#i also thought there would be more but clearly im wrong

[konohamaru-sensei]

the last poll gave me an idea that might be super niche but I wanna do it anyway. gonna tag a bunch of fandoms please dont mind

edit: some visual propaganda

(nakamura-san gets two pictures because of balance and i should be applauded for narrowing it down to 2 honestly)

[grossillygirl]

:(

[amourcheol]

𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐨-𝐳𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝

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

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

𝒘 𝒐 𝒓 𝒅 𝒄 𝒐 𝒖 𝒏 𝒕 : 21.7k words

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

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 vernon who owns an outdated film store, fem!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

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

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

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

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. 

[bugflies00]

i have so many thoughts about the tommy song/video and theyre a jumbled mess. i wouldnt call this an analysis this is just. most of my thoughts surrounding the video and what it shows about tommy

one of the things that stuck out to me (outside of how depressing and just like. is this guy okay) is something that ive always respected tommy for because he's always stuck with it and its his like. fervent conviction in people doing things theyre passionate about. thats always been one of the things he talks about all the time!!!

when AI started appearing he was talking about death of creativity, with the internet he's always talking about how the real tragedy is the algorithm killing people's passion by driving them with views and money, and even when he talks about youtube itself, and nowadays standup, its so full of passion.

and i think thats really important because it would be extremely easy for someone like tommy, who's in the process of maturing his online image from a very loud, immature and PASSIONATE persona, to make fun of it. it would be so easy to do like so many other creators and laugh at how "cringe" it was and make a quick cash/attention grab with a funny clip of him laughing at himself. but he never has. well don't get me wrong he's laughed at himself or old videos but it's always just. good natured taking the piss out of himself, it's never this like. mocking your younger self who was so excited to do what they did only because now its "cringe".

not only is he constantly giving that advice to other people (its been years of him replying, to any kid in his chat or donations asking advice on how to be a creator etc, "just go and do it if you love it!!"), he's coherent with how he applies it to himself. he realised he was making cash grab tiktok react vids and hated it so much he just stopped uploading for a while.

i dont know i just think there's something admirable about being able to still be sincere in a time where everything especially online has to be processed through a layer of irony. and its even funnier because he's more sincere THROUGH the irony i mean he's literally going into standup.

letting yourself create something that "means" something is fucking hard especially when half the internet still sees you as a kid who screams around. except the thing is that kid DID make stuff that mattered and that meant something because he was, in his own words, having fun.

i think thats what the format of the video was about too. i mean i think it was pretty clearly not a song thats meant to be streamed, its not purely music, its also a video because tommy is also first and foremost an editor who went to film college. its also not a "comedy" song like he's made some before, because those were all intentionally created to land as many jokes and make a big buzz— which doesnt mean they were bad! im philza is a contemporary lyrical masterpiece. but they had a specific purpose and it was to make people laugh and i think this video was completely like. opposite of what peoples expectations are of tommy. the "wow hes not a child anymore hes being mature🤓" reactions are the most obvious aspect of this (which, like, its been a while, get with the program).

i think the point of this was to make something that genuinely meant something but that was also like. as unpalatable to the algorithm and to the TommyInnit Viewer as possible. even now that he's gone into making quieter, more reflective videos, we've never had the flashing texts and the projector images and just all of that. hes always talking about how he hates the way the "youtube formula" has dictated the course of content and stolen all creativity for youtubers. its not meant to be a YouTube Video tm. its just meant to mean something to someone, and obviously process some sort of personal emotions, and i just think thats. yeah. yeah

i mean he even says so outright. "this needless, self indulgent spiral of self gratification" is pretty damn explicit. its not meant to be funny content its really a cry for help or for just. anything at all really

it was also a lot about perception, yknow the "entertainer" dilemma, "its all attention porn"... theres a layer of this point thats universal, everyone struggles with how they're perceived and i think any "artist" or "entertainer" figure can see themselves in it, but there's also a layer thats completely impermeable to most of us because it touches upon the sheer absurdity of a "youtuber". especially one of tommy's popularity. especially one who blew up so so fast so young. i honestly think its IMPOSSIBLE to process that. its about the ethics of having millions of people's time so readily available to you if you just press the right buttons to make the algorithm happy and then you've got them. im like 75% sure i remember him saying this on stream once, something like "your time is valuable" and if a fan didnt value him as an entertainer they should drop him.

and even here^ thats the saddest "lmao" ive seen in my life SORRY LOL but its really just. yeah im not gonna repeat myself it speaks for itself. perception and internet expectations and all that

one of the other images that stuck out to me was also this:

"yeah i know its too much like bo burnham but it wont be in a year though. in a year it will be like tom simons. just let me figure out what that means, ok?"

a lot of the video is about. influences and inspirations. the bo burnham references are so obvious he's poking at them, but i think he's raising a good point about the creativity that he's constantly praising. its never something that springs up on its own, its all about looking at others work and making it your own and feeding yourself with all those experiences and slowly, surely building your own way of doing things (tommyinnit "minecraft talent show" and "a tribute to dream smp" serial quackity + schlatt impersonator would know all about that) ->

and its daunting! its fucking scary to move away from that! which is also the main vibe i got from the video which, outside of his own issues with how he's perceived online, was the sort of existential dread that comes with actually creating. its one thing to preach you need to be passionate and create, its another to sit down and create something thats BY you. its a part of growing up! and we're literally seeing him do it live (well the bits that he chooses to show obviously)! thats also part of why i think tommy's so relatable to so many people is that he's so like. honest and real about what it's like to grow up, simple as that, and growing into yourself.

"this was everything to me" and using the picture of his younger self... man. theres obviously so much sadness underlying the whole thing but i think the nostalgia and melancholy in mourning being someone who was only inspired/excited by your interests and role models is universal. and obviously for tommy a lot of those influences turned out. well i think it was pretty damn clear who/what he was referring to here. ->

i don't think i need to go too in detail about that, especially cause a lot of the video was clearly a way to process his own personal emotions. especially with those next few images. i just hope he's okay and that god doubles his pain and gives it to mr beast to quote my friend bronzetomatoes. man.

of course he had to end with a funny clip about a hot anime girl and i think that kinda. sums it all up in a way. if that makes sense. at the end of the day its about the fact that he has to use humour to make the thing work when its out in the open, even when he tries not to and to be actually honest, but theres also the fact that hes literally a comedian and creating something "honest" IS through humor. its kindof a double edged sword

right well that was my jumbled mess of psychoanalysing tommyinnit i hope he is alright and all that because well that was. something

[jambalaya-enthusiast]

Just had another Jimmy thought...

If Curly had a daughter he would definitely introduce Jimmy as an uncle of sorts... Cutting it short once shes of age Uncle Jimmy about to get a whole lot creepier.

First he pulls you on his lap while He and your dad Curly are watching football or something, and you feel something but you dont say anything... but your dad needed to run to the store to grab some more beer. -Cupcake anon

Your own age.

Uncle! Jimmy x Curly's Daughter! Reader.

warnings: age gap(reader is an adult),toxic relationship themes, jimmy is a major creep, non-consensual touching. curly is an oblivious single father.

a/n; cupcake anon, you're a fucking genius. love you for sharing this prompt with me,hope I was able to do it justice!

It wasn't fun being a well respected captain's daughter. Especially after your mom left, your dad would leave for shipments for months on end,and you had to spend a good chunk of your childhood with nannies rather than your parents.

But that was when he came along,Jimmy... Or Jim,as your dad would call him. He was your dad's closest friend since childhood,and now he was gonna be... Living with the two of you? Your dad said that it was due to the shortage of leases on the market currently,but you know damn well it was because that jimmy person was just a broke guy.

"hey,so you're the daughter I keep hearing my friend talk about,huh?".

"uh yeah,my name is y/n".

"y/n huh? well that's a pretty name for a pretty little girl".

you did think it was strange as to how,Jimmy... or well,uncle jimmy as your dad advised you to call him, was so Frank and open minded with you,but you realised that's just how men in his situation were. Open-minded,and careless.

Uncle jimmy... was an interesting man to say the least,you hadn't really had the luck of having any fun 'relatives' for that matter so you thought this was the best as it was gonna get. Jimmy would offer you cigarettes. Something that your father had clearly mentioned in front of him was off limits for you.

"C'mon aren't you a big girl now? some rules are meant to be broken y'know?

"but dad would kill me if he ever found out..."

"it's alright,it will be our little secret".

All in all you started warming up to him,you thought that hey,this guy is already down on his luck,and he's also so fun to be around! wouldn't hurt to be friendly with him.

It didn't matter how unnecessarily long his hugs were,or how suffocating they were. he would always hug you so tight that you had to physically wriggle your way out of his grasp. on some occasions you could've sworn you heard him say something under his breath.

It didn't matter how he would stare at you for long periods of time if the two of you were in the same room,you thought maybe it's just a middle aged man thing

It didn't matter how during road trips,he would sit in the backseat beside you instead of sitting beside his best friend in the front. How somehow his hands would always find it's way to be on your thigh.

He was a fun guy after all! He lets you drink,smoke,and sneak out. Do all the things which your dad would have crucified you for.

Seeing both of you so close would have your dad asking you—

"wow you sure are having fun with uncle jimmy,huh? you guys seem to be close".

"yeah he's so cool! it's super fun to be around him".

"fun huh? Well im hoping it's a good kind of fun,honey".

But curly shouldn't be worried! His best friend was just taking care of his daughter... Right? He wouldn't do anything,wrong... Right? That much faith curly should have in his best friend... Should he not?

Your dad and uncle had a habit of watching football games during weekend nights,and you decided to join them one such night.

While watching the game,jimmy suddenly turned to you,and said.

'oi y/n, c'mere and sit" as he motioned towards his lap,he turned towards curly and said. "For old times sake,eh? You remember how I used to carry ya around? I'm feelin nostalgic".

Curly was already feeling tipsy from the 3rd pint of beer he was chugging,so he just laughter and said "haha,you guys are so adorable!".

Albeit,a strange request,you decided to do as your uncle asked anyway,and you went to him and plopped on his lap. No matter his lanky figure,he was still strong enough to carry your weight. So he had no problem in adjusting himself to have you sir on his lap while still getting a comfortable view of the ongoing game.

everybody was focusing on the game,but you,your focus was on something else entirely,all the while you were sitting on his lap, you could feel Jimmy's hot breath on your shoulder,how his left hand was rested at your side,firmly placing a grip, you could feel his heart beating, and you don't know what got over you,but you decided to do something risky, somthing vulgar which you hadn't even properly processed in your mind.

You grinded against him just a little,and that was enough to get his heart beating 10 times faster,you could practically feel his breath hitch,and him letting out the quietest groan. And you felt something hard between you legs,you realised that you had just gotten him rock hard. you felt accomplished for some reason. But that's when your dad decided to drop off the bomb.

"wait,fuck we're out of beer,jimmy look after y/n while I make a quick trip to the store to get few more".

"you got it boss".

You knew that it was wraps the moment your dad walked out the front door and closed it behind him. You blinked and suddenly you were pinned down onto the sofa, your uncle had both your hands pressed firmly above your head,he stared at you like a wild animal on the prowl, hunting its prey.

"damn,I didn't know that you were so dirty, grinding against me like that,you know how 'fuckin hard it was for me to keep from moaning?,you deserve to get punished for it don't you think?".

• you intently stared him,not knowing what to do,excited yet scared of what he was going to do next.

And then without a warning,he smashed his lips against yours,into a rough, messy, hungry kiss. he tasted like liquor with a hint of cigarettes,the cheap brand which he smokes all the time. His tongue was wildly exploring every inch of your mouth, he felt like an animal in heat.

then in between the kiss he said, "you don't know how long I've been wanting to do this,kid".

you already knew that this was going to be quick as your dad would be back from the store in no time,but you also knew,that this was the beginning of something,very long, something very vulgar. and even though it might be wrong,you felt eager,you felt excited. you were looking forward to whatever was going to happen next.

[creamiecoups]

why do u think about forced breeding with jeonghan???? also so glad that u are back

thank you anon it’s good to be back!!

now forced breeding would go crazy with jeonghan… i tried to keep it short because when i have a thought in my mind it runs and this would end up being a whole fic but i hope you enjoy it :)

WARNINGS: smut, established relationship, dark themes, forced breeding, creampie, dacryphilia, lmk if I missed anything

Something about the way you squirm and cry under him while begging him to pull out would satiate him beyond compare, it’s about possession, knowing you’d completely be his and no one could even bat an eyelash your way.

well, he just needs to do one more thing for you to forever be tied down to him.

“You’re doing so well for me, my angel.”

He’d pur in your ear, his voice dripping with honey while his thrusts would be rough and almost animalistic.

“J-Jeong…..Han….p-please,” you hiccup, carefully manicured nails now grazing and clawing at his chest for him to get off you but to no avail.

And deep down you knew he was persistent like that, he would stop at nothing to get what he wants, yet you still tried.

and he found that so fucking cute, it only made him want to be rougher, chase that high faster so he could finally spill his load into you, after months of used that stupid latex because you were too scared.

“Shhh sweetheart, I’m so close, it’s only fair I cum after I’ve made my princess cum so many times right?” He cooes again, peppering soft kisses across your sweaty hairline as a sob leaves your lips.

“Just pull out please, please im begging you hannie,” you cry out, clenching down on him harder than ever.

Jeonghan groans apon hearing his nickname fall so cutely from your lips, your pussy squelching so absurdly loud he thought the room was spinning, all he could think about was you and how he couldn’t wait to come home after a long day in a couple of months, to you and your child, you would be such a good mother, no matter if you were too young and not ready.

you definitely wanted this, you just didn’t know it yet, he knew your sadness would eventually wilt away, after all, a child is a blessing right?

He thought wrong. Although you guys had now been dating for a few months and were in love, recently Jeonghan’s possessiveness and antics had started to make you double think your whole relationship.

And tonight he finally snapped.

Seeing you casually talking to a friend from your department shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did, it was harmless. but the minute that poor unsuspecting boy brushed your hair back behind your shoulder, he knew he had to do something. All carnal thoughts taking over. It was nothing, but he just needed a catalyst to finally do what he had been wanting to do since he first laid his eyes on you.

“I’m not pulling out my angel, you’re going to take me well like you always do, alright? You can do it baby,” he whispered into your ear, causing your eyes to widen slightly in fear.

Tears began spilling from your eyes as you thrashed around screaming at him to at least pull out, yet it only helped push him over the edge easier, the sight of you crying and weeping making him crumble easier than he thought possible.

Not long after he was spilling deep into your womb, pumping into you lazily as his tongue darted out to collect the salty tears staining your cheeks.

“My pretty angel, you’d look so much prettier with your tummy full…..full of what our love has created,” he purred, one strong hand leaving your bruised hip to tangle in your hair, before pushing your head down to look at your stomach, where you could clearly see the outline of his cock poking out.

The heavy shudder you let out only fueled his ego more, he knew you were always going to be his…he just liked reminders.

“W-What have you done—”

“Shhh… I’m not done with you baby, you’re gonna take as much as i give you…. I’m not stopping until you’re leaking my cum from this pretty pussy of yours for days.”

You were never going to be able to leave him now.

[stsgluver]

𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐓.𝟑 — gojo satoru

synopsis. nobara is ill and what better way to spend your day off than trying to figure out who your teacher's high school girlfriend is?

wc. 3.5k

tags. gojo x reader, fluff, one suggestive joke, reader is in gojo's class, implied utahime x shoko, only half proofread

a/n. it's nearly midnight and im so tired and I have to be up at 6 tomorrow but I needed to get this done. I hope there's not too many mistakes <3 the ending is kind of shit but idc :) jk i do pls like it

previous part / next part / series masterlist

“are you sure you’ll be okay alone?”

nobara lazily lifted her head from beneath her duvet, orange bangs clinging to her sweaty forehead as she let out a series of harsh coughs. megumi winced from the doorway, inching back ever so slightly - he'd already brought in a couple bottles of water and a box of tissues, he wasn't looking to contract whatever flu-like disease she had caught.

she rolled her eyes at his not-so-subtle antics and raised a weak thumbs up. “go on fushiguro, i know how much you're dying to spend the afternoon with itadori and sensei."

“haha,” megumi uttered with the most sarcastic tone he could muster. on second thoughts, maybe being sick for a week wouldn't be so bad. with nobara gone, there was no buffer for his teacher and classmate to pester. “call me if you get worse, you know the second years are useless.” 

nobara gave the younger boy a quick salute and small smile, “yes boss.”

she dropped her head back into her pillow and waited till she heard the door click shut till she slipped a little less than elegantly out of bed. whilst yes, there was no denying that she was definitely sick, she also had a mission she couldn’t give up on.

in the three weeks, four days and an unknown number of hours since she had found the dvd of her teacher in his youth, she had been putting all of her free time into trying to find you. megumi had been a dead end when she’d tried asking him about you again and, although nobara knew he had a soft spot for yuuji, she didn’t trust the pink haired boy to treat this situation sensitively.

initially, she’d even considered asking gojo about it but she decided against that pretty quickly. that could get awkward very quickly and she still had at least two years at the school. 

then, she’d moved onto searching through the school for traces of the alumni. all she’d managed to find was a single photo; one that included both kyoto and tokyo students. you were tucked into gojo’s side with your arm around shoko. geto was there too: him and gojo side by side as they always were in their teenage years. all of you were grinning and genuinely happy. where had it all gone so drastically wrong?

nobara wondered if it was geto’s fault that gojo’s class had been all but erased – an effort to forget that the worst curse user to live had in fact once been an aspiring sorcerer.

her next plan (and one she hadn’t full considered the logistics of completely just yet) was to watch every single video on the dvd because surely at some point, there would be some clue of who you were or where you’d gone. 

and even if there wasn’t, what else could she possibly do to amuse herself whilst she was on bed rest?

with a huff, she grabbed her laptop and dropped back onto her bed, tucking herself under the covers. opening up her laptop (her password being ‘12345’), she clicked unpause on a video she’d started the evening prior.

“–and that’s it basically.”

shoko waved her hands around, sat on yaga’s chair at the front of the classroom with a blackboard filled with scribbles behind her. it wasn’t anything legible, more like swirls and stars and nobara thinks that, if she looked hard enough, in the corner were two little stick men: gojo and geto. an unlit cigarette sat between her lips as she kicked her legs up onto her teacher’s desk. yaga clearly wasn’t in the room. 

“that made no sense whatsoever but woo! shoko!” you clapped, out of frame of the camera but enthusiastically nonetheless. the aforementioned girl narrowed her eyes at you across the classroom.

“that’s why i made a video, for you to look back on duh,” she tsked, nodding her head towards the camera. “plus it is easy. i expected dumb and dumber not to understand but you?” shoko patted away a few non-existent tears, taking on the role of disappointed parent and their once star student.

except you’d never really excelled in a class with two prodigies and shoko actually loved having the upperhand in at least one area of sorcery.

shoko picked up the camera, holding it upwards to give a full view of her outfit and hair – like it was any different to any other day she attended school. she swivelled the spinny chair over to an occupied desk, slotting next to it and moving the camera so that it captured all of you in the frame. gojo was sat down in the seat, glasses propped up onto his forehead as you sat sideways on his lap, unsuccessfully trying to decipher shoko’s teachings on the board.

“understanding reversed cursed techniques is way harder than understanding cursed techniques,” you tried to justify, pointing to the board that showed the squiggles that ‘symbolised’ performing a reversed curse technique. stealing gojo’s glasses and popping them on your own face, you popped a quick kiss to the side of his head, “plus, why waste my energy? you’ll figure it out so i never have to.”

“the things i do for you,” gojo sighed happily, dropping his head down onto your shoulder as his arms looped around your waist. the orange-haired sorcerer could practically hear yuuji’s gasps at the simple displays of affection and she almost felt bad for watching some of the clips without him.

almost.

nobara was never one for romance – drama, such as the fight between gojo and naoya, that was her scene. but even she couldn’t help herself from smiling at the teenage love between the two of you. maybe she should give her teacher more credit – there was more to the six foot two man than just his over the top personality and questionable teaching methods.

“this is meant to be an educational video! be less couple-y!” shoko complained, scowling and shuffling away on her chair again.

“oh, we could make it very educational,” gojo wiggled his eyebrows, the devious smirk on his lips only widening at your flushed expression as you tried to hit his chest. failing, though, as he isolated his cursed technique to uphold a thin barrier between your hand and the material of his uniform.

there was the teacher she knew – keen to annoy even those he loved the most.

shoko must’ve ended the video out of spite after his comment, because nobara found herself staring at a black screen. 

all that she’d learnt so far was that you couldn’t perform a reverse cursed technique as a teenager. maybe that was what killed you? if you were even dead, that is. but given the damage that curses can inflict on sorcerers, whether or not you were able to execute a reversed cursed technique could literally be the difference between walking away from a fight a little tired or in a body bag.

nobara coughed several times, picking up the open bottle of water from her bedside table and taking a sip to try and ease her scratchy throat. scrunching up her nose at the slight sting of swallowing, she clicked the next available video, not putting much thought into her choice.

it was you and nanami in frame in a library by the looks of it but if it was on campus, nobara didn’t know where. christmas decorations decorated the shelving units behind you – tinsels of gold, red and green, and hanging snowflakes. you were both wearing your usual uniform but you also had a santa hat on and tinsel lining your jacket.

“we’re the only two on campus,” you said quietly, “because everyone else’s parents loved them–”

“we couldn’t afford to go back for the holidays,” nanami cut you off, without glancing up from what he was writing. being from two non-sorcerer families was a disadvantage normally in terms of status and inherited techniques, but holidays were somehow worse. 

gojo had offered to help you out with a ticket back to your parents and had even extended an invitation for you to stay with him but you didn’t want to leave nanami alone (and although he didn’t seem grateful, he was glad you were there).

“it’s fine. academic comeback time,” you held up a book to the screen. being in a class with three exceptional sorcerers meant that studies were often sidelined to try and improve and perfect your techniques. holidays were usually your opportunity to catch up on the missed classwork and homework you’d fallen behind on.

nanami less so – if anything he was reading ahead. tokyo had never been renowned for academic scores until he’d come along.

“i don’t get why the camera needs to be here,” nanami complained.

“to record us study! it’s motivational.”

“sure,” nanami hummed quietly, reading over your shoulder at the work you’d already completed prior to setting up the camera. “that’s wrong. this is simple mutipli–” he paused at the sound of rustling and his brows furrowed as he tried to peer round the bookshelves. 

“merry christmas!” 

nobara snickered as nanami jumped at the sudden voice and appearance of three people behind him. gojo and geto were capable of masking their cursed energy (and shoko’s) so that they wouldn’t be noticed slipping into the library. although gojo had nearly screwed that up by pulling out a chair trying to trip up geto.

“ieiri!” you slipped out from your seat, running up and hugging your classmate. in the process, the camera got knocked so it was facing the ceiling. nobara frowned as she turned the brightness up on her laptop as if though that would somehow bring everyone back into grame. in the periphery of the screen she could make out just the heads and foreheads of the student sorcerers.

“hi satoru, missed you too satoru, so glad you came to see me satoru,” the white haired sorcerer pouted at the lack of attention and nobara is sure someone responded to him but the audio is muffled by two voices closer to the camera’s microphone.

“here!” haibara slipped into the seat next to nanami that you had occupied moments prior and held up a small wrapped box with red ribbon tied neatly in a bow. “i picked it up on the way. merry christmas nanamin!”

“thanks yu,” nanami smiled softly at his classmate. well that’s what nobara thought he did anyways, his eyes lifted into half crescents but she wasn’t actually sure what his mouth was doing out of frame. she’d never seen the blond so happy from a simple gesture.

she clicked off the video even though it still had thirty seconds left to go. it wasn’t much fun just watching people’s foreheads and she highly doubted that nanami was about to fix the camera’s position.

so you were from a non-sorcerer family and possibly not able to use reverse cursed technique. it wasn’t much but facts were still facts.

there was a little more deliberation before she chose her next video, settling herself back into her cushions as she waited for it to load.

the screen was suddenly very bright and nobara winced, turning it down as the surroundings came into focus. it was the inside of an arcade and the camera was pointed directly at one of those claw machines. inside were different sized plushies of spiderman and haibara was the one controlling the claw.

nobara could vaguely make out everyone’s reflection in the glass – to the left of haibara was geto (who was also the one holding onto the camera), gojo and you, and to his right was shoko, nanami and maybe also utahime? shoko had her arm around a blue haired girl either way.

“no! so close haibara,” you patted the youngest boy on the shoulder gently as the plushie he’d managed to pick up slipped from the claw’s clutches before it could be dropped down the chute and retrieved.

“can i try?” gojo asked and, from the annoyed groans, nobara assumed it wasn’t the first time he’d interjected.

“no, he’ll get it this time,” geto encouraged and gojo flashed him a look of disbelief. 

“if gojo wants a go he can have it!” haibara tried to step away from the machine but nanami halted him, slotting several more coins in the machine.

“take your go yu.”

“i’ll get you a slushie if you win,” shoko called out, clapping her hands together as he accepted his fate, hesitantly pressing down on the buttons as he peered through the side of the machine to get a better angle.

“haibara, haibara.” all of them were chanting his name now, and that was enough of a boost for him to finally get one of the plushies over the barrier and down the chute. the camera shook unsteadily as geto jumped and six of them crowded the youngest in a joint hug.

nobara could see yuuji in haibara and megumi in nanami and herself in shoko and she had to stop herself from tearing up. nanami and shoko seemed like strangers these days and she couldn’t even imagine waking up and yuuji not being the first one to greet her outside her room. 

we’ve got a mission here, she reminded herself, shaking her head lightly before moving onto the next clip.

“utahime, say hi,” you lowered the camera to the kyoto sorcerer’s height. she was sat cross-legged on the floor with a jacket flung haphazardly over her head to try and block out the sun that beamed down.

“hi!” utahime waved, smiling as you dropped down next to her. in her hands was a partially made daisy chain that she’d started to entertain herself whilst she waited for the tokyo students. despite being in kyoto, she’d always chosen to join yourself and shoko at events over her own classmates.

“who do you think is going to win the exchange event this year?” you asked with a raised brow and utahime grimaced.

“don’t make me compliment him.”

“are you implying that our edge is not because of me?” you looked at the camera with a disgusted expression, like you had the power to outshine the gojo satoru, she rolled her eyes – gojo’s dramatics were rubbing off on you. “for that i’m telling ieiri. you may be her girlfriend–”

utahime hit your arm and her eyes darted around for anyone that could’ve heard (like you were not sat alone in a field together whilst the others warmed up), “shut up! we’re not like that…”

you nodded with a condescending hum. “then kindly could you please stop calling her till three in the morning, some of us need our beauty sleep.”

“you’re only ever up at three am because you’re sneaking back from gojo’s dorm,” she retorted with a pointed look. you opened your mouth to defend yourself 

“true,” you jumped at shoko’s voice, swivelling your neck around to find the third piece of your trio standing behind you. shoko gestured towards your uniform jacket, “and if she pulls down her collar there’s a massive hickey i had to help cover up this morning.”

utahime erupted into a fit of giggles and you eyed the camera like it was some sitcom and you were breaking the fourth wall.

“you’re such an asshole.”

shoko pushed in between the two of you to make herself the middle. “you love me.”

nobara frowned as the video ended. while it wasn’t overly helpful, it reaffirmed the seriousness of your relationship with her teacher… but that was obvious from the lovesick heart eyes he constantly had in every video you were together.

although, she would have to show it to maki – the two had suspicions about the kyoto teacher and tokyo healer and this all but confirmed that they were right. 

nobara scrolled down till she found a thumbnail of you, geto and gojo sat around a table of food.

“zenin naoya,” you started, chopsticks in one hand as you held a bowl of food in the other. gojo pretended to vomit at the mention of his name. “yes toru, appropriate response, but have you heard about him and the kamo girl?”

geto nodded with a mouth full. “the one who studied abroad?”

“yes! her,” you waved your chopsticks in his direction, “anyways, she cheated on him.”

the dark haired sorcerer made a sound of shock, “they were together together?”

you nodded enthusiastically, offering gojo some of your rice. “mhmm, they got together new years eve.”

“that did not last long,” gojo snickered. nobara peered at the date in the corner of the screen in a retro, yellow font; 15 january 2006.

“best part? it’s not even the first time,” you revealed, picking up some salmon sushi off of gojo’s plate and quickly eating it.

“stop,” geto gasped and nobara was shocked. this man was a war criminal now, and yet ten years ago he seemed so far from it, gossiping like he was a teenage girl.

“which like i don’t get,” you frowned. “i dont know why he’s trying to save face over some two week old relationship. especially if she’s already cheated multiple times.”

“he’s just desperate because it’s the first girl to ever want to actually be with him.”

“oh yeah she really wants to be with him,” gojo uttered sarcastically with a sparkle in his eyes. he would have a party at the downfall of the zenin.

“are they staying together?”

“i think so,” you nodded, holding a hand over your mouth as you spoke and finished your mouthful. “it’s what me and shoko told him to do, well shoko. he facetimed shoko.” you clarified following gojo’s less than pleased expression. nobara didn’t doubt that naoya had caused some tension in your relationship (though she refused to believe it was ever because you had been interested in him) and she wished that you’d switch the topic solely onto that. that was the sort of drama she was after.

“youre telling me he facetimed ieiri to tell her he’d been cheated on?” geto could bearly finish the question without laughing and he shot gojo a look. “odds on him trying to make yn jealous.”

you couldn’t stop yourself from snorting. “oh yeah because hearing all that made me want to leave satoru for that thing.” sarcasm or not, your words were taken literally by your boyfriend who draped all one hundred and ninety centimetres of himself across your body. “oh my god you’re so heavy.”

“it’s just my love for you in physical form. don’t be mean,” he whined.

nobara didn’t even have the energy to laugh quietly at the pathetic nature of her teacher as she felt herself drifting off. it was fine, she thought, only a quick power nap. she’d earned it, watching all those clips expended lots of energy.

“kugisaki?” gojo gently knocked at the young girl’s door. he’d left yuuji and megumi to do laps to check nobara was still alive and well. the illness had made its way through half the school already and while it obviously wasn’t something fatal, he knew better than to take any risks.

he knocked again and waited thirty seconds before he opened the door enough just to peek in and–

“satoru.”

gojo felt his heart drop at the sound of your voice. one he hadn’t heard in almost two years and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so unsteady and thrown off guard. the mere sound of your voice had startled him and gotten more of an upper hand than any curse he’d ever had to exorcise.

although his world had stilled, reality continued on and he was forced to hear himself hum in response. he didn’t have to see the video to vividly remember the day, to remember the smell of the grass and your perfume that were coaxing him into a nap that would make you both late to yaga’s lecture.

“do you think we’ll still be together once high school is over?”

“hope so,” he murmured, half asleep, and gojo wished his younger self was more aware, telling you how much he wanted to be with you, savouring every second he had in your presence rather than sleeping it away. 

like that could’ve changed the outcome.

slipping into her room, gojo lifted the laptop off of her sleeping figure (definitely still alive and breathing). with a press of a button, the disk popped out and he set the device onto the ground as he contemplated what to do.

he could break it in half, make it seem like an accident that nobara hadn’t noticed in her ill state. or he could use his cursed technique and completely eviscerate it from existence.

or maybe he could keep it.

gojo gave nobara one last glance as he silently closed her door once more, grateful for the blindfold he wore as he headed back outside to his students.

taglist. @thefictionalcharacterssimp @hana-patata @mor-pheus @leathairs @sh0ek0 @maliakealoha @levisteeacup @g-kleran @stevenknightmarc @n1kimura @darliingyu @saturn-alone @splxtscreen @leah-rose03 @rinshoe @laurenzitaa @patricia142lilian @sabo-has-my-heart @wooasecret @dahliawarner @kysrion @dreamerdeity @mwah-chia @geromiegerald @arminsarlerts @maliakealoha @cherrypieyourface @k4romis @monsieurgucchi @bofadeezs @777userz @polarbvnny @chonkercatto @tenshis-cake @haitanibros0007 @ba-ks @liaurokodaki @urfavvirg0 @lofasofabread @r0ckst4rjk @vee-ai @aiikuraa @melileli0001 @rinshoe @vinivave @yell0wdreams @sukunasleftkneecap @malikazz243 @sad-darksoul @giannitaa @maliciousmace @name-insert @splxtscreen

this tag list is insane ty all for the support

[luversgirl]

TO BE SO LONELY, part two

summary: after the pouges forget her special day, y/n meets someone the pouges aren’t too pleased with. (heres part one if you haven’t read it yet)

notes: here is the long awaited pt two, im sorry this took to long. i’m in the middle of finals and im trying to get back into writing (p.s theirs another important note after the fic)

warnings: language?

after the big fight at the chateau rafe drove them to the beach, more specifically the one they first interacted at.

y/n quickly slipped off the helmet and walked towards the water without a word said.

as she got closer and closer she placed the helmet and shopping bag down and continued walking.

“y/n!” rafe yelled trying to catch up.

“y/n!” he yelled again a bit more sternly making her stop in her tracks.

he quickly caught up seeing as he was walking very fast to keep up with her “please talk to me” he softly spoke as he stopped in front of her.

“there’s nothing for me to say” she spoke back clearly lying as many tears rolled down her face.

“you’re allowed to be upset y/n” rafe says placing his hands on her face, wiping her tears away.

“how come everyone forgets me” y/n’s voice cracks as she speaks.

after y/n broke down at the beach rafe thought it would be best for her to stay at the cameron household for the night.

waking up to the sun peaking through out the expensive silky curtains the rougtledge girl rubbed her eyes.

her eyebrows furrowed at the unfamiliar smell of the sheets she was laying on, turning her body around she saw a sleeping rafe.

she sat up, carefully doing her best to to wake rafe and succeeding.

y/n’s eyes gazed around the room that was clearly rafes. it pleasantly surprised her how organized his room was, the way all his expensive colognes were organized, no laundry on the floor and the pictures of his family and him displayed along the walls.

“good morning” y/n turned to rafe who was now rubbing his eyes as she was minutes before.

“good morning” she smiled as he pulled her closer kissing the top on her head.

“how you feeling baby” rafe asks.

“better now thanks to you” y/n grins looking up at him “what time is it?”

rafe grabs his phone from the nightstand by his side “its 12” he says.

“i have a shift at 1” y/n sighs leaning against rafe.

“can you cancel it?” rafe trys to reason.

y/n chuckles “thats not exactly how a job works, wheres my phone?” she asks.

“under your pillow” y/n reaches for it, hopingit doesn’t explode with messages when it powers on “i also put it on silent so we could sleep through the night” rafe chuckles.

“thank you” y/n smile up at him before checking “jesus christ” she quickly says as she was right about the phone blowing up and

scrolls through all the missed notifications.

“you okay?” rafe asks observing her face.

closing her eyes, y/n takes a deep breath then setting her phone down onto the bed and started to get out of the plush cameron bed.

“woah, woah, woah, where you going sweet thing?” rafe quickly followed now standing in front of her with his hands on each side of her face caressing her soft cheekbones with his thumbs.

“rafe” y/n smiles and tilts her head up looking at the tall boy.

“you know, not all of us can be kooks” sending him a sad smile.

shortly after rafes constant attempts to get y/n not to go to work he accepted his loss in the battle and dropped her off.

she was 2 hours into her shift and nothing had gone wrong yet, but of course she knew something was bound to happen seeing as her brother and his friends new where she worked so it was all just a matter of time.

as soon as her break hits she’s pushing the back door of the the store open for some fresh air only to be met with the pouges.

“what do you guys want” y/n spoke sitting on her usual break bench and gave into her fate.

“i don’t understand why’d you do this to us” john b speaks up first.

y/n eyebrows furrow “i didn’t ‘do’ anything to do” she emphasizes the ‘do’ “not everything is about you bee” using her brother nickname only reserved for her.

“i never said tha-“ john b interjects.

“but thats what you meant, you know i’m actually happy?” y/n humourless laughs then begins to raises her voice “i don’t remember the last time i’ve even been this happy and the second you find out its not in a way you ‘approve’ of you want to try and take it from me”

“we-“ jj tries to interject something else but y/n doesn’t even give him the chance as she grows angrier every time they say something.

“you know he hasn’t bothered you guys in months but you’re all too self absorbed in your fucking shit to even see that and where the fuck was all this when john started dating sarah” y/n’s voice quivers but also grows louder as she stands up “huh?”

“i always supported you and sarah” y/n addresses the young couple making eye contact with the cameron who continued to remain silent “nice to know kindness is a one way street with you guys”

“y/n we never meant to try take away your happiness” kie spits out as y/n starts towards the door.

she turns around to face the pouges “then what were you trying to do?” they all look down at the ground or just stay silent.

“that’s what i thought”

important note!: hi! recently i reached 2k followers (what the actual fuck) so i’ve decided to come up with a little celebration. this celebration would guys yall the option to send in a prompt, blurb, rec list request and stuff like that for any of the characters i would list (like obx for example) would that interest you guys or am i dululu as fuck? lmk through a simple anon or commenting, thanks! ♡

taglist: @faeaura @prettyboystarkey @euthoricspidey @pankowfruitsnacks @rafecameronswhore @yunho-leeknow @outeredits-jess @totallynotkaibiased @jjmaybankslittleslut

[biteyoubiteme]

omgg congrats on 1k!!! can i request a txt+reader poly relationship (no mxm) sfw and nsfw headcanons or wtvr works with u. (also i love ur work hehe)

ot5 txt poly relationship thoughts

ot5 txt x fem!reader

warnings: 🔞!!! poly relationship, no mxm, free use, fingering, mentions of orgasm denial, blindfold, no protection mentioned, creampie(s), prob forgot some sorry

wc: 0.7k

an: omg thank you so much ;-; i’m so happy you like my works 🤍 I think im just known for ploy/throuple txt content now lol and I don't mind it at all I didn't notice exactly how much I write about the topic until I look at my mlist and it’s overfilled with threesomes lol

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

Your group chat is filled with the boys trying and failing to drop good pickup lines. Silly photos of you shared when one of them gets you alone even if it's for coffee, looks like my line worked. Always followed with complaints that their lines were clearly better. Sometimes the conversation travels past the group chat and into the dorms, arm wrestling competitions, Mario kart battles, and cold hard debates shared between them as they worked to get you in their bed that night over anyone else's. 

Most of the time they didn't let their competitive streaks win, sharing was in fact caring and they all agreed on that point without objection. It was often enough that you found yourself not only with one of them in bed but two, sometimes even all five. Those times were your favorites, always starting the same. One of their hands over your eyes as they kept you spread between them. 

They loved to have you guess between them, loved to punish you if you got one of them wrong. It always started with fingers, knowing instantly when Kai slipped in, piano player fingers so gentle as they found the perfect spot inside you to press. Beomgyu and soobin loved to use their middle and ring fingers, giving themselves away instantly. Taehyun and Yeonjun are harder to tell apart, only disturbed by yeonjuns inevitable slip up to get his lips on your clit, needing to taste you every single time. 

The guessing game continued with them having you lay on the edge of the bed, ass up and feet hanging off the side, someone's tie wrapped around your eyes to keep them covered. Your face pressed into the mattress as you scrambled to think up names after each deep thrust in without warning. They would go one after the other, and if you guessed right they would fuck you until they were done, not caring if you came, using you like a toy until you were begging for more, only shutting up when the next cock was shoved into your abused hole. 

“Who is it?” Taehyun would ask, voice pierced through with the sweet twinge of sin, always the one to ask even if he was the one between your legs so you could never tell who was actually behind you. Even if you didn't know, grasping at the sheets hard enough to bleach your knuckles, you'd fuck back onto them looking for an answer, toes slipping on the ground looking for leverage. “K-kai?” 

How they would chuckle, “Hum I don't think so,” huening would tease. “I guess she can't cum until we are all done with her,” “if at all,” 

“No! Soobin, it's soobin!” you would scramble to answer, the only thing you could think about was how completely fullyou were, stuffed until you could practically feel him in your tummy so deliciously that it melted your cognitive thinking. 

“Aw you know the rules, only one guess,” “She always gets so confused with the two of us,” 

“No please-” your clenching pussy worked wonders to convince whoever was lucky enough to be inside you. But never for long, they would bring you right to the edge before pulling it all away, thoroughly edging you until you were in tears begging for release. 

They never went long without catching you and pinning you against any surface to get a quick fill. Their little toy to use whenever and wherever they liked. It wasn't uncommon for one of them to walk in on you mid orgasm. A lazy cuddle on the couch with beomgyu turning into you with his fingers holding your chin making you face yeonjun as he demanded you to tell him how good he was making you feel. Yeonjun only just having sat down on the couch next to your shaking form as you squeaked out the words. Taehyun stealing you away to the shower long enough to keep you pinned against the glass begging him to fill you. 

Afterward was always the best, their fluttering questions so worried to make sure you're okay and well taken care of. Sharing the same bed whenever you could pull them all in for a snuggle needing to feel completely wrapped up in their warmth. 

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire @no1likemybbgcharlie @chasingthatjjunie want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[keraxxx]

I need Oliver and Felix so bad like you don’t understand.. IM DESPERATE.

but can you please write something about brat taming w Oliver 😕🙏 like reader is also a friend of Felix similar to farleigh and she’s just very against Oliver bc she feels like he’s gonna take Felix away from her..

Pls include spanking 😋😋

OMG IM VIBRATING THIS IS A GOOD IDEA. OFC IM GONNA WRITE THIS!! I’m gonna base this off the scene with Farleigh and Oliver a bit. (sorry this is kinda short..)

Brat taming

pairing: oliver quick x bratty f!reader

warnings: spanking, fingering, cursing, manipulation (maybe..), crying, oral (R receiving), slut shaming, roughness, orgasm denial, not proof read.

a/n: HI GUYS! i’m sorry i love this idea so fucking much. ALSO for my series i’m planning to have the next chapter out late night tomorrow or thursday. Anyways enjoy! 💋 (dw i’m getting to the other request soon this one js caught my eye)

-

You were lying down in your bed, spread out onto the sheets, your eyes closed and headphones on. You weren’t sleep yet, you couldn’t sleep. Why was he here? You talked to Felix about this earlier.. You were scared Oliver would take Felix from you but of course, Felix denied your accusation and just kissed your head. You knew his friend had some sort of bad intentions you just couldn’t figure out what. Maybe he wanted to steal Felix for himself.. The way he looked at you showed hostility and you hated it. You hum as your eyes squeeze and you groan in frustration just thinking about the idea. You turn on your back and sigh, your hand on your forehead as you try to sleep.

You grunt softly as you feel a sudden pressure on your stomach, causing you to jolt up slightly, your eyes immediately opening. Someone was sitting on top of you. “Ollie?” You ask softly in a confused tone as you take off your headphones. He’s sitting on your stomach, squeezing your sides with his knees. “Ollie.. I think you’re on the wrong room.” You heaved out as he leaned down to look at you. “Am I?” He whispers, his face just inches from yours. He locks eyes with you, causing you to whine softly.

“You need to learn to behave.” Oliver growls. “Get up.” He commands as he gets off your stomach, allowing you to breathe more clearly. You hesitantly get up off the bed only for him to pull you back down onto him. He bent you over his lap in a painful way. You groan as his hand teases the soft silk fabric of your short white nightgown. “You have such a big mouth.. You can never stay quiet, huh? You need to learn to fucking whisper.” He hisses as he takes his free hand and forcefully grabs your cheeks, bringing your face up slightly as he leans down to yours. “You’re such a fucking slut for Felix.. Now shut up and behave for me.” He whispered before releasing you from his grip again. His hand at the edge of your nightgown slowly lifted up and bunched your gown around your waist, revealing your panties.

Oliver tuts as he looks at them, causing you to muffle a grunt. “Ollie I-“ He cuts you off with a loud smack on your ass. You yelp out loud and choke out a sob as he grabs your face again. “I said.. shut up and behave.” He raises his hand again and slapped your bottom. “Ollie please!” You moan out as he rubs your cheek to calm the sore redness threatening to appear soon. “Shut up.” He hissed again as he puts his free hand over your mouth. His hand slowly trails down your ass cheek and teases the wet mound under your panties, causing you to gyrate against his hand ever so slightly, soft and muffled whines spilling from your lips.

“You’re so wet..” Oliver chuckled as he watched you rub yourself against his hand. “You’re a slut for me too?” He whispers curiously. “I thought you ‘fucking hated me?’” “I do.” You say muffled, causing him to grip your face tighter. “Then why are you dripping all over?” He smirks before moving your panties to the side, revealing the sweet and succulent smell of your cunt. He moans in satisfaction before rubbing his middle finger against your drooling hole. His finger slowly teases its way into your cunt, causing you to moan, your legs squeezing together. He slowly pumps his finger in and out of your aching hole, your soft whimpers almost pouring through his hand.

“Will you behave?” He asks again in a hurried whisper and you gasp out a short yes. “Aww..” He coos as he watched you helplessly grind yourself into his finger. He lets out a dry laugh before shoving another finger into your tight hole. The gush of your juices spilling out onto his fingers makes you embarrassed. You hated him so much.. yet he’s fingering you in your own bedroom and you’re letting him. You moan as he picks up the pace of pounding your pussy, his fingers stretching you out in the slightest.

“I’m so close.” You whine into his hand and he snickers. “Yeah?” You nod and immediately your orgasm is ripped from you. You scoff as you look at him. “Ollie.. Please.” You whimpered out as he removed his hand from your mouth. He enticingly moves his cunt soaked fingers to his lips, teasing at his bottom lip before gently licking and sucking them clean. You watch him in awe, as if you’re in a trance. He removes his fingers from his mouth and hums. “There you go.. good girl.” He smirks. “You finally shut up.”

Oliver picks you up from his lap and places you on your bed, laying on top of you. He caress the side of your neck before gently placing his lips on yours. “Can you taste yourself?” He teases against your lips and you nod slowly as he pulls away. He trails down your body, touching and feelings your chest and stomach before he makes his way to your aching pussy. Oliver eagerly rips your panties from your body, causing a groan to escape your mouth. He looks at you knowingly before he lifts your thighs over his shoulders. “Shh..” He hushes before sticking out his tongue and placing it into your throbbing clit. Your back arches up at the sensation of his tongue rubbing circles into your clit, one of your hands finding its way to his hair and the other covering your mouth to stay silent. He eats your pussy like a hungry man, slurping up any juice that falls from you, his hands gripping the thighs on his shoulders. He slaps the side of your thigh as he teases your entrance with his tongue. Your jaw drops open into inaudible moans, your eyes rolling back and fluttering closed. He places kisses on your clit and lips, jolts of euphoria getting sent through your body as your legs begin to shake.

“You’re so close.. I just know it.” Oliver whispers into your pussy before indulging himself in it again. You choke back a sob as you tug at his hair, confirming his idea. He pulls away and rubs your clit. “Come on slut.” He coos as the knot in your stomach went away, releasing your juices all over your sheets. Oliver smirks to himself as he goes back down and licks you clean. Your jaw is left wide open as you watch him. He pulls himself up to your face and looks into your eyes again.

“Stop talking to others about me..” He whispers and you nod. “..’m sorry.” You say softly as his gaze softens.

“Good.”

-

[if-you-soul]

Mischaracterization in the CCCC fandom: a yapsesh (alternative title: Erm... What the Gore is Going On?)

Hi. Woaw. I'm actually making that post I talked about.

So. One thing I've noticed in the CCCC fandom is this weird fixation on gore, torture, violence, etc. Usually a level of graphic content that makes your average horror flick look... pretty tame!

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy horror! I even think a horror story based around psychological conflict similar to CCCC could work well!

But is it just me, or has this fandom COMPLETELY lost track of what the characters are like in the source material?

Like. Let's be real. Nowhere in the album does Soul do gruesome surgeries on Mind, nowhere does Mind go ripping people to shreds like Doomguy, et cetera. The closest thing we have to an implication of violence is what most of us call the "Juno incident"- as even "tines stabbed through eyes" is clearly a metaphor with the next line: "that the sides have condemned."

Im gonna talk ab the characters themselves under the cut

I feel the biggest victim of this mischaracterization is Soul. In the album he's... kind of a victim, really. He toughs out being dismissed and fought over and pushed aside and outright dehumanized for so, so long. Are we seriously just... going to characterize him based solely on his lowest point in TSE? Spring and a Storm and Mucka Blucka are also songs where he's present- along with his presence in Just Apathy that the fandom seems to outright deny to keep their characterization of him as some violent, abusive monster. (Which, again, is quite literally never alluded to! He's honestly kind of a victim, if anything!)

Ohhkay. Next topic. Mind. Oh boy I have thoughts on how people characterize Mind.

He's not emotionless. If you believe this, you've fallen for his stoic facade. All of his songs are just. So full of so much rage. Maybe even a little bit of grief and sadness and fear, masked by said rage. He isn't some emotionless robot- (Heart calls him an automaton as an insult, but that's another rant.) and honestly it feels like such a disservice to such an interesting character with so much unexplored depth to portray him as such.

Heart. Oh boy. Where do I start. Heart what did they do to you.

Heart is the emotional side, yes, but that isn't just some... smol innocent uwu baby who cries all the time. Emotions aren't small and cute and timid. They're INTENSE and PASSIONATE and EXHAUSTING. Strong emotions leave you so, so drained, good OR bad. This is so much more interesting than portraying him as some "uwu hai dere!!" type of character. Which is nowhere in the album.

Whole is hardly even a character. Soul worshipping and praying to whole is fanon.

This fandom's weird obsession with creating shock gore and one-upping each other in a violence competition has spiraled pretty far out of control, and it's honestly crazy. How do you go from an album about internal conflict to violence that would make even the cast of Resident Evil cringe? Brah.

Final notes uhhh. Soul is a victim who got pushed to his limit, not an evil heartless abuser. Mind is angry and unstable and hurt, not some emotionless robot. Heart is the entire emotional spectrum, not some innocent baby. Ok i . I think that's all. Have a good one

[gassydumbjocks]

Virilite 1:

Boys will be boys

Ever since I spiked my nephew Liam's beer with a strange pill I found online when he and my brother came to watch a football match, that boy has been acting like a man, as he should.

You see, my brother Noah had a son who, don't get me wrong, I love this boy with all my soul, but god damn he had to grow up and start acting like what he was, a dude, always wearing those girly crop tops and tight-fitting jeans with bright colors because "that's who he was", I admit that I was clearly upset when he revealed to the family that he was gay, but even so I couldn't do anything and neither could Noah, so we decided to accept him as he was, until I found a way to... make him act as he should.

While looking at online articles I found this article online that was supposed to be some pills that could have an effect on the behavior and actions of the person that took them, yes, I know, very science fiction-like, still, what caught my attention was the name and objective of the pill, "Virilite" was its name, and it promised to also have an effect on the levels of testosterone produced in men, which ended up convincing me to buy it.

The instructions were simple, put them in the drink or food that said man was going to consume, once ingested the guy would enter an immediate state of trance, able to only follow the orders that another person suggested in his mind, there were even images of test subjects boys who I assume took the pill, they all had a relaxed yet funny expression, eyes crossed and some even with tongues sticking out like dogs, I couldn't help but laugh at the thought of Liam looking like that.

Just as i was now, immediatly after i got Liam to drink it after offering him a beer, he letted out an involuntary loud and guttural deep belch, which from what i knew and readed online was a sign that the pill already took effect, i had Liam in front of me with a dumb smile and an eye-crossed, glazed over look, like that huge burp just took away all his thoughts and personality.

After the first 5 minutes of calling his name and getting no response, i actually started to worry, he couldn't stay as a brainless zombie-like dumbass all his life, and Noah would find out and kill me for it, i tried to remember, i took the pill's container and readed again the instructions.

"Ohh, so i have to, uh, kinda program him?" i said and then i thought of things i could make him do, i certainly bought those pills to make the kid more like a man... So, hell, what a man i would mold out of him.

I heard him let out a dumb chuckle still with that goofy smile from before, i smirked and approached "Liam, buddy, you hear me champ, you hear uncle Dave?" i asked to make sure he could indeed hear me, he slowly nodded and let out some hiccups "great, cuz we got a lot of work to do on you, and im sure you'll love it" i say.

I think of the first command to give him, they suggest to use short and simple commands, there are plenty of manly things he needs to learn, but i think i can cover up basic stuff, i remember Noah and me asking him to join us in our protein farting contests when we relaxed in our man cave watching our team, while Liam just grimaced and waved his hand, saying it was immature and gross, i would make him change his opinion, so it was obvious what would be the command "Liam...fart, loudly and proudly, c'mon" i literally order him to fart, i just wanted to test the effectiveness of the command obeying.

Without hesitation, he lifts his right leg as high as he can, leaving his butt in the air, before a barrage of gas goes out his butt.

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTT!!!!

Its so strong, big and beefy, even for me, i have to wave the smell and open a window nearby "good lord boy! Where in the hell did you got all that gas from!?" i ask impressed, and try to recover before continuing "ok ok lets keep up!, umm, belch, a nice deep man belch" i say, waiting for it.

I didn't even have to wait when he was already patting his chest and squinting an eye to help the gas release.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRPPP!!!

And holy fuck, if Liam was concious, he'd know that beast burp would have easily beat his old man and me in our oftens belch offs, the pill was clearly making a miracle on him.

I was admitidly having fun on my nephew making all the stuff he found "gross" and "immature" under a pill's control, i gave him another command, just to get a good laugh "Liam, do some armpit farts, but in the last one, you'll ask me to pull your finger, you'll let out a monster fart, got it?" i asked and he nodded again, he then started with the manly symphony, he took a hand down one of his pits and started to produce the nasty sounds.

PPPPPRRRRTTT

PPPPPPRRRRRRTTT

PPPPPPRRRRRTT

PPPPPPPRRRRRTT

I saw him stop and put hand on his gut, then he talked goofily "uncle, pull my finger" he asked dumbly before laughing and extend his hand at me, i gladly accepted "oh of course kiddo, let me help you with that" i smirked and pulled it hard, unleashing the beast gas he had stuck in his rump.

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!

An ABSOLUTELY disgusting deep-ass and loud, nasty fart erupted from him, Liam never losing the crossed look on his face, as he hiked exaggerately his leg to force the fart out, i was shocked, but in the end, finally proud of him, i couldn't wait for Noah to see what he could do! We would think on more funny stuff to do at our just guys nights! After all, boys will be boys, right?

[etherealkissed88]

i got what i wanted in the 3d but why did i keep assuming negative?

today i found myself assuming that something negative (that ive experienced before) was going to happen again soon. but this was without any clear evidence that it would happen. there was subtle evidence but then i caught myself and realized that is was all an assumption and i thought “why am i even assuming negative if i know the power of the law?💀” so i decided it wouldnt end up that way and i let it go. hours later i saw clear evidence of the complete opposite of my negative assumption. this means that everything was going good like no negative shit was gonna happen and i still literally got physical evidence of what i wanted. at the same time, i felt uncertain and again assumed that negative thing was still gonna happen soon (even tho i saw evidence that it it wouldnt happen).

why did i feel uncertain even tho what i wanted appeared right in front of me? because in reality, i was chasing the feeling. i wasnt fulfilled, i wasnt satisfied within. this is what ppl mean when they say “its the feeling you want, you dont want it in the 3d”. sure you want the object and the physical experience but notice how the “real” and physical thing did not satisfy me at all. i literally manifested what i wanted yet i didnt feel like it would last. the 3d will never give you what you want. it will always be that inner fulfillment that gives you want you want. fulfillment is what gives you the satisfaction so if youre saying that you manifested something in the 3d and felt secure, thats because you were fulfilled. why did i also get what i wanted in the 3d yet i didnt feel secure? it will always come down to the fulfillment. that fulfillment is the FEELING! the feeling of knowing you have it despite seeing it in the 3d or not. this is also why the 3d never matters; its all neutral. bc everything IS based on assumptions and states. you see the world based on which state you are in. if im in the state of being broke, i will look at a $50 headphones as too expensive and i wouldnt feel secure in buying it. but if i was in the state of being a millionaire, i would look at a $50 headphones as if it was fifty cents and i would feel secure in even buying a more expensive one. its not about the 3d, its about if you feel fulfillment because either way if you have it in the 3d and still dont feel as if its not rly yours (fulfillment), then you will continue to assume negative and feel unsecured in your manifestation.

“as within so without” right? this is why when you are satisfied internally, you feel satisfied externally; it gets pushed out because self is always expressed in the 3d. someone who is not satisfied with being a millionaire within, can never feel good in the 3d until they fulfill themselves within (or change states where being a millionaire is normal for them). everything truly is the feeling and everything truly starts within.

back to assumptions: i continued to assume negative even with positive evidence in front of me because i wasnt giving myself the feeling. i didnt feel satisfied within. assumptions are accepting ideas without evidence. i clearly assumed correctly because i didnt have evidence that that negative thing was going to happen but i clearly was in a state of fear which is what caused me to continuously have that assumption. whatever state you are in affects your assumptions. lucky for me and you, we can change states and assumptions instantly. other than that, next time you find yourself assuming negative, stop yourself and just decide/assume it will all work out. change your state -> you are now the person who already has what they want.

anywayz, i realized all this in a span of 7 seconds after i got the physical thing i wanted but still assumed negative. i wanted to make this post because ppl could be doing the same thing and still feeling stuck and thinking that something is wrong with them when thats not the case. catch yourself and assume positive. make it a habit that whenever you want something, fulfill yourself right away. assume its done right away. update: i assumed and fulfilled myself with what i wanted and i no longer feel the need to assume the negative shit 😛. the power of fulfillment am i right ?

kisses, jani ☆

[jjenthusee]

Racing Hearts Pt. 3

f1!driver!jason x reporter!reader

A/N: Another chapter, another story filled with jason todd 🤭 it makes me so happy to continue this au and to see my beautiful gremlins enjoying it as well 🥹 the comments for the tag list are so helpful (im new to that bear with me <3) but i love reading any comments about the story, any predictions your great minds have, or if you’re just looking forward to the next chapter :D so ENJOY and comment if your comfortable <3

See you in part 4 COMING SOON :))) also check out the masterlist for this series linked here <3

Tags: banter, agonizing fluff, hurt/comfort, strangers to friends to lovers, spice if u squint 👀

Word Count: 3.1k

Tag List: @jaybirdstreet @gallusstuff @meowkn @velvetberries @i0lovepink00 @rayaskoalaland @spidernuggets @janybabyy @deimks @yasmin-oviedo @bigraga-sk

yourmom34: Why am I kinda invested?

imjasonsrightleg: Bye, update me when they start dating

potatoislyfe: He has chemistry with EVERYONE

notrealroyharper: THAT SHOULD BE ME

bigbootylicious87: Is it just me or are they entirely different from that press conference???

justicefortacoman: I can’t believe Jason moved on from taco man :(

“I can’t believe this.” You said to yourself, setting down your phone to no longer read the comments.

Leaning forward until your arms rested on your knees as you sat on the couch.

You had completed one full interview with Jason. His management wanted to film it. A new press strategy to help their racers gain more popularity outside the track.

You had agreed.

Broadcast journalism had been an area of interest because of the age of the internet and how fast news can spread through social media.

Now they wanted you and Jason to interact.

Jason’s social media team had pitched that you two sit down, you ask him questions and Jason would be the charismatic man he was.

It was simple, something you had done with many athletes, but it was Jason. A man you had multiple meals with, volunteered with, and almost…nevermind.

You thought you masked it well, set personal away from professionalism, but you were clearly wrong from the comments on the video.

You had watched it on your phone, curiosity scratching at you when you cooked lunch. Then when you couldn’t take it, you pressed the play button.

You were in denial. Ever since you came back from your volunteer work on Jason’s motorcycle, you had tried to play everything off with as much nonchalance as possible.

You didn’t mention how close your faces were that day. He dropped you off after the work in Crime Alley. You waved goodnight.

You didn’t see him until you got the call from your company. The interview filmed, quickly edited, released and you continued to deny.

But how were you supposed to deny what you saw on the tiny phone screen. It was out in the open, the public knew, you knew.

Did Jason know?

Did he see what you denied to yourself?

Or maybe he was just too good at looking good with anyone?

His fan base even made a running joke to pretend he has chemistry with anyone he interacts with in public.

You were just the next contestant.

That had to be it.

jasonjustonechance51: Was Jason kinda…shy?

redhoodsgyatt: I’VE NEVER SEEN THAT FOINE MAN LAUGH LIKE THAT IM IN LOVE?

tortillagrease861: I don’t know who this beautiful man is but I need him.

redbulljasonismywater69: I was trying to gatekeep him, but I guess I can share cause everyone deserves to see this man smile

poopoobatman417: He is so boyfriend

You threw your phone back onto the couch cushion, reading anymore comments was not helping.

After calming down and a movie break, you checked Jason’s social media and Red Bull’s racing account. There were the usual clips, Roy and Jason being the most popular duo.

Multiple edits and clips of them doing miscellaneous things. It wasn’t that bad, maybe you weren’t his focus right now.

But you were conflicted, it was good if the video of the two of you went well. It was better than being popular from negativity.

You could live with this.

A notification popped up on the top of your screen, perfect font displaying “Mr. Todd has sent a message.”

Speak of the devil.

Mr. Todd: want anything?

You clicked on an image of a menu.

He always knew how to get you. A late night meal wouldn’t hurt.

You: Miss me already?

You: Combo, medium, sprite

Mr. Todd: kay

Mr. Todd: my place or yours

Oh no.

You had just come to terms with thinking you meant nothing to this man.

You watched three dots float at the bottom of the messages, anticipation eating at you.

Mr. Todd: couldn’t get enough of you after the interview

You needed to check yourself into the hospital at this rate.

Fuck read receipts, now you needed to respond.

You: bro I don’t know where u live

Mr. Todd: bro I can just tell u

You: bro my place

You’re an idiot.

Mr. Todd: Brok

You: brok?

Mr. Todd: bro + ok

You: return my food

Mr. Todd: too late I already left and the kind lady gave me a free drink

You: I hope u drop ur free drink

Mr. Todd: no sprite for u then

You: wait

You: the sprite is innocent

Mr. Todd: this hurts me more than it hurts u

You saw a picture appear in the messages. He was holding the cup of sprite over a familiar ledge. The ledge of your apartment building floor.

You grabbed your keys, pulled on some quick sneakers, haphazardly put on, laces loose. You raced out of your apartment, quickly locking the door and running down the hall.

You ran to see Jason near the open ledge, night air surrounding him. Seeing his face turn to you, a smile spreading on his face.

You ran to save your sprite from his evil hands.

“Aw, so excited to see me that you didn’t put on your shoes properly.” Jason quipped, letting you take the hostage from his hands.

After securing your drink, your turned around. Eyeing Jason from your side.

He waited, a soft look on his face.

“Well, are you coming?” You walked forward, small smile perfectly hidden from Jason’s view.

——

You had sat down in front of your TV, putting your drink on the coffee table. You grabbed the remote trying to browse through several movies.

Jason had followed you in through the front door, taking off his shoes as soon was he walked in. He slowly walked toward you, taking a good look around your apartment.

You tried not to look at him, choosing to focus on your TV screen as he surveyed your one-bedroom apartment.

As he slowly stepped, you decided to chance one look at him.

Your eyes shifted toward his tall figure, he was oddly focused on your window, set near the small dining table.

It was a last-minute decision after you realized the format of your living room and kitchen. You liked watching the outside as you ate.

“Welcome to my home. Sorry for the mess, I didn’t get the chance to clean up after you took my sprite hostage.” You leaned your head on your hand, resting yourself on the coffee table as you watched Jason.

“Don’t worry about it, also you should lock your window.” Jason spoke.

You glanced toward the object in question, the latch was undone when you opened it earlier that day. You must’ve forgotten. It was a similar bad habit as never locking your balcony door.

Who would climb through that? Well, besides Batman, you don’t expect any visitors.

“Oh, sometimes I forget. But let’s eat first.” You shrugged.

Jason set the food down next to you, you felt the warmth radiating from the bag.

“I got it, your food should be the one on top.” Jason eyed the window, walking to it, snapping the lock into place.

You gasped.

“You ordered the other meal I wanted to try!” You smiled in excitement.

Jason turned back to sit down next to you. Lazily leaning against the foot of the couch.

He raised an eyebrow at the sparkle in your eyes, a silent question obvious on your face.

“Wanna try a piece?” Jason asked, giving in to the longing look.

“Aw, thanks Mr. Todd.” You dug into the two meals in front of you.

Jason moved to sit closer to you. Your excitement over the food distracting you, delaying your nervousness and your earlier debate with yourself.

As you took a bite, happy with the combination, you clicked on a movie. Letting it play as you and Jason ate.

“I thought you were kidding when you asked me if I liked the movie Cars.” Jason said in disbelief as he watched.

“It was for the interview…and I was genuinely curious.” You kept your eyes on the screen.

“Sweetheart, I don’t race in NASCAR. You know that.” Jason looked at you, astonished.

“I know, I think it’s hilarious.” You flatly said, focused on the movie in front of you. “You give off Lightning McQueen vibes.”

Jason nearly choked on his food.

“I feel like I should be offended.” Jason, stunned, looked at you.

You ignored him, letting him fret about your words as you finished your meal.

After Jason gave in and continued to watch the movie with you, you had cleaned up and the two of you moved onto the actual couch.

The soft cushions letting you sink in, sinking toward Jason who also dipped the couch. Letting a blanket droop over your legs.

He had taken his hoodie off, throwing it over a dining chair. Jason was clearly comfy for the night, in sweatpants and a t-shirt that hugged him nicely.

You were content letting your body relax. Watching animated cars as Jason, the fastest formula 1 driver, sat near you in your apartment.

With a full stomach and in pajamas.

Crazy how things worked out.

You smiled at your realization.

Your eyes felt heavy, the couch warm next to Jason.

Jason mindlessly watched the movie, pouting a little that he couldn’t believe that you thought of him like the red car.

Then he felt your weight on his shoulder.

He glanced to his side, seeing the top of your head. His heart raced. You had fallen asleep, a nice weight to his shoulder.

He saw your eyelashes, beautifully laid flat onto your cheeks as you gave into your sleepiness.

Call him a bad man, but he leaned his head on top of yours. Nuzzling into you.

You were probably going to wake up flustered, but he enjoyed making you nervous.

Seeing your ears going perfectly red.

Jason didn’t know what color he liked, he ended up with many things, falling into the rhythm of going with the flow. His racing career, his instincts to ask his manager to set up an interview with the talkative reporter, continuing to get lunch with you.

Now he was here, feeding you, sitting on your couch.

Getting more infatuated with the lil’ reporter he’s growing close to.

He learned something new today.

He realized his favorite color was the shade of your flustered ears.

——

You were stirring awake, your eyes slowly blinking into the faint light from the floor lamp. Majority of the darkness still around you.

You must have fallen asleep.

But how could you resist? It was warm around you.

As your consciousness entered your mind, you realized a weight around you. Fitted loosely around your waist, a soft fabric touching your face, slow even breaths slightly moving the hairs on your head.

Your eyes widened.

Jason was curled around you. At some point in between your nap, you and Jason had laid on the couch. Fully extending your bodies, falling into each other to fit perfectly into the soft cushions.

Oh no. You stiffened.

Jason started to stir awake, instinctually feeling the heightened panic from you next to him.

He slightly stretched his body, taking a deep inhale before releasing it, then slowly opening his eyes to look down at you. Your big eyes meeting his.

He sleepily smiled, pulling his arm around you closer to him. Somehow managing to get you even closer to him.

You felt his heartbeat through his shirt.

A lovely feeling.

“Jason.” You spoke into his t-shirt.

“Hm?” Jason grumbled, trying to wake up, but refusing.

“I think you accidentally fell asleep.” You moved your head, so your words weren’t mumbled into his body.

“I was going to leave.” Jason yawned. “You fell asleep and I laid you down on the couch, but you grabbed my shirt.” He smirked, eyes closed.

You moved your head, raising your chin toward Jason’s head above yours.

Your faces more parallel.

“What do you mean?” You quietly asked him, clearly surprised by the current situation, but still mindful of the sleepy man.

“You wouldn’t let go of me, so I tried sitting on the edge of the couch, but your grip never loosened. Then you kept tugging, so I finally laid down.” Jason continued to explain with his eyes closed, trying to keep his fatigue. “You have a deadly drip by the way.”

“I’m sorry.” You sighed.

“Why do you always do that?” He asked confused.

“Do what?”

“You always back away every time I get closer.” Jason’s eyebrows lowered, slight frustration in his tone. He was very expressive despite his eyes still closed.

“I don’t do that.”

“You were about to.” Jason pouted.

“I’m still laying next to you, I’m not backing away.” You retorted.

“You know that’s not what I meant. I can feel your negativity surrounding you.”

“Come on…I just,” You hesitated. “I just don’t want to bother you, to possibly cause a misunderstanding.”

Jason’s eyes opened, full seriousness in his gaze.

“What if I want you to bother me.” He directly told you, eyes never leaving yours.

Your faces nearly touching, the tips of your ears reddening. Curse your blood flow.

“I don’t understand.” You stammered, scared to peak into the direction this was going.

“I want to bother your life and I want you to bother mine. You make me feel alive because I want to talk to you, even when you don’t want to talk, I still want your time.” Jason directly told you.

You didn’t know what to say. Your heart racing as he continued to hold you, your faces close to one another, legs intertwined. His voice admitting what you’ve been scared to say.

It was out in the open. Clear as day.

Maybe it was meant to be this simple.

You were just too anxious and stubborn to call it what it was.

You kept Jason’s stare, his determination never faltering.

You pulled your hand from in between your bodies, releasing it from the depths of the blanket. You caressed his face, smoothing out the lines in between his eyebrows, softening his expression.

You smiled at your ability to control this man.

Maybe to the public he was rowdy, uncontrollable. But when you faced him, he was ready to come running when you held out a hand, waiting to rest his face in it.

He waited for your touch, your words, your quick glances.

You were the same. Ready to touch him, sing his name, memorize his smile.

You could barely contain yourself.

You leaned forward, kissing the man you longed for.

Your very first initiation towards him. No longer backing away.

You gently pressed into him. Both of your eyes closed, focusing on blurred touches of skin.

You want to touch him. You want more.

You rubbed where the back of his head met his neck, feeling the prick of his hair on your fingers. Your thumb rubbing behind his ear.

Jason matched you, letting feeling take over him.

He gripped your jaw, stretching your neck, adding another layer of desperation to your kiss.

Jason selfishly took your shared breaths.

When he wasn’t satisfied with that he moved to lean himself over you, but you put a hand to his chest.

Stopping him.

In his confusion, eyes glossed over, he only looked at you, his mind trying to catch up.

You ended up rolling him over, your body laid on top of his, Jason laid flat on his back. He reached up to cup his hands to your face.

You leaned down, deepening the kiss.

You had no reason to hold back. If it was this simple to be with Jason, you wanted to waste no more time on what ifs.

You were comfortable, letting your body fall onto Jason’s solid body. You wanted to feel more of him.

You readjusted yourself, straddling his waist near the waist band of his sweatpants. Jason panting, his breaths haggard.

You sat up fully, taking in the full image of him. It was beautiful.

“You’re gorgeous.” Jason breathed, in awe.

He gripped the sides of your waist, rubbing through your shirt.

Despite never removing any clothes, you were just as worked up.

You panted.

You internally thanked your unconscious self for keeping a death grip on this man.

You leaned down, nipping at Jason’s neck.

A sweet melody filled with Jason’s voice gasping. You felt every breath and vibration as you focused on his neck.

Letting yourself mark him just above his collarbone.

You looked down, hazily rating your work.

Jason reached up and rubbed your cheek. His soft touch contrasting your desperation.

The rising sun, letting in a soft glow through the large window near your dining table.

What a great way to start your morning.

You didn’t wake up this early, but to do this with Jason, you might have to start changing your routine.

Jason laid you back down to lean on top of him, He breathed into your neck as he held you close to him.

His large hands holding the back of your head, rubbing small circles.

“I told you I’m not backing away.” You smiled into Jason’s hair.

“I believe you now.” Jason chuckled, content in the comforting weight of you.

——

After another quick nap, you and Jason woke up, both of your hairs in a mess.

You were groggy, trying to help yourself to a cup of anything this morning, tea or coffee.

You watched Jason from your kitchen counter, he was learning where everything was. Memorizing the cabinets and drawers.

His broad back, a great view in your kitchen.

Your poor dining table window falling to second place.

You were in a daze watching his shoulders flex through the fabric of his shirt. It was like a switch flipped in you.

You shook your head, focusing back on the contents of your cup.

Jason made a cup of coffee, finally facing you. Leaning on the opposite counter.

Your eyes lowered to his stretched-out t-shirt around his neck.

You found what you were looking for, a purple blemish on his collarbone.

What a great morning.

Jason caught wind of your stare. Setting his cup down, caving you in-between his arms as he leaned on your counter.

It’s like you were made to be in his arms.

You giggled, trying to continue sipping on your cup. Letting Jason kiss around any opening of your face that wasn’t on the cup.

He was enjoying the moment, taking his time until you wanted to let him break.

When you had enough of the tickling sensation, you lifted your chin, letting Jason fully take your mouth.

The taste of coffee flooding you.

After your morning shenanigans in the kitchen, you spent the rest of the morning lounging, stealing kisses, possibly adding another blemish to match the other one.

[starlitiris]

Sebastian x Reader x Painter polyamorous relationship headcanons!! Omg!!

So!! I’ve thought about this a few times and really like the idea of a Sebastian x Y/N x Painter poly, and I haven’t seen anything for this anywhere!! Like at all!!! The people out there who are polyamorous or would only be poly with fictional characters are NOT BEING FED!!!!! But it’s a good thing you guys have me 😎

Also im gonna be so fr with you guys, i intended for this to have multiple sections like. “How it started” then “sleeping arrangements” then “love languages” then “jealousy” and so on and so forth but the “how it started” bit ended up being WAY longer than I thought it would be 😭😭 so this is going to be in multiple parts. And just so yall know before hand, in this poly yall ALL are dating. Youre with sebastian and painter, sebastian is with you and painter, and painter is with you and sebastian!!! YALL ALL ARE SMOOCHING!!!!!!!!!

With that all being said… ENJOY!!! AND MAKE REQUESTS FOR THIS AU BC I WILL VERY LIKELY DO THEM!!! HAPPILY!!!!! Ignore my shitass divider i just dont like having nothing there

Update: I made a part 2

🦈 * ⛓️ * 🎨 * ⛓️ * 🦈 * ⛓️ * 🎨 * ⛓️ * 🦈 * ⛓️ * 🎨

How it started:

So the way I’ve been imagining this going has you as an expendable. You get close with Sebastian first since you typically see him more often (unless you count Painter trying to trick you with fake doors or turret you but that’s when he’s trying to kill you so I’m not counting it ☝️). At some point, you and Sebastian start talking, and the more you see him, the longer your conversations get. You start to form a friendship! And he actually likes you! Good for you you achieved the impossible and made the angry traumatized fish man like your presence!!! So you and Sebastian become friends first since you see him more frequently in a non-hostile setting. Your friendship with Painter was a slower burn since you didn’t get to meet him in his room every run, but whenever you met with him, you would talk. Just like with Sebastian, the more times you saw Painter, the longer your conversations would be. He at least was able to like you faster than Sebastian did! You’re fun to talk to, and you really listen to him. And you were relatively quick to forgive him for hurting you on your runs, so he appreciated that. Eventually Painter would stop giving you a hard time with doors and turrets, and would even start following you from room to room when he could on the monitors by the doors. It made your time in the blacksite a little more bearable.

Sebastian would start to develop feelings for you after some time. He looked forward to seeing you enter his shop every run, or making little quips at you whenever you would inevitably get killed again by one of the site’s many dangers. His quips used to be harsh and ill-intended, but now they were friendly and teasing. You didn’t like getting teased for not hearing the wall dweller behind you or for accidentally falling into pits of lava, but you usually couldn’t help but smile while you rolled your eyes at him. You had developed feelings for him, too. That’s why you let him get away with it so often.

There was one day where you entered Sebastian’s shop, and he seemed… off. He was still smiling at you, but he seemed tired. Or… sad. It was a little difficult to tell, but you knew something was wrong. You tried to brush it off at first. You didn’t wanna push him to talk about it if he clearly didn’t want to, so you bought a few items and got ready to leave.

Okay, you couldn't help yourself. He looked miserable and it was worrying you. Before you left, you asked Sebastian if he was alright.

“Hm? Of course! I’m fine. Go on, if you stay too long they might start to get suspicious,” he joked, trying to divert the attention off of himself.

You weren’t convinced. But if he didn’t wanna talk about it, you weren’t about to press him on it. You learned the hard way that pushing him to talk when he wasn’t ready wasn’t a good idea. So you turned and began to kneel down at the vent.

But then he called your name.

You stopped, standing up again and turning to face him. He paused, unsure if he should continue. But then he confessed.

He confessed to falling for you. He told you he knows you probably don’t feel the same way, but god, was he in love with you. He said he felt like an idiot for letting himself get this attached to you. He apologized because he knows you two were supposed to be against each other, and loving you only made things more complicated. It made things harder than they already were.

He said he was sorry for falling in love with you.

Then you said you loved him, too.

He seemed surprised. He never would’ve expected you to return his feelings- I mean hell, look at him. He was a giant shark, fish, whale, snake… thing. And he was mean, and in a lot of ways, emotionally unavailable. Who could fall for someone like him?

Well… obviously you, of course. But he didn’t understand why. Quite frankly, though, in this exact moment, he doesn’t care. He’s just happy. Relieved. And then he’s sad again, even as you hold his hand and caress his cheek. You’re feeling the same way he is. Happy and relieved, but sad knowing that this unfortunately doesn’t change the fact that the world has pinned you against each other.

You stay for a while, but eventually, as always, you have to go. You kiss him on the cheek before you leave. Later on, you meet Painter again after he finds you on the cameras. You tell him about your interaction with Sebastian, and he’s happy for you! But sad, too. Sigh… if only there was a way they could escape and bring you with them 😔💔

Omg Painter just had the best idea ever they could escape and take you with them!!!!! He proposes this idea to Sebastian first. You could keep helping them to gather research while you keep “trying to retrieve the crystal”. And after you all stalled for enough time, boom!!! You could just ditch the place and escape with them!!! It was true that overtime, you were getting a lot better at avoiding dangers. You made it a little bit further into the blacksite with almost every run. Sebastian and Painter knew that eventually, you would likely be able to escape with the crystal. So… in order for this plan to work… youuuu would kind of have to purposely fail until you could all escape. Sebastian didn’t like that. Honestly, neither did Painter. But it was the only plan they had that they believed could work.

You didn’t necessarily like the idea either when they proposed it to you, but you agreed. Dying sucked, but escaping and dooming your best friend and now-boyfriend to die was significantly worse. You knew you couldn’t just stay in Sebastian’s shop or whatever, cause if you never left, Urbanshade would definitely suspect that something was up. You were all honestly surprised that they let you stay with Sebastian or Painter as long as you did sometimes already. But you couldn’t stay. So! Dying over and over until you can escape it is!

Things continue exactly as planned. You gather as much research as you can for Sebastian, you die in between rooms 80 and 100, and you repeat the process. Your evolving relationship with Sebastian was going great throughout this. Your relationship with Painter was doing just as great, too! He was always so excited to see you!! Any chance he had to be with you, he would jump at immediately. At this point, you were seeing him more often than you were seeing Sebastian. Not that you minded. You enjoyed Painter’s presence just as much.

Painter started to notice that he felt… fluttery? When you were around? When you looked at him, when you joked with him, when you complimented his art- hell, even just THINKING about you made him feel all fuzzy and weird. Odd! Wonder what that’s about.

Finally, Innovation Inc gets back in contact with Sebastian, and all three of you are able to escape together. Sebastian found a way to disable your PDG, and you helped to get Painter out of his cage to bring him with you.

Innovation Inc gave you three a temporary room to stay in while you got things all sorted out with them. You specifically requested that you all sleep in the same place. At long last, you could finally snuggle with your boyfriend and sleep in the same bed. Or- nest. Of blankets and pillows. It was still comfortable. You and Sebastian both agreed that you didn’t want to be apart from Painter if you two got to be together, so he was there, too. None of you minded.

Innovation Inc agreed to build Painter a body so he could move freely on his own, and do other things he wanted to experience. It would take a few months for that to happen, but it was worth the wait. While you all waited for Painter’s body to be completed, he was brought with you and Sebastian everywhere you went. He watched the way you two held hands, kissed, hugged, and cuddled. The way you would lovingly tease each other, comfort each other, and say “I love you” back and forth.

He wants that. Painter realized that he wanted that. He wants what you and Sebastian have- he wants to be part of it. He wants to hold your guys’ hands, join your hugs and cuddles… kiss you. He wants to be able to gently pet you both when either of you wake up from a bad dream. He wants to hold you and tell you both… he loves you.

Painter loves you two.

Painter’s body was finished. Sebastian was helping get him connected to it, making adjustments here and there as needed. You were somewhere else in the facility finding things to celebrate this momentous moment with. Not that there was much at your disposal, but you were hoping to find something. This is something worth celebrating!

Painter watched Sebastian analyze his wires, cables, joints, and so on – really wanting everything to be working right. Painter was really excited about his new body, don’t get him wrong. But after his recent realization… all he can think about is you and Sebastian. All the things he wants to do with you, all the things he wants to say to you…

“I love you, Sebastian.”

He just blurted it out. He didn’t want it to be a secret anymore. He knows Sebastian has you, and you have Sebastian, but you both needed to know. He needed you to know.

Sebastian looked up at Painter’s screen, eyes wide and processing.

“You… what?” Sebastian was admittedly a little stunned.

“I love you. Like… you know… not just platonically. I think I’m in love with you,” Painter continued.

Sebastian really didn’t know what to say. While realizing what Painter was telling him, he felt… conflicted. A lot of thoughts and emotions swirled around in his head- there was too much going on for him to grab a thought, latch onto it, and put it into words.

Painter took his silence as an opportunity to continue and explain himself.

“And it’s not just you. I… I think I’m in love with Y/N, too. I love you- both of you. And I know, you and Y/N are together already, and I’m just… here. And maybe I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but I didn’t wanna keep it to myself anymore. Now that I’m saying it out loud, it kind of sounds selfish- and maybe I am. I don’t know… I just… I still wanna be your guys’ friend! I hope this doesn’t, uh… ruin what we all have going for us. I just… love you. A lot.”

Painter had finished his confession. Sebastian took it all in, word for word, rolling it around in his head to process everything. Painter’s feelings, his feelings, and what this meant for all of you. It took him a moment, but eventually, he responded.

“I love you, too,” Sebastian said, an undertone of sadness present in his voice. “Both of you.”

Painter went from being surprised, to being happy, to feeling immense dread and guilt and like him and Sebastian were probably kind of betraying you at the moment. Painter asked Sebastian what the hell they were supposed to do about this, and apologized for making everything so complicated.

Sebastian said, “Let’s just tell them. They deserve to know, regardless of what happens.”

His ear fins flicked, drooping low beside his head. He felt just as guilty as Painter did.

A few minutes later, you enter the room with a smile. You tell the two that you couldn’t find much, but you had things set up in your shared room! Then you stopped smiling. They both looked… sad. Sort of like dogs that knew they did something wrong and were about to get in trouble for it.

“Wwwhat’s going on…?” You asked.

And they explained. Painter started, admitting to you that he had fallen in love with both you and Sebastian. Then Sebastian took the stage, explaining to you that he returned Painter’s feelings. He said he still loved you just as much, and he wouldn’t be telling you this if he could avoid it with a sound conscience, but you deserved to know. He couldn’t look at you the entire time he spoke.

You stared. You processed. You thought.

And you laughed.

You laughed hard.

The two were confused. FLABBERGASTED. Why the hell were you laughing? Was this a bad laugh? Laughing at how absurd this was before you yelled at them for putting you in this situation? What the fuck is wrong with u????

You wiped away a tear as you tried to calm yourself down.

“I- I’m sorry-” you said through your giggling. “It’s just… I feel the same way! I’m in love with both of you. God, I felt so guilty when I realized I loved Painter, too, but now?” You laugh again. “Oh my god! We’re so stupid.”

Silence. Jaws on the floor.

Then Sebastian snorted.

And he laughed as well. “What?? Are you fucking serious??”

You told him that yes, you were serious. You both kept laughing.

Painter was still in shock.

“Wh… so- this WHOLE time… we all just… loved each other??? All of us???”

“Apparently!” You added.

Eventually, the absurdity of the whole thing had Painter laughing, too. You all felt pretty goofy for worrying so much, only to have you all find out that ALL the feelings were reciprocated.

When the laughter finally came to a halt, Painter asked a really good question.

“So… what do we do now?”

“Well… “ you started. “We could technically just… all date each other. That’s a thing some people do.”

“We could?” Painter asked with excitement. He had never even considered that.

“Huh…” Sebastian thought aloud. “Never thought I’d be the kind of guy that’s open to polyamory, but I like that. I think we could make it work,” he grinned, looking down at Painter to wait for his thoughts.

Painter smiled widely.

“Yeah!! Yeah, let’s do that!! I’d love that!” He exclaimed.

And with that, you were now in a polyamorous relationship with Sebastian and Painter. Sebastian had finished making sure Painter’s new body was put together the way it should be, so you all went back to your shared room to celebrate.

To celebrate Painter’s new body, AND your new relationship. And later that night, Painter was finally able to cuddle with you and Sebastian while you slept – even though he doesn’t exactly sleep the same way you two do. It was still very, very nice to have one of his fondest dreams come true.

And now that Painter’s body was finished, soon enough Innovation Inc would have a remote safe house ready for you three to live in on the surface. Painter couldn’t wait. None of you could.

You were finally getting your happy ending.

[yuff7e]

hi! Can I pls request a one shot of reader comforting the hashira abt their biggest insecurity? Also, can reader pls be gn? Thank you! I love ur work!!!!!

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ comforting the hashira about their biggest insecurity’s !! ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ headcanons + small fic(s) / fluff (??) / angst / mentiones of violence / mentions of self-hatred / TW !!

gender neutral

hiya anon !! thanks so much for requesting this !! it’s so creative, and definitely put me to work (haha) !! i love requests like these where it’s about multiple people :) anywho, enjoy !! <3

the cuties song -> www.spotify.com

₊˚ପ⊹ gyomei himejema !!

- his biggest insecurity would be his immense strength

- hey, who wouldn’t like being strong and being able to beat up anyone in their path ?

- gyomei.

- we all know he’s an extremely kind hearted man, and hates hurting other living beings

- so imagine walking in on him one day, sitting on his knees - silently crying to himself

—

“gyomei? are you alright?!” you rush over to his side and he just sits there, looking into space. you run a hand over his arm in an attempt to get him to look at you, he turns his head in your direction - hot white tears spilling out of his eyes.

“ah, [name]. hello.” he speaks, you stare at his state and ask him what’s wrong - he stays quiet. you question him again, letting him know you wouldn’t judge him. he turns his head forward and opens his mouth to speak - “my.. strength. i am capable of many things, harming people. i do not wish that upon anyone.”

you smooth a hand over his forearm, reaching the beads he was holding in his hands. “gyomei, you are not a bad person. you have not hurt anyone, we’re hashira for a reason. we save people.” - “but demons used to be people too, before muzan kibutsuji - they had a life just like us.” you sigh at his words.

“gyomei, they were the people we couldn’t save. we cannot save everyone, but - saving a few is enough.” his white eyes flick downward toward the floor, blinking slowly. “i suppose. thank you, [name].”

₊˚ପ⊹ tengen uzui !!

- his biggest insecurity would be his inferiority complex

- he shows insecurities toward his fellow hashira, worrying he will never be as great as them.

- because of this, he locks himself away some days and sits training on his own terms

- abusing his mental and physical state immensely.

- imagine walking in on him as he trains himself to his knees, collapsing over and breathing heavy - clearly upset.

—

“tengen?! what are you doing?” you ask, standing in the doorway of his room - he glances back at you. “[name]? what are you doing in here?” he strains, sitting up - placing a hand on his knee. “do you need help?” you walk toward him, placing a hand on his shoulder and he looks back at you once more.

“no, im fine. thanks though.” - “tengen.” he blinks, holding his sword in a shaky hand - “do i look strong?” you raise your eyebrows at his question, “what do you mean? of course you do, do you not think that?” his gaze stiffens when you say that. noticing his stiff demeanor you glance down at his hands, he’s shaking.

“tengen, your abusing your power too much. you need to take a break, that’s why we have a schedule.” - “i don’t feel strong..” he whispers and your eyes widen at his response, “what? seriously? tengen, you are.” you brush your hand against his in a comforting manner, and he smiles weakly.

“thank you, [name]. sorry for this, maybe i do need to take a break!” - “yeah, i think you do.”

₊˚ପ⊹ kyojuro rengoku !!

- his biggest insecurity would be his unwavering will

- the way he wants to protect those weaker than him eats at his brain every night

- thinking of the people he couldn’t save, the people he couldn’t get to in time

- people suffered, because he couldn’t save them.

- imagine waking up and seeing him standing outside, looking at the moon with tears prickling his eyes at his thoughts.

—

“rengoku, are you okay?” you ask, walking up behind him as he stares at the moon somberly. he turns to the sound of your voice, blinking away his tears. “[name]! hello!” he shakes off his sadness quickly once he sees your face in order to hide it.

you notice this, and look at him sadly - “rengoku, what are you doing out here? it’s night..” - “sorry [name], i was just thinking.” he looks up at the moon again, sighing. “don’t apologize, is something bothering you? you can talk to me.”

he turns toward you once more at your reply, “it’s just.. all of the people i couldn’t save! suffering.” you watch him intently as he confesses his feelings, looking into his deep golden eyes. “rengoku, you have saved more people than i can count. more people than i have, that’s such an amazing thing.”

he smiles at your words, his sadness fading as you compliment him. his thoughts of not being able to save some people will never leave his brain, but knowing he’s saved just a few is more than enough for him. “thank you [name]! i don’t know what id do without someone like you!”

₊˚ପ⊹ sanemi shinazugawa !!

- his biggest insecurity would be his appearance

- having to cut himself to intoxicate demons is not anything short of brave.

- but it takes a toll on his self esteem, the cuts across his face, tummy, arms, etc.

- he didn’t really think about his looks after he saw what demons looked like, but it still eats away at him sometimes.

- imagine seeing him training and glancing in a window, his expression changing into an aggressive one at his own image - saying things how he looks disgusting, hideous, etc.

—

“sanemi! don’t say things like that!” you yell, running towards him. you knew sanemi quite well, especially since he was one of the most.. unique looking hashiras.

“[name]?! what the hell do you know? leave me alone.” he continues his training, turning away from you. “i heard what you said, and that’s untrue! you’re perfect! don’t say those things about yourself.” he stiffens at your confession but doesn’t stop training.

“what the hell? so you’re an eavesdropper? now scram!” he slashes one of the dummies heads clean off, you watch as his aggressive demeanor falters for a second after he finishes. “it’s not true, sanemi.”

he stays quiet, looking at the dummy - his face doesn’t change but you see him tightening his grip on his sword. “thanks [name].”

₊˚ପ⊹ giyu tomioka !!

- his biggest insecurity would also be his inferiority complex

- like tengen, he also feels inferior towards the other hashiras

- hence why he says he’s “different” than the rest of them.

- he isolates himself from the others quite frequently, and you begin to worry for him.

- imagine checking up on him and he’s laying in his bed, staring at the ceiling..

—

“giyu.. how are you doing?” you trot towards his bed, kneeling down. you’ve known giyu for a while, having a steady relationship - which has given him time to trust you. he stares for a bit before replying, “i’m tired today, i’ll get up soon.”

you look at him softly, placing a hand on his arm and he glances towards you - “i’m fine.” - “you’re not.” he looks back up toward the ceiling, he looks ill. “giyu, what happened? talk to me.” you squeeze his arm gently and he sits himself up, “nothing, [name]. i’m fine, just tired.”

you wait there, silent. you knew if you waited he’d eventually cave and tell you what’s wrong, and so he did. “i am different from the others, i am not like them.” - “what are you talking about? you’re as equal if not superior to the other hashiras. at least you are to me.” you smile at him, comforting his thoughts.

he sends you a weak grin before dropping it, “thank you, [name]. i will be fine, i promise.” - “i believe you, and please giyu - tell me if something is bothering you. i want to be here for you.”

₊˚ପ⊹ mitsuri kanroji !!

- her biggest insecurity would be her fear of rejection

- she’s always been concerned with the way she looks, acts, and how she appears to others.

- suppressing her true feelings, emotions, and personality in order to fit in.

- her being concerned that no one wants to marry her is a big deal to her, and it eats away at her constantly

- imagine you’re hanging out with her, and she asks you a question that makes you question her state of mind..

—

“[name], do you think anyone would want to marry me? be honest!” she asks, her cheeks burning - waiting for your reply. you look at her with wide eyes, chuckling at her question. “what do you mean? of course someone would want to marry you.” - “you’re not just saying that, right?”

looking into her eyes you can sense her lacking self esteem, you ask her why she feels like that and why is she asking you such a question? she falls silent, clutching onto her skirt - “it’s just.. what if i get rejected? i want to fit in y’know!” she confesses, tears prickling at her inner corners and you quickly go to console her.

“mitsuri! don’t be stupid, anyone would want to marry you! honest. listen, if i could marry you i would in a heartbeat! you’re the best person i’ve ever met.” she stares at you, then she begins to smile. “thank you so much [name]!! i just want to live happily ever after with someone.. y’know what i mean?!”

“yeah, i do.”

₊˚ପ⊹ obani iguro !!

- obani has many insecurities, but his biggest ones would have to be his appearance and background.

- growing up, the clan he was in never made him feel good enough. torturing him beyond repair.

- he’s grown up feeling worthless, and the scars across his mouth state just that.

- he can’t even look in the mirror without disgust, nor have friendships & relationships where he doesn’t feel inferior

- imagine seeing him without his mask on for the first time, and he freaks out - telling you how sorry he is for you to have witnessed something so horrific…

—

“[name]! sorry! i—“ he stutters, quickly reaching for his mask to wrap around his mouth - you just stare at him. “obani.. you look..” he cuts you off, clearly panicking.

“no, i know what you’re going to say. you don’t have to tell me twice, i know how disgusting i look.” you gasp at his words, there’s no way he just said that about himself. “obani, no! i wasn’t going to say that! you look great.. how can you ever say that about yourself?” you hurry over toward him, grabbing ahold of one of his hands.

“you don’t think so?..” he whispers, looking back at you with his yellow and blue eyes. “yes obani, you look amazing! i’m glad i saw you, now i really know what my friend looks like… and it looks great.” he smiles a little at your words, a pink hue laminating his cheeks out of slight embarrassment.

“thank you, [name].”

₊˚ପ⊹ muichiro tokito !!

- his biggest insecurity would be his forgetfulness

- i mean of course he would probably forget that insecurity because he forgets everything… however

- there are days when his mind is more clear, and he realizes all of the things he could achieve if he was always like that

- some days he wishes to himself to give him the ability to remember things more clearly, his friends, his things, his family.

- imagine finding him one day, seemingly upset over something you weren’t too familiar with until now …

—

“muichiro! hello!” you jog toward the boy who’s kneeled down on the ground, staring into the grass “hello? muichiro what are you doing?” you place your hands on your knees as you try to get a good look at his face, his cheeks were flushed and wet.

“muichiro? hey are you okay? talk to me.” you kneel down beside him and shake his shoulder a little, causing him to look at you. “huh? oh, hello. who..” he trails off, looking into your face - you look back at him sadly, he had forgotten you.

“muichiro it’s me, [name]. what are you doing? are you alright?” you ask, pulling your hand away from him and placing it onto your lap. “uh, i don’t know. i can’t remember.” he looks upset again, suddenly - a tear rolls down his cheek. “muichiro!”

“sorry, i just can’t remember.” he coils over and wipes a hand against his eyes, “i don’t know why i can’t remember.” - “muichiro it’s okay, please don’t cry. you’ll be alright, you’re here with me.” you smile at him and he looks up at you, his eyes glisten.

“i suppose, uh— sorry what was i talking about again?”

₊˚ପ⊹ shinobu kocho !!

- her biggest insecurity would also be an inferiority complex

- she’s extremely insecure of her physical body, and how she’s not as strong as the other pillars.

- she curses herself for not developing further, and wishes she could be as physically strong as the others …

- it eats away at her confidence and self esteem, locking herself away from the others wasn’t uncommon

- imagine having a deep conversation with her, and she admits to feeling ashamed of her physical body to you…

—

“what? you really think that?” you gawk, and she nods. “i’m quite ashamed, really. i wish i was as physically capable as the others… i trust you with this knowledge, [name]. do you think so too?” she looks into your eyes and you can’t help but feel your heart silently breaking for her.

“no, i don’t. that’s absurd that you think that! you’re quite beautiful! why would you ever think that about yourself? you are just as capable as the others.” she smiles sadly at your words, looking down into her lap. “i suppose.” she sighs.

“don’t beat yourself up for it, seriously. i can tell you one thing, i know for certain you’re smarter than most of the hashiras here..” you laugh a little at your own comment and she does too.

“thank you, [name]. that really makes me feel better, you’re a great person. i’m happy to have you in my life.”

—

that’s it! i’ve finished :) this was really fun to write!! i love writing for the hashiras but tend to only do it when someone requests since it takes up a lot of my time to get through all of them - and i like to post fast. hope you’ve enjoyed !! <3

REQUESTS : OPEN