paul leaned against a tree. You look and find yourself sitting criss cross in front of him.

”I’m not ready.”

He gave a look of betrayal.

You wait for him to say something.

”What if I am?”

You blink at the sky.

“Paul.” you say. You look at him. He staring at you intently.

“A lot…And I mean a lot goes on with this.”

“I know that…..” he says in a tone that let you know he was offended that you felt he didn’t already know that.

“I can’t…I can’t keep it.”

You look to Paul’s expression as he speaks out, “Y/N.”

You continue to look at him.

“You’re the only person I want to experience this with.” he says. You stand up. He looks up at you trying to convince you.

“We can…Just not now.”

He gives a look of defeat and he then shakes his head.

“Why do our blessings have to wait?” he asked in frustration.

“I’m not ready!”

You blink awake as Paul shook you gently.

“I made you something to eat.” he whispered in your ear.

“O-okay.” you whispered back.

You were petrified as you sat up in bed.

You held your head as he held your hand and sat down at the table.

He put two white pills on the table.

You say a quiet thank you and you swallow them.

”You slept all day yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” you ask after you swallow your food.

“Yeah. Slept the whole day away.” he says as he eats.

You sat back in your chair.

You look on the table and rise up.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“I need my phone.”

“Well, can you eat first?”

You sit back down. He just stared at you.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Besides my head, my stomach doesn’t feel nauseous anymore.” you say carefully.

He shooed you off from washing the dishes. You sit down in the living room. You don’t move. You instead just listen intently at the actions of dishes being washed.

The water turns off and he walked in, you raise your head.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

“Must’ve been some nasty bug.” he comments.

“Yeah..Thanks for nursing me back to health.” you say quietly.

He bends at kisses your forehead. He sits next to you and you’re lifting into his lap.

You apologize to Jacob for not coming but he knew from Paul that you were sick.

When you were feeling better, Leah invited you over.

As Leah talk, you took a big rip at the tall glass bong that sat on your lips. Your mind wouldn’t stop eating at you as you didn’t know how you would ever tell Paul what you were dreaming about. It seemed so real.

You didn’t panic just yet, your period was coming up soon. You found yourself praying inside as you genuinely hoped you didn’t get late.

It seemed too serious.

You knew you were getting older, but you felt it was the solidarity of becoming an adult adult. It was a hearty piece of responsibility.

“Stop hogging it, greedy.” Leah says and snatches it away.

“What the heck are you even watching?” you ask to change your mindset as the low volume movie showed shenanigans that didn’t make sense.

“Ah, it’s watching me.” she corrects you as the light smoke mixed with the dust of the room.

Walking home felt like you were walking on a cloud. You hated thinking too much so you were grateful for the walk.

You laugh as you both came home at the same time. He flings an arm around you and pushed the front door open.

Over dinner, he tells you to promise not to say anything.

“What happened this time?” you ask.

“Just chill from Leah right now.” he tells you.

“Why?” you ask.

“Sam doesn’t want Leah to know.”

“I’m not gonna say anything. Come on.” you start to grin.

“I don’t trust it. Just please.” he then tilts his head even more, “Please.”

It makes you chuckle.

“Okay. Fine.”

He then relaxed and just extends his arms some and there was a sign of acceptance while he said the next thing.

“Emily’s pregnant.”

“Whoa.” you breathed out. Good or bad, you didn’t know.

You lean forward and so does he.

You both look at each other and you both see the questions that you both were dying to ask.

“Is she happy?” you ask.

“Yeah. But feeling guilty.” Paul admits.

“She didn’t tell me.”

“She told no one. Sam let it slip when I patrolled with him earlier.”

“Is..He happy?”

“He’s through the roof.” he says quietly but with a grin.

“Hopefully I get to be the godmother.” you say with a grin.

He huff out a small chuckle.

You look down from his eyes as you then lean back in your chair.

“I know that before, you said you didn’t know….But what would you do? If you had found out…That you were pregnant?”

You let out a quiet breath as you don’t even dare to look at him. The way he said the word pregnant made you feel a lick of excitement.

“I-I still don’t know.” you whisper. He doesn’t say anything for a moment. It made you peak up due to his silence. It was as if he was waiting for you to look at him.

“You would look so pretty pregnant.” he comments quietly. It was tender, almost like a purr.

“Paul.” you say nervously. You shouldn’t have peaked up at him. His look was darkly heated but it was subtle. He was dead serious.

“What? You would.”

You look down again with nervous chuckle as you slightly shake your head.

“Are you sure you want to take on the dad bod?” you say to joke around but it still came out shaky.

He still gives you a hum of amusement. It made your heart stutter.

“It’s a lot of responsibility.” you whisper.

“So is shape shifting.” he says tenderly.

You both blink at each other. You then nervously chuckle. He leans close to you, forming his own smile, “What?”

“Nothing.” you say shyly to him.

“It’s something.” he encouraged.

You look down.

“I had a dream.”

“About…What?” he asks.

“Us..”

“Did I look okay?”

You crack a smile.

“You did..But…We were talking ..Like this and..We found out I was…”

“Were we happy?” he asks as he caught the idea.

“You were ready….Me..Not so much..”

He doesn’t say anything as he then looks down. It wasn’t in disappointment, it was as if he was thinking about what you said.

The night fell and you yawned as you lie down in bed.

His hand was so hot. To him, you felt like a walking piece of heaven. He was surprised when you take his hand away from your warm and moist center.

“I’m..Tired..” you whisper and you place a peck on his lips.

“I’m not.” he whispers. He brushed a thumb on your bottom lip and gave you a kiss that made you feel shaky.

You breathe out heavy before you pull away from the suction of his lips. You don’t have time to process the loss of his lips when you fall back onto your elbows, you look at him when your mouth crack slightly open.

Your underwear was bawled up in his hand.

“Paul.” you only say in a breathy tone.

He only glides his hands up, your hips only shift a bit as your eyes fluttered closed. His hands were talented as they caressed your chest and slow burned a kiss with you. A shaky and light sound danced out of your throat that muffled into his mouth.

“Let’s just lay together.” he whispered finally.

You slowly blinked open your eyes as he invited you next to him. Before you lie down on your side, he finished lifting your shirt up from behind.

He placed a hand on your side as he smoothed his hand out. He placed an intimate kiss on your back. It made you jerk a bit from the sensation.

You closed your eyes. You felt the small shifts of movements of his body. Mostly because of him breathing. You knew that he was awake. You realized, that right in his presence was just as good as sex. You didn’t want to go to sleep then.

You wanted to savor more moments like that. His hand shifted to your stomach, it felt like butterflies were soaring in your stomach. It was like you were having a crush on him all over again.

The breath of his slowed breathing is what keeps you awake. It drifted on the surface of your neck as you blinked at the darkness. You found yourself counting his breathing.

#paul lahote #paul lahote fanfic #twilight #wolfpack #x reader #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote x y/n #paul lahote x you #x y/n #y/n #fanfic #y/n imagines #twilight saga #paul lahote imagine #fanfiction #paul lahote smut #smut with feelings #smut with plot #reader smut

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ashwhowrites · 10 months ago

Note

AHHHH IVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOUR REQUESTS TO OPEN UP!!!!! I’m obsessed with your writing 😩 (I apologize in advanced for my gibberish below for I am VERY high 😂)

Anywho (and you can totally ignore this if it’s not your cup of tea):

Would you possibly do an angst to fluff Eddie x reader fic where maybe instead of reader being the popular one, it was Eddie instead? Like instead of everyone hating on hellfire, they think it’s super cool and so Eddie is super popular and reader is like a quiet nerd. And like reader has a big crush on Eddie and Eddie knows but always makes fun of her for it because of his reputation but he secretly likes her too and then the events of the upside down happen? Like maybe it’s reader who lures the bats away instead of Eddie but Eddie saves the reader before she dies from the bats and he admits that he likes her back and they start dating?

Again, if it’s not your cup of tea you can totally ignore it but you’re the only person I feel like would do something magical with this.

I'm honored you believe I can do something magical with this. I hope I won you over.

I think this might be my favorite Eddie fic to date. I hope everyone enjoys this as much as I do! Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

⚠️it ends happy and I like the ending. So don't complain in the comments about "she shouldn't have taken him back" it's fiction and sometimes we just want things to work out so for this fic, leave that opinion to yourself. Saying that in the kindest way I can❤️

To die for

Y/N wasn't the type to hang out with the popular crowd. She kept her distance and didn't interact with anyone. She focused on her studies and getting into the best school offered. No one wanted to stay in Hawkins, and she worked to get her ticket out.

Then she got a little distracted, and she hated to admit it.

Eddie Munson, the leader of hellfire. He was a punk, loved music, and caught the eyes of every girl. Y/N didn't see the attraction until they got paired to do an assignment in music class.

She twiddled her thumbs nervously when he walked over. She inhaled his cologne as he pulled out the chair next to her, his bright smile flashed her way as his cheeks scrunched. He was the only popular kid in music, and she was terrified to be paired with him.

But as they worked together, they talked about themselves. It turned out they had a lot in common. While the assignment was boring research, she couldn't help but be excited to go to music every day. The assignment was a huge part of their grade so the teacher gave them a month's worth of class to work on it. It didn't take more than one class for Y/N to be just as smitten with Eddie.

~~~

"I hate that we couldn't pick which musician to research. Like why can't we do Dio?" Y/N mumbled as she began to write down notes.

Eddie never lifted his head so fast, he looked away from the computer towards Y/N. Her eyes were on her paper.

"You listen to Dio?" Eddie let out a breathy laugh. He was shocked, to say the least. He never thought the cute nerd would listen to a band like that.

"Who doesn't," Y/N laughed, she finished writing the sentence and looked up. She gulped when she noticed Eddie's warm eyes staring at her. A smile of adoration on his face, it made her stomach flip.

"Damn, there's more than just brains and beauty to you, huh?" Eddie joked as he went back to the computer. His words repeated in Y/N's head as she sat stunned. Did he just admit she was pretty?

~~~

Y/N cleaned her room at a rapid pace. Eddie was going to be over any minute and she was terrified. She was positive Eddie had seen the inside of many girl's bedrooms and she did not want to leave a bad impression compared to the rest.

"Can we take a break? My eyes hurt." Eddie groaned as he fell back against her soft bed.

"Sure, I'll grab us some water." Y/N offered, as she went out of the room. Eddie stood up, and his socks landed on the soft carpet. He walked around her room. He took in her huge collection of books, many he never heard of before. He looked at her wall of music. Band posters were on the walls and cassettes were neatly placed on a shelf. He had to admit, she had great music taste.

Her closet was cracked open, and Eddie couldn't fight the urge. He cringed as the door creaked as he opened it.

"Pretty girl," Eddie smiled as he grabbed the acoustic guitar that leaned against the wall.

"What are you doing?"

Eddie jumped but kept a tight grip on the neck of the guitar.

"Uh, sorry. I was snooping." Eddie confessed, "You play?"

Y/N blushed at the thought of him snooping, embarrassed of what he found and thought.

"I've always wanted to, but I'm not very good. One of the things I couldn't teach myself." Y/N laughed sadly.

"Sit, I'll teach you," Eddie said, he sat on her bed

"Um, are you sure?"

"Pretty girl in my lap as I teach her the thing I love? Yeah, I'm sure." He smirked as she slowly walked over. She sat the water down on her side table.

She coughed as she sat on the bed, next to him.

"Can't teach you all the way over there," he teased, she swallowed her nerves when he moved behind her. He placed the guitar in her lap and wrapped his arms around her.

"You smell nice," Eddie said against her ear. Y/N felt her tongue go numb, too nervous to respond.

She placed her fingers on the guitar and Eddie's ghosted over hers. She tried to focus on his directions and movements, but his breath hitting her neck sent her somewhere down south.

After an hour, she successfully could play a few chords.

"That a girl," Eddie praised as he placed the guitar to the side. "Unfortunately, I have to go home."

"Oh um yeah, thanks for teaching me," Y/N said shyly as Eddie put on his jacket.

"Pleasure is all mine," Eddie winked.

Y/N stared at the spot where he once stood for what felt like hours.

~~~

After spending a full month together, Y/N didn't want it to end. Their assignment was turned in, and now they didn't have a reason to see each other.

Y/N found a way. She sat on the phone all night trying to win tickets to the Dio concert, on Friday night. She scored the tickets and couldn't wait to tell Eddie the exciting news. She raced through the halls spotted his curly hair and headed his way.

"Eddie!" She said excitedly as she bounced on her feet. She ignored all the friends surrounding him. Her eyes were on his. She felt her excitement dissolve when Eddie's eyes looked panicked. He looked at her and his friends, she swore he looked like he was going to throw up.

"Yo dude, who's this?" one of his friends said as the group laughed and nudged Eddie's arm.

"Some type of little girlfriend?" Another one was added on

Y/N blushed at the thought of being Eddie's girlfriend. It wasn't like she didn't think about it with all the flirting and soft touches.

But Y/N ignored in and continued.

"I scored tickets to Dio! This Friday night, you and me?" She was proud of herself for making it through the sentence without shaking.

Eddie's friends laughed....loud

Their screeches could be heard blocks down from the school. But she kept her focus on Eddie. He stood frozen. He didn't say a word as he stared back at her.

"Oh, how cute. Little nerd has a crush on ya, Munson!"

"Looks like someone has a date on Friday."

"Atta boy, another one on the list."

"I uh..uh" Eddie stuttered

"Do you think he's actually going to say yes?"

The crowd around them got bigger as the school watched.

Y/N felt his friend's words stab her in the chest. Now she felt like she wanted to throw up. Her eyes watered as she looked around, everyone was staring and waiting for Eddie's reaction.

"Are you going to say something?" She meant it as a question, but it sounded like a plea. Like she was pleading him to tell them they were wrong and that they had something. That their moments meant something to him.

Y/N saw the Eddie she knew disappear in his eyes, and she knew he was going to land the final blow. She stepped back as she tried to brace herself.

"Do I know you?" Eddie asked, he pretended to look confused as his friends laughed.

"Eddie, don't," she whimpered, but it didn't matter. It was popularity or her, and she knew it wasn't a fighting chance.

"Look, sweetheart. I am flattered, but there is no way in hell I'd ever go out with you." Eddie smirked as his friends nudged him and they all fist-bumped behind his back.

Y/N didn't say a word, she nodded sadly and turned around. She pushed through the crowd as the tears slipped down.

"Oh, poor baby is even crying!" A girl's voice announced, then laughs followed.

Y/N shoved the tickets in the trash before she ran out.

Eddie was dead to her.

Eddie gulped as she raced off. His friends still hyped him up as he felt the hallways closing in on him. He stepped forward as she threw the tickets in the trash, but he stopped.

He felt guilty, he felt so fucking guilty. He wanted more than anything to spend his Friday night singing along to his favorite band with the cutest girl he'd ever met. To hold her hand as they walked in, to dance like idiots during their favorite song, and to talk about it for days after.

But he panicked. He wasn't supposed to like someone like her.

~~~

After Y/N embarrassed herself in front of the whole school, her life went to hell.

She couldn't walk in the halls without people laughing and pointing.

She dreaded music class. She kept her head down whenever she walked in, she felt his eyes burn into her. But she refused to look in his direction. She should have known Eddie would only like her behind her bedroom door. She should have known he was incapable of liking her shamelessly.

The cafeteria was loud as Y/N walked to her table, Robin was already sitting and picking at her lunch.

"Hey Y/N!"

Y/N looked over her shoulder, she groaned when she realized it was coming from Eddie's table.

"Turns out Eddie does wanna see Dio!"

Y/N looked to Eddie who kept his head down. She looked back at his friend confused.

"Just with a hot cheerleader, not you!"

The table erupted in laughter as she bit her lip. She knew Eddie wouldn't speak up so she turned around and walked to her table.

"I'm sorry they are dicks," Robin said as Y/N sat down.

"It's whatever." Y/N shrugged

"Um Y/N?"

Y/N looked up and was shocked to see Eddie standing there. She looked behind him and noticed his table was watching.

"Yeah?" She asked quietly, it hurt to even look at him.

"I'm so sorry for everything," he whispered.

"Is it like a trap?" she asked confused, as she suspiciously looked back at his table.

"No, I just re-"

"Whatcha doing here, lover boy?" Eddie's friend appeared next to him.

"I was...umm" Eddie nervously stuttered, the panic in his body again. He looked at Y/N's sad face and back to his friend's accusing one.

"Not trying to talk her up, are you?" His friend asked with a chuckle.

"No, of course not! I was just telling her to stop calling me. Chick won't leave me alone." Eddie faked laughed. His friend seemed to believe him, laughing with him, as they walked back to their table.

Eddie looked over his shoulder and mouthed "Sorry" but Y/N rolled her eyes.

~~~

Even if Eddie agreed to go to the concert, he wouldn't have been able to go.

Instead of sulking in his room about his poor decisions, he was stuck in the upside down.

"Dustin and Eddie you go to the trailer and lure them to you. Then the second the bats come, get back inside the trailer. Do not come out!" Steve said, his finger pointed at Dustin.

The group went to their positions and prayed their plan would work.

"QUICK WE NEED TO CREATE MORE NOISE TO LURE THE BATS AWAY FROM EDDIE AND DUSTIN!" Steve screamed.

"I KNOW WHAT TO DO!" Robin yelled as she grabbed the radio.

A panicked Dustin screamed over the radio as the bats began to chip parts of the trailer away. Eddie tried to swallow his fear but he knew this was it. He lived his life, did he have any regrets? So damn many.

He hated that he couldn't fix things with Y/N. He hated that she wouldn't get the closure she deserved, she wouldn't get the apology Eddie had been practicing for weeks.

If he knew his life was going to end so short, he wouldn't have wasted it on popularity. He would have picked her.

Eddie closed his eyes as he felt the cold air rush in, the bats were loud as they began to swarm into the trailer. He cried out as the bats clawed and nipped at his skin. He yelled for Dustin to run and not stop.

Eddie wasn't sure who to pray to but he did. He prayed as his clothes were torn and he felt blood rushing down his chest.

Then suddenly, the bats stopped.

A loud ring of music began to blast, Eddie knew he left his guitar on the top, and the sound wasn't coming from it.

The bats raced out and chased the sound.

"Who's doing that?" Dustin asked

"I have no idea. You okay?" Eddie asked, checking on him before he grabbed his weapons.

"Yes. Let's go!" Dustin said as he climbed out of the trailer.

Along with the bats, Eddie and Dustin raced. Eddie ran as fast as he could and Dustin jumped on his bike.

Eddie ignored all the pain he felt as he kept running. As he got closer, he realized it wasn't a song. It was the same few chords over and over.

And Eddie knew those chords.

Eddie felt even more panic in his chest as he guessed who was playing it. In a selfish way, he hoped it was someone else. It was wrong but he prayed it was someone in the group, and not her.

"WHO IS THAT?" Dustin screamed as he threw down his bike and prepared his weapons.

"It's Y/N," Eddie gulped as his eyes took in the sight of Y/N playing the guitar. She didn't have any protection, simply standing in her normal clothes as she risked herself for everyone stuck in the upside down.

For a second, everything was silent. The guitar stopped. Eddie's eyes caught hers. Both stared at each other as time slowed.

"I FORGIVE YOU!" Y/N screamed, the tears flowed down her cheeks as she threw the guitar to the ground.

"NO!" Eddie screamed, but it was too late. The bats already found her. Her body was taken to the ground as she screamed in horror.

"GET HELP!" Eddie screamed at Dustin, he didn't look back at him. He just ran to her.

He started swinging everywhere, he heard thuds and screeches. Eddie used every ounce of anger and hurt that his body held as motivation to swing the shit out of these blood suckers. The agony screams coming from Y/N's lips made him move faster.

Dustin called for help on the radio, he wasn't going to leave them alone. He quickly joined Eddie and began to swing.

Eddie didn't have time to yell at him, in the moment he was grateful the kid didn't listen to him. Together they cleared the path towards her. Eddie thought he felt the greatest amount of fear, but when her screams stopped he knew he was wrong.

Y/N felt like she finally caught her breath. She gasped as her eyes opened. Bright white lights shined above her that caused her to shut them again.

"Y/N?" She heard a relieved voice say then a warm hand intertwined with hers.

She slowly opened her eyes, a familiar brown eyes looked back at her. He was covered in dirt, blood stained clothes but he still was the prettiest man she'd ever seen.

"Hm, even in heaven you look the same." She said, her voice cracking with every word.

Eddie laughed and grabbed some water. He softly put it against her lips and helped her lift her head to drink.

"Well you haven't made it there yet." Eddie joked. "You had all of us scared."

Y/N looked around the room, but no one else was there. "You are the only one here."

Eddie scratched his head, "they were, but the nurse said only one person at a time, and well I called dibs for six hours." He said as he looked at his watch.

"Why?" She asked, from what she's learned he wanted nothing to do with her.

"I know it's incredibly hard to believe, but I have feelings for you. I know I've been a dick to you and I'm sorry for all the pain I caused. It's pathetic that it took you nearly dying to grow balls and be honest. But before you showed up, I was positive I was going to die. And all I thought about in that moment was how you deserved an apology and that I regretted not taking my chance with you." Eddie confessed. His hands were still in hers as he sat on the chair next to her bed. His eyes were red, and his cheeks were wet.

"It is pathetic, Munson." Y/N snapped, but she kept her hands in his. His touch was warm and soft, a feeling that reminded her she was still alive.

Her heart wanted to hug him and cry. But her head wanted her to keep her pride and tell him to fuck off.

"Did you mean it? When you said you forgave me?" Eddie choked out, sniffling back his tears.

"I prepared to die and I didn't want to ruin your life even more." Y/N confessed, sadness flood through her body as she remembered how worthless she felt because of him. He was the only person in her life that made her feel loved, but hated at the same time. In the end, that was the only experience she had with love and she was okay to die with that in mind because at least it was someone she'd die for.

"You never ruined my life!" Eddie promised, his wet lips kissed her hand as he sobbed. "You are a gift in my life, okay? I've never felt so happy around someone and so alive. I'm an idiot and I made all the wrong decisions. But I swear on my life, I'll make this up to you if you give me a chance. I love you."

Y/N snapped her head as she felt her heart race. The machine gave it away as it beeped.

"You love me?" She whispered, tears flowing down her face as she looked into his eyes.

The Eddie she knew was behind them.

"So damn much. I know I don't deserve anything and I definitely don't deserve you. But I'll do it all right this time. It'll be us and that's all I want."

"Is that why you saved me?" She choked out, she remembered his arms carrying her as he screamed for help. The fear in his eyes and the panic in his voice. He didn't have to come save her, but he did.

"The second I heard those chords, my heart fell out of my chest and my only goal was to get to you before the bats did. I'm very angry with Robin for putting you in that position, but she knew you'd do it to save me. And you deserve someone who'd save you back."

Y/N didn't say anything, she unlaced her hand from Eddie's. He tried to ignore the disappointment he felt.

She sat up slowly then placed her hands on Eddie's cheeks, before he knew it, she leaned in and smashed her lips on his. He felt his stomach flip a thousand times as he reached forward to hold her waist. He kissed her back with everything he had left in him. The kiss tasted of blood and dirt, but it was the best kiss he's ever had.

After a few moments, she pulled away and gasped for air. Eddie leaned his forehead against hers, his eyes still closed as he tried to memorize the feeling of her lips on his.

"I love you too." She whispered, before her lips attached to his again.

Eddie meant everything he said. He was going to prove he was worthy of her and her love.

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