#he’s so ready to go and I love that in a man

[deathbxnny]

hey i was wondering if you could do how arcane characters would react to seeing their partner looking really good dressed up?? also i love ur writing!!

Arcane characters reacting to their s/o dressed up really pretty. | Vi, Ekko, Jinx x Gn!Reader

Thank you for the request, Anon, and I hope you'll enjoy this!!<3

Content: Established romantic relationships, fluff, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VI

"Ooh... where are we going?" A wide grin rested on her lips as she watched you put on your fancy shoes and straighten out the last details of your pretty attire. "I'm going out with a couple friends." In other words, she was not invited. But Vi couldn't hear you over the sound of her mind spinning with many different thoughts.

Humming, she leaned against a wall next to you, intensely dark eyes staring you down with a glint that made you shake your head in defiance. "No." "Oh come on, Cupcake! Do you really have to go out today? I mean... I can go along. It's dangerous around this time of the night and-" "-Viiii. I can take care of myself." She pouted at your clear disagreement, hardly attempting to even hide how much she loved the way you looked.

"Aw... please? At least let me tag alone so I can show you off to everyone." Typical. And yet, you had a hard time denying her anything when her hands suddenly sneaked around your waist so smoothly. She always got what she wanted out of you in the end. Not that you necessarily minded.

"Fineeee... but keep your hands to yourself around them." You huff out whilst your heart warmed a t the sight of pure excitement on her face. But the slyness in her smirk didn't leave as she gratefully kissed your cheek and let go. "Can't promise you that when you're looking so good, unfortunately... but I'll try. For now."

Rolling your eyes with a smile, you let her happily run off to get ready, glad that she enjoyed your outfit a lot.

》EKKO

He was stunned at the sight of you emerging from the bedroom, fully dressed up so beautifully it left him speechless. The Firelights were having a huge festival in celebration of a recent successful mission, and of course, you were both expected to look your best. And you weren't the type to ever disappoint either.

It was rare to see you dressed up so nicely, the cute outfit being one he had only seen a small couple of times before due to your line of work and life circumstances. But in his mind, you looking so good was a sign of success. He wanted you to be able to dress that way every day, perhaps another motivation of his to continue going.

"How do I look?" You ask, the nervous tone in your voice making his eyes soften even further. "You look great. Who are you trying to impress, hm?" His words were playful as he grabbed your waist carefully. Ekko mirrored the shy smile that crept onto your lips at his question. "A certain someone. I don't think you know him, though." You played along, watching as he raised a brow with an unimpressed smirk.

"Hm... maybe we shouldn't go out then-" "-Oi! Why are you guys taking so long? Let's get going." Scar's voice made you both jump, as he appeared in the doorway and waved you over. A sly smirk crept onto your face as you quickly followed after the man. "Ah, there he is! See ya around, Ekko!" "Hey! I'll remember this-!" Running after you two, he couldn't help but laugh a little.

The festival was going to be great, to say the least.

》JINX

You were just trying out some new clothes you had gotten. Nothing special and definitely not for anyone else's eyes, except for hers. Once you were done, you were quick to hunt down your girlfriend to show her your outfit. "Jinx! How do I look?" You asked, a happy smile on your lips as you now stood next to her, whilst she tinkered away on some projects. Removing her googles, she glanced up at you and blinked in surprise, near speechless for a moment.

Nervously shifting under her intense gaze, you wondered if she didn't like it. "Uhm... should I go change or-" "-You look really good..." She muttered thoughtfully before a large grin crept onto her lips mischievously. "A bit too good! Makes me nearly jealous, pretty. How about you dress me up too so we can match?" You should have honestly seen this coming, as she enjoys doing cute things like that with you.

And so, you did as she asked, whilst she painted your nails to match her own. By the end of it, you looked like you were headed to a fancy event, something she found greatly amusing. Kicking a nearby radio to make it play music, she held out her hand to you with a bright smile. "Alright, let's get this party started!"

[moonchild9350]

Always

summary: you and Hyunjin have a peculiar relationship with your roommate Felix

pairing: est. relationship Hyunjin x fab!reader x roommate Felix

genre: sprinkle of fluff, smut-18+MDNI

word count: 2.7k

warnings: cockwarming, spanking, breeding kink, mention of pregnancy, partner sharing, unprotected sex (don't), multiple creampies, squirting, nipply play, dirty talk, use of term slut

notes: short, sweet, and filthy lol I just love hyunjin and felix omg

If you enjoyed, consider a reblog, comment, or like as it keeps me motivated ♡

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

It’s the end of the day, the part where you start to wind down, your mind exhausted from the day’s activities. You’re sitting on your bed holding your penguin plushie as you scroll through your phone when you notice the time.

Seeing that it is almost seven, you sit up as excitement courses through you, your core clenching in anticipation for the evening that’s in store.

Hyunjin will be home soon after a long day at work. You miss your boyfriend dearly, the hours long without him.

At the thought of seeing him soon, you get up out of bed and shimmy out of your sweatpants and panties, leaving yourself in only his oversized shirt, the hem barely grazing your thighs.

You pad to the door and open it, making your way to the living room where a certain blond is sitting, his eyes trained on the tv…that is until you walk in.

At your entrance, Felix looks up and flashes the smile you have grown to love, all teeth and dimples, as he sets his phone down. He beckons you over, his tiny finger making a come hither motion as he invites you to sit on his lap.

You stand there for a moment, gazing at the beautiful man, your hands behind your back. You take him in, how the bulge within his grey sweats is ever enlarging, his cock twitching as you take one step forward.

“That’s it, come here sweetheart,” Felix purrs as he pushes his hair out of his freckled face.

You’re wet, incredibly so, as your body is trained almost like Pavlov’s dog. At the stroke of seven, you become horny, the thought of cock filling you up making the feeling almost unbearable.

You arrive in front of Felix and giggle, as your cheeks flush at the sight of the blond.

“Ready sweetheart?” Felix asks, his hands reaching into his sweats to pull his cock out, giving it a few strokes as he spreads the precum that’s leaking from the tip around.

You nod as you take in his hard cock, perfect and chubby, all ready for you.

He holds it steady as you straddle his legs and bring your core to his length. Felix helps you line his cock with your entrance as you experimentally lower yourself, sighing at the stretch his tip provides.

You left your hips up before bringing them down once more, this time taking all of him. You let out a whimper at feeling full, your pussy keeping his member nice and snug within your wet walls.

You wrap your arms around Felix and nuzzle your head in the crook of his neck as he holds you close. You just sit there, feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath, reveling in the comfort of being in Felix’s arms.

You relax further as his hands sneak beneath your shirt, his fingers gently trailing your back as he continues to watch the show on the tv screen.

And so it goes. You and your boyfriend have a particular arrangement with Felix, your roommate. He joined your little abode around a year ago, all sunshine and happiness, and thankful for you both taking him in.

As time went on and you three became closer, feelings of friendship turning into something a little more with each passing day. You were already dating Hyunjin, and Felix knew that, but he couldn’t let his feelings go to waste, confessing one day while at movie night.

You remember looking at Hyunjin, a smirk forming on your face at the confession. Little did Felix know that you both liked Felix too and were more than willing to open up your relationship to include him.

Felix was delighted, as the best case scenario played out. However, before he could get too excited, Hyunjin laid down some ground rules.

The first rule he imposed was you were his at the end of the day and only his, but Felix can enjoy the perks of having you close by, whatever those perks may be. He also demanded that Felix prep you and get you ready for him before he got home.

Felix readily agreed, as he got to be with you, feel you, and that was more than he had bargained for.

So here he was, “prepping” you by having you warm his cock. He loved how you felt around him, your pussy always warm and wet, your slick dripping down onto his pants, forming a constantly enlarging wet spot.

You both sat there for a while, waiting for the door to open and for Hyunjin to walk in. However, you were starting to feel needy, Felix’s cock feeling too good within you. You knew you were playing with fire, but decided to proceed, needing some type of relief as you waited for your love.

Smirking against Felix’s neck, you clenched down on his length while pressing wet kisses to his neck, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

Felix’s breath hitched for a moment before he recovered, lightly tapping your ass and gripping the flesh tight. You grinned before repeating the motion, this time feeling his cock twitch within you as he let out a low groan at the sensation. Felix gently rocked your hips over his cock, his length dragging deliciously against your walls.

You gripped his neck tighter as you breath caught, hoping he would do it again. However, Felix recovered, remembering that Hyunjin gets to have you first.

“Behave,” he said, his deep voice rumbling deep within his chest and flowing to your ears.

You let out a sigh, as you lightly nipped his skin, Felix jumping at the slight pain. You’re not sure how much longer you could wait, needing to move, to gain any type of friction to ease your aching pussy.

As you thought of moving again, the door opened and in walked Hyunjin. You watched as he dropped his bags and kicked off his shoes before walking over to the living area. He smiled at seeing the two of you, wrapped in an intimate embrace, as you warmed Felix’s cock.

“You two are adorable,” Hyunjin cooed, taking out his phone to snap a picture, wanting to add it to his ever growing collection of his two favorite people.

Hyunjin continued to gaze at you two, the blood flowing to his cock as he took in your flushed cheeks, your disheveled hair as you continued to nuzzle your head in the crook of Felix’s neck. He took in Felix, his eyes dilated and veins prominent on his hands as he gripped your ass tighter. He knew how Felix felt, your pussy too warm, wet, and just perfect.

“Ready love?” Hyunjin asked, walking closer to you.

You nodded your head, keeping your face tucked into Felix’s neck as Hyunjin wrapped his arms around your waist. You let out a moan as Hyunjin lifted you off of Felix’s cock, the sudden emptiness making your walls contract as he carried you bridle style to your bedroom.

He laid you down on the soft sheets and began stripping his clothes off, his eyes on you the whole time. You watched as his cock sprang free, as he dragged his sweats down his thick thighs, licking your lips at the sight.

“Take your shirt off love, you know the drill,” Hyunjin commanded as he stood before you in all his glory.

You shuffled to take the garment off, your tits now on display for your lover. You leaned back and fondled the flesh, watching as Hyunjin stroked his length.

“Mm spread your legs love, show me your pussy,” Hyunjin said, as he bit his plush lips.

He let out a moan as you spread your legs, your folds parting and displaying your wet entrance and puffy clit. You whimpered as you swiveled your hips, wanting to touch yourself to ease the ache. However, you didn’t dare touch what was his, wanting him to have his fill first.

“That’s it love, such a pretty pussy just for me.”

Hyunjin approached you, as he slotted himself between your legs. He leaned over you, his body hovering over yours as caged you in, his lips finding purchase against yours. He kissed you passionately as he brought his cock to your entrance, pushing the tip in with a swift motion.

You moaned loudly against his mouth as his cock speared you open, your pussy welcoming him in with no hesitation. Hyunjin smirked at your reaction as he snapped his hips into yours once, twice, as he pushed your body up against the bed with the force each thrust. He set a fast pace, as he pounded into you, his hips withdrawing until his cock was almost out of your pussy before slamming back in.

Loud moans rang through the room, as Hyunjin fucked you, so loud you’re sure Felix could hear you from the living room. However, that was part of the thrill, the thought of Felix with his cock out, his hands stroking his length, the thought of fucking you at the forefront of his mind.

You squealed as Hyunjin adjusted his hips, the new angle causing his cock to brush against your sweet spot with each thrust, the drag sending little shockwaves through your core.

You tried to say his name, but nothing came out, your mouth left wide open as Hyunjin brought you closer to your orgasm.

Hyunjin could tell you were close, as your walls clenched around him, attempting to keep him deep inside you. He listened intently as you mumbled words, the syllables barely audible as you became cock drunk, chanting that you need his cock and don’t stop.

He could never get used to your pussy, how wet you get as he fucks you, as Felix teases you as you cockwarm him every night. Your pussy was made for him, stretching perfectly to accommodate him.

“Cum in me,” you whimpered, hoping he would not pull out like he usually does.

You wanted to be filled, to have his cum stuffed within you, so much so that it leaks out and doesn’t stop.

Hyunjin was shocked at first, but quickly recovered, grinning at your words, more than happy to oblige.

“My love wants me to fill her up, breed her good hmm?” Hyunjin asked as he swiveled his hips against yours.

“Yes, baby please, breed me,” you whined as you locked your legs around his ass pulling him as close as you could.

Hyunjin sought out your lips, pressing sloppy kisses to them as he continued to grind into you, the neatly trimmed hairs rubbing against your clit with each thrust. He felt like he would go insane as your walls clamped around him, urging him to cum, your tits rubbing against his chest perfectly, adding extra stimulation to his sensitive nipples. He placed his lips right at your ear as he continued to whisper dirty words to you.

“Fuck this pussy, love. Gonna cum, breed this pussy so good that it’ll stick and make you a mommy.”

At that you let out a loud cry, the thought of carrying Hyunjin’s child causing you let go, your orgasm wrecking through your body. You clutched onto him as he continued to fuck you through your high, his pace never faltering.

You whispered in his ear, your litany of his name causing him to moan as he came, spurt after spurt of his cum painting your walls white.

You rocked your hips against his thrusts, holding him close as he finished emptying himself within you. With a shaky breath he stilled, collapsing gently on top of you.

You laid there for a while, your breathing slowly going back to normal as Hyunjin pressed lazy kisses to your neck.

“We’re not done yet love,” Hyunjin finally whispered in a sultry voice.

He got up, withdrawing his now softened cock from your core. You could feel his cum slowly seep out, the trickle forming a sticky path down your ass. Hyunjin tutted at the sight, his finger gathering his cum before stuffing it back inside of you.

“Need that to stick don’t we? Keep it in love.” Hyunjin warned as he gave you a stern look.

You nodded in agreement, as he maneuvered behind you. He brought you back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you snuggly. He pressed a kiss to your hair whispering sweet nothings as you both rested in the moment as two.

“Felix,” Hyunjin called shortly after, his arms still wrapped around you as he cradled your body.

The blond opened the door and walked in, a smile plastered on his freckled face.

“Sounds like Hyunjin took good care of you sweetheart,” Felix cooed as he got undressed. “Think you can take me too?”

You knew it was a rhetorical question as you would take his cock regardless but you answered nonetheless, wanting to please Felix.

“Give me your cock Lix,” you said, spreading your legs wide for him. Hyunjin gripped your thighs, bringing them to your chest to keep you open for him. Felix wasted no time slotting himself between your legs, his eyes trained on your swollen pussy.

“Would you look at that, you’re dripping in cum,” he teased. “Let’s just push that back in,” Felix grunted as he slid his cock into your pussy, a loud squelch echoing throughout the room as his cock pushed Hyunjin’s cum further inside you.

“You’re so wet sweetheart, take it all yeah?” Felix grunted as he slid his cock in and out in and out, your pussy letting both men know how wet you were with each thrust.

You whimpered as Felix began to pound into you, your eyes on his beautiful face. Your walls clenched at the sight of him falling apart above you, his hair falling in his face with the exertion.

You were about to reach up and grasp his face when Hyunjin let go of your legs and pinched your nipples, the jolt of pain sending waves of pleasure straight to you core.

“Ahh!” You moaned as Hyunjin toyed with your nipples, his fingers alternating between brushing against them and pinching them.

“Is Felix fucking you good love? Keep those legs open,” Hyunjin said, his voice right at your ear.

“Mm yes!” You said as you took a shaky breath.

“Love this pussy, just taking me. Look at that, sucking me right in,” Felix groaned his eyes trained on your walls stretching over his cock.

“Not gonna last long sweetheart, gonna cum, gonna give you my cum yeah?”

Hyunjin chuckled, his breath tickling your ear. “Hear that love? Gonna let Felix breed you full too?”

You were floating at his words, wanting nothing more than Felix’s cum within you.

“Lix give me your cum,” you begged as you spread your legs even wider, keeping them open just like Hyunjin instructed.

“Damn sweetheart, Hyunjin’s cum not enough for you that you need mine too? Are you our little cum dump?” Felix teased as he smirked.

You nodded quickly, little “mmms” leaving your lips.

As Hyunjin continue to play with your tits, he said in a low voice, “my little slut, gonna let Felix breed you too. Fill you up, give you his baby hmm?”

At the thought of carrying their babies, not knowing who the father was, you let out a loud whine, as you squirted, your walls contracting rhythmically around Felix’s cock.

The feel of you clamping down on him, holding him in tipped him over the edge, his cum filling your pussy, the fluid mixing with Hyunjin’s.

You whimpered as he pulled out, a gush of fluid leaking out down your ass and onto the sheets. You preened as Hyunjin whispered praises in your ear, his hands softly stroking your sides.

You watched as Felix left to go find a towel, returning shortly after leaving. He helped clean you off, before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“Good night sweetheart,” Felix said as he gave you a smile. He then got up and snatched his clothes, leaving to go back to his room.

“Let’s get you ready for bed. Get under the blankets love,” Hyunjin said as he helped you maneuver under the warm fabric.

He got in next to you and pulled you close. You were on the verge of sleep when Hyunjin broke the silence.

“I hope it really did stick and you’re carrying one of our babies.”

You didn’t say anything but laid there thinking about what he said. You wouldn’t be mad but actually happy at the thought as you loved both of the boys.

And that was a thought that you knew would always remain.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @possum-playground

[chithereader]

playing it cool / aaron hotchner

[credits to the owners of these photos!!]

word count: 1.9k

pairing: aaron hotchner x f!reader

genre: fluff!!!!!!

cw: sickeningly sweet and soft aaron x reader, so much of aaron’s thoughts because we know that man thinks soo much more than he speaks!!

a/n: hiiii this is my third post so far and tbh i was so nervous to post the first two as that was my first time ever posting any of my writings anywhere!! but i’ve been getting so much more love on those than expected and i just really wanted to say thank you so much for all the likes and reblogs <33 i was honestly only expecting less than 10 notes as a newbie and reaching up to 200 is so so so wonderful. and especially for the love of hotch i– ugh!!!!! i already love u all 

The team had worked a straight 5 weeks worth of cases prior, which had warranted Strauss to grant them all a mandatory 3-day rest. This simply meant that for 3 whole days there are no cases, no deadlines, and no new case files. They could come to the office at whatever time they’d like as long as they finished some reports at the end of the day. 

Aaron being Hotch the boss man still aimed to arrive at the office at a reasonable time– 7:30am. To be fair, this is an hour and a half later than when he usually arrives at the office. And in his mind, the earlier he arrives, the more he can get done, and the more he gets done, the earlier he can come home. 

This is the only reason why he is up at 6:00am on a supposed rest day. He did expect that he’d struggle a bit more to drag himself out of bed, knowing you’d be keeping him hostage with limbs that wrap around him in ways he can’t begin to understand, but to his surprise, you weren’t there. 

Dragging his feet across the carpeted floor, his pajama pants hanging low on his hips and white shirt fitting him oh-so-snugly, he tries to find you. He’s rubbing the sleep of his eyes as he peeks his head into your shared bathroom. No sign of you. 

He’s covering his mouth as he yawns when he quietly opens the door to Jack’s bedroom–still no sign of you. Remembering his son has been nursing a stomach bug since yesterday, he opened the door further to check on him. No fever. No chills. No sign of discomfort. 

When he’s sure Jack’s okay, he turns around to go back to find where you went. He even checked the backyard as he passed by a window to see if you’re at your favorite swing reading, that perhaps you just woke up early and wanted to feel the morning sun because you claimed it lightens you. 

He smiles a little to himself as he treads downstairs, finally hearing your soft murmurs as you spoke with someone presumably over the phone. As he neared the kitchen he realized that the person on the line was your colleague and friend Tilly, and that she was on speaker phone making it easy to listen in. 

He slows down his steps as he nears the landing and pauses when he gets behind a wall near the kitchen. He doesn’t know what came over him. He doesn’t usually sneak around to eavesdrop, nor did he ever feel the need to especially when it came to you. You tell him everything, prompted and unprompted. 

But perhaps it was the haze of the morning or the curiosity of what could possibly get you out of bed this early when you’re usually the one snoozing away as he’s getting ready for work– he stayed quiet behind that wall and made it his mission to understand the conversation. 

He clears his mind and strains his ear, going as far as making his breaths slow and far apart. 

He hears Tilly giggling, “Don’t get me wrong, Adam from Finance is really cute but.. isn’t he just a little too serious? He’s always got that frown going on.” 

You sigh a little loudly, obvious that it’s a sigh to humor and not of exasperation, “Tilly, you know I love you, but every day you complain about being single. And every other day there’s a decent guy who you always always find that one flaw in that just crosses them off for you forever.” Tilly lets out a sound that’s a mixture of a laugh and a gasp. 

“That is so not tr–” “Oh, Hugh’s just too clean. And Frederick’s too hard, it’s like- scary. Yes, veiny hands are hot but there’s veiny and too veiny, and Jason was just a double too veiny.” 

Aaron momentarily pauses his listening and looks down at his hands, suddenly conscious where he fit in that category. Factoring in his age, his work, and the action he gets from the field– these all show. He tried thinking of a time you could’ve shown any dislike or disgust towards his hands but all he could think of was that one night when he cupped your face and you leaned towards it more, turning slightly to take his thumb into your mou–

He’s shaken out of his thoughts when he hears Tilly asking about you leaving, “What time are you getting to the office by the way? I just don’t want to get there without you. Adam might ask about that second date and I just need you as my bluff, my beautiful girl.” He makes a mental note to message Jessica before you both get ready for work. 

“Riiiight. Remind me how many guys have I scared off for you now? And how many times have I helped you scare them off? Besides, I can’t go today and I’ve already told Bobby I’m on leave.” 

In a slight surprise and panic Tilly whines, “What?! Why? You’re such a traitor. You know damn well I get so bored without you.” Aaron didn’t even know you were planning on staying home. You hadn’t mentioned anything about it last night which made him even more curious what made you decide. 

He hears your soft laugh, “Don’t be so dramatic. You’ll manage a day without me. I mean you have to– my son caught a stomach bug yesterday so I just want to make sure he’ll recover completely.” 

Aaron can hear Tilly responding, something about soup and warm baths, but his heart has just stopped so he’s not really processing any new words at the moment. 

My son. My son. My son. My son caught a stomach bug. 

He feels lightheaded. His heart kickstarts again, his pulse is ringing in his ear. He can feel his chest pounding to his heart’s beat. The words that rolled off your lips so effortlessly, so mindlessly, echoes in his head. 

Jack may be young but he is smart. So so smart beyond his years. And he has grown to understand what had happened to his mom Haley, but not once has he– and even you allowed Jack to forget who Haley is and how much she loves him. 

Images of you joining in their traditions of honoring and remembering Haley plays in his head in flashes. You helping Jack arrange a bouquet for Haley’s death anniversary. You helping Jack make a card for her birthday. You mixing the paint to get the right shades as Jack paints a portrait of Haley for his Mothers’ Day homework. 

Aaron had told you everything there was to know about Haley and you’ve listened. He knows you adore her. You adore her for the same reasons he adored her. You understood the space Haley had in his life and in Jack’s life, and not once were you ever jealous, immature, or selfish about it. Even though he would’ve completely understood if you were. 

You were nothing but supportive, and understanding, and loving. Even when he didn’t deserve it. Even when you deserved better. Admittedly, there was a point in time when he struggled with coming to terms with falling in love– with you nonetheless. You’re young, ambitious, brilliant, talented, insanely beautiful, and unfairly kind. 

When the two of you had met, this was his profile: divorced with a kid, recovering from trauma that stemmed from being stabbed multiple times in his own home, emotionally unavailable, annoyingly serious and fatally dull– which really makes him wonder what made you fall in love with him in the first place, and even more so what made you stay even when he was bafflingly dense about how you felt about him.  

He didn’t know how long he was standing there, like a deer caught in headlights. Replaying your words and his memories over and over again, slowly coming to the conclusion that you’re absolutely perfect and he’s absolutely gone for you. 

Slowly coming to his senses, Aaron becomes more aware of the silence. The call must have ended while he was having realizations about things. He rounds the corner silently, getting a feel of where you’re facing. Luckily he guesses right, that you’re facing away from him. 

You were rummaging through the fridge– the vegetable drawer if he had to guess, judging by how much you’re slouching and reaching, and the sound of the glass containers you use to prolong their freshness. 

He quickly surveys the scene- your phone is on the counter, beside it is a chopping board with carrots and onions, a carton of chicken broth, Jack’s favorite dinosaur-shaped pasta, and chocolate milk– the one drink you both know can make Jack feel instantly better, happier. 

His heart pinches again. You got up early to make sure Jack had something to eat for breakfast in time for his medicine. You got up early even though you aren’t planning on going to work. You aren’t going to work because you want to stay with Jack. You called Jack your son. 

With so many things running in his head, he stands quietly observing you finding god knows whatever vegetable. Maybe it's the intensity of his stare or the volume of his thoughts, or maybe he started to breathe loudly– but suddenly you knew he was there. He could tell. 

You slowly straightened your back from when you were leaning. Your hands have stopped rummaging through the drawer, and he could see the goosebumps on your legs and shoulders from the way the sunlight hits you through the kitchen window. 

You turn around slowly, as if you were just caught doing something you aren’t supposed to be doing, “I’m so sorry, did I wake you?” grimacing as if it was a crime to be hot and cute and gut-wrenchingly-sweet. 

“No.” His voice is groggy. Deep and rough given that he just woke up minutes ago and hasn’t really used it since. Looking at you through studying eyes, he clears his throat “Uhm, I woke up to get ready for work and you weren’t there.” 

Aaron suddenly feels a little cold. The thin material of his shirt and pajamas doing little to contain what warmth he has left in his body. Or maybe it’s you, maybe his body has sensed that you’re near and is now craving your warmth, making him feel a magnified amount of its absence.

“Oh.. I’m sorry I just wanted to get ahead of cooking so Jack can have soup before he takes his medicine at 8 and since I was also planning to do some work though I’m on leave, it just made sense to get an early start…” You slow your words, noticing how Hotch is studying you tenfold in the moment, as if you were an apparition, “Are you okay? Did you want soup too? I can pack you some before you go?”

His silence makes you panic a little. You can’t really tell if he’s upset about something or if he’s sleepwalking, “Or you can eat here. I mean– you live here, of course you can eat here. I mean like instead of bringing it to the office– not that if you eat here, you can’t bring some anymore.” 

The longer he stays silent, adoring you, the more you scramble to fill the silence, “I’m just– you know you can do whatever you want. You can eat here, there, anywhere. Unless you don’t want soup. I mean we still have leftover steak, I cou–” 

You pause your rambling because you can see a smile starting to form on his face. A real, big smile. Laugh lines and dimples and all, which makes you smile. Realizing how stupid you were sounding and how funny the situation was becoming, you started giggling.

And just as you think he’s about to join the laughter to make fun of you, his smile softens and he says, “Marry me.” 

[kedreeva]

Here is the link.

https://www.fightforthefuture.org/actions/no-on-hr9495

This may not be a 'the site is going down, man the lifeboats' situation, but it IS a situation where your call can make a huge difference, and help to prevent this being a problem. AO3 is important to a lot of people here, but this bill stands to hurt a lot of other nonprofits as well. You know who else is a nonprofit that I can pretty much guarantee they'll go after? Planned Parenthood. There's also TONS of resources for mental health, low-cost food, facilities that help with paying staple bills (electric, water, etc), many homeless shelters, and so on that you KNOW republicans would love to get rid of so their precious money isn't going to help The Lazy Slacking Poor People Stealing All Their Jobs or whatever nonsense they come up with to justify being horrible. AO3 won't be the only place under threat, any place that might help people the far right doesn't like would make an excellent target. And you can fight for all of them at once by calling and encouraging your politicians to strike this bill down.

When you use the site, this is the script they will provide you, but they won't do this until they're on the line. I KNOW some of us have trouble being ready to make phone calls, and need a script to study up front, so I'm moving it here, but you will want to go to the site. They'll connect you automatically to your rep, you don't even have to look up the rep or number yourself.

“I am calling to urge my representative to vote no on H.R. 9495 today. This is a dangerous bill would give the Trump administration unilateral power to label any non-profit as terrorist supporting and shut it down without due process. I am calling on my representative to defend civil rights organizations and oppose this bill. Thank you.”

Look, we're going to be stuck with Trump come Jan 6th, that's already been decided unless the universe makes an executive decision about his lifespan. What you, and anyone you can possibly reach, is responsible for, is fighting tooth and nail against everything he wants to do. In this instance, it's making a phone call. Do not wait, do not put it off, do not tell yourself you'll do it later so you can forget until it's too late.

This is what resistance looks like today. Resist.

EDIT: So, I called at the end of writing this, and apparently this is for last thursday, as it went to vote. It passed the house, so that's. Not great. Calling did, according to the message I got, flip a lot of votes, but not enough to strike it down. Time to call your senate reps instead.

Readers, make sure you have all your favourite Ao3 fics downloaded.

Writers, make sure you have copies of all the fics you have posted on Ao3.

I don’t want to be alarming, but things could get really bad really fast. OTW shared this today on Twitter, and I'm a bit worried about it 😅

Ao3 is a non-profit organisation. If they have to start paying taxes, I have no idea what will happen.

[moonsgemini]

nobody knows - rafe cameron

summary: a secret relationship between the kook king the sweet innocent kook & bathroom sex

warnings: 18+, cursing, reader being jealous, alcohol, SMUT, slight choking, semi public sex, pinv

an: hiiii hope y’all enjoy <3 this is a lil shorter than my usual stuff. I need drew starkey bad !! Might turn this into it’s own lil universe

-

This party was going to kill you. The scene in front of you calling for you to do something irrational. It was almost as if he wanted you to accidentally spill wine on Lindsey’s head.

The way her hand constantly found a place on his bicep has you gripping your glass a little tighter. The friendly smile on Rafe’s lips not helping ease your jealousy. Neither was the way he kept leaning down so he could hear her better, as if they were at a rave. It was a fairly small party for crying out loud there was no need for that.

If you had super powers the entire back yard would be lit up in flames with the way you were glaring at the pair. Of course he also wore that shirt you loved on him. The one you had mentioned on multiple occasions that it was your favorite.

You wished you could go over there and yank him down by the collar and smush your lips against his. Let everyone know that it’s your name he’s moaning at night and his lips and body that have your coming undone almost every night.

You wished everyone knew exactly what was going on between them. Then you wouldn’t have to disguise your jealousy as a head ache. You knew it was because of you that the two of you snuck around but you’re starting to want things to change. You couldn’t stand the sight of your man giving another woman attention.

“Garrett is such a dick I can’t believe I didn’t dump him sooner,” Her friend Nessa mumbled.

She hummed and nodded in agreement while finishing off the last of her wine. Not really paying attention to what her friend was saying.

“You’ve been quiet today. More than usual, all good?” Your friend Nessa asked.

You nodded, “Yeah just have a head ache again.”

“Then lets get you another glass, being drunk will help with that,” Nessa grabbed your hand. She led you back over to the small cocktail bar that was set up which was right past Rafe and Lindsey.

As the pair of you passed them you pretended not to see Rafe. Obviously Rafe’s eyes followed you, not really paying attention to whatever the girl in front of him had been yapping about.

He was trying this new thing where he wasn’t going to be an asshole to people. Unless they deserved it obviously, but it was really fucking hard when all he wanted to do was talk to you. The old him would have just ditched her mid sentence but that’s not who he wanted to be.

He watched as you poured yourself some more wine, your friend going on about something as you nodded along. His pretty girl always being the best listener.

After a minute you said something to your friend before walking into the house. After a few seconds Rafe said something about going to the bathroom and left the babbling blonde behind. He didn’t care he wanted to find you.

When he stepped inside he saw your half empty wine glass on the kitchen counter. He walked down the hall to the guest bathroom and knocked.

“I’ll be out in a minute Ness!” You shouted from behind the door.

“It’s Rafe,” he said.

The locked clicked and the door opened to reveal your pretty frame. You had chosen to wear that dress he loves in the color he loves on you. He wasn’t the only one who chose what they’re wearing for a specific reason. You poked your head out and looked both ways before tugging him inside by the collar of his shirt. He chuckled at your antics

“Don’t you think it looks more suspicious if we’re in here together?” He smirked with a raised brow. In all honesty he didn’t really give a fuck if people saw you two together but he knows you aren’t ready.

You rolled your eyes, “It’s not like you were flirting it up out there with Lindsey.”

His smirk widened at the realization that you were jealous. He liked how around everyone you were always sweet and polite, sometimes even a little timid. But with him it was a different story. He loved the way you talked back to him and rolled your eyes at him. He loved the dirty things that sweet innocent mouth said to him when he was relentlessly fucking you.

“You jealous baby?” He stepped forward so the small of your back hit the counter.

Your scowl deepened as you crossed your arms, “No.”

He reach up stroked your cheek gently. His eyes going down to your lips, “You being a tough girl now. Come on baby you know she doesn’t have anything on you.”

Your scowl softened, “Well it doesn’t matter because it’s not like she knows that.”

Rafe leaned forward and kissed your cheek then your jaw and continued his way down to your pulse point, “I’ll let her know, we can let everyone know princess. I can fuck you right here right now.”

You gasped at his words and at the scrape of his teeth on the sensitive skin of your neck, “Rafe,” you practically moaned.

“Doesn’t sound like you’re too opposed to that,” His finger slipped under your dresses strap and pulled it down. His lips kissing the newly exposed skin as he went down to your chest, “Make you scream my name as I bend you over.”

You wanted to talk back to him but you couldn’t as your eyes fluttered shut. His hands had moved down your waist and to your thighs. Slowly dragging his fingertips up them until he plucked at your stringy underwear letting it snap back against your skin. He made you such an incoherent mess and you loved it.

With everything in you you mustered back a reply, “You sure you want Lindsey to hear.”

He chuckled against the top of your breasts that were exposed. His fingers now pressing against your wet clothed cunt.

“It seems like you want her to hear baby,” He pressed his fingers against your clit and rubbed soft circles, “look at how wet you are huh. My dirty girl.”

A whimper escaped your lips at the sensation. His fingers slipped under your tiny panties and he slid them through your sopping cunt and groaned against your neck, “God I love how you feel.”

You tugged his face up to meet your desperate eyes as you pulled him in for a kiss. You both moaned at the feeling. You loved when Rafe fucked you but you loved kissing him even more. His fingers picked up the pace a little against your throbbing clit. You could feel your wetness dripping down your legs.

“Please let me fuck you right here baby,” He mumbled against your lips, “I’ll do it so good. I’ll make you cum all over my cock.”

That whole being more nice thing Rafe was working on never applied to you. You were probably the only person on the island who had ever heard the kook king say please and thank you. Sometimes he even practically begged to fuck you or eat you out. You lived for it. It made your skin tingle and your tummy flutter.

You nodded your head, “Yes Rafey.”

He pulled his fingers away from you and practically shoved them into your mouth. You loved it though, tasting yourself on his long thick fingers. Your tongue licking them clean. He bit his lip and groaned with hooded eyes. Rafe was utterly obsessed with you.

He pulled his fingers out with a pop and leaned in capturing your mouth in his in another searing kiss. It was sloppy and made your head spin. He pulled away spinning you around. Your hands landed on the counter to steady yourself as he hiked your dress up to your waist.

Rafe gave your ass a firm squeeze and took a few seconds to admire you on this position. He loved that he could still see your pretty face in the mirror, he could see just how fucked you were for him. Your swollen lips, hooded eyes, and messy hair all because of him. It made his heart beat faster and his ego grow. He loves that no one else has known you in this way until he came around.

You watched as he began to undo his pants and pull his thick cock out. You whimpered at the sight of him stroking himself a few times. Grabbing the tiny string of your panties he pulled it to the side before lining himself up with you.

“You’re a fucking dream,” He groaned as he slipped his tip in. The warm wetness of your pussy making him throw his head back. Slowly he slotted himself in you. The feeling of you clenching around him already getting him so close.

“Fuck you’re coming home with me,” He groaned as he began moving in and out.

You nodded with hazy lust filled eyes. You’d do anything he asked of you. The feeling of him stretching you out was out of this world. You didn’t understand how he was always able to hit that spot that had your back arching and mouth forming into an o.

He fucked you as quietly as he could. Rafe didn’t give a fuck if people heard but he knew you did. It’s not like you were embarrassed of Rafe and he knew that. It would just make things complicated if people knew. There’d be constant prying and knit picking at everything you two did and how you acted.

“Oh Rafe,” you mumbled standing up so your back was against his chest. He groaned and wrapped one of his hands around your throat. Your head fell back against his shoulder.

Rafe’s other hand found it’s way to your chest. He pinched one of your nipples and squeezed your breast. He did the same thing to the other one before sliding down your stomach and to your clit. He rubbed circles as he continued to thrust into you.

He moved the hand that was around your throat to hold your jaw. Tugging your head down to look in the mirror.

“You see that baby, He nodded towards your reflection, “see how good you look when I’m inside you. My girl takes me so damn well.”

“I-I mmmph oh Rafe,” you mumbled incoherently but he knew what you were trying to say. He could tell you were close by the way you tightened around him and the way you dripping down him.

“I know,” He groaned, “I’m there too.” A loud moan began escaping you but rafe moved his hand up quickly to cover your mouth.

“Shit look at you, no one will ever compare. Fuck I’m all yours,” He grunted.

Your moans were muffled by his big hand as you came. He wasn’t farm behind as he buried his face in your neck as he came inside you.

“Well we’ve never done that before,” you giggled.

He huffed a laugh, “I’m pretty sure we’ve done that plenty of times before.”

You shook your head, “We’ve never done it in a bathroom at a party.”

He smirked as he pulled out of you and adjusting your clothes for you. He gave your ass a gentle slap, “I should make you jealous more often.”

You rolled your eyes and turned around to face him, “So what if I was jealous.”

He kissed you, “You have nothing to be jealous of. I’m yours.”

You smiled softly as your heart swelled, “Rafe maybe we should tell people.”

His eyes widened slightly, “Really?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his excitement, “mhmm I want to go on dates here in town. I want to be the one who has your attention all night and when I get too drunk you drive me home.”

He smiled, “Sounds perfect.”

After fixing yourselves to look presentable again you opened the door and led Rafe out not really thinking. But before you could even step through the doorway you were face to face with Lindsey who had a scowl on her face.

“Finally,” she rolled her eyes but then she saw the person standing behind you, “oh that’s where you disappeared to?” that scowl never leaving her.

Rafe nodded with a smirk, “My girl needed me.”

You blushed as you stepped past her with Rafe’s hand in yours with smiles plastered on both your faces.

[turquoizxe]

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐤𝐤𝐨

Ekko x Fem!Reader

content ― drabble/hc; fluff, mentions of Scar, reader has tattoos

author's note ― I love Ekko, that is all, moving forward, also I think I'm starting to like making drabbles/headcanons; I be locked in like a mf, and thank you for all the love on my previous drabble of Ekko!

wc ― 0.725k

Ekko's exterior was a tough shell to crack

But once you broke through it, there was no going back

He was closed off, for many good reasons, letting the walls he built come crashing down when with you was one of the hardest things he's ever done

It took what felt like eons to build this trust, but he wasn't sure if seeing a future with anyone was possible

He didn't want to get his hopes up

He had admired your patience and drive, hence why he adores you deeply

Dating Ekko felt like a dream, he felt like an entirely different person when his guard was down

While that's expected, you just couldn't believe that this is the same man running a Rebellion

And you wouldn't if you hadn't known him as long as you did

You had worked hard to earn his affection, just as he did to earn yours

What he took to get you, he used to keep you

The small trinkets he'd built, especially when he would get ready for missions, and he wasn't sure if he'd be back the same day

The community he had built had also learned to trust you, he involved you constantly in the development of the community

You were beyond terrified of the ride he always stood on

When your days would require less labor, you often spent your leisure trying to ride it

You thought Ekko wouldn't know, but he secretly likes to watch you practice, holding in his laughs whenever you busted your ass

What really surprised him is how good your combat is

You often avoided confrontation and physical altercations, as you never thought it was necessary to open a can of whoop-ass if it could just be solved with a conversation

But if anyone were to swing at you, you sure do hit back..hard

It flusters him how well your form is, the way your muscles flex when you practice with him. You often took that to your advantage when sparring. You knew for sure you had him where you wanted if you just wore a tank top, showing your tattoos

He stutters when he sees your tattoos, like a lot

It actually embarrasses him, and you can tell

So you often wear clothes that cover them so he can focus lol

He also loves it when you give him scalp massages. You learned how to retwist his locs, and he didn't go to anyone else anymore after you perfected it

He still hasn't told you who the hell his barber is, he'll come back to your shared home with a fresh cut, and you go absolutely feral

He loves it and makes it known, constantly teasing you when you can't look him straight in the face

But he better hope he doesn't get a lineup when you're ovulating because his ass is yours for sure

He's not really a man for public displays of affection, as he often reserves it in the comfort of which others cannot see

If he ever does it in front of his crew, he's usually needy, but he usually reserves that for your eyes and ears only

Constant moaning and groaning if he would steal a kiss from you while you're working, or a gag whenever you held hands in front of them

It's all in good fun, I swear

Scar teased you about it the most, as he was Ekko's right-hand

He knew how Ekko felt about you before he did

And when Ekko didn't pry into your love life, Scar did it for him

Finding out what you liked, as Ekko never really thought about how to serenade you

He was always caught up in his work, he hadn't put any thought into it until he he did what he knew best and started making small trinkets for you

After you started dating, he didn't need to think about it as hard

It all started to feel natural to you. Falling in love with you was easy, loving you on purpose was the real challenge

Every thought, action, and consideration, it was intending to catch you

Lucky for him, the efforts were successful

He really didn't think in a million years he'd land such a wonderful person as you, but I assure you he thanks the gods every day for your love

― turquoizxe

[hyuckworld]

need to binge the masterlist…. long overdue but ๐·°(⋟﹏⋞)°·๐ (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) "(っ- ‸ - ς)ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 (꩜ᯅ ꩜｡) ദ്ദി˙ ᴗ ˙ ) interpret this message

also i have almost (almost......) forgiven you for The Crime™ but i will be mourning its loss while i read this #seventeen fluff fic…….. also can’t say i’m surprised about mingyu being bullied but mc better than me because i would Not let him be my EX

vernon already going through it at work and then there’s mc god (Pretending I Don’t Know What Vernon’s About To Be Put Through) but oml him geeking over how pretty she is what if i Die <///3 the disney movie discrimination is CRAZYYY if vernon was woke enough he would’ve been even More down bad after the disney princess movie question

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

LMFAOOOO THIS MADE ME LAUGH TOO SORRY VERNON of course he’s a christopher nolan fanboy 🤮

HIM TAKING HIS SISTERS MOVIE SET IS INSANEEEEE i would never forgive him fr but also from mc’s perspective…… waoww ❤️ he want me so bad ❤️

vernon: Mingyu was the biggest piece of shit to grace the halls of his university me: 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍 #NEEDTHAT

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.”

my queen why en GET HIM AGAIN!!!!!

this might as well be a contract killing with the way they’re about to swipe mingyu’s entire collection Tbh but ACTUALLY SO VALID BECAUSE WHY IS MINGYU SLANDERING MC LIKE THIS 😡 also vernon feeling guilty for being an asshole because of his hate boner for mingyu #truelove

AND VERNON AGREEING TO THIS PLAN WITH ZERO CONTEXT OF WHAT IT IS LIKE HE IS DOWN HORRENDOUSSSS he’s so valid tho don’t let anyone hurt ur queen <3

“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.”

LMFAOAOOA THIS IS THEE BEST TWO LINER ok three but like. ok just the dialogue. ok.

vernon malfunctioning because he insinuated he wanted to see mc again and in the context of robbing mingyu’s house again GODDD WHAT A LOSERRR (i want him so bad u have no idea) (god i should’ve bullied u harder into writing that smut scene)

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.

LMFAOOO WHY DID IT TAKE HIM SO LONG TO REALIZE FUCKKK he just secretly really enjoyed watching it ❤️ AND HIM TAKING SO LONG ON MULAN TOO i love my men useless with innate babygirlism so somehow this isn’t even giving me the ick .

VERNON HALFWAY OUT THE WINDOW AND MINGYU STILL CALLING HIM A NERD GODDD HOW ARE U GONNA ROB SOMEONE AND STILL GET GAGGED . okay wait my bad i read further and he actually followed up with the craziest line ever #ThankYouAmourCheol like wow. true literature

the way he’s so endeared even though she’s geeking out to disney Omg that is called real true love <3 UR KIDDING HES GONNA KISS HER TO THIS SONG….WWAOWW oh i killed myself i really did <3//33 WOW WOWW….. and she likes him sm missing out on TANGLED for a man like gawd. and the shrek reveal was so perfect he really matched her freak in the end

worst timeskip of my life TELL US WHAT HAPPENED IN BETWEEN. also the fact that it was to shrek goddd they were boning to all star

THE BARBENHEIMER SCENE LMFAOOOO kitten and the reader killed themselves after reading that thank u mc Okay waow. CUTEST FACKING FIC EVER i need to die at the way he was ready to commit crimes for mc from beginning to end. his down badness needs to be studied. in a lab. with me as head scientist. anyways that was beautiful and i think fia ficology also needs to be studied because how does it hit every single time!!!!!!!

𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐨-𝐳𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝

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

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

𝒘 𝒐 𝒓 𝒅 𝒄 𝒐 𝒖 𝒏 𝒕 : 21.7k words

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

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

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

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

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

back to masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, the fated question. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes darted to the newcomer. 

They stayed as he beheld you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled at him.

Then dropped the bomb.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My god, you’re a filmbro!” 

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

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

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

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

There was one, solitary, quiet moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A tilt of your head. “Are you lying?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello again, Mr. Filmbro.”

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

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

He would be cordial—kind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit. 

Maybe his irrational dislike ran further than he thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Disney Princess Movie Set—Complete Edition.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re for my ex-boyfriend.” 

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

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

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

“Oh?” Small world. “What’s the name?”

“Kim Mingyu. Do you know him?” 

Vernon Chwe nearly shit his oversized jeans.

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

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

Right. 

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

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

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

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

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

A half-truth—that should suffice. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for minding his business.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What master plan?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely.”

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

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

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

“Did _____ actually?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You, that is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vernon visibly shivered. 

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

“Damn it,” he said under his breath. 

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

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

vernon: u dont have to wait till next week 

vernon: ill help u with the plan

There. And now, he shall wait.

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

normal disney enjoyer: wait who tf is this??

Oops. 

vernon: oh mb this is vernon lmao

vernon: from the filmstore

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

vernon: ??? ive said it now tf

normal disney enjoyer: and im happy u have ;)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nevermind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course not. “Sure.” 

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

Sure. “Of course not.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wonder why,” he muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Swear on my life, Mr. Filmbro.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then an idea came into his head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me.” 

“No.”

“Tell me!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mr. Filmbro…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blinked back. 

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

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

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

“Is this where magic comes from?”

“What the fuck?!”

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

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

You nearly burst out laughing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still, he knew it was now or never.

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

He whipped his head around, anticipating the worst.

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

Oh. Jesus. Christ.

“The nerd from film theory?”

Vernon’s face dropped. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“_____?”

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

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

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

“This is for calling me a stupid bitch.”

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

And run for your life.

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

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

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

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

The car revved to life at your signal.

It was time to get the fuck out of here. 

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

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

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

Just then, you burst into laughter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You and your fuck ass movie collection…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

A glance at you. “Yep.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How recently are we saying?”

“...yesterday evening.” 

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

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

He then looked at you. “Oh, Jesus.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Jesus—”

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

Oh, he was stunned alright. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That dread disappeared instantly when Flynn confessed his little secret.

“Eugene Fitzherbert?!” The boy demanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was then Vernon heard your favourite Disney song.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Standing here, it’s oh! so clear…!”

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

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

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

You were already looking at him. 

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

“I’m where I’m meant to be!” 

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

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

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

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

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

You would have only sang your favourite song to him. 

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

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

“All at once…everything looks different…”

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

“Now that I…see you.”

Shit. You were rather beautiful before him.

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

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

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

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

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

In any romantic comedy, he would have kissed her.

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

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

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

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

“I should make you wait.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What would answering a heated question do any harm?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This time, Vernon was prepared when you kissed him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

VERNON LOST HIS VIRGINITY WITH SHREK PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND.

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

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

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

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

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

Your rating, on the other hand, differed slightly. 

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

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

“But am I wrong, though?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, both have Sandra Bullock in them…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

mr. filmbro: yo where u at

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

You rolled your eyes.

_____: im coming to save u kitten.

mr. filmbro: :0

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What your gaze ended up on was someone completely different. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A ghost of a smirk. “Sofia’s.”

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

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

“I thought you were gonna wear all black.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[wonderjanga]

Possession

The Gods including Solomon possess Billy whenever they feel like it. They try to not do it that often, but sometimes just can’t help it.

Batman and Question: *talking about an intellectual topic*

Marvel: *possessed by Solomon, somehow seamlessly joins the conversation*

Batman, Question, Marvel: *all yapping*

Question: *pauses and slowly looks over to Marvel* “When did you join this conversation?”

Marvel: “Like a couple minutes ago.”

Question: “Huh.”

Batman: “You normally never add to these conversations.”

Marvel: “That’s because I normally never care for them.” *shrugs* “But this one is actually interesting.” *is about to stroke his beard only to remember Billy’s Marvel form doesn’t have one* “Anyways-” *goes back to yapping about the topic*

Batman and Question: *look at each other before shrugging and also going back to yapping*

or

Marvel: *possessed by Hercules and walking to the lion exhibit in a zoo*

Billy: “HERCULES NO-”

Marvel: *hops on the railing of the exhibit* “It’s no Nemean Lion but it’ll do.”

or

Robin!Damian: *on a couch at the Titan’s Tower, watching TV*

Marvel: *possessed by Atlas who uses Marvel as a way to take a quick nap since he’s literally been holding up the heavens for like a thousand years, does not notice Damian and just lets himself fall on the couch, passing tf out*

Robin!Damian: *feels the weight of an eight foot tall unit of a man on his legs* “WHA-“ *tries to push him off* “YOU IMBECILE! GET OFF!?”

Damian was stuck like that for four hours.

or

Marvel: *possessed by Zeus* “It’s been a while since I’ve let loose! MUAHAHAHA! *spamming throwing lightning at Captain Nazi*

Captain Nazi: *in a crater literally getting his heart restarted and stopped*

Fawcitizens: “😨” *cause Marvel just did an evil laugh*

or

Marvel: *possessed by Achilles, chilling on the ground, making a spear with a branch and a stone he found*

Fawcitizens: *taking tons of pictures because they love their hero*

Marvel: “Alright!” *stands up with his complete spear*

Purse Snatcher: *steals a purse* “You can’t catch me!”

Marvel: *throws the dang spear, misses by a hair, and impales it in a wall so hard, the concrete is cracked* “Huh… I guess I’m rusty. I’ll need to work on my throwing skills.”

Purse Snatcher: *walks over and hands Marvel the purse* “I am extremely sorry for the grievance I have just committed. Please forgive me as I am ready to renter society as a humble human being.” *walks off*

or

Marvel: *possessed by Mercury, grabs a bunch of poker chips he won* “Man, you guys all suck.” *playing poker with mobsters disguised with a fake mustache, sunglasses, a Hawaiian shirt, and some sandals*

Mobster: “Oh that’s it!” *stands up, pulls out a gun and puts it to Marvel’s head*

Marvel: “Whaaaaat? I would never.” *is in fact cheating using magic*

Mobster: “We’ll see about that!” *pulls trigger and bullet just falls flat on the table*

Marvel: “You know, that is so not nice. You don’t shoot a man in the face if you think they’re cheating.” *stands up to make that eight feet and five inches of height apparent to everyone in the room* “You owe me 10 million in emotional reparations.”

He was just joking around. He didn’t actually need nor want 10 mil. Though, they did get 5 mil which was donated to a homeless shelter Billy knew was good.

[wildestdreamsblog]

The Story of Us: Unedited

Pairing: Mahwa Character!Min Yoongi x Reader

Summary: You wake up in the body of the second female lead in a manhwa, determined to rewrite your fate. No longer willing to be trapped in unrequited love for the elusive main lead, Min Yoongi, you set out to change the ending of the story. But leaving him behind isn’t as simple as you thought. As the lines between fiction and reality blur, the narrative begins to shift in unexpected ways—Yoongi, who was once only devoted to the main female lead, starts to see you in a new light. Can you escape the cycle of heartbreak, or will you find yourself entangled in a love story you never asked for?

or in which Yoongi found out you aren't from that world and refuses to let you leave.

A/N: This is an unedited very very very raw draft! But I wanted to share this with you before I forget the ideas and before my flight today <33 let me know what you think! ALSO I WILL EDIT THIS WHEN I GET BACK NEXT WEEK AND I WILL POST IT IN TUMBLR. okay bye ily

It was your second week in Paris when curiosity finally got the better of you. Her phone—your phone now—sat untouched on the marble nightstand of your hotel suite. You’d avoided it so far, reasoning that it felt like rifling through a stranger’s diary. But tonight, as the soft glow of the Eiffel Tower illuminated the room, you gave in.

Plugging it in, the device vibrated to life, and a flood of notifications lit up the screen. Your jaw dropped slightly as you skimmed through the endless stream of missed calls and messages. Most of them were from Yoongi.

“Of course,” you muttered under your breath, scrolling through the list. There were texts, voicemails, and even some emails from him, all timestamped over the last two weeks.

His messages started casual enough, asking you where you were and if you were still avoiding him. He even stopped by the mansion only to find out that you weren’t there, let alone in the country. Not one in your mansion could tell him where you were despite his endless threats. As days passed by, however, his tone shifted to frustration.

I’m not kidding anymore. If I don’t hear from you, I’m coming to find you.

I am hiring a team to find you, princess.

His final message was dated today.

I do hope you remember that it is my birthday today. We always celebrate it together. We’re not gonna stop now just because you’re hiding from me.

You stared at the phone for a moment longer, the screen dark now but somehow still demanding your attention. Should you respond? What would you even say?

The phone vibrated in your hand, the screen lighting up with his name. Your stomach did a little flip, but you shook your head firmly. No. You weren’t going to answer. It was better this way—for him, for you, for the storyline. Yoongi belonged with the female lead, and the longer you stayed out of their orbit, the better.

Instead, you grabbed your jacket, ready to explore the city some more. Paris was too beautiful to waste time fretting over a fictional man’s messages. Let Yoongi wait.

But just as you opened your hotel room, there he was with his signature stoic face, his dark brow raised. He pointedly looked at your phone, his name on the screen. He had his phone on his ear, while you had yours in your hand. You were literally caught red-handed ignoring his calls.

He ended the call with a deliberate tap and tucked his phone into his pocket, his gaze never leaving yours.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, shocked at his sudden appearance. He was supposed to be with her. The story said that he was supposed to be with her, celebrating with her, saving her from any other accidents or situations she found herself in.

Yoongi tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” His tone was calm, but the edge was unmistakable. He stepped inside as though he owned the place. He didn’t ask for permission, didn’t wait for an invitation. He was just… there, filling the room with his presence like he always did. “And Paris, of all places? You’re more predictable than you think, princess.”

“I-I mean, I didn’t think you’d notice,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, already regretting how ridiculous it sounded.

“What? How could I not? You literally disappeared on the face of the earth. You think I wouldn’t notice when you disappeared? When you’re not there?”

The intensity in his gaze left you momentarily stunned, your thoughts scrambling for coherence. “Y-you’re not supposed to be here…” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. Your disbelief bled into your words, your mind struggling to reconcile his presence with what you knew—or thought you knew. “The story says you’re supposed to be with her. This isn’t—this isn’t how it goes.”

“What story?”

You blinked owlishly, realizing what you’d said. “Huh? Nothing!” you exclaimed a little too quickly, waving your hands as if to physically push the moment away. “Anyway! Happy birthday!” you added, your voice unnaturally bright, hoping to distract him.

His squint deepened, a mix of curiosity and frustration flickering in his eyes. He clearly didn’t buy your deflection, but he let it slide—for now. Without a word, he crossed the room to the small bar cart in the corner, casually pouring himself a glass of whisky.

The tension in the air was thick as he swirled the amber liquid in the glass, his movements deliberate. He raised the glass to his lips, his gaze never leaving yours. After taking a slow sip, he finally spoke, his voice low, “Glad you remember my birthday, princess.”

Okay, fine. You were at loss. How were you supposed to know what you should say? This was not in the manhwa! Yoongi was basically going off-script!

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Instead, you turned your gaze to the door, silently willing him to leave. But Yoongi didn’t move. If anything, he seemed more determined, his presence as unyielding as ever.

“Fine,” he said after a long moment, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. “If you won’t come back, then I’ll stay. Paris is nice this time of year, isn’t it?”

Full story (unedited) in KoFi

[sweetlywriting]

Steb x Enforcer! reader hcs

A/N- the other four Steb fans are gonna love this + gn reader + sfw as always!

I feel like with him it’s definitely a friends/co-workers to lovers relationship

At first, because you’re an enforcer and part of his team, he makes sure to get to know you-while quiet he still wants to maintain good relations with the people he’s constantly working with

Although as time passes he finds he’s a little more interested in you than he previously believed

Of course, not ready to accept his feelings he chalks it up to just wanting to get to know a coworker better

However Maddie and Loris notice how he doesn’t deny going out for drinks after work whenever you’re around, how most team shifts he assigns are with you, and how his green pallor seems to redden a bit when you train together

He gets used to seeing you, training with you, enjoying your company

He finds himself increasingly worried when you go missions without him, his mind constantly wandering back to you and your safety, his stoic demeanor diminishing

With his no-nonsense attitude, once he realizes his feelings he immediately tells you

While a man of few words, people can tell you’re together in that he’s very intentional with gestures and affection

He’ll have his hand on the top of the chair your in often peeking over your shoulder to see what you’re doing, he’ll pull you close in busy crowds so you don’t get separated, and a hint of pride enters his neutral tone whenever someone asks about you

Sometimes he’ll even bemusedly poke you with his baton and everyone else is just shocked because of you how serious he normally is

You make him feel lighter and more carefree <3

[chibinasuu]

Hello! I saw your req’s were open >.< so I was wondering if I could ask for a zoro or Sanji x sleepy reader. Specifically where reader is constantly sleepy and NEEDS their naps or they will be cranky like a toddler XD sorry this is just exactly how I am and I think it’s kinda silly <3 thank youu && I love your work

asdjkdlakdj this is such a cute prompt!! thank you so much for the request! i know you said zoro or sanji, but i couldn’t decide so i just did both :) 

hope you enjoy <3

Much-needed Nap

Pairings: Zoro, Sanji x Reader (separate)  Tags: sfw, fluff, established relationship, GN but written with F!Reader in mind, no use of y/n

Zoro

“Zorooo,” You pouted from your perch on the bench of the crow’s nest, “How much longer are you going to take?” 

The swordsman in question was doing some push-ups effortlessly in the center of the room, “I literally just started warming up.”

“Oh, come on!” You went over and crouched beside him, poking the hard muscles of his bare back, “It’s nap time.”

He paused and looked at you incredulously, “You already took a nap right after lunch!”

“I can’t help it that I’m already sleepy again!” 

“Well, go take another nap then.” He said, continuing his reps, “I gotta finish this set.”

“But I wanna nap with you!” You whined as you belly-flopped onto his back without so much as a warning, your arms clinging to his neck, “Now, Zoro!”

Zoro, the monster that he is, didn’t even stumble and continued with his push-ups as if there was no added weight of another person’s whole body on top of his.

“Fifty more.” He compromised. “You can stay where you are. Hell, you can just nap like that if you want.”

After a few more reps, he chuckled, “This is actually great training – I could use the extra weight.”

You swatted the back of his head, and with an exaggerated gasp, you joked, “Are you saying I’m heavy?!”

His movement actually stuttered as he burst into laughter, “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet you love me anyway.”

“That, I do.”

The motion of Zoro’s exercise had a similar effect on you as a rocking chair, and you felt your eyes getting heavier and heavier. 

“...Forty-eight, forty-nine,” You vaguely registered Zoro counting, “Fifty!” 

He carefully lowered himself onto the mat and you rolled off him, “Ugh, finally.” 

Before Zoro could get up, you draped one of your legs and arms over him, trapping him to your side. 

Zoro laughed, “At least let me get dressed first.”

“No, don’t get up.” You snuggled closer to him, “I’m comfy.”

He squirmed to get you both into a more comfortable position. Now on his back with your head resting on his chest, he said, “Hm. Can’t believe I found someone who likes to nap more than me.”

“Seems like you met your match then.”

“Seems like I did.” He agreed.

It was dark when you were rudely awoken by Usopp’s shouts from below the mast, calling out that dinner was ready.

You sighed as you felt Zoro’s steady breathing, indicating that he was still fast asleep. You might be insufferable whenever you needed a nap, but your man was definitely more so whenever he needed to be woken up from his. 

As you gently shook him awake, his arm, which had snaked around your waist in his sleep, tightened even further. He buried his face into your neck and refused to open his eyes.

You let out another exhale. You could only hope that Luffy had not already inhaled all of the food by the time you two finally got to the dining room.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Sanji

“Hey,” Sanji called out, hands busy filling the kettle to make some tea for the two of you, “Do you want the blue mug or the yellow one?”

You were seated on the dining chair, your body slumped forward onto the table, arms pillowing your heavy head. It had only been a couple of hours since you woke up from your last nap, yet you could barely keep your eyes open now. 

The rain pattered on, the faint sound of it hitting the deck outside and the window of the dining room only added to your drowsiness. 

You had heard Sanji talking to you, but in your half-asleep state, you couldn’t find the energy to give him an answer. 

Sanji, still facing the stove, repeated the question in a slightly louder voice, thinking you hadn’t heard him. 

“I don’t care, Sanji!” You snapped as you put your forehead down on the table and closed your eyes.

Sanji paused, before immediately turning off the stove and putting away the mugs. Tea time could wait, he thought, but first, he needed to take care of his beloved. 

He walked to where you sat and touched your back gently to get your attention.

You lifted your head and looked up at him, about to open your mouth to apologize for your ill temper, but he already had a knowing smile on his face.

“Come on,” he said, offering his hand, “It's time for your nap, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry,” you sighed as you took his outstretched hand, “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Sanji only chuckled while he pulled you to your feet, “I know. You’re just tired, aren’t you?”

He led you to the plush couch on the other side of the kitchen, then sat down and patted his lap. 

You curled up on the couch, placing your head on his lap as you’d done countless times before. The cook’s delicate fingers automatically went to your hair, his gentle strokes slowly lulling you to sleep. 

“The blue one,” you mumbled sleepily, causing Sanji to reply with a confused “Huh?”

“I’d like the blue mug, please.”

Sanji smiled in amusement, “Sure thing, dear. We’ll get the tea brewing once you’re up from your nap.”

He touched his fingertips gently to his lips, then to your forehead, before returning them to your hair, “For now, sleep.”

You obliged, falling into a peaceful slumber, as you always do with him around.

a/n: FYI, i'm currently holding a cozy holiday drabble event so please join and send in your requests if you're interested!! check out the details here <3

[skzthelomlhehe]

Okie sooo I'm like in the middle of tests and work and the progress to my upcoming oneshots have been slow so I thought, "why not make some headcanons?" (Frankly cuz I'm fucking bored of studying and working all the damned time)

Okie so for these little imagines, I was thinking

How your boyfriend!skz would react to you waiting for them in a sexy lingerie after they had a long day at work! [Ot8] {Pt. 1: Hyung Line}

MDNI // includes smut (think y'all can know by the title itself lmao), I'm not exactly sure what warnings to include, just know it's smutty (I'm very sorry I'm highly sleep deprived and running on my 7th coffee today my brain cannot function) // established relationships

Bang Chan

Ok so like- I just KNOW the man wouldn't even notice. He'd walk in to your shared apartment (idfk), his head hanging with like heavy sighs and he wouldn't even notice what you were wearing when he walks in. I feel like it wouldn't be AFTER he had his shoes off and walking slow, tired steps towards you and then he looks up and drops his jaw like the bag he had in his hand. He'd prolly stutter sumn like, "Y-Y/N...? What are you...?" And not even have the means to say anything else. He would just be standing there worshipping you, basking in your beauty and walk up to you, wrapping his arms around your bare waist nice and gentle and place soft wet kisses everywhere, once again, worshipping you. Feel like even if he's tired, he would savour you in the gentlest way possible and if he had a really bad day, maybe even cry in your arms a little and vent during aftercare (cuz we all know what a damned softie he is and we love him for that)

Lee Know

For him, I'd say he would just walk in STOMPING cuz he's PISSED (possibly at himself cuz he thinks he doesn't work hard enough or at something or the other that disrupted his usual flow) and he'd just flop on the couch calling out to you probably to cuddle. Maybe even get things heated iykyk and in this case, he'd definitely do the latter. When you walk in wearing that sexy lingerie, his eyes would be wide fixated on you. And seeing him down on the couch in his usual manspread would just get you DRIPPIN'. He would probably scoff at the sight in front of him and flick his fingers motioning you to come and pat on his thighs to get you to sit down and like his little kitten you are, you would obey without a word. He'd probably run his hands all through your body, placing wet kisses, maybe even leaving marks. I'd imagine him saying something like, "what a good kitty. How'd you know I would need just this, hm?" In this husky seductive tone (once again iykyk) and despite how tired he is, I'd think he would take his time eating you up cuz youre his favourite meal~

Changbin

Would he possibly be walking in looking like he could murder someone? Yes. Will he come home to find you like that and go fucking feral? Absolutely. Will he just absolutely wreck your brains out? DEFINITELY. Do I even have to say anything?? The man is a gentle beast. He's gonna care for you, he's gonna love you, prepare you with foreplay and the moment he gets permission and knows you're ready to take him, he'd go BEAST. And then once you're done, and you'd just be laying there huffing in his arms, he would loudly yap about his day and by the end of it, let you know how much he loves you and appreciates your efforts cuz you unintentionally just made him the happiest man alive.

Hyunjin

Another guy who would worship you, really. When he gets home tired and groggy to see you sitting like a beautiful sculpture who was sculpted with extra care, extra love and extra details, he would fold. Probably melt in your arms telling you how crazy gorgeous you looked and how he would take his time painting you with his cum and then later after making a mess out of you, he'd take his time engraving your image both on his canvas and in his mind. No matter how tired he was from the day full of work, once you guys were done with all that, he would sit down on his painting stool with his large canvas in front of him while you laid there mindlessly filled and covered with his fluids. He'd look at you like a work of art, a once in a lifetime masterpiece created JUST for him while he keeps repeating sweet nothings as he paints you.

[maskedbyghost]

after the divorce, you thought you’d finally drawn a line in the sand, clear and bold, separating yourself from simon riley and everything that came with him. but simon? he wasn’t ready to step back. not fully. at first, it was silence—an absence so heavy, but then, slowly, the messages started.

they weren’t the cryptic, blunt texts you were used to during your relationship. no more “you around?” or “we need to talk.” instead, they carried a rawness that made you hesitate before opening them. one night, your phone lit up: “i’ve been sitting here, going over everything. i keep thinking about how i pushed you away, how i let my own demons ruin what we had. you didn’t deserve that. none of it.”

you read it three times before setting the phone down, heart heavy and conflicted. simon never said things like this when you were together. and yet, here he was, baring himself in a way that felt almost foreign.

then came the gifts. small, thoughtful things that carried weight. one afternoon, a neatly wrapped package appeared at your door. chamomile tea—the good kind, the kind you’d mentioned in passing during one of those rare soft moments between you. you’d joked that his taste in tea was pretentious, and he’d grumbled something about chamomile being “too bloody mild.” now, seeing it in front of you, carefully packed with a handwritten note that simply said “thought you might like this”, you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

the late-night call was unexpected. his voice was rough, the way it always got when he’d had a drink, but there was a tremor in it you didn’t recognize. “i’ve started therapy,” he admitted, the words slurred but clear enough. “trying to figure out... what’s wrong in my head. i don’t want to hurt anyone else. especially not you. not ever again.”

your chest tightened at the honesty. simon had always been guarded, his emotions buried so deep even you had trouble finding them. hearing him like this—open, vulnerable—was disarming.

when you finally told him he needed to stop calling you love, his answer was immediate. “can’t do that,” he said, his voice low but steady. “it’s what you are to me. maybe i didn’t show it right before, but it doesn’t change the fact. you’ll always be my love, even if it’s just in my head.”

he wasn’t asking for anything outright, and maybe that’s what made it harder. he wasn’t begging or demanding. he was just there—offering pieces of himself you’d spent years wishing he’d share, now arriving when you weren’t sure you wanted them anymore.

simon had always been a storm, intense and unrelenting. but this? this felt different. he wasn’t trying to sweep you off your feet. he was trying to meet you where you stood, hoping you’d see the man he was trying to become. and maybe—just maybe—give him another chance.

-------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving @blackhawkfanatic

[auroracalisto]

secrets and scars

movie!fiyero x gn!reader, 847 words summary: the reader has been scarred for some time now. fiyero discovers them and does something rather... unexpected. a/n: idk what this is. but like... yeah. hope it makes sense. i was gonna queue this and save it for later but i’m gonna go ahead and post it. i have a few queued posts for jonathan bailey characters in the coming weeks so. i’ll try to feed you all for the holidays. ♡ tw: reader has scars? no direct mention of where they are but it could be triggering. slight reference to sexual content, reader is naked for a hot minute but nothing graphic happens. you'll understand when you read.

Scars. They littered your body, an unfortunate reminder of the past you barely escaped. It was as if your body didn't want you to forget.

You wished you could.

You're lost in your thoughts in one of the many archways of Shiz University, staring out at the blue sky above. Your fingers itch to touch your scars—to scratch, to peel them away. You didn't want the reminder of who you once were. You didn't want the reminder of what once happened to you.

In all of Oz, you'd give anything to be able to erase your scars.

Anything.

It's a flurry of a night—confusing all around, and then somehow, Fiyero ends up in your dorm, kissing you, touching you, and by the love of Oz, how is he so quick with your clothing?

But before you can stop him, panic-stricken, he sees them. Your scars.

He's silent, wide eyed as he looked at them, lips parted as his eyes flicker from each mark on your skin.

He licked his lips a bit nervously, glancing up at you.

"You—are—" he stopped himself, seeing the panicked look on your face. "Oh, Y/n," he breathed out, moving to sit beside of you on your bed. He gently pressed a hand to the side of your face. "I'm sorry. I should have asked."

You slowly shook your head. "No. No, it's okay, I just—just didn't expect you to move so quickly. You, uh—"

"Surprised you, hm?" he softly asked. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before he found his voice once more. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

He doesn't answer. Instead, his eyes fall to your scars, and you can tell he wants to ask you questions—how you got them, what happened, how long ago it happened.

Instead, he says something that takes you by surprise (because of course he did—Fiyero was filled with surprises, was he not?).

"They are beautiful."

"What?"

"Your scars."

You're silent for a moment. "My... my scars? Are beautiful?"

He smiled softly at you, taking ahold of your hand. He looked into your eyes. "Yes. Your scars are beautiful," he softly said. "I won't ask you about them. You can tell me when you decide you are ready, if you ever are."

Your eyes soften as you admire him from your spot on the bed. You feel so exposed—naked to the man not only physically but also emotionally. It was an odd feeling. A... welcomed feeling.

"May I touch them?" Fiyero softly asked.

"My scars?" you questioned for what seemed the hundreth time in the past few minutes.

"Yes. Your scars."

"You want to touch them?"

Fiyero looked at you, an incredulous look on his face. "Yes, Y/n. You can say no, it's quite alright. My feelings will not be hurt if you say no."

You watched him, swallowing nervously. "You... you're so odd," you softly said.

He snorted softly, a smile embracing his features. He leaned forward and kissed your cheek.

"Only for you."

You gave a small nod in return, and watched as he moved down the bed, focusing on the part of your body with your scars. His eyes flicker up to yours and he pressed a soft kiss to the puckered skin.

"Only for you," he repeated.

You feel flustered more than anything, looking away from him and his beautiful brown eyes.

How odd, indeed.

"I... I don't like them," you softly said.

"You do not like your scars?" he softly asked, a finger gently brushing against one of them. "Did something—"

"—I'll tell you. One day. Just..."

"Of course," he said. "I understand. But... Y/n, I meant what I said. They are beautiful."

You pursed your lips.

"They show how much strength you've had to survive, Y/n," he said, leaning forward and letting his lips connect with yours. "They're beautiful because they show me you've had to be brave. To be courageous in the face of such disaster. Your scars may be something you do not like, but do not wish them away."

You don't look at him, but you do not push him away.

"I do not know how you got them," he said, "and I am so sorry if what happened to you was... well, unsavory. But... they show such strength, Y/n."

"Strength is ridiculous and you know it," you muttered. You just want to rebuke his statement, as sweet as it may be.

He pecked your lips again.

"Perhaps that's not the best way to describe what it is, but I can't think of what would be better," he said. "This brain of mine doesn't want to work when the most beautiful person in all of Oz is letting me see their secrets."

Your heart pounded in your chest and you looked up at him, eyes softening.

"You are so odd," you repeated.

He snorted softly. "Yes. We've established this, Y/n. Thank you."

A smile quirked on your lips and you gently grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him in for another kiss.

"You're welcome."

[onlyangel4]

onlyangel4 1k event - P1. FA14. SMAU.

trope: grumpy x sunshine

pairing: grumpy fernando alonso x sunshine lawson!reader

author's note: reader is liam's older sister, she and fernando met in 2023 after liam drove for daniel while he was injured and started dating but the public have not seen them together, until now

faceclaim dianna agron

1k event

liamlawson posted a story tagging y/nlawson

written: look who flew in the us ready for my first race

y/nlawson posted a story

written: i was on my morning walk and i found a dog, naturally we are best friends now, his name is edgar and i would die for him

fernandoalo_oficial replied to this story: before you ask, no we can not have a dog

y/nlawson: but look at edgar babe he is so cute

fernandoalo_oficial: it is so difficult for me to say no to you my love

f1wags

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 134,283 others

f1wags: heads have been turned in COTA. fernando alonso did not arrive alone, he was joined by y/n lawson, liam lawson's older sister. the pair walked through the paddock holding hands before both going into the aston martin garage. they have been pictured together a couple times but nothing was ever announced, is this the ultimate hard launch?

view all 8,283 comments

user1: i would have never imagined them together, y/n is the happiest person ever and fernando is just fernando

user2: they are an unexpected couple but fucking hell they are hot

user3: i wonder what liam thinks about this

y/nlawson posted a story

written: i guess the cat is out of the bag

f1updates

liked by user4, user5, user6 and 192,384 others

f1updates: that sprint race was eventful for these potential brother's in law, sharing some heated words after the race. it seems that y/n has her work cut out trying to calm these two down.

view all 12,321 comments

user4: the camera cutting to y/n with her head in her hands was peak cinematography

user5: fernando is going to get a stern talking to after talking to her little brother like that

user6: poor y/n surrounded by angry men

f1fan posted a story

written: guys i just met y/n and she is still so smiley she just said "i love them both, they are big boys they can work this out between themselves" i love her so much

f1gossip posted a story

written: max and fernando laughing about the liam lawson situation, "i was forced to apologise because otherwise i would have been sleeping on the couch"

y/nlawson posted a story

written: so in love with you (even if you did almost punch my brother)

y/nlawson

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, liamlawson, lewishamilton and 827,212 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial. liamlawson.

y/nlawson: this is their punishment for this weekend

view all 23,585 comments

liamlawson: i hate you

y/nlawson: what's that? you want me to post your baby pictures, are you sure

liamlawson: NOOO

fernandoalo_oficial: he started it...

y/nlawson: nando

fernandoalo_oficial: sorry mi amor

user7: y/n has that man wrapped around her little finger

user8: best wag ever

user9: i am so in love with y/n lawson

fernandoalo_oficial posted a story tagging y/nlawson

written: i'm still her favourite

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[rae-writes]

Vibes

nsfw; femreader, cuckolding(?), hints at future poly!relationship, sharing is caring || "you have a crush on your boyfriend’s best friend, so naturally, you convince your man to let him secretly control your lush vibe" || 0.4k

Tomura really hoped this wasn’t a dream. He even pinched himself a few times to make sure, and he was pretty convinced with the sharp stinging left after. 

His calloused finger swiped over the phone screen, Dabi’s phone to be precise, as he played on the app that controlled your vibrator. 

You— Tomura's dream partner who he’s been in love with since high school and the only person he’s willing to jerk off in private to. 

“Here.” Dabi threw his phone in Tomura’s lap, leaning back on the other side of the couch and casually throwing an arm over his face. 

Tomura blinked. “What?” 

“Play with my girl for a while. ‘M tired. Think I need a nap.”

And that’s how he ended up here. Best day of his life. 

[New Message]: Faster 

God, each text you sent just made the tent in his sweatpants bigger. He followed each command you sent eagerly, wanting to be good to you, even if you didn’t know it was him. 

Or so he thought. 

You were laid back in your bed with your legs spread wide, humping the air as intense vibrations shocked through you. 

The crush you harbored for Tomura bloomed as soon as you met him and it was no secret to your boyfriend— who actually encouraged it.

Tomura’s shirt, one you had Dabi steal for you, was draped on your frame while the rest of you stayed bare. Your fingers had the shirt rucked up above your chest, toying with your nipples occasionally. 

[New Message]: Keep going, I’m gonna cum 

[New Message]: please make me cum 

His head was fucking spinning as he obliged, running his finger faster over the screen, wishing he could see you, wishing he could taste you, but most important, wishing he could have you.

He slowed his movements after he received a word-jumbled response from you, reluctantly getting ready to give Dabi’s phone back up—

—until you send another message with a video attached. 

He saw a clear view of your messy cunt through a body mirror, slick coating your inner thighs and fingers as he watches you run your fingers through the mess you made. 

You slowly pull your pink lush out with a ‘pop’, dangling it in front of the camera almost teasingly before sitting up. 

Tomura felt his cock jerk painfully when he saw you in his tshirt looking so fucked out. And he definitely almost came when you finally spoke:

“Made me feel s’good…you’re so good, Tomura…come 'n let me return the favor? Pretty please? I’ll even let you clean me up..or make a bigger mess out of me.” 

Oh…fuck yes.