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#vernon angst
lololololchips · 1 month
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COULD U DO BFF!VERNON (may or may not he bffs to lovers 🥺)
vernon is so bff to lovers coded ☹️☹️☹️
BUT HERE IT IS ENJOYYYY:)
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Vernon Chwe || bff to lovers texts with vernon
genre: fake texts, one shot au, fluff, bff x lovers arc, non!idols
warnings: cursing, fem pronouns, tiny angst, vernon being friendzone in the beginning 😓
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463 notes · View notes
nonranghaes · 2 months
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heads up! traumatized reader who wants touch but struggles w it. im just getting thoughts out rn.
"you can tell me to stop as soon as you're uncomfortable, alright?"
sometimes you think about measuring the distance between you and vernon, never sitting hip to hip, just to know the exact number. but this time you're trying. you inch in slightly, he shifts over. and you turn to him, eyes meeting his for a moment. your face is burning a little over this, too embarrassed that this is something you have to work towards. other people don't struggle with this (the mental comparisons never stop, unfortunately)--hell, you've seen him cuddle with friends before. sometimes you think he's a saint for putting up with you. and he... well, he says he likes you and that's enough to let him be patient.
you're the one who has to move in, and you do, slowly. he wraps an arm around you, drawing you in as you rest your head on his chest. you can hear his heart beating a little faster than you expected. he's nervous? of course he's nervous. you're nervous, too. as much as you just want to cuddle with him like normal couples do... there's the part of your brain that's terrified. vernon won't hurt you, you know he won't, and yet you can't squash that fear completely. it'll always be there, snarling and growling no matter how hard you try to tame it. you end up drawing your legs up over his lap, curling up closer to him.
"good?" he asks quietly. when you nod, he reaches past you, and shifts forward just enough that he can wrap a blanket around the both of you. "just say the word, alright?"
you nod. your heart is racing now. he's focused on the tv again, and your mind keeps flitting back to vernon. one of his arms is around you again, and the other is loosely draped over your legs, his other hand curled around your calf. it shouldn't bother you, you think, but it does. it's too much. but you've only been here for a few seconds. vernon seems so fine with it all--you can't even tell if he's excited or not to finally be this close to you. it feels like you're letting him down, but what if, what if, what if?
and then you break away from him without a word, already on the verge of tears. he doesn't say anything, but you feel the plush blanket get draped over your shoulders. when you look up, he's offering you his hand.
"baby steps. right?"
you nod. "baby steps."
hand holding and shoulder to shoulder contact it is, then. maybe next time.
452 notes · View notes
twogyuu · 5 months
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not really magic
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Pairing: Vernon x fem!reader
Synopsis: In which Jeonghan runs out of babysitter options, so he drops Nina off with Vernon and his girlfriend. Little do either of them know, just maybe the little girl is more capable of making them confront the questions of their future than most adults.
Genre: Fluff, mild angst, good helping of crack, established relationship, featuring ex!JJK
Warnings: Profanity, McDonald's PlayPlace
WC: ~6.3k
A/N: It's Nina from Wonwoo's Tasty Milk (and Cereal) causing chaos again! This has been in the works for a hot minute! Unedited and VERY cringe-y, cheesy, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! I'm kind of embarrassed to be publishing it tbh, but it's the most I've written in forever so I'm just publishing it and then running/hiding💀🤡 The thought that two people are mature enough to talk about these mundane things just makes me feel some type of way T^T
This wasn't inspired by any particular song, but kyungsoo's 'somebody' and sundial's 'rollercoaster' are quite fitting for this fic. Happy reading :)
. . . .
It was a well-known fact that Vernon was not very good with children. 
He was not unkind or inconsiderate towards them by any means, but he simply didn’t know how to interact or communicate with them.
And to be frank, though you were a little better than him, it was only by a margin because you had younger siblings at some point (they’re now grown) and kid cousins. It has been a while since you’ve been around children in general – he’d imagine you were rusty to some end. 
Consequently, it took him by surprise when Jeonghan called and you agreed to watch his four-year old daughter on Saturday while Jeonghan and his wife were at yet another wedding of their in-laws.
To be fair, however, Wonwoo and Leah were also attending, so their usual babysitter was already not an option. The backup, Mingyu and his best friend (cough, cough – situationship), were out of town attending a music festival. Seungkwan, the backup to the backup, was hosting someone’s bachelor party. The only other father of the group, Minghao, had his hands full with growing and surprisingly, wild twins. Seungcheol was an expecting parent – his wife could go into labor at any moment. The rest of the crew was only slightly less reliable than Vernon and you. 
He guessed that extra one percent must count for something. 
There was no doubt Jeonghan and his wife were still nervous about leaving Nina with the two of you – and rightfully so. 
Vernon and you were relatively young – in age, spirit, and well, your relationship. At least from what Jeonghan could observe, the two of you were clearly not ready for kids, whether they be your own or Jeonghan’s.
Vernon was terrified and he had a feeling Mr. and Mrs. Yoon were too. 
They perhaps trusted Vernon a little less than they did you because while Vernon was standing and staring down at Nina by the front door of your apartment, Jeonghan’s wife was going through a laminated sheet of instructions and tips with you in regards to caring for Nina in the next six hours. Hands on hips, Jeonghan was standing over his wife’s shoulder, offering supportive nods and stern, unhelpful ‘mhm’s’ to back her up. 
“Hello,” Nina finally squeaked, peering up at Vernon. 
She was definitely Jeonghan’s kid – it was in the eyes: brown, round, and innocent, but with a hint of mischief glaring in the corner of her irises. 
“Hey,” Vernon greeted back casually. 
“Where’s Uncle Wonwoo?” she asked. Her eyes wandered from the tall man and glossed over the unfamiliar apartment. 
“Uh,” Vernon panicked and stalled in his reply. 
Why the heck was she asking about Wonwoo? Vernon can’t remember already knowing his babysitter by name when he was four.  
“Uncle Wonwoo has a giant teddy bear in his house!” she marveled. Her tone was quick to dip into disappointment. “But I don’t see him here.”
Vernon felt his breath grow more shallow. By the power of Boo Seungkwan, he hoped this kid wouldn’t already start crying on him. 
He had to make her feel better. How do people make kids happy?
Games? They like games, right?
“Do you wanna play rock, paper, scissors?” Vernon blurted. 
Nina peered up at him again, face twisting as she processed the situation and her emotions – confused, curious, and amused. 
He would take it. 
Vernon silently held out his fist to the girl, waiting for her to take the bait. 
“What are you guys doing?” your voice floated into the vicinity, breaking the silence and awkwardness. 
Nina and Vernon looked over to find you standing with Jeonghan and his wife on either side of you. Vernon noted how the way his wife was dressed in a light blue and him in a dark suit, was eerily reminiscent of an angel and devil on your shoulders. 
“He asked if I wanted to play block, paper, scissors,” Nina explained quietly. She looked back nervously at Vernon. 
Granted Nina had not been around Vernon and his girlfriend a lot, her uneasy behavior around Vernon did not go unnoticed by Jeonghan. Nina was smart: wary of strangers, but never shy like this. Perhaps shy wasn’t the right word, but there definitely something going on in that little head of hers. As if she was calculating and observing, trying to decipher Vernon. 
You raised a curious eyebrow in the direction of your boyfriend.
“It’s rock, paper, scissors, Nini,” Jeonghan corrected his daughter softly. He skirted around you to come pick her up, a quiet grunt leaving his lips when he heaped her up into his arms. Nina curled into her dad’s chest. 
“We’ll be back in a little while, baby,” Mrs. Yoon walked over to the father-daughter duo. She rubbed the little’s cheeks with the back of her finger to soothe her. 
Nina lifted her head from her dad’s shoulder and whispered a little too loudly. “What if they’re not fun like Uncle Wonwoo?” 
“Nina,” her mom chided. 
“Dang, little girl,” you said under your breath. 
Vernon bit the inside of his cheek, holding back the urge to laugh. You were blunt for better or for worse. 
Jeonghan, her father a little more understanding knowing Vernon for longer, rubbed the little girl’s back. “They’ll be . . . just fine.”
. . . .
Vernon was not sure what Nina did exactly when she went over to Wonwoo’s place, but it must’ve been comparably better than what she was doing here. 
Shortly after Jeonghan left, the little girl dumped out the contents of her bag and began to busy herself with the rather few activities she brought along: a coloring book and a set of markers, a hard-covered picture book with a dog on the cover, a doll, and five pieces of those giant Legos. She burned through each item pretty fast – Vernon figured you could only stack the different colored blocks in various order so many times before you got bored. 
It was fortunate that Nina already had lunch before coming over and her mother had packed a simple snack of apples and peanut butter to bridge her to dinner. However, as the clock ticked closer to 6PM and the little girl was growing bored, you could also tell she was getting hangry. 
Vernon had tasked you with entertaining and playing with Nina. It wasn’t fair, but he figured Nina would like you better than him. He would just observe from afar and take some notes for next time. 
“Can I ask you something, Miss Y/N?” Nina wondered aloud. She brushed her doll’s hair with a small purple plastic brush. 
Sitting criss-crossed across from her, you hummed and nodded. “Sure, squirt – what is it?”
You didn’t think much of it. A four-year-old’s questions can’t be that deep. 
“Are you and Uncle Vernon like my mommy and daddy?” she looked up at you innocently. “And like Uncle Wonwoo and Auntie Leah? Why did mommy tell me to call you ‘miss’ instead of auntie?”
You choked, feeling your cheeks grow warm as you glanced over your shoulder at Vernon. Sure enough, his eyes were lifted from his phone and boring holes through your back – not without the slightest smirk and quirk of an eyebrow. He waited patiently for your answer. The question was honest and innocent – he wasn’t sure what was so funny about it to him or embarrassing to you, but it was. 
“Um, kind of,” you replied slowly. 
“Huh?” she crinkled her nose. 
“Uncle Vernon is, err . . . my boyfriend,” you explained, wondering if she understood the concept of stages in relationships. 
“Boyfriend?” Nina repeated. “Like . . . a friend boy?”
“N-no! No, no!” you exclaimed. Now, you didn’t want to give Jeonghan’s kid the wrong idea about being friends with boys meant a romantic relationship. “N-not . . . really.”
“Then you’re like mommy and daddy?” she said more certainly this time. 
“No,” you sighed, “Your mommy and daddy are married. Wonwoo and Leah are engaged – they’re going to get married. Uncle Vernon and I . . . like each other a lot but we. . . aren’t there yet.”
“Will you get married?” Nina asked innocently. 
“Um,” your voice trailed off, feeling your heart race at her bluntness. That decision wasn’t entirely up to you, but how did you explain that to a four-year-old? Gosh, why did she ask such hard questions in the first place?
The fortunate thing about being four was that your attention span wasn’t very long. 
Nina huffed, setting her doll onto the floor. “Miss Y/N, I’m hungry,” she rubbed her tummy. “Can we eat?”
You let out a small sigh of relief. Classic Yoon: puts you in your doom, but somehow also saves you from it. 
“Sure baby,” you reply, you threw Vernon a quick look over your shoulder. “Let’s see what’s in the fridge.”
“Um wait–” Vernon rose from his chair.
“Yay!” Nina cheered. She stood up excitedly and grabbed your hand. Despite her immense effort, not surprisingly, you don’t move much. “Does Uncle Vernon cook well? Uncle Wonwoo doesn’t, but Auntie Leah does.”
“Y/N, hold on,” Vernon jogged over and grabbed your other hand. 
You paused in your stride and peered at him through your lashes. You waited patiently for him to continue. Nina looked up the same and impatiently swung your linked hands around. 
“Um,” he played with your fingers quietly. His cheeks felt warm as he confessed, “We . . . I-I, um, haven’t gone grocery shopping yet.”
“Oh,” you said softly, putting the pieces together slowly. “So . . . what you’re saying is you don’t have food?”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. 
“Vernon,” you started. There was a scolding tone to it. “I told you to grab a few things before Nina came over.”
“I know, I know! I just got carried away with work and stuff,” he explained. 
You pulled your hand away from him, pressing your lips into a thin line. You can’t believe he didn’t do it! You had reminded him three days in advance and all the days to follow after. Per usual, your mind spun to the future. If he could pull through for this, what did it mean for when the two of you live together?
Just as you opened your mouth to say something, Nina suddenly let out a high-pitch shrill. “Yay!” 
You both startled and looked down at the little girl, confused. 
“Let’s have McDonald’s for dinner,” she stated firmly. 
Nina grinned wide. There was a mischievous glint in her dark brown eyes, one that was all too reminiscent of her father’s. 
She was a Yoon through and through, alright. 
. . . .
A quarter pounder, double cheeseburger, large fries, twenty pieces of McNuggets with one of each of the special sauces, Fanta, topped with a chocolate milk that Nina was sipping on was spread out on the two square tables you pushed together to hold all your food. This looked like it could feed a family of six, yet you were only three people. Originally, the plan was just to get Nina a Happy Meal, you and Vernon with your own individuals, but the little girl insisted on additional McNuggets and fries too – when you were in the bathroom. 
You were quick to learn that Vernon had little to no immunity to the little girl. It was understandable, but you hated playing the “bad cop” and disciplining her. 
“Wanna see a magic trick, Nina?” Vernon asked with his mouth full. 
She grinned at him, excitedly. 
Vernon’s expression mirrored her own and held up a McNugget in front of his palm. “Watch carefully.”
Nina nodded while stuffing a fry into her mouth. 
There was a dramatic pause, his free hand covering then uncovering the McNugget like he was casting some sort of spell on it. You too found yourself curiously watching from the opposite end of the table, your chewing slowing. 
His hand blocking the view of the McNugget, though you could clearly see his face from where you were sitting, he quickly stuffs the piece in his mouth. Vernon smiled brightly, with his mouth closed as he chewed, clapping his hands together as if he just puffed it into Dragon Land instead of his mouth. 
Nonetheless, Nina being a kid and equally fond of your boyfriend, marveled excitedly. 
You scoffed, shaking your head, mumbling a quiet ‘seriously’ under your breath. Vernon must have heard it though – his eyes flickered up at you momentarily while taking Nina’s hand in his own. 
You reached over and adjusted Nina’s tray. “C’mon Nina, finish your apple dippers – we gotta go.”
She turns her attention away from Vernon and back to you. She stared at you with wide-eyes, mildly creepily – you knew this look. It was reminiscent of when Jeonghan knew he just pissed off his wife, but she doesn’t know yet, and he was trying to butter her up before then (it never works though). 
Nina’s chubby little fingers clung tightly onto your forearm, nails digging into your skin as she jumped and whined. 
“Miss Y/N, do we have to go so soon?” she asked cautiously. She craned her neck towards the PlayPlace to one side of you. “Can we stay a bit longer? If I finish my Apple Dippers?”
Now you finally understood why Nina wanted to not only eat from McDonald’s, but also in it. 
“Nina,” you grabbed her wrist in an attempt to calm her down, “There’s a reason why your mommy doesn’t let you go inside the playground.”
“PlayPlace!” she was quick to correct you.
You huffed and repeated after her, “PlayPlace. Nina – we’re not going to disobey your mommy.”
“Why?! Daddy does it all the time,” she protested. 
You heard Vernon snort from the other side of the linoleum table. He was halfway through another Mcnugget, doing his best to suppress the grin forming on his face. 
“Your daddy and I are not the same,” you told her. “Besides,” you wrinkle your nose, “It’s disgusting in there – feet and all.”
“Miss Y/N!” she threw her head back in a howl. 
She gave you her best puppy eyes, but you didn’t budge.
As if a light bulb went off in her mind, she perked up and let go of you. Timidly, Nina circles around and approaches the other side of the table. Hands clasped behind her back, her fingers tangling with the strings that pulled her dress back, she peered up innocently at Vernon and offered him a friendly smile. 
“Uncle Vernon?” she asked. Her tone was completely changed from when she was begging you just seconds earlier. 
“Hm?” he hummed, oblivious as day to the little girl’s advances. 
“Will you play with me?” Nina continued. 
“Uh,” Vernon’s eyes flickered up to you and you simply leaned back in your seat, getting comfortable as you crossed your arms over your chest. 
To be frank, taking care of Nina with Vernon did not feel like it was with Vernon. From home to here, you were the little girl’s main companion on top of making sure she was safe, hydrated, and well-fed. Vernon trailed the two of you like a lost shadow. You were annoyed at his lack of contribution, to say the least. It’s not that you didn’t like Nina and you were trying to be understanding of Vernon, but taking care of a child (and low-key him) was difficult – your sanity mattered to! You weren’t Wonowoo – you could only say and take so much about Pokemon! 
Perhaps it was already too soon to be thinking about this, but it was difficult to ignore the voice at the back of your head, nagging about what this meant for you and Vernon in the future. Granted you both have only been dating for a little over a year, the question of marriage and kids were far and few. When they did arrive, it usually was in the form of a loose tease from Seungkwan about how the two of you were hopeless as parents. Vernon would just shake his head and laugh it off. 
He never seemed to take this topic quite seriously. Your passing comments about cute kids at the zoo or how the Penguins of Madagascar showing was filled with children and their parents, were taken lightly, when perhaps you didn’t really want them to be. 
You knew you wanted at least one kid, but did Vernon?
You needed to ask and you were aware, but you thought it was probably pretty ridiculous to bring this up already. I mean, this might not be forever, right? 
A lot has already changed in this year. 
A lot can change in a year. 
Your internal struggles aside, you were interested to see how Vernon handled Nina on his own. 
“Uncle Vernon?” Nina asked again, “Pretty please? I’ll eat all my apple dippers!”
“But your mom and Y/N . . .” his voice trailed off as he echoed your concern. 
“It’s okay! Mommy’s not here and I have you and Miss Y/N! And there are nets and mats,” she pointed out to him. 
Vernon hesitated – why was it so difficult for him to turn her down? He was an adult after all. 
 “I mean,” he rubbed the back of his head and looked up at you again. “I guess?”
You smirked, cocking an eyebrow at him. Maybe, out of spite, you’ll let this one go for once. Vernon can explain to Mrs. Yoon why her daughter reeks of feet and grease when they come to pick her up later tonight. 
“Whoo!” Nina cheered as she ran back to her seat next to you. She started shoving the last of her apple slices in her mouth in a haste, not even caring for the caramel dip. 
“Slow down, Nina,” you warned. 
“Uncle Vernon is the coolest!” she shouted instead. She grinned happily with pieces of apple stuck in her teeth, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
. . . .
It was an instant regret for Vernon. 
Currently, he was trapped in one of the blue plastic cube bridge pieces at the very top. He was far too grown for the PlayPlace and could not bulldoze through it like Nina. While the little girl easily maneuvered her way around the maze, Vernon could hardly crawl through it. He tried to curl into a small ball and waddle through, but that wasn’t helpful either. The extra creaking with each step was also not very reassuring. The only nice thing was that there weren’t other children in the PlayPlace right now; no douchey eight-year-old to hurry the fuck up. 
“Uncle Vernon, come on!” 
But, there was Nina. 
Her head popped into view, the netting separating him and her. “You’re so slow! We have to climb through all of this before Miss Y/N tells us to go!”
Vernon shifted uncomfortably, feeling his neck tighten from the cramped position he was in. “Maybe we should go,” he tried. 
“Nope, nope!” Nina shook her head furiously. “We’re already inside! There’s a slide at the end.” She curled her fingers through the netting and jumped excitedly. “We can go down and run back in before she sees us.” 
Vernon followed her nervous gaze towards you down on the floor. You’re seated at the same table the three of you were just eating at, scrolling through your phone. Despite your calm expression, Vernon could definitely tell, something wasn’t sitting right with you. 
“Let’s go!” Nina shouted.
“Nina, wait–”
However, the little girl was already crawling down the narrow corridor at the speed of a lab mouse trained to recognize a maze. 
Vernon sighed, sparing you one last glance before he continued. You’re watching him this time though. It was comical the way the contraption creaked again and the corner of your lips tweaked up as if to mock him. 
He looked away and followed in the general direction Nina had headed. He really shouldn’t be in here – what if one of the screws were loose and all just collapsed with one misstep?
Vernon felt guilty for thinking such thoughts knowing Jeonghan’s daughter was in here with him right now. He had to keep her safe! He can’t be manifesting these disasters. Turning the corner towards a light, Vernon decided that the goal would to slide out of here with Nina and not go in. Maybe, he could say it was because he would get in trouble with you or something. 
“Boo!” 
“Agh! What the fuck!” Vernon shouted. He tumbled towards an opening, hand resting on his chest. Searching his surroundings, he found Nina beside him, giggling. 
“Language!” he heard you shout in the distance. 
“Fuck!” Nina repeated. She hid a chuckle behind her hand.
“Don’t say that, Nina,” Vernon scolds her breathlessly. 
“But why?” she asked. “You did – do people say it when they’re scared? Fuck!” 
“Oh my god – Nina, stop,” he shook his head anxiously. “Th-that’s only a word, adults are allowed to say, okay? If you say it in front of Miss Y/N or your parents, you’re going to be in big trouble.”
“I can say it with you though, right, Uncle Vernon?” she whispered. “Fuck!”
“No, you cannot,” Vernon stated sternly. He looked at the opening. This must be the slide. He pointed to it and told the little girl, “Let’s go down, okay? I’ve had enough fun for tonight.”
“Aw,” Nina whined, “Already?”
There was another groan from the equipment – louder this time. He cannot stay here much longer.
“Yes,” Vernon nudged her towards the opening. “You first, I’ll be right behind you.”
“Fine,” she pouted. Her short arms hang onto the top rim, swinging back and forth to build momentum before launching herself down. “Whee!”
When Vernon heard her land on the other side, he stuck his legs, one by one, into the tube and tried to push himself down. 
Key word – tried.
He got stuck after sliding probably two feet. Vernon groaned and threw his head back. “Seriously?”
“Uncle Vernon?” Nina’s voice echoed through the slide. “Are you coming?”
“Y-yeah,” he used the heel of his Converse to nudge himself a little further. “Just stuck.”
“Oh no!” Nina cried. He heard her step into the slide again. “Should I come help you?”
“No, no, no!” Vernon exclaimed desperately, “Go back to Y/N – I’ll be out soon. Promise.”
The last thing he wanted to happen was for Nina to be crawling up and he suddenly crashed into her. 
“Okay.”
He let out a small breath of relief when he heard a soft landing of her shoes on the foam carpeting. Vernon inches down slowly, finally gaining some traction. He started to speed up with the combination of pushing with his hand, pulling himself forward, and static. When he saw the clearing, relief washed over him. 
However, as luck would have it, of course, he’s too damn tall for the opening. Vernon was cramped at the opening, knees tucked and arms squeezed between his body and the plastic. His neck was craned to the right – he could hardly look up at you and Nina who were hand-in-hand watching him. 
“Um,” he smiled sheepishly, “Help?”
Nina was a little faster than you, rushing over to his aid. Her added weight as she climbed onto the landing must’ve been the straw that broke the camel’s back because Vernon heard a sickening crack and his arm suddenly felt a little looser and freer. 
Well, fuck. 
. . . .
“Y/N!” 
You were bent over, hastily adjusting Nina’s sweater before the three of you left McDonald’s. You were irritable after quite literally breaking Vernon free from the PlayPlace slide. It was embarrassing to have to explain to the teen McDonald’s employee that your boyfriend created a crack in the slide, when there was a sign that quite literally said no one older than eight years-old was allowed to enter the contraption. 
When you look up, your eyes immediately widen as you’re greeted with the sight of your ex, Jungkook. 
His hair was a little longer now, and permed, the tips of his bangs hanging over his bright doe eyes. His fashion didn’t seem to change – still sporting the simple jeans and baggy t-shirts; a plaid flannel was tied to waist. What took you aback, when perhaps it shouldn’t have, was the petite girl in a white sundress who wrapped her hand tightly around Jungkook’s arm when she saw you. 
All thoughts of Nina, who was standing between you and Vernon, fled your mind. You stiffened, unsure of how to respond and what to say, other than a strained ‘hi.’ 
It wasn’t that Jungkook has a sore spot in your memory – in fact, your breakup was mutual and as good as anyone could ask it to be. After four years of dating since high school, you realized you both grew into different people, and therefore, apart in college. It was a mutual loss of feelings for one another, a mutual agreement that you should go your separate ways. Of course, you were sad for a short bit, but nothing of a heartache. 
Nonetheless, there was a part of you that wished he didn’t see you when you were upset with your current partner. Jungkook probably did not have those sort of malicious thoughts, like ‘didn’t know how good she had it with me,’ and it was most certainly all in your head. 
Or perhaps it was you? You wanted to show him you were doing well, but you couldn’t fake it at this moment. 
All in all, the reappearance of your ex, only made you feel more insecure for some reason. Maybe Vernon wasn’t the right person for you even if deep down you wanted him to be. You knew your break up with Vernon would be much worse than the one with Jungkook. 
“Nice to see you again,” Jungkook tried. His eyes flickered to Vernon – they weren’t close, but they knew each other peripherally from mutual friends. Jungkook quickly added, “The both of you.”
“Likewise,” Vernon piped up in a neutral tone. 
“Um,” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, looking from Vernon to you and back. Momentarily, he glossed over Nina, an idea of the situation clearly forming in his head. “Are the two of you . . .?” his voice trailed off. 
It must’ve come as a surprise to see you and Vernon together like this for neither of you were close in university. This relationship was almost a surprise to you and Vernon, yourselves. You couldn’t blame Jungkook for being puzzled.
At this, Vernon reached for your hand and cleared his throat. He gave you a firm squeeze, resting his free hand on Nina’s shoulder. To be frank, Vernon didn't care what idea exactly Jungkook was getting – the point was, you were together. Boyfriend-girlfriend, husband-wife, father-mother. Jungkook could think Nina was somehow your kid and he wouldn’t mind. 
“We are," Vernon finally answered firmly.
You turned to your boyfriend with wide eyes. 
“Oh,” Jungkook said softly. “I’m happy for you guys.”
“Thanks, I am too,” he looked back at you nonchalantly before nodding in Jungkook’s direction. “On that note, we should be on our way.” He ushered Nina towards the door. “Enjoy your meal.”
. . . .
When the three of you returned to your apartment, you started preparing Nina for bed. It was clear to Vernon that something was bothering you – you were quiet for the rest of the evening, diving head first in taking care of Nina. And to be honest, something bothered Vernon too since encountering Jungkook. 
Vernon did not envy others, nor did he claim to be perfect. It wasn’t that he was jealous of Jungkook and the unknown, presumably happy past that you had with him. What happened, happened and you were with Vernon now. He’d like to think you were satisfied with this relationship just as much as him. Nothing would change that. Vernon was content with who he was, who he had become, and who he was next to you. Nonetheless, Vernon was only human – insecurities were inevitable despite his best efforts. 
He knew this turbulence making him solemn was irrational. You had not given him a reason to doubt you and he never did to begin with. Despite knowing this, it didn’t make this feeling any less real. 
Did you regret breaking up with Jungkook? Was Jungkook a better boyfriend than Vernon? 
From what Vernon has heard through the grapevine, Jungkook happened to be every girl’s dream in university. Good-looking and adventurous, yet still respectful and caring. 
Vernon thought he looked alright, but his style was unconventional. He liked to take the city bus around at night if that counts as being adventurous?
For fucks sake, Vernon was no Jeon Jungkook. Vernon was in fact just stuck in a slide today. 
Though he knew it was unproductive to ponder these things, it was what kept him preoccupied as he put Nina to bed. 
“You should kiss Miss Y/N,” Nina stated randomly. 
Vernon furrowed his brows at the little girl. 
“She looks sad and you do too,” Nina explained. She laid her small hand over Vernon’s. “That’s what daddy does when mommy is sad.”
“I think it’s time for you to go to sleep,” Vernon sighed, pulling the blanket up to cover her chest. 
“Do you love Miss Y/N, Uncle Vernon?” Nina asked. 
God, the gall of kids – always asking the hardest, but most important questions obliviously. 
“Miss Y/N said earlier that you’re her boyfriend,” Nina continued. She kicked her feet under the covers. “Do you have to love each other to be boyfriends? Kind of like mommy and daddy are mommy and daddy because they love each other? Or Uncle Wonwoo and Auntie Leah? Miss Y/N didn’t tell me earlier when I asked about getting married.”
Did he love you? Did he want to marry you?
Vernon hesitated to answer and to be frank, he hated that he was. However, it wasn’t because he didn’t – these questions of the future were just overwhelming and he enjoyed what you had now. Alas, if things were to progress, he’d have to have answers to them soon. 
“If I’m being honest, I don’t know, kid,” Vernon mumbled. He planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “Good night, Nina.”
He didn’t wait for her to reply, turning and making his way to the door. 
“You should still kiss her, Uncle Vernon!” Nina whispered in the dark. “Good night!”
. . . .
When Vernon exited your bedroom where Nina was residing for the rest of the evening, he found you sitting on the kitchen counter. Your head is hung, eyes swarmed with questions like his own. Your legs swing back and forth, gently knocking against the cupboards. There’s an open bag of Cheeze-Its sitting next to you. 
Vernon walked over, quietly and cautiously. He knew you knew he was present, but didn’t acknowledge him. Tenderly, Vernon reached for your hand, loosely weaving his fingers in between your own. Eyes slowly rising to look at you, he mindlessly ran thumb along the side of your hand. He offered you a wistful smile as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear with his other hand. His touch lingered across your cheek.
“Wanna talk about it?” he asked softly. 
You paused for a moment, eyes flickering up to the ceiling before falling to your lap again. You let out a heavy breath. Your heart swelled, appreciating how he always made these kinds of moments feel a little easier.
“I’m sorry,” you muttered. 
“For what?” Vernon asked despite having a pretty good idea of what you were referring to.  
“What happened at McDonald’s, running into Jungkook,” you explained, “Today.”
He hummed in understanding. “What about today, exactly?”
It was hard to hold your gaze – it was scary, but he knew he had to. He tried his best to put on an encouraging expression, knowing that this conversation, and further, this relationship would not go anywhere if neither of you were present, physically and mentally, and trying to avoid it. 
Only the ticking of the wall clock filled the room, deafeningly so. It was slowly drowned out by the sound of blood starting to rush in his ears, tension growing thick with each passing second. 
Your voice barely above a whisper, you took a shaky breath and confessed, “I like you a lot, Chwe . . . and,” you inhaled sharply, squeezing his hand. “That terrifies me.” You swallowed harshly, “Because what if you don’t feel the same? Or we want different things? I think I’d be . . .heartbroken.” A melancholic chuckle left your lips and you shook your head. “That's why sometimes, I feel like I treat you like such - we get too close and I push you away.”
The fear in losing him was evident in the terror that etched its way in between the space of your brows. Vernon was sympathetic; simultaneously, his heart swelled like a balloon rapidly being filled with water to the rim, threatening to burst at one final drop. The adrenaline that rushed through his veins felt like that of being confessed to by a middle school crush behind the bleachers of the soccer field, except, well, you and him were already together.
“I was worried there for a second,” Vernon stated truthfully. 
Your eyes whipped up. 
He played with your fingers. “I thought you were regretting dating me for a sec.”
“Oh?” you said softly. 
“I was kind of not the best boyfriend today either and then we saw Jungkook and I thought maybe you felt differently about me,” he explained. 
“Vernon, no!” your hands reached up to cup his face.
“I mean, can you blame me?” he chuckled half-heartedly, “I got stuck in a slide when you told us not to go.”
“I think today,” started slowly, “Made the both of us think a lot about us and what the future holds.”
“So, it wasn’t just me,” Vernon acknowledged quietly. He thought to himself momentarily before continuing. “What do you want?” You stared at him owlishly, your desires on the tip of your tongue, but fearful to share them with him. “We can’t move past this if we don’t talk about it.”
When you still didn't reply, Vernon offered, “I can tell you what I want?” 
You nodded once. 
“I think dating you for a few more years sounds okay,” he started, staring off to the side. He nodded, better affirming his words. 
He paused, making you grow anxious – does that mean he planning on breaking up with you?
“And then, maybe . . . being married sounds nice too – nice is an understatement,” the words felt unfamiliar as they fell from his lips, but he kind of liked it. “It seems far away, but I’d really love that.” 
This was something he hadn’t told anyone before because he never felt quite the same with them as he did with you. It wasn’t just easy and comfortable being with you – it was something more. It was in hard moments like this, where these conversations were difficult, but you both still managed. It was in lighter moments, where he could enjoy your company and feel relaxed. It was everything in between. 
Call him corny, but maybe the word ‘love’ can’t encompass it all that he felt for you. 
His face stretched into a grin when you chortle and shake your head. Playfully, you push him away, but Vernon was quick to catch onto your wrists. “You did really well with Nina today.”
“I think she liked you more than me,” you mumbled. 
“What do you think of Nina?” he asked. 
“She’s Jeonghan’s daughter, alright,” you joked. 
“She did suggest I kiss you tonight,” Vernon remarked, remembering his chat with the little girl before this. 
“Well,” you wrap your arms around his neck, “Do you . . . want to?”
Vernon answered by leaning in, lightly pressing his lips against yours. It’s fleeting, but still filled with the same sincerity as every other passionate kiss you’ve shared before. 
“If you want kids though, I’m not sure I’m ready for them yet,” Vernon said when you pulled away. 
“Oh with how you broke that slide, that’s certain,” you joked. 
“Does that mean you do?” 
“A family? With you?” you wrinkled your nose playfully. “Nonsense.”
He knew that look – when you don’t really mean what you say, but rather the opposite. Despite all the angst prior, this conversation was surprisingly easy to have. Maybe that was the lesson to be learned: not perfection, but just doing. 
Vernon chuckled, about to lean for another kiss when suddenly Nina’s familiar shrill shattered the moment. He jumped away from you as if you were delinquents caught by your mothers making out in the kitchen. 
“Mommy said we shouldn’t sit there like that!” she squealed, her fingers pointing at you on the counter. 
"Nina, you're supposed to be sleeping," you scold.
“We shouldn’t sit there like that though,” Vernon acknowledged. He walked over and helped you down, not without pulling you into his side though. You’re a little stunned with him being so affectionate suddenly – not that he never was, but he usually showed it in other ways, smaller gestures like the kiss he’s pressing into your temple now. 
Nina eyes the both of you curiously, the situation being pieced together slowly in her tiny head. It was visible when she put it all together, her eyes lit up. 
“Are guys getting married now!?”
Or not. 
. . . .
Epilogue
“Hey dad,” Nina tapped Jeonghan’s forearm. Pushing a piece of kimchi between his lips, he hummed softly and glanced over at his daughter. “Do you want to see a magic trick? Uncle Vernon taught me.”
When did Vernon start learning magic tricks?
“Sure,” he nodded, curious to see what his friend taught his daughter. 
With her training chopsticks with Ryan Bear on one end, she holds up a slice of pork in front of her hand. Shielding it with her other hand, she stuffed the piece of meat quickly in her mouth and shouted, “Ta-da!”
Jeonghan swallowed his food harshly and narrowed his eyes at his daughter. “Squirt – what?”
“Did you like it?” she grinned happily, returning to her food. 
“You j-just . . . ate your pork though?” Jeonghan stated. 
“Mhm! Magic!” Nina chirped. She giggled happily and took Jeonghan by surprise by shouting, "Fuck!"
Jeonghan nearly spat his water out, the profanity ringing in his ears. "Who taught you that word!?"
"Uncle Vernon too!" she kicked her feet happily.
Jeonghan ran a hand over his face and mumbled under his breath, “Oh dear - Yoon Nina, in this household, we do not use that kind of language do you hear?"
Nina's joy simmered down and she shrank back, nodding understandably. She knew when her dad used that voice, she shouldn't push her boundaries further.
His wife popped her head into the room upon hearing his brewing. 
Jeonghan sighed exasperatedly and turned to his wife, "I think we should stop hiring my friend’s as Nina’s babysitters.”
641 notes · View notes
yeoblurbs · 8 months
Text
Honest
Angst with a happy ending & Hurt/comfort
Pairing: Hansol Vernon Chwe x Fem!Reader
WC: 2.07k
Warnings: Small mention of aggressive physical behavior in the first paragraph (not any members), mentions of a child needing surgery, a few curse words, crying, & subtle hints of anxiety
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When Hansol is angry with you, he is honest.
he does not yell; the notion of using a misplaced sense of dominance with a masculine shout is unthinkable to him. he does not grab you aggressively, the thought of touching you in a way that wasn’t intimate and gentle never crossing his mind. and Hansol does not use your feelings against you; words shared in whispers passed through dark nights are kept safe within him, a heart-shaped lock as protection that only you have the key to.
so when Hansol is angry with you, he is calm and honest. except that is what hurts you most. it is the fact that everything he says comes straight from the heart. and while you’re thankful he isn’t explosive when angry, his truthful words find a way to harm you more than he realizes.
“I’m just saying, you could stand to be a little more responsible.” he shakes his head, frowning at you in disappointment. “You’re a grown woman, how can you possibly misplace something so important to me; to us?”
your stomach rolls uncomfortably at the implication that you didn’t care enough about your ring to keep it safe. it wasn’t like you did it on purpose. you know how much that ring means to Hansol especially, having been a family heirloom that has been passed down from generations.
but you worked at a hospital, and had no choice but to take it off each time you walked into a surgery. Hansol knew that, but it seemed you needed to remind him. “Don’t make it sound like that, Hansol,” you say briskly, wiping your cheeks. “You know how much I have to take it off, I just refuse to keep it at home because I want it with me at all times.”
He scoffs, “Well, look how that turned out for you.” and your face crumples miserably at his words.
he goes to grab his keys, and you reach for his arm instinctively, “Where are you going? You’re just going to leave while we’re in the middle of something serious?”
he looks you in the eye, giving you a blank stare as he gently removes your hand from his arm. always so soft, even when he’s angry, you think sadly.
“I think we’ve discussed everything needed already. I understand where you’re coming from, but I’m still upset,” he sighs, and you’re not sure what expression shows on your face, but if it’s anything close to how you feel then you’d assume it is the epitome of heartbreak.
“I’m just going to hang out with Shua today, I’ll see you later tonight, okay?” he says, kissing your forehead when you nod brokenly. and with that, he’s out the door, and you finally allow yourself to collapse into sobs.
how could you have been so stupid? misplacing his mother's ring, the most cherished item Hansol has; something he had given to you, entrusted to you. you ignore the incessant tears cascading down your cheeks and think of what you can do. you need to fix this; you need to find the ring.
-
“Dude, you know you’re not being fair with her, right? You know her profession, she literally has no choice but to remove all the shit from her hands.” Joshua reprimands from his place in his kitchen, Hansol sitting on his couch with a cup of coffee.
He blows on it softly, watching the steam disappear before returning. “I know, I know, but you have to understand why I’m so upset too. That ring meant so much to my mother, so much to me. She showed it to me when I was a child and told me it was meant for the one I love most.” he feels his frustration building again and takes a gulp of his drink.
Joshua walks out of the kitchen, coming to sit on the couch next to Hansol. “I get it, I really do, but don’t you think Y/n is also upset about losing it? You’re making it seem like you are the only person who’s upset and who had an attachment to the ring,” he clicks his tongue, “and I know Y/n loved that ring just as much as you did, otherwise you would’ve never given it to her.”
Hansol sits there processing his words, before putting his mug down on the coffee table in front and rubbing his hands on his face. he knows Joshua is right, and now he feels like an ass. “Fuck, okay. You’re definitely right but I kind of- well I did, invalidate her feelings while talking with her.” he looks stressed when he lifts his head, facing Joshua. “I need to apologize.”
“Well, that much is clear.” Joshua nods, patting his friend on his shoulder comfortingly. “Listen, Y/n is quite literally fucking whipped for you. I have never seen someone so in love,”
Hansol smiles at his words, butterflies erupting in his stomach at the thought of your adoring eyes. Joshua giggles at Hansol's smitten expression, “You just need to apologize and reassure her that she is worth more than that ring, because from what you’ve told me, your last conversation made it seem like you had your priorities fucked.” he shrugs.
“Plus, you leaving instead of reassuring her probably made things worse; in fact, she’s probably crying right now.” he points out, eyeing Hansol’s face and waiting for a reaction; and a reaction he gets.
Hansol immediately stands up, throwing on his sweater and grabbing his keys before running to Joshua and hugging him from the couch, “Thank you so much, Shua. I literally don’t know what I’d do without you.” he mumbles. Joshua pats his head softly, “I know, no need to thank me. Just go get your girl, Nonie.”
Hansol nods and flashes him a gummy smile before slipping on his shoes and running out the door.
Joshua shakes his head from the couch, chuckling to himself, “These kids.”
-
Hansol struggles to get the key from his pocket, balancing a bouquet of pink Lilies in one hand and your favorite food in the other. He manages to get the door open and attempts to be quiet as he places the items on the dining table.
the apartment is silent; he squints his eyes in confusion. “Baby? Y/n?” he calls, opening your bedroom door and finding the bed neatly done without you there.
his eyes scan the entire room before he bolts to the living room, frantically looking for you and realizing you’re not there. he immediately fumbles for his phone and clicks your contact. he puts it to his ear, “Pick up, come on Y/n pick up,” he whispers.
“Hi, sorry, you’ve reached my voicemail-”
he hangs up the phone and decides to text you.
To: y/n<3
[06:30]
Baby??? Can you pick up please? [Unread]
I’m sorry for earlier, but I’d like to talk about it now if that’s okay. [Unread]
[07:30]
I’m trying not to do the over protective boyfriend stuff but i’m getting a little anxious, my love. [Unread]
I would understand if you’re mad at me, but would you please just call me back? Please? [Unread]
[08:25]
You’re worrying me, just tell me you’re okay. [Unread]
Let’s talk about it, please? I’m not mad anymore, I just want you to respond, I’m getting worried baby. [Unread]
[09:00]
Y/n, I’m begging you to just tell someone you’re okay. I’ve called around and no one knows where you are. [Unread]
If you don’t want to come home, that’s fine, but please let us know that you’re safe. [Unread]
Hansol is two seconds from leaving his apartment and physically searching for you himself before the front door opens. his head snaps up, watching you sniffle and hang your coat up, placing your keys on the counter with a sigh.
he walks to you with quick steps, and you jump, startled when you look up and he’s right there. you open your mouth to speak, but he grabs your waist gently, pulling you into him.
“Where were you?! You didn’t pick up any of my calls, I was so fucking worried, Y/n.” he cards a hand through your hair, trying to soothe not only you, but himself.
you overcome your shock and place your hands on his arms, moving away so you can look at him, “I’m sorry, Nonie. My phone died and I didn’t have anyone else’s to use.”
Hansol makes a face at your words, staring at your appearance. your hair is messy, your eyes are swollen, and you look utterly exhausted; Hansol wants to cry at your disheveled look. “Baby, you can’t just go out for hours on end without telling a single person where you’re going, and then not respond to any of your calls or texts.” he flicks your forehead softly and you pout in response.
“I… was thinking about our conversation earlier,” you murmur, and Hansol's face softens. “I had misplaced the ring before an eight-to-ten-hour surgery.” tears fill your eyes again as Hansol cups your face, wiping them before they can fall. “I was so tired, and it was a little boy and I just… my head wasn’t there and I forgot where I placed the ring beforehand.” you sniffle, looking at Hansol's chest to avoid his eyes.
he lifts your face gently with the hand cupping your cheek and pecks your lips once. “I am so incredibly fucking sorry. you did nothing wrong, I was being an unreasonable ass.”
you stare into his irises, bottom lip pushing out as he swipes over it, “It’s okay, Nonie,” you whisper. but he shakes his head in response, “It’s absolutely not okay. You’re allowed to be really freaking mad at me right now, baby. You’re too forgiving.” he smiles, kissing your temple, “But that’s one of the many things I love about you, I guess.”
“You guess?!” you scrunch your nose at him, and he laughs, gums peeking out adorably as he kisses your nose. “I love everything about you, you know that.” your cheeks redden, and you look away with a faux sulk. Hansol is momentarily distracted by the very cute face you are making, when he remembers what he’s been worried about for hours.
“Okay, I understand why you lost the ring, and really, I’m not mad about it anymore, but that doesn’t really explain where you’ve been all these hours.” he reminds gently, tucking your hair behind your ears.
you look up at him somewhat abashed, “Ah… right. So after our conversation, I decided to… look for the ring?” you squeak out the last part, and Hansol looks at you incredulously, “You’ve been searching for the ring for hours?” he shouts, and you shrink in on yourself at his tone.
Hansol sighs when he looks at your expression, lowering his voice, “Baby, I’m really not mad, at least not at you.” he ruffles his hair with one hand. “I’m just so pissed at myself for letting you think you had to go search for it for hours. I wish you didn’t have to put yourself through that.”
he cups your face, drawing you closer as your noses touch, “No ring in this entire universe is worth as much as you. I can replace a ring, heirloom or not; but there is only one you, and I would give up everything for you.”
you can’t help yourself and drag your hand up his neck, into his hair as you pull his head down, lips touching his. he kisses you with fervor; with love, and you smile into the kiss, prompting Hansol to do the same. when you part, he pecks you over, and over again, until you’re giggling and pushing him away as he laughs.
with bright eyes, he grabs your hand and drags you to the couch, forcing you to sit down. you look up at him questioningly, “I bought your favorite, wait here and I’ll reheat it.”
you nod with a smile and he kisses your cheek before running to the kitchen.
that night, Hansol reassures you with more kisses and cuddles, promising you all the love he has to offer. the two of you go to bed, your face tucked into his neck as you breathe in his soft cologne, staring at the pink Lilies sitting in a vase beside you.
you fiddle with the ring on your finger as you smile into Hansol's neck, eyes drooping on the verge of sleep. well, you could surprise Hansol with the ring tomorrow, you supposed, after all, he was yours and you were his, regardless of any ring.
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a/n: well… I ignored the several almost completed drafts I have just to write this in one night. first Seventeen fic, had to do Vernon<3
567 notes · View notes
bookyeom · 1 month
Text
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pairing: vernon x reader word count: 3.7k warnings: angst (she did it y’all!!!!), swearing, kissing, wet!vernon
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Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary. Happy Birthday, Bononie!
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kissing in swimming pools by holly humberstone
do you think we were made to last in the coldest of weather? maybe i don’t have to leave so soon you look heavenly in this shade of blue
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Vernonie [8:48pm]: finally back from dinner
Vernonie [8:49pm]: everyone’s gone btw, so i’ll come get u now?
Y/N [8:51pm]: yeye! Just text when ur outside 
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You hear his car before you see it. 
His parents must have kept his old, beat-up car from high school for when he came back for the summer, you muse, and it makes you smile. You’d spent a lot of time in that car, listening to whatever new indie band Vernon had “discovered” that week, or eating take-out in the department store parking lot after hours, or your personal favourite: with the engine shut off at the lookout Vernon had discovered on his way home from work one day, tucked away from most of the world as the two of you reclined in his car seats and looked at the night sky. 
You used to wonder if it was there that you fell in love with him, but the truth is that you loved him long before he showed up at your door at 1am, eyes wide with excitement over his new discovery, and brought you there in your pajamas. 
You still have the hoodie he’d leant you that night in the closet of your childhood bedroom.
Tonight, you shut the door quietly behind you out of habit, twisting the knob so it doesn’t make a sound. You’re long past the days of sneaking out, but your muscle memory won’t quit. 
It’s been eight months since you last saw Vernon. You only came home for two days at Christmas, claiming you couldn’t take that much time off from your part time job, and had managed to avoid him. You had still needed the space from him, then. December had only marked four months since he’d broken your heart, and you weren’t sure at the time if you’d ever be able to look him in the eye again. 
The months after Christmas break had finally begun to heal you. Your new semester had started, and you had decided to dive headfirst into both academic and social endeavors instead of wallowing away in your dorm room. You’d finally made new friends, your grades had improved, and while it still hurt to see his name when it popped up across your social media platforms, it wasn’t all you thought about anymore.
Right now, you kind of can’t wait to see him.
“Hi,” you say, breathless, and when Vernon meets your eyes, you know you’re not breathless because of the jog from your front door to his car. 
He looks good. His hair is a bit longer, curling at the ends and falling softly across his forehead, and you think his shoulders have filled out. His jaw is just as sharp, eyelashes just as long, and you immediately wonder how you’d gone so long without him. 
“Hi, stranger,” he says, and you’re terrified that the sound of his voice might tear you apart — but it doesn’t. You hold firm, despite the sound of your heartbeat roaring loud in your ears. It hurts, but it’s a dull ache instead of the sharp pain you’re used to. Seeing him sends a wave of relief through you instead of the dread you’d been half expecting, and you can feel the tension in your chest ease just the slightest bit. You can do this. Because it’s Vernon, and because life sucks without him. 
You stare at each other for a few moments, and then he raises an eyebrow as if in a challenge, and you can’t help it. You break into a smile, and then you’re surging across the middle console and pulling him in for a hug. He laughs against your neck, and you know he’s just as happy to see you as you are him. The hand that was on the steering wheel finds your back, and your eyes fall shut. 
“I missed you,” you say honestly, and you swear you can feel him exhale.
“Yeah,” he says before squeezing you tight, once. Brief, but enough for you to feel it, to understand, as he adds, “Me too.”
You pull back. Vernon puts the car into drive as you click on your seatbelt, and you fall into an easy, comfortable silence as he begins to make the familiar way back to his place. 
When you texted him a few weeks ago, your hands trembling but determined, you hadn’t been sure what he would say. You hadn’t spoken in months.
For a while, you didn’t think you’d ever get over the rejection of last August, but a year away at university had done you good. It was full of distractions; you’d even had a couple of flings here and there. Vernon had texted you a bit at first, because you’d insisted that you were fine, but it had hurt to see his name show up on your phone. You had responded slowly, using any and all excuses to explain away the days that passed without you answering. You’d texted sparingly throughout the year on birthdays and holidays, and you knew he watched your stories the same as you watched his. You knew he knew the real reason why you were distant, but he never pushed. After all, he’d broken your heart, not the other way around. 
Eventually, you had recognized that the distance was helping, and conversations between the two of you had become even more sparse after that. It had been hard — one of the hardest things you’d ever had to do — but you’d needed the space. So when his response to your text a few weeks ago had come quickly and enthusiastically, a Vernon-esque “bet :)” in response to your ask to hang out when you got home for the summer, you had been so relieved that you’d cried. Though you’d known he would never hate you, deep down a small part of you had still been afraid that you’d pushed him away for good.  
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The silence in the car tonight is comfortable, and you’re grateful. Vernon is tapping in tune to the beat on his steering wheel while you hum along in quiet contentment. After a couple of songs that you recognize play in a row, you turn to him in surprise. 
“Is this the playlist I made you for your birthday two years ago?” 
Vernon simply nods, eyes on the road as he makes a turn. “Yeah.” 
“Oh.”
Vernon laughs. “Am I not supposed to listen to it?”
“Just surprised me, that’s all.”
”Okay, weirdo.” 
The conversation moves on, but you don’t forget about it, even as you pull up to Vernon’s childhood home. 
It looks almost exactly the same. You follow Vernon up the steps and to the front door, through the foyer and to the kitchen where you used to help his mom prep for their summer barbecues. He tosses you a bottle of water wordlessly before he’s slipping out the back door without warning, and you trail behind without question. His peculiar mannerisms don’t faze you, even after all this time apart, and that realization brings you a warm sort of comfort.
As soon as you step through the back door and into the warmth of the summer evening air again, you can’t help but smile. This, too, remains unchanged. The heated pool with its blue and white tiled sides; the metal table with its umbrella, a single tip bent out of shape so that it sags just in one small part; the overgrown trees whose leaves spill over the sides of the wooden fence. You’d spent many days and nights here, too. 
You join Vernon, who’s already sitting on the edge of the pool with his legs hung over the sides. 
“Damn, you didn’t waste any time, Sol.” The nickname falls out before you can stop it. It’s been so long since you’ve been around him, since you’ve even let yourself think of him as anything other than Vernon. If he notices your slip up, he doesn’t say.
”It’s hot out,” he points out, simple. “Why wait?” He takes a swig of his own water bottle, and you’re smiling again.
You join him without further comment. 
Quiet settles between the two of you again, which would be fine if you weren't suddenly itching to ask him a million questions. How was his first year of university? How are his parents, his sister? Is his favourite food still carne asada tacos? Does he still only own t-shirts and jeans? Is he… seeing anyone?
Is he happy?
Had he really missed you?
“I’ll be right back.”
You’re surprised when Vernon gets up, barely missing you with the water he sends splashing as he does. But you don’t question him, your legs swinging back and forth in the water. You watch the underwater lights distort in the ripples you make, distracted by the simple movements and your racing thoughts. When you hear him re-emerge, you turn to find him with two towels in hand. Your eyes widen and you frantically shake your head.
“I didn’t bring a bathing suit, Vernon.” And I am not getting into that pool with you in just my underwear.
He pulls something out from under one of the towels, and you recognize it as one of his favourite band tees that he’s had for years. He raises his eyebrows at you, eyes twinkling in a teasing challenge, and you narrow your eyes at him. The smile on his face briefly sends you reeling back — back to before that night last summer when everything changed. Back to when he was just your best friend who liked to tease you for fun, who brought you your favourite ice cream every movie night, who took you to your high school graduation dance even though you knew he would have rathered gouge his eyes out with a spoon. 
Back to when you were in love with him, but he didn’t know yet. 
“Fine,” you say. “I’ll get in.”
He grins, and your chest does a little flip-flop. You forcefully ignore it as you take the shirt from his outstretched hand. He turns around to give you privacy, and you keep your eyes on his turned back as you remove everything except your underwear and his shirt. Though he’s grown up now and wears things that fit him better — you had noticed the bomber jacket in his backseat, and the t-shirt he’s wearing that fits him just right — he used to love things that were three sizes too big. The old, worn shirt just brushes your thighs, but you don’t have time to think anymore about it when he moves to pull his own shirt up and over his head. 
You watch the muscles in his back contract, and you swallow. Don’t go down this road again, you tell yourself. It’s just going to hurt like hell.
If you’re honest with yourself, you’re starting to wonder if you’d ever really strayed from that path in the first place.
Because when he turns back to you with raised eyebrows and a smile, when he pulls you with him by the hand, it hits you with as much force as the cool water you jump into. And when you resurface and your eyes find him already looking back at you, his hair sticking up every which way and water dripping from his lashes down onto his cheeks, it hits you again.
That you don’t know if there will ever be anyone else for you but him.
You turn away from him, running your hands through your hair, trying desperately to keep your cool. You feel like you’re being punched in the stomach, like that sharp pain you’d felt since last August had never left. You thought you were ready to see him again, and you had been so, so wrong. 
You can feel all those months of mending, of trying desperately to get over your feelings for him so you could have him back in your life — you can feel them as they slip away. 
“I’m sorry,” was all he’d said that night, and your heart had shattered into a thousand pieces. You could tell through blurry eyes that he was hurting, too, because he loved you, you knew he did. Just not like that. He hadn’t said anything else, even though it looked like he wanted to, and you just didn’t understand. You thought for sure that he felt the same, because he’d kissed you back, because you knew him just as well as he knew you. 
And it really felt like you’d healed. Just an hour ago, you’d even been excited to see him again.
You will yourself to breathe.
“Hey. I’m sorry I pulled you in with me.”
You don’t respond.
“Are you okay?”
You don’t answer as his voice breaks through your racing thoughts, your back still turned to him. 
“…Y/N?”
He sounds concerned, like he cares. You know he does — know that he always has. And it hurts.
You can feel the water moving behind you when you still don’t respond. You can feel it as he takes a step or two closer, and you can almost imagine the look on his face as he tries to figure out what he did wrong. You feel like you’ve been burned when he reaches for you, when his hand tries to find your arm to turn you back to him. You can hear his inhale when you flinch away, your skin on fire where his fingertips just barely brushed your shoulder.
He tries again, because he loves you. Because he loves you — but not like that. “Talk to me?”
Your eyes squeeze shut, and you take a deep breath. You know you have to face him in order to get through this, to leave here in one piece even if it’s by pretending. You have to. You don’t want him to know, don’t want him to know that you’re still the reason you can’t be close to him, that you still love him, that you probably never stopped. 
But when you turn to find him right there, find him so close, when you see that his eyes are full of worry, you can’t find a single word. He looks beautiful in the dim blue light of the pool, and it makes your heart ache.
“Y/N.” Your name is nothing but a whispered breath as he says it, his eyes locked so intently on your face that you suddenly feel warm all over despite the slight chill of the water. His gaze pierces through you, and you watch as it travels across your face, down to your lips, where it lingers. 
You’re not sure you’re breathing, not sure what to do, not sure how to possibly move on from what feels impossible. Why isn’t he moving away? Why is he so close? 
“I…” He tries again, eyes still on your mouth. Then he snaps his gaze up again. “I’m… I’m really happy that you’re here.”
Your eyebrows furrow. “You…”
“I missed you.” He looks hesitant before he says it, but he says it anyway, and your breath catches when you hear the tender, soft tone of his voice. It makes your head spin. “I really missed you. So much.” 
You take a steadying breath at the same time as he does. The air between you feels charged — charged with something you won’t let yourself name.
Then he’s stepping even closer, a hand lifting to your face, and you freeze. You can’t move — you don’t even know if you want to. You’re confused, but you don’t move, and all you can manage to say is a single word.
“Sol,” you caution.
He takes a deep breath in, and then he says, “You haven’t thought about it?” 
His hand is gentle on your jaw, thumb tracing lines back and forth across your skin. You feel goosebumps everywhere he touches. Your eyes search his, trying desperately to understand. You hate that you’re finding him extra hard to read right now — now, when you need to know what he’s thinking more than ever. 
“Thought about what?” Your voice is small, and you hate it.
Vernon’s other hand lifts to your face, tilting your chin up towards him. His eyes search yours as he speaks, his voice low. “Last summer.” He pauses. “Us.”
The words hit you like a truck. 
“What the fuck, Vernon?” You finally manage. You can feel the tears begin to well up, and you pull his hands away from your face. “Don’t you dare.”
He takes a step back, eyebrows knit together. “I’m sorry.”
You stare at him incredulously, frustration bubbling to the surface the longer you look at him. “Don’t be an asshole.”
He doesn’t say anything else, and all you can hear is the water gently hitting against the side of the pool. You frustratedly tuck a lock of wet hair behind your ear before crossing your arms.
“Why would you say that to me?” You’re hurt, and he knows it.
“I just…” He searches your face for a moment before he breathes out, “I think about you all the time. I miss you all the time.”
You can feel angry tears pricking at the back of your eyelids. You blink them away rapidly as you spit out, “You were the one who kissed me back and then pretended like nothing happened. You—“
“Would you have gone?”
You blink when he interrupts you, and it takes you a second to try and understand what he means. You wrack your brain, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about. “What?”
“Would you have gone to school there if I had told you I loved you last summer? Or would you have chosen somewhere closer?”
You’re absolutely dumbfounded as you process what he’s saying. You’re blinking away furious tears, mouth agape as you try and settle on something to say. “Was that your fucking choice to make?”
“I was trying to make it easier for you. It’s your dream school.”
You can’t believe what you’re hearing. “What the fuck? I was in love with you, Vernon!”
“I was in love with you, too!”
The silence is deafening. You stare at him with wide eyes, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest. You wonder if he can hear it. Then you squeeze your eyes shut, your hands lifting to cover your face as you try and regain your composure. 
“I thought I was doing what was best for the both of us.”
His voice is quiet. You know he’s telling the truth. It hurts, but you know he’s being honest. That he thought he was doing the right thing. 
“I thought that maybe the distance would make it a little easier,” he continues, voice carrying softly across the water in the space between you. “But it didn’t. Not for me.”
Moments pass, and you realize you’re shaking. Your hands stay covering your face as you take deep breaths, waiting until you’ve recovered enough to say, voice low, “I have never been more upset with you than I am right now.”
He’s quiet for a moment before he responds. “I know, and I deserve it. I’m sorry that I made that decision for you. I really am. I shouldn’t have done it.”
You nod after a minute, after you force yourself to breathe, letting your hands fall from your face. You can’t look at him, though, eyes instead focusing on your fingers that begin tracing patterns in the water at your sides. “Okay.”
“And I'm…” He trails off, and you wait. He takes so long that you look up to find him looking at you, waiting, and something in his eyes has you stuck there. He searches your face, and then he says, “I’m sorry that I made you think that I don’t love you back. Because of course I do.” 
Your heartbeat has begun to roar in your ears again. “You do, present tense?”
Vernon freezes, eyes wide. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before he finally settles on something. “Shit. Sorry, fuck, I—”
“Is that a yes?”
He inhales sharply. “Yeah — yes. I don’t expect anything from you, though. I promise I’m not —“
“You are such a fucking idiot.” 
He doesn’t hesitate. “I know. I know. I’m—”
“I spent so long figuring out how to put myself back together,” you say softly, and he cuts himself off. You can feel tears pricking at the back of your eyelids again. “Without you.” 
Vernon’s shoulders sag, and he nods, looking down at the water. “Yeah.” 
Your breath catches before you steady yourself and you say, “It’s literally always been you, Sol. Even though you’re a fucking idiot.”
His eyes are wide when they shoot back up to meet yours. You inhale a shaky breath, watching as he waits, unsure. 
“It’s still you,” you add quietly, and you’re certain that you hear his breath catch.
“I’m in love with you,” he breathes out before you can say anything else. “I love you back. I did then, and I do now, and I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. I wanted to, I swear. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m…” He trails off, a hand running through his hair as he finishes, “I’m just really fucking sorry.”
“I believe you,” you say softly, because you do. You believe him, and you’re not sure your heart has ever beat this fast. Because he loves you — the same way that you love him. Vernon looks down at the water again, and you think you can see the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks as he thinks. “Sol?”
Your soft voice makes him look up. He still looks uncertain, like he doesn’t know what he’s allowed to do. 
“Come here?”
You’re in his arms so fast you can barely process. He’s hugging you so tight against his chest that you can feel the warmth of him through your wet t-shirt, and it sends shivers down your spine. He doesn’t say anything else as he holds you, and neither do you. Your arms are wound around his neck, and you can feel the way his nose nuzzles into the crook of your shoulder. 
You pull back, your hands finding either side of his face. He blinks, slowly, taking in every part of you in the same way that you’re taking in every part of him. You brush away a stray drop of water that falls from his hair down onto his forehead, and you’re certain you’re dreaming. He’s so beautiful, a perfect juxtaposition of sharp edges and soft lines, so… Vernon. 
And he’s gazing at you like you hung all the stars in the sky — because he loves you, in the same way that you love him. 
For the second time in a year, you kiss him first.
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A/N: thank you so much to everyone for all the love on the other fics so far :) Here’s the sixth of our Thirteen Valentines in honour of Bononie’s birthday. Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :) Your kind comments and reblogs don’t go unnoticed, I promise.
Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @tae-bebe @gyuminusone@savventeen @eoieopda @minisugakoobies @wheeboo @lvlystars@darkypooo @christinewithluv @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @bella-l (Strikethrough means it wouldn’t let me tag you, sorry!)
230 notes · View notes
intogyu · 2 months
Text
★º∙☄︎ Well, Vernon always falls short at expressing what he feels, so now, it’s about time he buckles up.
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[11:10 pm]… Hey there, uh, babe, it's me. I just wanted to leave you a little voicemail, something I'm not too good at, as you know. Anyway, um, I've been thinking a lot about us, yeah, you know, and I- (sighs) I just wanted to say how incredibly lucky I am to have you in my life, you know? I might not say it often, or well, at all, but you mean the world to me.
[11:17 pm]…I'm sorry if I haven't been great at showing it, expressing my feelings and all that. It's just, well, (chuckles) I'm not the smoothest guy when it comes to emotions. But you've always been so patient and understanding. And I want you to know how much I appreciate that. Really, I do.
[11:45 pm]…I've been thinking about how you deserve so much more than my awkward attempts at affection. I see how you light up my life, and I'm sorry for not making that as clear to you. You're like the best part of every day, and I sometim- (cuts)..es it feel like I fall short in showing you that.
[11:55 pm]… I'm just grateful that you still love and understand me, quirks and all. It means everything to me. I promise I'm working on being better at this, at being more open with my feelings. But until then, thank you for being you, for being patient, and for loving me despite my awkwardness. I'm really, really lucky to have you, and I don't want to take that for granted.
Alright, I'll stop rambling now. Love you.
[voicemail ended]
[call back]
[yes \ no]
12:00 am
yes.
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a/n : if you read it, do reblog it.
©️INTOGYU 2024. Please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works.
232 notes · View notes
amazzwon · 3 months
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MY GO-TO SEVENTEEN FICS
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────⟢.ᐟ Choi Seungcheol (Scoups)
╰ Rough
smut, 2k
╰ warm hearts
fluff, 0.5k
╰ his arms
smut, 0.4k
╰ sapiosexual
smut
╰ Good Luck, Fermata Tower
firewatch au, smut, angst, fluff, 13.9k
╰ always only you
14.2k, smut, childhood friends to lovers
╰ Shiver Me Timbers!
pirate captain!seungcheol x siren!reader, fantasy au, smut, 3.0k
╰ Dancing Queen
smut, fluff, slight angst, disco club owner!choi seungcheol, performer!reader
────⟢.ᐟ Yoon Jeonghan
╰ First Makeout Session
suggestive, minors do not interact
╰ my heart is beating for two
fluff, daycare worker yn! x secretary jeonghan, 1k
╰ Blueberries
smut, yoga instructor!Jeonghan, 2k
╰ Hate is a strong word
smut, angst, fluff, e2l, coworker au, 15k
╰ How many chances are too many chances?
angst, fluff, fwb, f2l, 14k
╰ Titty-Shirt!
pervert!rollercoaster operator!jeonghan x bigtiddie!fem!reader, theme park au, coworkers to lovers, e2l, smut, fluff, 13.2k
╰ every summertime
16.1k, 70s au, playing hard to get, smut
────⟢.ᐟ Hong Jisoo (Joshua)
╰ City lights Series
smut, rocksinger!joshua, neighbours with benefits, angst, fluff, 75.4k
╰ NBA player
smut, 0.8k
╰ cranberry concoctions
bartender!joshua, smut, a little angst & a little fluff, 1920s prohibition au, speakeasy au, 4.6k
╰ leaning on the everlasting arms
childhood best friend! pastor's son!joshua x f reader, angst, smut, some fluff, bible college au, 10.3k
╰ Curse The Stars
Salesman!Joshua x Starlet Afab!Reader, Smut, fluff, strangers to lovers, fwb to lovers, 1970s Hollywood au, pwp, 8.4k
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────⟢.ᐟ Moon Junhui (Jun)
╰ Christmas with his family
fluff, comfort, (slight) angst, 0.5k
╰ Do Re Mi
smut, fluff, 4k, wife!reader, husband!jun
────⟢.ᐟ Kwon Soonyoung (Hoshi)
╰ charity f*ck
smut, virgin!hoshi x experienced!reader, fluff, 12.2k
╰ Leather
smut, 1.5k
╰ driving lessons for dummies
fluff, humor, smut, strangers to lovers au, college au, stoner!hoshi, 16k
────⟢.ᐟ Lee Jihoon (Woozi)
loading...
────⟢.ᐟ Jeon Wonwoo
╰ [12:01 AM]
fluff, 0.2k
╰ First Snow
fluff, angst, smut, ceo!wonwoo, single mom!reader, 33k
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────⟢.ᐟ Lee Seokmin (DK)
╰ Backstage series
romance, smut, theatre performer!seokmin, fake dating with benefits, 43.6k
╰ Teach Me
smut, humor, college au, 2.3k
╰ I ❤️ DILFS / GOOD GIRL
college au, brother's best friend au, smut, crack, angst, 15.9k
╰ Patterns
smut, eventual fluff, angst, 10k
────⟢.ᐟ Xu Minghao (The8)
╰ (Not Titled)
fluff, humour
╰ i should’ve never let you go
exes!au, angst, comfort, 2.5k
╰ Flashing lights
model!minghao x f!assistant!reader x actor!mingyu, smut, 30k
╰ the letter
slowburn, fluff, angst, childhood f2l, 26k
────⟢.ᐟ Kim Mingyu
╰ titty obsessed! mingyu
smut
╰ i’ll marry you with paper rings
smut, fluff, angst, 28.3k
╰ kisses to his moles
fluff, 0.8k
╰ Drunk Goggles (Heart Eyes)
fluff, suggestive, 1k
╰ [10:23 PM]
fluff, 170
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────⟢.ᐟ Boo Seungkwan
╰ honey
wedding planner!reader, fluff, smut mdni, theatre performer! seungkwan, childhood crush to lovers, 10.2k.
────⟢.ᐟ Chwe Hansol (Vernon)
╰ Friends with Benefits
fwb setting, suggestive
╰ DO YOU DREAM OF ME?
soulmate au. slight college au , f2l, fluff, some angst. pining, 9.6k
╰ [16:23 PM]
fluff, childhood friends to ?, 0.3k
╰ Birch Trees & Fear Street
smut, fluff, 1.7k
╰ sweet kiss
fluff, strangers ish to lovers
╰ BEAUTIFUL
────⟢.ᐟ Lee Chan (Dino)
fluff, strangers to lovers
╰ Music festival
drabble, fluff
╰ As It Was
Ghost!Chan, Human!Reader, Romance, Angst, Smut, Historical/Fantasy Themes, Reunited Lovers, 9.1k
╰ Goodbye, Fourth of July
college au, best friends to lovers, angst w a happy ending, smut
╰ Love Guard
Lifeguard!Lee Chan x Lifeguard! Fem Reader, 9.2k, Fluff, E2L (One sided)
╰ distraction, a fatal attraction
strangers to lovers, college au, fluff, 7k
╰ In Case You Didn’t Know
Fluff, romance, smut, a little angst, Brother���s best friend au, roommates au, 90s au, 28.8k
320 notes · View notes
gyuslcve · 9 months
Text
10:48pm
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genre: fluff, domestic bc i’m a sucker for that
rq: not a request
word count:
reblogs, comments and feedback are appreciated !
notes: I AM SO SO SORRY FOR GOING AWOL YALL. been caught up with school but i finally have some time off now. this was kind of (pretty much) self indulgent but enjoy :)
taglist (dm me to join!) : @icyminghao @haowrld @etherealyoungk
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vernon can’t cook. if there’s anything you need to know about him, he can’t cook. despite this, you find yourself waking up to a familiar scent flowing through the house.
wincing slightly at the headache, you removed the blanket- wait, blanket? oh, pillows too. didn’t you fall asleep on the couch? confused, you get up from the bed and padded to the living room, only to see vernon wearing an apron that was visibly too small for him, cooking at the countertop of the kitchen.
smiling, you walk up behind him and wrapped your arms around him. he jumps a little. oops.
“baby?”
“hey nonie.”
your boyfriend chuckles lightly at the nickname, lowering the heat and turns around to face you. “i told you not to call me that.” he says jokingly, eyes softening as he takes in the tiredness written all over you. vernon tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, and as if it was done instinctively, places a soft kiss on your temple, then your forehead.
“what are you doing? you can’t even cook ramyeon.” you say, peering behind him, trying to find out what he was making. it looked exactly like what your mother cooked for you whenever you fell ill. how-
“you said you left work early ‘cause you felt sick. i remember you told me about this beef soup your mother makes for you, so i called her and asked her for the recipe.” vernon shrugs, like he wasn’t the same person that was shaking when he first met your mother.
oh god. you’re gonna marry this man. you’ve decided.
“oh.. thank you.” he hums, turning around and stirs a bit more. “i’m almost done, gimme a minute and i’ll pour you a bowl ‘kay? rest for now, please.” vernon briefly turns his head around and presses another kiss on your forehead, smiling at you.
as you find your seat on the couch, you watch your boyfriend who has a wooden spatula in his hand, stirring every once in a while. you really thought you would never ever see him cook in this lifetime but - not anymore.
“vernon, you really cooked that up?” you say in awe, slowly taking in the fact that he was in the kitchen and somehow did not make any mess, and even something edible. vernon laughs, “yes, i did.” you squint at him questioningly.
“okay, fine, fine. your mother did assist me through the phone.”
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author’s notes: work’s been keeping me busy but i really needed to write this bc this has been in my mind for a bit too long <3
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kimbappykidding · 2 months
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Vernon had gotten a lot of things wrong in your relationship, but he didn't realise any of that until you were gone.
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You'd never been insecure in a relationship but then again Vernon was the first idol you'd dated.
You were an idol yourself from the group G-(I)dle and had been for 3 years before you and Vernon got together. You knew how the industry worked but it didn't make it any easier when rumours started going viral that Vernon was dating a girl who wasn't you. The claims were he was dating Yeri of Red Velvet and although the article wasn't official it was getting around the Internet. The thing that bothered you most about it, was Vernon never messaged you about it.
You'd both been busy with work recently and hadn't seen each other in nearly 2 weeks. You only just got back from touring and Vernon had his new song to promote. You called and texted but not as frequently as usual. All of this would've excused him not texting you but this story was big! It was trending and you found it weird he didn't think to talk to you about it. It was made worse by the fact Vernon and Yeri were friends and you knew there had been some history there. You trusted that was all far in the past so didn't think the rumours were true but part of you wondered what they'd been doing for people to assume they were dating. It could've been innocent and they were merely together but you had no idea because Vernon had never explained it to you.
So you found yourself following the trend without meaning to and Soyeon caught you. "You're not paying attention to any of that crap are you?" she asked. You tried to hide your phone and then sighed "I just want to see what made them think that". "But you're dating Vernon so you know it's not true". You frowned "see we never actually made it official". "Wait what?" Yuqi asked and you sighed "he never asked me to be his girlfriend in those words, we just became what we are so technically we're not even anything". Minnie shook her head "but you are dating, just because he didn't ask you doesn't mean anything". "Doesn't it?" you asked and Soojin frowned "but this is Vernon. We all know he considers you his girlfriend. What's he said about this scandal". "Nothing" you said and that made them all pause. "Right?" you cried "I know he's been busy but don't I deserve a reassuring text or something?". Your members nodded "totally, have you tried messaging him?" Shuhua asked. "But why should she have to message him?" Yuqi replied and the others shrugged. "You reassure your partner even if it's trivial. How doesn't he get that?". "But you said Vernon's a little...distant anyway isn't he?" Minnie asked and you nodded.
You and Vernon were very different people and in some ways that worked very well. You were complete opposites and helped the other step out of their comfort zone. You helped Vernon communicate and express himself more and Vernon helped you become more thoughtful and independent. However, there were times like today when your base expectations weren't being met.
In the end, you decided not to do anything. You wanted to wait and see how long it took Vernon to say something and 2 days later he still hadn't texted you. On the 3rd day, he sent you a funny cat video and you realised him telling you about the scandal wasn't even on his radar so you got the opinion of a male friend to see if it was a gender thing.
Jongho from Ateez had been a close friend of yours for years and again like you and Vernon the two of you were opposites but it worked. You'd kind of forced Jongho to be your friend initially but now he liked it. You rang him up and he picked up quickly "Hey Y/n what's up?". "So I have a hypothetical to run by you". "Oh goodie!" Jongho said sarcastically and you laughed "so imagine you're dating a girl and a dating rumour about you comes out. Would you text your girlfriend about it?". Jongho paused "well I mean surely she knows it's fake if she's my girlfriend". "So you wouldn't mention it at all?" you asked and Jongho was quiet again "no I'd probably mention it just to reassure her it was bullshit. I'd at least bring it up in person and say how annoying it was or make a joke out of it". You nodded "and what if the girl wasn't your girlfriend. You'd been casually together for a little while". "Oh then I'd definitely bring it up because she might think I'm seeing both of them!". "Thank you!" you cried and Jongho laughed. "Vernon?" he asked and you nodded "he's not contacted me since his rumour came out". "But you're dating". "See we're not officially and if I'm honest I did check the articles to see what the photos of the two of them were". "So you don't trust him?" Jongho asked and you shook your head "I do but sometimes I just feel so...unsure in our relationship. He's not very good at communicating and rarely expresses how he feels. I didn't know he actually fancied me until our 4th date when he told me, he's that good at hiding how he feels and sometimes I just feel like I'm too demanding. That I'm too clingy and asking too much of him so I don't tend to share how I feel". Jongho was quiet "Y/n that's not good. You should never feel like you're bothering your partner when you're asking for something you need". "I know but there's no malice on Vernon's side! He's the sweetest the times when I have mentioned things to him I just don't want to have to do it for everything". Jongho nodded "you want some of the things to be instinctive so you're not constantly reminding him". "Exactly!" you agreed and Jongho sighed "well I don't know what to advise. How long have you been together?". "6 months" and Jongho nodded "out of the honeymoon period. From what I hear a lot of couples have problems then so you're not alone". "But how do I know if it's something we can overcome or an incompatibility?". Jongho was quiet for ages and then sighed "I have no idea".
Then to make things more confusing Vernon texted you one day asking if you were free and if he could come over. You told him you had a break from the tour for the next few days and he appeared on your doorstep 24 hours later. The minute you saw him standing there all the emotions you felt for him and all the fondness hit you. You opened the door and he shot you a smile "there she is" and hugged you tightly picking you up slightly. You blushed and squealed as he lifted you. "It's been way too long" Vernon said still not letting you go and you nodded "too long, but how's your promoting going?". "We're finishing tomorrow and I can't wait but forget that tell me about your tour!".
Once you'd caught up with one another Vernon pulled you into his arms again. "I missed you so much" Vernon said pressing a kiss to your temple and resting his forehead against yours. "You did?" you asked and he chuckled "of course I did! I always miss you". "Oh" you said and Vernon chuckled again "did you think I just don't miss you when you're away touring". "I don't know, maybe" you said and Vernon looked at you, clearly confused why you might think that. "Really?" he asked moving back so he could see you and you looked down "no of course not I..." and you trailed off. "Y/n?" Vernon asked and you looked at him "sorry, I'm just tired". "Are you sure?" he asked sensing something was up but you hated confrontation of any form so just nodded folding into his chest. You pushed your feelings away and smiled at him "I'm fine". Vernon nodded "okay then" and wrapped his arms around you again. Wrapped up together you could almost pretend it was fine but when Vernon left the next day you felt heavy all over again.
You carried on as normal, ignoring any doubts you had and just as the rumours about Vernon and Yeri died down a blast from the past came back. Vernon's ex Eunji used to work for Pledis as a stylist but had moved to KQ Entertainment when they broke up. Eunji hated you as, unknown to you, Vernon broke up with her so he could ask you out. She'd frequently messaged Vernon asking to get back together and had even sent you some horrible texts too and later claimed she was drunk. Jongho knew of her and she knew the two of you were friends so largely avoided him and his members which suited Jongho fine. He updated you on anything you needed to know about her and sometimes told you more than your own boyfriend.
You didn't hear about the Ateez x Seventeen collaboration until Jongho mentioned it. When it was clear you had no knowledge of it Jongho told you that Eunji was working on the project...but Vernon forgot to mention that to you. You were angry and when you next saw Vernon didn't hesitate to bring it up.
"Why didn't you tell me you were doing a collaboration with Ateez?" you asked and Vernon paused. He clearly got what you meant by the look on his face. "Because I didn't know if she'd be there or not". "You knew she still works for them right?" you asked and he nodded "Yeah...". "And she was there?" you asked wanting to hear it from himself and he signed "yeah but it's not a big deal I didn't speak to her. Well not about anything other than work". You shook your head in disbelief and Vernon sighed "I have to be professional with her Y/n I can't ignore her!". "I'm not asking you to I just wish you would've told me. You not telling me makes me feel like you're hiding something". "But I'm not. I didn't tell you because I knew you'd worry. Things upset you sometimes and I don't want to hurt you so I don't tell you them" he said and that was the worst thing he could've possibly said.
"You don't tell me?" you asked "so you wondered if to tell me this and you decided not to?". "Yes..." Vernon said cautiously as if trying to detect a trap. "I did it to protect you. I always try and protect you". Your worst fears were coming true. Vernon was not telling things and keeping them from you because he thought you were emotional and overreacted. The annoying thing is you didn't want to react now because you thought it would prove him right but had no idea what else to do. You felt so shit and just wanted to cry. You didn't speak trying not to cry and Vernon sighed "please don't be mad...you know how much I care about you". Something about those words and how he was looking at you with those big brown eyes made you explode.
"No I don't!" you cried "because you hardly ever let me in! There's no regular communication or affirmation. I'm not needy but I would like you to tell me how you feel more than once every few months or when I leave the country. I just want you to be upfront with your emotions for me. I always feel bad asking you to adjust and to hear you've been keeping things from me just makes me feel so tired. All I want is honesty and good communication" you said starting to get sad "I mean I don't even know if we're dating". "What?" Vernon asked "Y/n come on you know I'm your boyfriend". "Do I? I never asked you and you never asked me. It just happened and sometimes I have no clue what we are. When I haven't heard from you in 2 weeks I don't know if we're dating or intermittent. I have no idea whether I'm coming or going Vernon and it's horrible!" you cried tears finally leaking down your face and Vernon paused. He didn't like emotion, especially crying because he never knew what to do and you could see the panic on his face which made you cry even more because if he knew you, he'd know all you needed was a hug. Instead, he watched you before rushing to grab you a tissue partially so he could leave the room.
Once you'd calmed down you spoke first because Vernon hadn't spoken in ages and it didn't seem he would be any time soon. "I think I need to go home". Vernon nodded "okay I'll walk you to your car...should I call you tomorrow or something?". You took in a breath and shook your head "I don't know". Vernon nodded "okay" and didn't ask anything more. You reached your car and you looked at him "are you happy Vernon?". "With us?" he asked "yes and I thought you were. I guess I didn't realise how much was wrong". You shook your head "I just don't know if we're too different. If that's our problem". Vernon frowned "I don't think we're that different" but he didn't sound sure at all. "We're polars Vernon and I don't know if I'm fighting a losing battle". "So what do you want to do?" he asked and you shook your head "I don't know but I know if I say I don't know and we walk away it won't be resolved for another 2 weeks and I can't have that...so I think we should just break up".
Vernon's eyes widened "you don't want to work on it? Try and fix it". "I want to but I don't feel like I have the energy...I can't escape the feeling it shouldn't be this hard and I can't keep telling you how to act. I just can't...". Vernon nodded "okay then. I don't want to cause you any stress so we can break up if that will make you feel better". You shook your head wondering how he could even say that but atleast felt like for once you were making the mature decision and not burying your head in the sand. "Okay, goodnight Vernon" and you left.
You of course felt awful following the breakup. No matter how many times you told yourself this was the mature thing to do, to call quits on a relationship that wasn't working, you still missed Vernon. You kept thinking about all the things he did that you loved and wondered if you'd been too hasty or selfish. Your members all comforted you and tried to shield you from anything they could but one-day Soojin came into your room and you could tell from the look on her face she had something bad to tell you. Soojin wasn't one to beat around the bush so she took your hand and told you. "Y/n just so you know before anyone else says it, tonight at the club I saw Vernon leaving with Eunji".
You'd been expecting it but it was still a blow. You'd been broken up just over a month now and wondered how long this had been happening. You trust Vernon hadn't been cheating on you but technically he could've gone to Eunji the night of your breakup and that would've been fine but you didn't know if Vernon was that type of person.
He wasn't.
Vernon laid in bed with Eunji and everything just felt wrong. He hadn't planned on this at all and all his members had been cautious when he said he wanted to come out tonight and he got why. He'd been emotional since the breakup and alcohol typically did not help with that. It didn't, drunk Vernon just missed you more and when he saw Eunji part of him just wanted what was familiar once more but familiar didn't mean good.
Of course, in the moment things had felt good enough and he'd wanted to leave with her, but now with the alcohol leaving his system and his brain returning he just felt so certain this wasn't right. He supposed it could be because this was the first girl he'd been with since you and so it was simply different not bad but that didn't feel right after.
"What are you thinking about?" Eunji asked resting her hands on his chest and Vernon tried not to tense. "Nothing" he said but it was pretty clear what he was thinking about or more accurately who. "It's okay you know" Eunji said "that she's still on your mind". "It is?" Vernon asked and she nodded "It's only been a month it'll get easier and easier and she'll become a distant memory". Vernon didn't even wonder how she'd know the time since you'd broken up. He was too focused on what Eunji saying you'd become a distant memory. He felt himself resisting it although he knew that was the goal. He was meant to stop thinking of you but the truth was he didn't want to. "And a great way to speed up the process is to keep doing things to distract you" Eunji said kissing his neck "so want me to distract you?". Vernon shook his head "I'm really tired so I think I'm just going to sleep". "Oh okay" Eunji said and she settled into his arms. Vernon didn't want to hug her but also couldn't see how he'd get out of it so he just closed his eyes and waited a long enough amount of time to switch her out of them.
You saw Vernon the following week at an award show and your mind immediately went to Eunji. Luckily you spotted Vernon before he saw you and knew exactly where not to look but Vernon didn't. He looked right at you and froze. He hadn't seen you in what felt like ages and he quickly tried to analyse everything about you to see if you'd been struggling as much as he had. Your hair was different which made sense as Vernon recalled you saying you couldn't wait to dye it. Your members were sat all around you like a fortress and you either hadn't noticed him or were purposefully not looking at him but Vernon couldn't seem to stop staring at you. The others noticed and Seungkwan knocked his leg "stop it, youre being too obvious". Vernon nodded and stared at his feet but he felt just shit. He wanted you to look at him to prove you atleast remembered he existed. That you'd been struggling too but all night you didn't even glance in his direction.
Later on at the afterparty Vernon saw your group pass Ateez and you stopped to chat to them. Vernon knew you were friends with Jongho and could see all the guys were bigging you up, complimenting your outfit. He watched Wooyoung twirl you and felt a sharp jolt run through him. "Hey relax" Scoups said beside him "ease up on the glass" and he realised he'd been gripping it so tight his knuckles were white. He set it down and sighed "I need some air" and stood up. "Want anyone to come with you?" Dino asked but he shook his head.
On the way back in he spotted Jongho and the boy saw him too. They were standing across from each other and as Jongho went to walk away Vernon called his name and hurried after him "Hey Jongho wait". Jongho turned and looked at Vernon "what?" he asked, his tone ice cold. "I was just wondering how Y/n is?". Jongho frowned "why would I tell you?'. "Look I know we broke up but I still care about her and want to make sure she's okay". Jongho shook his head "I'm not telling you anything" and turned to walk away but Vernon grabbed his arm "I'm not letting you leave until you answer my question". Jongho looked at Vernon's hand on him and back-up to Vernon. "Y/n doesn't owe you anything and you lost the privilege to know things about her so I'm not telling you anything. Now let go of me before I make you". Vernon suddenly realised Jongho was a lot stronger than him and let go "I'm sorry I just...I keep thinking about her and I just want to know she's okay". "You care so much about her huh?" Jongho asked "funny I thought your priority was Eunji nowadays" and he walked away.
Vernon's world came crashing down as he realised you knew about Eunji. He'd purposefully sworn her to secrecy to avoid this getting out but somehow Jongho knew and so you must know too. Vernon's mind was spinning and this was a disaster. He took out his phone and was texting you when Scoups and Seungkwan appeared "Vernon what happened?". "She knows about Eunji" he said "I have to tell her what happened". "Vernon calm down, you don't need to text Y/n right this second". "I do" Vernon said getting annoyed "she has to know...she has to!" When he dropped his phone and swore loudly. Seungkwan grabbed it before he could and Vernon held his hand out for it but Seungkwan didn't pass it to him. "Give me my phone" Vernon said but Seungkwan shook his head "friends don't let friends drunk text". "Seungkwan give me my phone!" Vernon yelled squaring up to him but Scoups got in between them "Hey, first you try and fight Jongho and now Seungkwan? Outside now!" and he led the younger boy out of the club. Vernon sat down on the curb and put his head in his hands. He sobbed and sobbed while Scoups patted his back.
Jongho called you the next morning and told you everything that happened. "I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want him taking up any space in your head but Wooyoung thought I should let you know". You nodded "yeah thanks for telling me. So he was pretty emotional huh?". Jongho nodded "he was a mess Y/n, he's really regretting the breakup'. You shook your head "but he's with Eunji". "He was really shaken when I said that too" Jongho said "he had no idea you knew". "He should've figured I'd have guessed" you said unimpressed. Jongho nodded "there's a lot of things Vernon should've done".
The next day Vernon was thinking that same thought. He'd had a terrible night and the thing that bothered him most was he had no idea how you knew about Eunji. They'd only hooked up once and he'd asked her to keep it quiet. His members wouldn't have told anyone so the only person who could've was her. So he called her and asked.
"Have you told anyone that we hooked up again?" he asked and there was silence. "Eunji?" he asked and she finally replied "a few people but what does it matter?". "What does it matter?" he cried "I didn't want anyone to know and guess who does? Y/n!". "Why do you care you're not together" she tried again and Vernon shrugged "so? I still don't want her to know I've slept with another girl". "I won't be your dirty little secret Vernon so if you want this to continue you need to let me tell who I want" Eunji said. "Okay it's over" Vernon replied and she paused "wait I won't tell anyone else". "It doesn't matter I don't want this to continue, it was a mistake anyway". "She doesn't want you anymore!" Eunji cried "there's no way she'll take you back, especially after this so think about what you're doing here Vernon. There's no need to throw this away from her". "It's not just for her it's for me. Goodbye Eunji" and Vernon hung up the phone, his hands shaking so much he dropped it the second he pressed the red button.
Scoups heard him on the phone and knocked "hey can Seungkwan and I come in?" and Vernon nodded. "I didn't realise you were awake" Scoups began "who was that on the phone?". "Eunji, she told people about us and I think she did it on purpose". Scoups nodded "she would've been my first guess" and Vernon sighed "I can't believe I went back to her. It's over now but she's right, it was unlikely Y/n wouldn't take me back before but now it's hopeless!". "No it's not!" Scoups said and Seungkwan who had also been listening outside burst in. "Vernon you need to stop this!" he cried and Vernon looked at him "Seungkwan I'm so sorry for last night I just feel so sad and angry all the time" he said tearing up and Scoups froze because Vernon never cried. Last night he'd been drunk so he let it pass but he'd never seen sober Vernon cry. Seungkwan was less taken aback though.
"Vernon you're not going to win Y/n back by sitting here regretting things, you need to be proactive!" Seungkwan said and Vernon looked at him "what do you mean? There's no way I'm winning Y/n back ever!". "You don't know that!" Seungkwan cried "look the whole reason you broke up was because Y/n didn't think you'd fight for the relationship and look! You're proving her right". Vernon knew Seungkwan was right but still felt deflated "so what do I do?". Seungkwan looked to Scoups wondering how much clearer he could make it. "Fight!" Scoups cried and Seungkwan nodded "show Y/n you care enough about her to make things right. If you want her, tell her you're not going to rest until she knows how much you care about her. At the very least try explaining things to her!" Seungkwan cried and Vernon frowned "but how? She won't speak to me". "Has she blocked your number?" Scoups asked and Vernon paused "I'm not sure, I haven't tried contacting her since we broke up". Both boys sighed "well let's start there then!" Seungkwan said "let's send a text first so it's not as scary as calling and we'll go from there".
You went to sleep late because Jongho insisted on staying up with you to watch the first Harry Potter because he knew they made you feel happy. So you woke up late as a consequence and heard your phone buzz. You reached out for it figuring it would be Jongho or Soyeon when you saw the name and gasped. You dropped the phone right on your face and cursed at the pain. By the time you recovered the ringing had stopped and you waited anxiously to see if Vernon would leave a voicemail...he did.
"Hey, I was really hoping we could talk. After last night some things have become really clear and I wanted to clear up the rumour about Eunji. Something did happen between us but she exaggerated and it's over. If nothing else I just want to apologise to you. So please let me know if we can text, call, meet...anything is fine I just need to speak to you".
Vernon's message shocked you for several reasons. You understood from what Jongho had said that he was upset but figured it was because he'd been caught, to hear he'd ended things with Eunji surprised you. Not to mention Vernon had texted you, of his own volition, asking to talk to you and have a proper adult conversation. You couldn't recall Vernon ever making this effort when you were dating and were pleasantly surprised. So that was probably why you acted so spontaneously and after discussing it with the girls decided to agree with Vernon's request.
Soojin squeezed your hand as you pressed the call button. It rang 3 times before Vernon picked it up "Y/n?". "It's me" you said and he gasped "oh thank god! Y/n thank you so much for calling you! I really need to talk to you". You nodded "okay so talk".
You were curious to hear what he would say but were still hurt by him and weren't just going to roll over. Vernon nodded "yeah I asked you if we could talk so yeah of course. Y/n firstly Eunji, we slept together once on the 11th of November and I regretted it instantly. It was after we broke up and I was a wreck but I thought going out drinking would make me feel better. It didn't. I watched the clock reach the time when we ended it and I just felt like such a loser. I knew I'd let you down and that I'd lost someone amazing. I hated myself but wasn't admitting that so I pretended I was fine but nothing felt right with Eunji and I felt even worse after it. I knew it was over then and asked Eunji not to tell anyone about it but she did and I'm so sorry. I never wanted you to find out about it". "Well it wasn't just Eunji who spread it. Soojin saw you leave the club together so you weren't exactly trying to hide it afterwards". Vernon nodded "you know what you're right. I did a stupid thing that hurt you and I'm sorry. There's no excuses".
Vernon was never usually so honest so you nodded "okay...I can't say all is forgiven but thank you for saying that. Was there anything else you wanted to say?". Vernon nodded "yeah so much but the best way I can think to express is it Y/n I'm so sorry I didn't show up for you or fight for us. I really was happy with you and care for you so much". "Vernon..." you said but he frowned "can I please just say this? I need to". "OKay" you said and he carried on. "I know I didn't fight for us before but I am going to fight for us now. I'm going to fight to show you how much I care about you and prove to you our relationship is worth saving". "Vernon I don't know if we can ever get back there" you said "there was so much wrong and I don't trust you". "Well I'll start there then, I'm going to show you that you can trust me and if we're lucky enough to get back there I'll show you how committed I am to fixing all those things. I can't just let you go Y/n...not without trying". You paused because that was what you'd always wanted to hear and Soojin noticed you get teary. She squeezed your hand again and you took a deep breath. "I can't lie that makes me happy" you said "but also scared. I won't ice you out Vernon but I also won't come running back to you. There's a lot that needs to change". Vernon nodded "of course and thank you so much for letting me try. I won't let you down Y/n!" he said and you nodded "okay Vernon" and hung up.
This time it was your hands that wouldn't stop shaking. "So how did it go?" Sojin asked and you paused "he says he's not giving up on us" and she smiled "that's pretty big for him right?". You nodded "let's just see if he lives up to it".
You honestly had no idea what to expect from Vernon's promise. You'd both left things undefined so you supposed Vernon could call you in a week's time or wave to you at an award show and think that was it...but he didn't.
To start with you got regular texts from Vernon in the morning and night but they weren't just the usual "good morning" texts. In each text, he would tell you something you used to do for him that he appreciated and as the days went by you were intrigued to see if he suddenly stopped or change themes but he didn't. He just kept coming up with more. It was a kind gesture that didn't demand anything of you and you appreciated it as the first step.
So the two of you started texting, Vernon would ask how your day was going and remember when you had a difficult day coming up and wish you luck. He was attentive, patient and supportive. So much so, 3 weeks later when Vernon tentatively mentioned meeting up after work for a coffee you agreed.
Typically to any date Vernon was late and would always have some sort of excuse. When you walked to the coffee shop and saw he wasn't outside you sighed. You waited until the time and then texted him asking if he was far. "I'm already here" he replied and you looked around confused when you saw him waving to you from inside. "I got here early and thought I'd wait inside but I should've told you I'm sorry" Vernon said anxiously but you just smiled "you got here early?". He nodded "of course, you're my priority Y/n and that will never change". You blushed and searched for something to change the conversation. "I should go get a drink" you said when Vernon shook his head "don't worry about that, chai with almond milk right?". You nodded "yeah but why?" when you saw him nod to the barista and who started making you your drink. "Sit he'll bring it over". "You remembered my drink?" you asked "and ordered for me?". "Why not?" Vernon asked "if I can make your day any better then I'll do that". You blushed and with nothing else to distract you just smiled.
You didn't want to get ahead of yourself but this date felt differently. It wasn't just you that did all the talking which usually happened on often because Vernon was too tired. Instead, Vernon talked a lot. He was very open with you about the things he was struggling with at the moment and how his appetite wasn't great. You knew you were probably the reason he looked a little skinnier lately and the second you hinted to that Vernon shook his head. "Don't be silly it's not you, our breakup wasn't your fault". "I mean but I ended it" you argued and Vernon shrugged "so? I did things to make you end it with time and I didn't fight it so it's my own fault. Don't blame yourself for telling me I needed to do better, I actually want to thank you for it". "You do?" you asked and Vernon nodded "yeah as much as it makes me nervous I needed to change. I wasn't fully living and was taking things for granted. You've helped open my eyes and the guys have all commented on the change in me. So no matter what thank you". You shook your head "I...you're welcome?" and Vernon chuckled. You forgot how much you missed the sound of his voice.
After that, you met up with Vernon regularly once a week. They didn't start off as dates but definitely got more light-hearted and date-like. Two weeks later after a restaurant date, you held Vernon's hand and he shot you a beautiful smile. A week after that you linked arms as you walked through the park and now Vernon would put his arm around whenever you sat down. Vernon was a lot more careful with you, in that he was aware of where you were at all times and was intuned to you. He'd move to face you without even thinking and would always take the seat to shade or protect you. You seemed to move in sync and you realised it was because it wasn't just you paying attention to him, he was paying attention to you too!
When you got home you were really happy and the girls noticed.
"What's got you so smiley?" Shuhua asked and you blushed making the girls all pay extra attention. "I bet it's Vernon!" Miyeon said in a sing-song voice and your further blush confirmed it. "Are things still going well?" Soyeon asked and you nodded "he's like a different person! Even when he first started dating he didn't behave like this and it makes me really happy". "That's so sweet" Minnie commented but Yuqi looked at you carefully "so what's wrong?". You sighed "well I don't know if I can trust him. Things are really great now but that doesn't erase everything that happened and he is still the same person deep down with the potential to do the same thing. I want to forgive him and try again but I just don't know if that's wise" you finished with a sigh looking down. The girls exchanged looks, saw they were all in agreement and turned to you.
"Y/n" Soojin said and you looked at her "what?". "I think you should take Vernon back?". "Really?" you asked and she nodded as did the other girls. "But what if he goes back to how he was? What if I look like a fool?". "Well I doubt that will happen" Soyeon said "for one thing you said he was never like this even when you first got back together so there's no reason for you to think he would decline. I think he really has changed. "He's proven himself" Minnie said "he's tried hard and shown he cares about you". "Yeah plus you can always dump his ass if he slips up again, trust me he'll feel more foolish than you" Yuqi said and that made you smile. So with the girls' support, you nodded.
The next time you saw Vernon you decided to tell him your decision but you knew you'd be nervous the whole date so instead you asked him to come to your first and all the girls made sure they were out. Vernon looked nervous when you opened the door and you got that. From your message, he probably worked out this wasn't a casual social call. Still, he gave you a smile when you opened the door and complimented your outfit. "Thank you, you look nice too" you replied and led him into your living room.
Once there you gestured for him to sit and took a seat across from him. "So I just wanted to have a clarifying talk because I know things have changed but we've not verbalised that". Vernon nodded "of course, I've really enjoyed how things have been doing by the way". "Me too" you nodded "but I just have one worry, that this will fade. I love all the care and attention but what if a month down the line things go back to how they were?" you asked Vernon. Vernon nodded "I know and I've considered this before. There's no physical proof I can give you other than my word. Y/n losing you was the worst thing that ever happened to me so I will do everything in my power to make sure that doesn't happen again. Not just that, you deserve way better than how I was treating you before and I'm ashamed of how I was acting. So I will never treat you like that again because I don't want to lose you but also because you deserve to be treated better. I want to cherish you Y/n because I'm lucky to have you and you bring so much into my life...I like you a lot Y/n" Vernon finished blushing but he never looked away from your eye. Not even for a second and you nodded.
"I like you too and I'm ready to try again" you replied.
Vernon's eyes lit up "you are? You're taking me back?" he asked and you nodded. "Y/n this is...I don't even have words!" he cried and dove on you making you laugh as he hugged you. He held you tightly, laughing too "thank you so much I love you" and then he froze "sorry I shouldn't have said that". "It's okay" you said "I'm not quite ready to say it back but thank you". Vernon nodded "no thank you" and he got to do something he never thought he'd be able to again.
He got to kiss you.
166 notes · View notes
wqnwoos · 10 months
Text
on idiocy, bugs and the prospect of forever.
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idiots 2 lovers & best friends to lovers / minor minor angst? bc oc is losing their mind / unnecessary use of bugs as plot progression (it will make sense i swear)
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you and vernon have been dancing on the cusp of friendship and something more for too long now.
at least, that’s what you think. you’re not entirely sure what he thinks, given how quiet he can be sometimes. maybe you’re just misreading the whole situation! maybe your big fat crush on him is completely unrequited and he sees you as nothing more than a best friend! a best friend he likes to watch movies with and make soup for and brush hands with and look at for unnecessarily extensive periods of time!
which is exactly why you’ve been so — silent around him, lately. usually, you’re comfortable enough with him to babble his ear off about whatever you feel like. trains. worms. cats. the flaws in the schooling system which are leading to the collapse of true education. anything you want, you know vernon will listen. but these days, your weekly movie nights are starting to descend into quietude, as you become more and more flustered with trying to hide your feelings.
unfortunately for you, vernon is observant.
“okay,” he speaks suddenly — sudden enough to make you jump — pausing 20th century girl on screen. “enough,” he continues, turning on the sofa to face you. “talk to me.”
slowly, you blink at him. “about something in particular, or…?”
he frowns. “yes. about whatever’s been bothering you for the past… few weeks.”
ah. you bite down on your lower lip, immediately dropping his concerned gaze.
“you know, i tried to,like, give you space, because usually after a week or two, you just let it out. in your own time. but this just keeps going, so i’m asking you instead.”
heat is rising to your cheeks, creeping up your neck. you don’t know what to say. how do you tell him — i think i may be crushing on you harder than anyone has ever crushed before? you can’t.
“are you mad at me? did i do something?” vernon questions, his eyes going wider at the thought.
“no!” you splutter quickly, shaking your head for emphasis. “no. i’d tell you if i was mad at you.”
vernon nods then, and waits.
you look away. the open sincerity and concern in his pretty brown eyes is only making this harder — because all you want to do is fling your arms around his neck and kiss his face off. and you shall not let these thoughts win. you refuse!
your best friend sighs at your continued silence, and he scoots closer, so you guys are practically touching. “look at me,” he says softly.
despite your vows, you listen to him immediately, your eyes tentatively flickering up to meet his. you’re so close to him that you can feel the warmth radiating off his body — you can see the way each eyelash rests gently against his skin — the way his lips part ever so slightly.
a small sound escapes him, like his breath has gotten caught in his throat; just when you think he’s going to speak, his mouth closes, and he just… gazes. directly into your eyes — the most tender, heated gaze you have ever felt in your life.
you suck in a breath. “vernon —”
“just a sec,” he whispers, and one hand comes up to — ever so gently — brush against your face.
you jolt backwards, blinking fast and horrified. “oh my god. there’s a bug on my face, isn’t there?”
vernon startles at your sudden movement, barely registering your words, but you’re gasping and moving closer, with wide, pleading eyes. “vernon! get it off!” you demand, tipping your face in his direction.
when he doesn’t move, you grow increasingly frantic. “vernon! can you please — oh!”
and you cut yourself off with a noise of surprise; because vernon takes your face carefully between his hands, lips colliding with yours in a firm, bruising kiss — one that leaves you gasping with its intensity.
he pulls away too fast.
“shit,” he breathes, closing his eyes for a long second. “i didn’t mean to — well, i did, but — ” he pauses for a moment, and sighs. “god, you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that.”
then his eyelids flutter open — eyes wide, fixed on yours to gauge your reaction, hands slowly leaving your cheeks.
you, on the other hand, are gaping wordlessly at him. like a goldfish. the only thing you manage is a squeak — which may possibly be the most humiliating sound you’ve ever made.
just before his hands retreat fully, you grab them in yours, opening your mouth — before you pause. “there was no bug,” you say breathlessly.
vernon’s head tilts to the side, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “there was no bug,” he agrees.
“you were pulling a move.”
“i was, indeed, pulling a move.”
“okay,” you nod slowly, still breathless. “just… give me a moment here. i think i’m processing.”
his smile grows, his eyes soft and fond. “okay.”
your eyes fall on your interlaced hands, noticing how his thumbs gently caress your skin. “wow. wow. that was — that was good.”
“oh?” he raises a brow. “you liked?”
you nod a little too quickly. “are you kidding? i’ve wanted to kiss you for like, fifty billion years now!”
a snort escapes his mouth, and he squeezes your hands. “i can make up for that,” he promises softly.
the beam you give him in return is half your answer; the other half comes in the way you wrap your arms around him and pull him in for another kiss. this time softer, sweeter — slower. like forever is stretching out in front of you.
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an / a bit of a longer one this time (sorry) !! they’re idiots and i love them. love u guys (and thanks for well over 200!! idk where you all are coming from but i love u 💗💕💞💓💘)
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miraclewoozi · 16 days
Text
HIGH FIDELITY, PT 1. -c.hs
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getting back on the horse is hard, and failing to hit it off with the cute gamer guy you went for a drink with last night has the potential to be your love life’s last straw. but when up and coming rockstar VERNON unexpectedly canters into your life, you find yourself asking one very important question: do you have it in you to saddle up, one more time?
pair ; vernon x fem!reader.  content ; strangers to lovers.  up-and-coming musician!vernon x record store owner!reader.   fluff, angst, parts two and three will contain suggestive themes and smut. (MINORS DNI).  warnings ; drinking + alcohol is a big theme pretty much throughout. mentions of past relationship breakdowns. reader experiences a lot of stress, anxiety and feelings of doubt, reflected in self sabotage.  wc ; 13.5k ( ~35k total. ) disclaimer ; this fic was inspired by rob + liam in the series high fidelity and is therefore pretty influenced by the show. if you’ve watched it, you’ll probably see a lot of similarities! i just felt so drawn to vernon in this kind of role that i really wanted to try and put a spin on it. i do not claim that every idea behind this is original. notes ; been working on this one for a while. hope you enjoy it.<3
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“What do you mean, no?”
Your best friend and longest standing employee Seungkwan turns his head away from the customer he’s serving to look at you with filth in his eyes. Unsurprisingly, his features don’t soften when you double down on your response to him.
“I mean, no,” you laugh. “I’m running on fumes, dude. I’m not going. No way.”
“But…” he whines, putting down the record in his hands. “No, come on. I told you about this weeks ago. You’re really gonna make me go on my own?”
“You won’t be on your own. Chan’s still going.”
Your younger friend, upon hearing his own name, whirls around from where he’s been rearranging the wall of cassettes and lifts an eyebrow. “Hmm?”
“You’re still going to that guy’s show tonight, right?”
“Are you kidding? Of course I am. Why?” Chan eyeballs your guilt-adjacent expression for a second before his face falls and he looks at Seungkwan with a curled lip. “What did you do? Why’s she not coming anymore?”
“I didn’t do anything!” Seungkwan barks. The customer he’s still not finished ringing up flinches at the lift in his voice, but he doesn’t notice. “Why is that always your first–”
“Shut up, don’t start this right n–”
“I’m not starting anything! You started–”
“Guys!” You interrupt, looking between the two of them and doing your best to smile apologetically at the poor lady fumbling through the cash in her fingers like it’s an Olympic sport. “Can we park this one? For five minutes? Please?”
The bickering pair fall quickly into silence and Chan sends one last glare at Seungkwan before he turns back to the cassettes, grumbling something under his breath. 
With a clearing of his throat the only giveaway, Seungkwan drops seamlessly back into his customer service voice and plasters a charming smile onto his lips. He checks the register and warmly tells the young woman her total, holding out his palm for her to place the money into. Even knowing him as well as you do, the switch-up gives you a little bit of whiplash.
The customer passes over her cash and accepts her change from Seungkwan’s hands before making perhaps the swiftest exit you’ve ever seen anyone make. No sooner has the bell above the entry to OFF BEAT Vinyl rung and the door has clicked shut, the two men turn once again.
But not on each other.
On you. And it’s the more gentle of them that pipes up first.
“Why aren’t you coming?” Chan asks, abandoning his little project and hurrying over to the desk with a frown. You’re sure it’s supposed to look sympathetic to whatever issue it is that’s changed your mind, supposed to fool you into believing that this has nothing to do with him still blaming Seungkwan entirely. But… you know him better than that. You know them both better. If Chan and Seungkwan weren’t both employed by you, you don’t doubt that they would have ripped each other to shreds within the first hour of meeting. Their dynamic is fascinating to watch — one minute, the best of friends, the next just seconds away from throwing fists; you’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve had to send them to different rooms to avoid having to clean blood and tears off your shop (and sometimes your apartment) floor. 
“I didn’t sleep so well last night, I just want to go to bed early. Is that… okay?” 
(This is an embellishment of the truth, but what they don’t know can’t hurt them.)
“No,” they both exclaim at the same time, but Seungkwan goes one step further and slams his hands down on the counter for good measure. You purse your lips and narrow your eyes at him, but he keeps his palms flat and doesn’t give any indication that he’s about to apologise, so…
“Okay — God.” You turn away from them, heading towards the little office out the back of the store to try and get a few minutes’ respite. “Whatever. Fight with the wall, you guys – I’m not going. Check in with me before you head out, okay?”
Behind you, Seungkwan dramatically calls you a traitor and says he’ll never forgive you for this, but you just shake your head and continue on your way. The world falls into silence as you shut the door after yourself and you lean back against it, letting out a deep exhale and pinching the bridge of your nose. 
Now, you did have an awful night’s sleep last night, and after how on-and-off busy the store has been all day today, the headache you woke up with this morning has only slowly gotten worse. But there are reasons for those things outside of what you’re going to admit to out in the main storefront. As close as the three of you are, there are some things that you’ve always thought it wise to keep… a little bit hushed. Especially at work. 
When Chan and Seungkwan start an inquisition into your private life, it feels like it may never end. And so sue you, you’d actually like to make it home at a reasonable time, today. 
True to your parting request, the two men close down the store for you while you sit out the back in your ‘office’, lights dimmed, pouring over both a new store playlist you’re trying to compile and a few less exciting — but actually important — tasks. Chan heads out first, all puppy-dog eyed when he pokes his head through the door and asking if you’re really not coming out. You shake your head, telling him to have fun and tell you all about it on Monday when he’s next penned in.
Seungkwan is slightly less easily brushed away. A few minutes after Chan says his final goodbye, your other employee slides into your office and shuts the door, sitting down in the armchair opposite you with his eyebrows scrunched together.
He doesn’t speak for almost a full thirty seconds, at which point, you look up at him from the small mountain of receipts you’re trying to organise and click your tongue.
“What?” you ask, leaning back in your own chair and crossing your arms. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You know why.” Seungkwan shifts forward on the cushion until he’s sat almost entirely on the edge of the seat. “You might think you’re really good at hiding your shit, okay? But you’re not. Not from me.”
“Please,” you sigh. “It’s nothing. I’m telling you, I’m just tired today.”
“And I’m telling you that I know you better than that. Come on, talk to me.”
This is, unfortunately, something you can’t deny. It also seems to be his unfailing last line of defence every single time you’re stubborn over discussing your problems. One of these days, you’ll be ready for it — you’ll have a response sitting on the tip of your tongue ready to shut the conversation down, and he’ll be the one on the spot, and you’ll treat yourself to a pint of ice cream or something when you get home as a victory snack. But today? Isn’t that day; Seungkwan stumps you, once again, so you groan in defeat, cradling your head in your hands.
“I went on a date last night,” you say under your breath.
“What?”
Clearing your throat, you look up at him. You say, louder, “I went on a date last night.”
His eyes blow wide and if he could get any closer to you without actually sitting on top of your coffee-stained worktop, you think he would. Which is strange, if you really let yourself think about it, because Seungkwan is sort of an ex-thing, and talking so openly to someone who has quite literally been inside you about going out with other people… shouldn’t come as easily as it does.
But that was quite some time ago, and for three long months, you drove each other nuts. The two of you are way better off as friends. (Whether you’re better as colleagues is still up for review.)
“You what?” he whisper-shouts. It feels almost like he’s hinting to an invisible audience that this piece of information is extremely scandalous: all wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Which would be fine, except it’s not really that scandalous at all, and neither should it be a surprise: you’re single, you have been for a while, and you have an entire sub-folder in your phone dedicated solely to dating apps — you’re at perfect liberty to go out with whoever you like. You just continue to stare at him, refusing to repeat yourself for a third time. 
“You haven’t even been home, have you?” Seungkwan asks after letting the dust settle, the silence just on the brink of uncomfortable. “Oh my God. Tell me everything.”
“Shut up,” you groan. “His name’s Wonwoo. I met him on Hinge. And fuck you – yes, I went back to my own place.”
You pause for a second, taking a breath when his features cloud with the question he’s about to ask. 
“It’s just-... so did he.”
Seungkwan leaps to his feet and claps loud enough that your already tender eardrums feel assaulted, adding an ‘I knew it!’ for good measure. You cringe at his volume, rubbing your temples – you should’ve known telling him this wouldn’t calm him down, but a small part of you was still hoping. This time, he actually does circle around the desk, carelessly shoving a few bits of paper out of his way before sitting on the newly cleared wood. 
“Had you up all night, didn’t he?” Seungkwan asks. You shove his thigh, looking away from him, embarrassed. “What was the date?”
You just wish it was the kind of embarrassment that he thinks you’re feeling. Flustered, shy, giddy even. But it’s not any of those things.
“If I tell you, will you please turn it down a notch?” You ask, and Seungkwan nods, giddily kicking his legs over the side of the desk. With a sigh, you continue. “We just went for a drink. It wasn’t special, okay? It was bad. We had nothing to talk about, he was awkward, I didn’t even wanna be there – I took a bathroom break after like… a half hour, and I tried to bail but I’d left my phone on the table so I had to go back.”
“And how did that end up with him in your panties?” Seungkwan asks, thankfully a little quieter when he speaks this time. 
“Do not talk about my panties out loud ever again,” you grunt, drumming your fingertips on the arm of your office chair. You give a dejected sigh as you answer him properly. “I guess… It felt like a sign that I was trying to give up too early. So I stayed a little longer, told him the truth about how I was feeling. I don’t know, maybe it took the pressure off or something? But we got talking a little more, we found some stuff we had in common… It just got easier and he started cracking a few jokes, so…”
“So… he laughed his way into your—?”
“He doesn’t drink alcohol,” you interject slowly, narrowing your eyes. “I asked him if he minded driving me home.”
“You devil,” Seungkwan grins, lightly prodding your calf with the side of his foot. “Was he good? Was it big?”
“Seungkwan!”
“Did he make you–”
“He was gone this morning when I woke up.”
Your friend doesn’t say ‘oh, shit’ out loud, but he doesn’t have to. The silence he suddenly falls into speaks for itself, his newly adopted slack-jawed expression the exclamation mark at the end of his unspoken sentence. 
“Always the fucking ‘nice’ guys.” You push up from your desk and start to gather your things, shutting off your computer and grabbing your phone off the desk. You’re over it – you can deal with all this tomorrow.
Seungkwan hops down, biting the inside of his cheek as you pull your keys out of the pocket of your jeans. “Come with us tonight,” he tries one more time, laying a hand on your shoulder and sounding the kind of gentle that makes your skin itch. You swerve out from beneath his palm, shaking your head at him again. “Maybe it’ll take your mind off it.”
“I don’t need my mind taking off anything,” you insist softly. “I’m fine, I just don’t feel like going out. Gonna order in some food and get my ass to bed. Okay?”
Knowing he’s fighting a losing battle, your best friend finally stops pressing. He circles around you and flicks on the overnight alarm, letting you lead your way out of the office and then through the front of the store. He helps you pull the shutter down and tests the lock for you, as he so often does, before he holds both of his arms out in front of him. With a resigned roll of your eyes, you walk into his embrace for a couple of seconds.
“I’m okay, Seungkwan. Go without me. Have fun and let me know if this Vernon guy is any good, okay?”
“We’ll miss you,” he says as you pull away, and you clap him on the upper arm once before turning away, slipping your headphones on over your ears. 
What you neglected to inform Seungkwan, even after allowing yourself those rare few moments of vulnerability, is who you bumped into on your way to the bar where you met Wonwoo last night. The encounter that set the tone in the first place. The reason you were so cold with the stranger who sat across from you in the booth, the reason you tried to bail, and two-thirds of the reason you’ve felt so damn out of it all day. That’s a story for another time, you tell yourself on your walk home. Maybe. 
But… then again. Maybe not.
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You’ve been marinating on your couch in a pair of sweatpants and a crisis hoodie for at least two hours and are currently on your second bowl of evening cereal when you hear a knock on your apartment door. You purse your lips and set the spoon back down inside the milky sludge, but you don’t set your ‘dinner’ to one side just yet. It’s probably just the old lady next door, asking if you’ve seen her cat, Houdini (you can’t help but feel like she was asking for trouble giving him a name like that) (in any case — no, you haven’t), or the middle-aged couple opposite asking you to turn your music down (you won’t) (it’s not even that loud).
You’re not getting up. All you have to do is wait for them to give up and away. 
Knock, knock, knock.
They’ll leave. 
Knock knock. 
Any second, now.
Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.
You groan loudly as you haul yourself to your feet and skid over to the door, crossing your arms tighter over your chest to try and shield you from the chill that always lingers in the hallway.
“I’m sorry, Mrs P,  I haven’t seen H—” you start on exasperated autopilot, falling quiet the moment your eyes land first on Chan’s beaming smile, and second on Seungkwan’s guilty eyes. “How… the fuck did you guys get in here?”
“We followed someone in,” Chan tells you as he slides past, inviting himself into your haven and heading through to the living room where your favourite album is spinning on your record player. “That really tall guy – I think he lives on the second floor? Crazy hairline. Like, right back h—?”
“Cool,” you interrupt, except it’s actually everything but cool. Seungkwan steps through the door too, following behind you as you stalk after your younger friend. “Next question. Why are you guys in here?”
“You’ve been in a funk all day,” Chan says, tossing himself down onto your couch and nearly tipping your cereal all over the cushions. He eyes the glass you have on the side-table, raises a brow and looks back at you. “And you can’t deny that. You’re drinking rosè and eating fruit loops at 9pm on a Saturday. You need to get out of this apartment.”
“I don’t need to do anything,” you tell him, sitting down on the armchair to Chan’s left that only ever gets used when these two idiots show up at the same time. 
“One hour?” Seungkwan tries again, crouching down in front of you and taking hold of your hand. “You don’t have to be out late. And – and I’ll open tomorrow. You can stay in bed as long as you want.”
“Do you guys ever stop?” You ask them, and in tandem, the two men shake their heads at you. “I’m staying here. You’ve gotta go, or you’re gonna be late.”
Chan whines your name loudly, stomping like an upset toddler. “You know it won’t be as fun without you.”
“It’s gonna have to be,” you shrug, picking your feet up off the floor and resting them on the coffee table. “Come on. I’m serious. Get out of here.”
Seungkwan watches you for a moment longer but when you eye him sternly, he stands up again, giving your hand a squeeze and sending a nod to tell Chan to get up and follow him. First taking a long sip from your wine glass, the younger man does as he’s instructed, concern etching a frown onto his lips as he walks towards the door.
“If you change your mind, you know where we are, okay?” Seungkwan says and you nod at him. “See you in the morning.”
The door clicks shut behind them and you feel your shoulders droop, a long sigh leaving your lungs now you’re finally back on your own again. You roll your head side-to-side, relieving a tiny bit of the tension that you’ve been holding up in your neck all day, before relaxing back against the cushions behind you.
I’m not going out tonight, you tell yourself as you try to time your breaths to the beat of your music, letting it drown out the fact that the young couple who live two doors down have started arguing just outside your front door. It’s not gonna happen. 
There’s no way. 
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The chill of an ice-cold glass meets your palm not even an hour later.
Chan and Seungkwan had been sitting on the stairs outside your apartment building, giving you fifteen more minutes just in case you happened to change your mind. To your credit, neither man had expected you to get out of your quarter-life-crisis outfit. Each gave a whistle of approval as you stepped outside into the air in a nice pair of jeans and a cute, long-sleeved shirt.
You all set off in the direction to the Arrowhead (so-called thanks to the venue’s unconventional triangular room shape) and both of your friends managed to successfully paint a few smiles on your face along the way. Once inside, Seungkwan dragged you by the wrist up towards the main bar space. Before you even had time to process the blurred faces that you walked by and the fuzzy neon signs all the way up the stairwell, enthused cheers and applause from the room ahead and the melodic strumming of a guitar drowned out the dread you’d been feeling ever since you woke up.
“This guy is not covering U2,” Chan says almost incredulously as he thrusts the drink he paid for into your hand. You manage to work your way through the crowd a little: it’s busier in here than you’ve ever seen it before, and certainly way more full than you would have really expected, but there’s still just enough movement room.
“Yeah, he is,” you say as you weave your way into a decent spot, where you can actually see the musician whose logo has been plastered on every notice board around town for the past month and a half. You even end up with a bit of breathing space, which is a rare, but welcome, treat.
But whatever you were about to say next – about how you don’t like U2, and how you’ve never really forgiven them for putting their entire new album onto everybody’s iTunes back in 2014 – dies a magnificent death on your tongue. You pause with your drink halfway to your lips as your eyes land on the main attraction, the man up on the stage; he has a small band up there, too, but all the lights draw your focus to him. His eyes are sparkly. Both his hands are wrapped around the microphone like he’s caressing it, his rosy lips brush over the metal as they move with each word that comes out of his mouth. Watching him quickly becomes almost hypnotic.
So. This is Vernon.
Long, dark hair sits low over his temples, perfectly parted and shaped in the middle to frame his brows. The top few buttons of his emerald satin shirt are popped open, sleeves rolled up past his elbows, the hem half tucked into his black jeans. He has rings on almost every finger. A silver chain around his neck. He looks good, but his voice?
I think I hated this song ten minutes ago, you think to yourself, but there’s something about Vernon’s deep, rough-edged tone that has you considering never listening to anything else. If you could stand to look away from the way he cradles his mic, and the way one of his eyes squeezes tighter closed as he lifts up into a higher note, and the way he moves on the stage like he was born to be on one, you might notice your friends (and everyone else around you) equally entranced by this gorgeous rendition of Beautiful Day as yourself. You can’t, though, so you don’t. 
You keep your attention locked on the singer and instead start to wonder just what he injected the air with when he stepped out from behind that curtain. 
Vernon’s eyes flutter back open right as he hits the final line of the song, a smile spreading over his lips. You realise only now that you’re hardly breathing, nor blinking — your body doesn’t remember to function in the ways it needs to survive, too caught up being immersed all the way to the last beat. You think he looks right at you from up on the stage, you swear one of his eyebrows lifts and his features twist into a satisfied smirk. You’re certain, because for half a second it feels like the world tumbles into slow motion and it’s like he’s reading every single one of your secrets, scouring every corner of your mind. 
And then… he looks away. He looks across the crowd applauding and cheering and whistling for him, before crouching low and taking a sip from the water bottle sitting on the floor beside his mic-stand. Only then does he speak. 
“Risky opener, I know,” he chuckles, his speaking-voice deep and smooth and wholly entrancing. The room erupts into soft laughter, a series of whoops coming from the crowd, everyone disarmed by his slightly awkward charm; the singer’s cheeks turn rosy and a gummy smile lights up his face before he continues. “Thank you guys for giving it a chance, though. If you didn’t know… I’m Vernon—…”
You’re hooked on his every word as he starts to introduce himself and the band behind him — everyone is, but you don’t care about the people around you. Despite being shoulder-to-shoulder with your two best friends and with every breath inhaling the overpowering cologne of the guy standing right behind you, it feels, in a way, like you and the singer could be the only two people in the entire room. 
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The set lasts just over ninety minutes and is a carefully put-together mixture of mostly original songs and a couple of crowd-pleasing covers, a few slower ballad-types to offset the higher energy rock songs that he beams the whole way through. In-between, Vernon wins over the crowd with his dry sense of humour and a natural charisma that has you feeling mortifyingly warm, despite the fact that you know he isn’t speaking directly to you when he breaks to talk. You’ve been to more than your fair share of gigs in this venue over the years, but few performers have ever made one of their shows feel so genuinely intimate; by the time he says goodnight and heads off the stage, bidding everyone a safe journey home, it feels, in a weird way, like… you know him.
Most of the more local artists who play in the Arrowhead tend to hang around after their sets – sometimes they’ll have copies of EPs, others come with pins and badges showing off their logos, various cute freebies for people to take home. A few even just stand around in the bar and talk for a while, thanking people personally for coming, sharing information about their upcoming releases and future gig schedules. Unless you’ve been really blown away, this isn’t something the three of you often stick around for, though.
It’s therefore a bit of a surprise that when Vernon re-emerges some fifteen minutes later, you don’t even have to convince your friends to work your way into the crowd already starting to form. If anything, the look exchanged between you all establishes that wanting to praise this guy and say hello is very much mutual; the time that ticks by before you’re face-to-face with him really feels like no time at all.
The people in front of you move off to the side and you catch your first actual, unobstructed glimpse of him. He takes a sip from his glass and wipes his upper lip with the back of his hand before greeting you kindly. Somehow, he’s even more handsome up close. You really didn’t think it was possible. 
“Amazing set, man,” Chan says brightly, doing little by way of snapping you out of your trance. “Super fresh.”
“Seriously. So, so good,” Seungkwan gushes.
Vernon pushes away from where he’s leaned against the bar, pulling his other hand out of his pocket and extending it to your friends in turn. 
“Thank you so much,” he says. “Glad you guys liked it.” Another one of those easy, bright smiles spreads over his face. Maybe you entertain, for a second, that it grows a little more when he holds his hand out to you, too. 
You’re still stunned into silence by how breathtaking he is, but you put your drink in the other hand and wipe the condensation off your palm on the side of your jeans before shaking his hand, as well. He’s really warm, maybe even a little clammy, but when he squeezes with his fingers and looks straight into your eyes, this becomes a very negligible detail.
“Your vibe really reminds me of someone… God, what was his name-...” Chan starts to babble, clicking his fingers at lightning speed as if it’ll help him remember. “He was on that survival show-...”
“We’re sorry about him,” Seungkwan interjects after a few more seconds of nonsense and half-spoken, incorrect names, lifting a hand and covering Chan’s mouth. “He gets a little… it’s just when he’s excited.”
“No I don’t,” Chan huffs, swatting Seungkwan’s hand away. You inhale deeply, trying not to cringe as you watch Vernon’s amused eyes bounce between your two friends like he’s watching a tennis match. 
“Do too.”
“Do not.”
“Case in point—” Seungkwan starts, at which stage you lay one palm on each of their shoulders to try and get them to stop talking.
By some miracle, it works. At least, their mouths stop moving; there’s definitely a silent conversation ongoing in the filthy looks they continue to exchange, but they stop bickering aloud and that’s good enough for you, for now.
“Come on, let’s leave the poor guy alone,” you say, and Chan shoots Seungkwan a filthy look before he nods and takes a small step back from the altercation. 
Vernon’s eyes glitter under the venue’s neon lighting, wide and focused on you while you do your best to mediate. You only notice this when you look back at him, by which point it’s far, far too late to stop the eruption of butterflies in the pit of your stomach.
“You’re really good,” you compliment finally, a smile tugging your mouth up on one side. 
“Thank you.” Vernon grins, briefly dipping his head in your direction, but looking for a second as if he’s about to say something else. His chest rises with a breath, his lips push forward like they’re about to separate again, but before he can, Chan finds one more thing to come out with. Of course. (Seungkwan, regretfully, was right — he does get a little…)
“Do you like records?” he asks, pulling Vernon’s gaze away from you. The singer tilts his head, questioning. “Records. Vinyl – albums? Records.”
“Shit – yeah.” Vernon nods then. “Yeah, sorry. I um-... Sure. Yeah. Totally.”
“She owns a record store,” Chan says, jerking his head towards you. You feel your eyes blow wide and you’re tapping harshly at his back in an instant, begging him to stop. “OFF BEAT Vinyl. Not too far from here – it’s a cool spot.”
“No kidding?” Vernon says, glancing back in your direction, but you’re too busy silently pleading at Chan to shut up to realise.
“Mm. You should swing by, some time,” Seungkwan agrees, and all of a sudden, you’re overcome with the urge to fight him, too. “We all work there.”
“All right, let’s go,” you cough eventually, grabbing both men by the wrist and tugging. Vernon chuckles softly at the interruption; it’s almost as sweet a sound as his singing.
“OFF BEAT Vinyl,” he repeats, tasting the store’s name on his tongue, swirling it around his mouth like a wine he’s trying to savour. “For real. I’ll look it up.”
Chan grins proudly, finally letting himself be pulled away from the singer, and you manage to make exactly two paces before Vernon’s voice rings through your eardrums one more time.
“Hey, uh – what was your name?” he asks. It’s unmistakable who the question is aimed at (your friends don’t even entertain for a moment that he could be asking them), but regardless, it takes you a moment to let yourself believe he really wants to know. Vernon doesn’t push, though – he knows you heard him and he waits for your answer, leaning a little forward. 
So, you look over your shoulder and you tell him. You see his lips move silently as he repeats it to himself, just like he did with the name of the store. He tastes it. Plays with it on his tongue, remembers the way it feels. As if it’s something he really intends to remember.
“Cool,” he breathes, pushing his hair back and off his forehead and making it very difficult to feel in any way rational. “Well – it’s great to meet you guys. Thanks for coming out, again.”
Finally, you manage to get your friends away. One of them, at least – Seungkwan decides that he actually wants to grab a few copies of his EP (‘one for me, a few for the store’) and rushes back towards the singer; you tell him to just meet you back at the bar.
Then, with another round of drinks on order, you turn to Chan and land a gentle thump on his bicep.
“Dude,” you groan, and he looks at you incredulously, rubbing his upper arm with a pout. “Why did you do that?”
“Do what?” Chan asks. 
“Tell him about the store!”
“I mean – I didn’t think it was classified?” he says. “Shit’s slow right now, and he seems like the kind of guy to have a record collection. What’s the damage?”
Seungkwan appears behind you with his hands full of CDs, badges and a scrap of something that you’re reasonably sure is firstly, a napkin, and secondly, has been signed. So you rest your elbows on the bar and place your head in your hands, grumbling quietly about how you don’t know you’ve managed to survive this long knowing these two losers.
“Because you love us,” Seungkwan says, fastening a button to your t-shirt. “Stop trying to deny it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you sigh, accepting the drink from the bartender and taking a long sip. “God, you better have been serious about opening up for me, tomorrow.”
(Well. You have to give it to him: he was.)
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“It’s just my opinion!” 
From your perch on top of the store’s counter, you raise both of your palms in a display of your innocence. Chan stands in the middle of the R&B aisle, looking personally offended, fingers curled around the top of one of the wooden crates holding your stock. 
“Me saying ‘I don’t think Welcome to the Black Parade is the best track on that album’ is not me saying that it’s a bad song.”
“But how can you say that?” Chan groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Who’s hearing the opening note to Famous Last Words and feeling the same way as they do with the Black Parade?”
“Most iconic doesn’t mean the best,” you counter. “Besides – I never said you weren’t allowed to have it as your favourite. It’d be a boring game if we all had the same answer.”
“I cannot cope with you anymore,” Chan whines. “You know what? No. I don’t even believe you. You’re just being a contrarian.”
“Why would I do that?” you ask. 
“Because it’s the best song on the goddamn albu–”
The bell above the door chimes loud and clear through the store and both of your squabbling voices fall silent. Your head turns in the direction of the entrance, an autopilot greeting already forming on your lips, but you feel them fall slack the moment you realise who it is that’s just walked in.
It’s been five days. Though it would be a mistruth to claim you hadn’t thought about the singer since the night of his gig, it’s not one to say you didn’t think he would ever actually come into your place of work. 
Much less at 3 o’clock in the afternoon. On a Thursday.
He pops his wrists as he walks a little further into the store, glancing around. Barring one of your regulars who walks about with his earphones in all the time, the store is completely empty; an adrenaline spike prickles the hairs on your arms, all the tiny muscles beneath your skin pulling them to stand upright. 
“Hi,” he says once he deems himself to be close enough, stopping in his tracks and kicking the toe of his shoe against the floor.
“Hey,” you greet him in return. 
“I’m-... Vernon. We met at the show, the other night?” 
“Yeah — yeah, I remember you,” you smile. “I’m-... well. I’m still y/n.”
“Still y/n,” he says on a relieved exhale, grinning and glancing away from you. “I uh… I just had some free time. Thought I’d swing by and see what you guys had going on here.” Vernon adjusts the collar of his t-shirt, the silver of his rings glinting under the flickering yellow light overhead.
(It was definitely somewhere on your list of things to get fixed. Honest.)
“Sure, yeah,” you nod, swallowing hard and trying your best not to stare at him. It’s hard, though – in broad daylight, the way the flannel tied around his waist floats down over his hips and the way his jeans hug at his thighs is… you don't even have the words. “Let me know if you need help finding anything, okay?” 
“I will.” He starts to thumb through one of the wooden boxes, offering a small smile your way. “Thank you.”
You’re holding your breath a little as he pulls a few 80’s rock albums out, his lips downturned in surprised approval at some of the records you carry. He holds onto a couple as he moves around the store and the entire time, you can feel Chan and Seungkwan staring at you. If there wasn’t a very real danger of Vernon looking your way again at a moment’s notice, you know you would be showing them your middle finger.
Really, they come away lucky.
“You don’t even know how long I’ve been trying to find some of these,” Vernon says after a few minutes, sauntering toward the desk – you’re still sitting on top of it, your legs swinging in the air beneath you. “Might have to make this my new stop.”
And displayed beside you on the counter – right by the cash register – are a few of his albums. The ones Seungkwan picked up after the show; until about two seconds ago, you had forgotten they were even there.
Vernon’s face lights up when he notices, turning to Seungkwan. “Come on, no way. I thought you were kidding about that.”
“Deadly serious,” Seungkwan laughs. Out of the corner of his eye, he must see you start to freeze up: he keeps talking instead of letting the silence settle. “It was on the speakers yesterday. Four people asked us about you.”
“For real?” Vernon asks. When all three of you nod your heads, you see the beginnings of a blush start to creep up his neck. “Wow. Thank you – um. That’s really cool of you guys.”
“It’s good music,” Chan shrugs. “You’re super talented.”
You’re not sure what it is about the onslaught of passive praise that gets so deep into Vernon’s head, but he doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself other than repeatedly saying ‘thank you’. Relief comes in the form of another customer jingling the bell above the door and drawing the attention away from him for a few moments.
“I’ll take these,” he says breathlessly as he turns to face you again. You find yourself a tiny bit lost in the warmth of his eyes and it takes you a second to remember to swivel around and slip off the other side of the countertop. You do, though. Eventually. 
“Nice,” you say softly as you shuffle through them, ringing each one through. He’s got pretty decent taste, even if less than a week ago you were actively cringing at his choice of cover song. (It’s okay. That was before you knew better.) “Do you– need sleeves, or…?”
“I’m good. Thank you, though.” Vernon rests his hands against the edge of the counter and drums a quiet rhythm out with his thumbs as you tap away at the register. “Are-... you guys busy tonight, by the way?”
You look up from placing the records into a paper bag, glancing over to your colleagues who both rush to shake their heads. Vernon looks from them, to you, and you mirror their action. Even if I was, you start to think wistfully. I’d make time.
“I’m playing at the Orchid? Uh— it starts at eight thirty; I could get you guys on the list, if-... um…”
“That’d be awesome,” Chan says, nodding so hard you’re surprised his head doesn’t roll off his shoulders and start bouncing across the floor. 
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Seungkwan adds. 
Vernon grins at them both, humming softly, before turning back to you and fumbling with his wallet to take out his card to pay for his purchases. You turn the machine around to face him; he hovers with his hand just above it. 
“Maybe… I’ll see you tonight, too?” He says.
You can’t help the delight that rises inside you, as if it’s been injected straight into your bloodstream. It’s everywhere, all of a sudden. In your brain and your heart and your bones and in your lungs.
Yet, you somehow manage to keep your composure when you say, “yeah. Maybe you will.”
The payment goes through and you slide the bag over towards Vernon, your eyes never leaving his and his eyes never leaving yours. His fingers brush over yours as he takes it from you, the bite of the cold ring on his index finger a shocking contrast to the warmth the rest of his hand radiates. You hope your little gasp isn’t too audible, but… the way Chan whirls around to face away from the scene in front of him (presumably to poorly conceal his laughter), you know you haven’t gotten away with it.
“Cool,” he says, hesitating another second before finally pulling himself away. He bows his head in the direction of your friends, sending another of those irresistibly sweet smiles at you, and then he starts off towards the door. “See you, then.”
You feel your heart finally start to slow down as you grip the counter for dear life, setting out a long, drawn-out breath. What just happened? Why do you feel all… fuzzy?
“Maybe… I’ll see you tonight, too?” Chan asks in the deepest voice he can muster, snapping you out of your own head none too pleasantly. You turn in their direction as your other favourite moron feigns tucking hair behind his ear and flutters his eyelashes across at Chan.
“Yeah… Maybe you will.” And Seungkwan’s imitation of you is a little too accurate. Creepily so, and you want to curse him out for it. Instead, you scrunch up a bag to throw towards the pair of them, grinning despite yourself as they both swerve to dodge it.
“Oh my God, shut up,” you chastise them. You don’t have any bite, though, your brain still tingly and positively reeling and seeing Vernon’s dazzling smile every time you so much as blink. And when Seungkwan takes a running start and launches himself, full-force, into Chan’s unsuspecting arms? When Chan lifts him up and spins him around, and when they start making kissy-noises at each other between unearthly cackles? 
You know that the next few hours are going to be the longest of your entire life.
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The rest of the afternoon goes by without much disturbance and with evening plans now in place, you make the executive decision to send the boys home half an hour early. The three of you agree to meet outside The Orchid at just after eight o’clock, giving you all a chance to eat, wash up and change before the show; your friends separate and head in the different directions to the places they call home, making a promise to text your group chat before you leave to coordinate the link-up time. You head back into the office to finish tying up your loose ends and manage to depart just an hour later. 
On your way to your apartment, you plan everything out to the minute in your head. You even allocate yourself twenty minutes to sit on the couch and decompress from your working day. So, when you settle down a little further into the cushions and put your head back, resting your eyes… when you tell yourself you’ll get up in just a minute and hop into the shower…
You certainly don’t expect to be woken up two and a half hours later as your phone vibrates on the floor of your living room.
With one eye still closed, you pick it up, yawning and stretching the lingering wisps of slumber from your body. Seungkwan’s contact name shows on your screen and you swipe to answer the call; on the other end of the line, a song you’ve never heard before is audible, but it’s accompanied by a voice you most definitely do know.
Everything snaps into place at once; in an instant, you’re wide awake, and you feel physically sick.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” you hiss into the speaker, scrabbling upright, tugging the phone away from your face to see the time. How is it already past 9pm?
“Oh, hello to you, too!” Seungkwan has to half-shout to be anywhere near audible over the music. You can almost perfectly visualise the way he’ll have sandwiched himself in a corner of the venue, pinching the bridge of his nose, head resting against the wall to try and block out enough sound to hear you. “Good to know you’re actually still alive!”
“Dude, I’m so sorry,” you say, rushing through to your bathroom to check if you can get away with leaving the house as you are. (Jury’s out, but you don’t have much of a choice.) “I… don’t know what happened. I fell asleep – I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
Seungkwan chides you again, this time reminding you that he’s been on your ass about going to a doctor to get your iron levels checked for months, that your timekeeping is terrible and that you really better hurry. You promise you’re on your way and hang up the call, pocketing your (horrifically under-charged) phone and slipping into a pair of sneakers you keep by the door before you head out. You told him you’d be here. Seungkwan’s voice rings loud and clear in your ears as you lock up your apartment.
But of course, bad things never happen in isolation. Waiting on the street outside your apartment block, you find yourself being cancelled on by not one, but two uber drivers: by the time the third reaches you, and has to follow the world’s most inconvenient diversion to get past some construction work, it’s 9:35. You know it doesn’t matter how quickly you run down the last stretch of the street and get up the seemingly never-ending staircase: it’s going to be too late.
You only manage to catch the literal last two songs of Vernon’s set. You’re not sure he even knows you’ve arrived, and in a way, you hope he doesn’t. Maybe having him believe you were a no-show is better than him knowing you’re about as low-functioning as a grown adult can be. You just slip in through the door as discreetly as you can and hover at the very back of the room as he rounds up for the night; Chan slips an arm around your shoulders as you turn to the bar and order yourself a drink, but it doesn’t do much to reduce the guilt that weighs heavy in your chest. 
Which… is odd, really, you suppose. Seeing as you hardly know the singer much beyond his name and, now, a fraction of his record collection. Seeing as you certainly don’t owe him your presence at any of his performances. But there’s something in the way he made sure to ask you personally if you’d be able to make it, too, and you can’t shake it off, and… yeah, screw it, maybe you did want to be here. Maybe you did want him to notice. Maybe you do care what he thinks of you. 
Maybe… you hope he feels the same about you.
Your drink hasn’t even arrived yet by the time you hear a chain of ‘excuse me – sorry, can I just? Yeah, thanks – sorry, excuse me’ -s behind you. Your eyes fly wide and you almost choke on your own spit at the sound, growing closer and closer, somehow audible over the background music floating through the speakers, over the other chattering voices and shrieks of laughter in every direction. Part of your breathlessness, admittedly, is to do with how immediately you just knew who that voice belonged to.
“Excuse m–” it sounds again.
And then, softer: “Hey.”
You turn around on your bar stool, barely managing to bite back a smile. “Hi.”
Vernon grins at you from a few feet away, a dark singlet hanging loose on his frame, showing off his long, lean arms, displaying the few bracelets he wears on one of his slender wrists. You’re staring – you know you are; you don’t even notice the fact that Chan takes several steps away from you, or how he throws a side-along glance toward Seungkwan, nor the fact that your two best friends start talking quietly among themselves, leaving you and Vernon almost alone.
“I’m so sorry, I don’t know how I managed to…” But Vernon’s already shaking his head, coming up beside you at the bar, settling into the seat on your left. 
“Don’t worry about it,” he insists, glancing over at you where you’re sitting. “I’m just glad you’re here, now.”
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Chan stumbles over to you somewhere around midnight and claps his hand down on your shoulder, interrupting Vernon’s very enthusiastic explanation as to why flying is totally a better superpower to want to have than invisibility. Your giggles fall silent and Vernon stops mid-flow, waiting to hear what your friend wants to speak to you about. Unfortunately, Chan’s words are barely intelligible; it’s only when a marginally-better-for-wear Seungkwan appears too a moment later that you’re able to make any sense of him.
“We’re gonna–” Seungkwan hiccups, covering his mouth with his hand and wincing, no doubt at the burn of everything he’s had to drink now sitting high in his throat. “Gonna head out. Are you coming? We’ll split a taxi with you.”
You find yourself glancing over to where Vernon is standing, propped against the pool table that you’re now leaning on the edge of. He just smiles back at you, lifting his shoulders.
“I think… I’m gonna stay here a little longer,” you say after chewing it over. “You guys go ahead.”
Seungkwan looks between the two of you and frowns slightly. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, yeah.” You nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Vernon gently pipes up from your side, sliding over a little so that his palm rests flat on the felt of the table, his forearm supporting your hips from behind. But it isn’t you he addresses, despite this butterfly-inducing contact. All deep and serious, he says, “I promise, she’s safe with me.” 
He takes his time to show it on his face, but ultimately this satisfies Seungkwan, who (despite being just about able to support both his and Chan’s weight in his current condition) has before, and still will, ignore his body’s demands in the name of ensuring your safety. But maybe he sees a trustworthiness in Vernon, or maybe he knows that you can and do handle yourself quite well. Whatever it is, he’s happy with this development, and your two friends bundle you in a hug so tight that it squeezes the air out of your lungs before they make their way towards the exit.
Once they’re out of view, you turn back to Vernon again, raising both brows at the man now closer to you than he’s ever been. But it’s far from claustrophobic – not as these things can so often be. No. No.
It’s addictive.
“Oh you promise, huh?” The tease comes out before you can do anything about it. You even end up batting your lashes at him for good measure. 
“Cross my heart,” he says with a small shrug of his shoulders. His eyes dip from where they’re boring into your own, glancing down a fraction, just for a moment, and you’re sure you see him start to lean. Drawn to you like an opposing magnet, like a moth to a flame — his breaths feel hotter as they fan against your skin, his cologne starts to smell a little stronger… then, his fingers on the other hand curl around the pool cue he’s been balancing on his side and he drags himself away from you. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna kick your ass one more time.”
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One more game of pool quickly turns to two, and it even threatens to become a third as you tease, again, that Vernon just got lucky and he flashes you another one of those looks that says ‘oh? Try me’. But as tempting as it is, you don’t think your pride can withstand any more losses. You resign yourself from the table with a huff when he rests his palms flat on the velvet covering, leaning towards you in that mouth-watering way he’s been doing for hours. The thing is, for the size of his pool-playing-ego, Vernon isn’t even that good. Not if you consider the number of completely missed shots, questionable connections and pocketed cues. But, because your own skill level leaves plenty to be desired, he doesn’t have to be up there with the big leagues. 
He just needs to be a tiny bit better than you.
Asshole.
An announcement for last orders from behind the bar tells you that it’s nearing one in the morning as he starts to circle around the table and makes his way towards you. The bar has emptied considerably since you arrived, the music has steadily started getting more and more cheesy, people in all four corners of the room have started draping themselves over one another like well-dressed blankets, having already chosen the individuals they’ve decided to take home tonight. By all accounts, it’s the perfect time to leave. If you head out now, you’ll miss the rush of people flooding into the street and, if you’re lucky, the surge in taxi prices. The really good takeout place around the corner doesn’t close for another half hour, too. 
There’s just one problem. You don’t want this night to end just yet.
“I think I’m gonna get some fresh air,” you say to Vernon, trying to stretch out a burning knot in your shoulder. “It’s like, a thousand degrees in here.”
Vernon nods. “Yeah – cool. I’ll come with you.”
And with your bag slung over the arm not causing you an ache, you start off down the stairwell. The doors are already open and the late night breeze has you feeling like you’re walking through the gates of heaven as you head outside. You inhale deeply, making the most of this very rare occasion of the city’s air not feeling thick with car fuel and cigarettes. Your eyes fall closed.
“I always liked being out at this time,” Vernon says as he joins you, leaning one shoulder against the brickwork of the outside of the bar. “Feels peaceful.”
“Sure,” you nod, craning your neck to look at him. His face is half-illuminated in the neon red of the bar’s sign above you. The harsh lighting and the shadows cast by his angular features have him looking… sort of sinful, in a weird artsy way that you can’t explain thanks to the pleasant buzzing in your brain. Straight out of an arthouse, indie movie. I bet he likes those, you think absently. 
He looks straight into your eyes, intense and focussed as if he’s trying to search them, though for what you’re not sure. Honestly, you think if he gave a few more flutters of those beautiful lashes, you’d bend in-half-and-half-again to give him anything he wanted, so in a way you’re interested to ask what he’s thinking about. You don’t end up saying anything, though. There’s something wonderful in these little unspoken moments with Vernon. Something raw. 
Something… unexplainable. 
Sitting at the bar and stealing tickled glances as the waitress fumbles and drops a tray full of glasses on the floor. Subtle winks of his right eye (always, you’re discovering, the right?) from across a pool table when he succeeds in making a shot he has absolutely no business pulling off. Standing opposite you in the store you own, waiting to find out when – not if – he’s going to see you, again –
“You know,” he starts, the tiniest edge of nervousness in his voice for the first time tonight. Is the performance adrenaline finally wearing off? Is he… maybe starting to feel a little shy? Whatever it is, your last train of thought melts away into the drain just to his right, and you focus on him as he continues down this new path instead. “I got a new coffee machine in my apartment last weekend and I haven’t had the chance to use it for anyone yet.”
“Is that so?” 
“Yeah.” He nods, swallowing. “I uh…” He bounces one fist in the palm of his other hand, searching for the right order to put the words into. “I mean, it’s not like, one of those super fancy ones, or anything… but it’s sorta retro looking? Which is cool, and—”
“Vernon?”
“Yeah?”
“You‘re a little out of practice, huh?”
He chuckles on an outward breath, bowing his head, a grin that threatens to split his pretty face in two taking residence on his lips. “That obvious?”
“A tiny bit,” you say. “It’s cute though.”
He glances up at you, head a little tilted. “Yeah?”
“Mm… getting less-so by the second,” you tease him. “You can just ask me to come with you.”
“I-…” he starts, but he takes a deep breath instead and corrects his posture, as if it’ll prepare him somehow. “Okay. Okay — do you… maybe wanna come back to my place, with me?”
Not without flashing him a look first that says ‘now, was that so hard?’, you find yourself nodding up at him. 
“I’d love to,” you say.
He pushes away from the wall and when you do the same, he falls into step, heading in the direction of his apartment. You try to discreetly roll your shoulder out again but it’s obviously not discrete enough; it draws his attention down to your arm, and he frowns slightly.
“Is that giving you trouble?” He asks. 
“It’s fine.” You wave him off, stretching the muscle as best as you can by tilting your head as you walk. “It’s been like this for years.”
He scrunches his brows. “Here — can I?” He asks, his fingertip looping beneath the strap of your bag. You look down at your shoulder, then back up at him, before raising one brow, dropping the other. 
“I mean — I don’t know if it’s your colour?” 
Vernon barks out a ‘ha’, easily slipping your bag down your arm, the tips of his warm fingers brushing against your comparatively cool skin. You make no effort to stop him. He positions it on his own shoulder instead, the one furthest away from you so he can still walk right against your side. 
“There’s a reason I wear all black, okay?” He says. “It makes everything my colour.”
His fingers smoothly slip between yours as he says it. It was quite the move, and for a second you’re impressed. At least, until it turns out that this simple action seems to jolt him back to his factory settings, because—
“I’m so serious about this coffee machine, by the way.”
“I know you are,” you laugh, bumping your weight against him and squeezing his hand. “I’m counting on it.”
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“Okay, so,” you start, settling into Vernon’s couch and tucking one of your legs up beneath you. You cradle the mug of coffee he’s made you — admittedly, the retro-style machine was pretty cool — between both of your hands, a thumb brushing over the raised pattern on the ceramic. The fresh air from the walk here seems to have decently sobered you; barring a pleasant buzz, you feel almost like you haven’t drunk a thing. “How did you get into music?”
Vernon matches your posture play-for-play, biting the inside of his cheek before he answers. He drank less than you in the first place, but he seems steadier now, as well.
“Uh… a couple things, I guess,” he starts. “I mean, my parents are big into music. Sometimes they'd take me with them to shows and stuff, had a bunch of CD’s all over the house — all that. You know? I really grew up on it, so…"
You nod, tilting your head to gesture for him to continue. 
“Then… I don’t know. There’s- okay, I was kind of a loser in high school,” he goes on. You roll your eyes; Vernon nudges your thigh with his knee playfully, shaking his head. 
“I just mean, I didn’t have a lot of friends.” He pauses, pursing his lips. “So…, I mean, that’s— that’s whatever. The point is that I spent a lot of time on my own and I basically had an earphone in any time I thought I could get away with it, and–... and sometimes even if I couldn’t.” He chuckles. “Weird. Most of my teachers didn’t like me much either.”
You laugh too now, and Vernon bows his head a little; every single one of his handsome features brightens up and you don’t really know where to look. His never-ending lashes are so long they cast shadows down onto his cheeks, and the ambient lighting reflects off his eyes so beautifully that they look like they’re glimmering. 
He goes on, “there was one, though. My bio teacher? She was really cool. She had a lot more time for me than the others did. And uh, she called me into her office after school one day and just said… basically, my options were to start giving a shit about… cells, and mitochon– whatever, or start really working for this great big thing that I spent all my time daydreaming about. And it’s been a little up and down, but…”
He trails off, shrugging on one side.
“I think you’re doing pretty okay,” you chime in, leaning one arm against the back of the couch and resting your head in your palm. “I bet those kids would lose their minds if they could see you now.”
“Oh?” Vernon asks, setting his coffee down on the side-table. You click your tongue at him.
“Don’t– come on.”
“No, seriously,” he laughs. “What do you mean?”
“I mean-…” you start, shaking your head. “Okay. People go out of their way to listen to you. Everyone who comes to one of your shows… that’s an hour, two hours, whatever – of making people feel exactly the way you want them to feel. They... all want to understand you. Right?”
Vernon just looks at you, forehead a tiny bit creased — the cogs in your brain tick away trying to find a better way to explain what you mean, but he finally speaks. (You’re glad, because you were struggling to come up with anything else.) 
“Shit, I thought that was just an in to say you thought I was hot, or something.”
You push at his chest lightly, your palm lingering on his vest a moment longer than is, perhaps, strictly necessary. 
“Shut up,” you groan. But a second later… “I guess there’s that, too.”
He sits back a little, pushing his hair off his forehead with a chuckle. “I dunno, I mean — I sort of… is it weird if I don’t really think about it that way?”
“Of course not,” you tell him.
He gets that look back on his face again; the pensive one, where he appears like he’s seconds away from saying something else, something important. But he falters, and when he glances back at you, his engine stalls. 
Then, with a shake of his head, he says, “wow, okay, enough about me. I’m so sorry. Can I ask you a question?”
You take another sip of your coffee and set it down, too, nodding ‘yes’. To be honest, you were quite enjoying talking about him; at the same time, you know what it is to feel a little too perceived sometimes, so you let him move on without argument. 
“How do you just… own a record store?”
You laugh. It’s been a while since you’ve had to explain this one. (When was the last time one of your dates was interested enough to ask?)
“I’m not as good a storyteller as you are,” you preface, mirroring him when he rolls his eyes, pretending not to notice that he shuffles even closer. You launch into it easily enough — the old store owner was a friend of the family, he let you work there while you were in college, took you on full-time after you dropped out. When his eyesight started deteriorating, he chose to retire and told you it was yours, if you wanted it. 
“Place would’ve closed down, otherwise,” you shrug. “But I couldn’t do it on my own, so I brought the guys in to help. Two years later... yeah. I guess that's how.”
The whole time as you talk, his eyes don’t leave you. He’s quite expressive, you find — whether he’s lifting a perfectly shaped brow, nodding along to what you’re saying, smiling at you… you feel listened to. When he’s sat across from you, you feel heard; you feel known.
“Well, first — take it back. You’re a great storyteller,” he says. You feel your face grow warm and you nudge him with your knee, but you don’t argue — you aren’t convinced he’d let you win, anyway. “But that’s… really cool? Actually.”
“Oh yeah, I heard nine-to-five retail is the coolest thing you can do, these days,” you laugh.
Vernon scoffs at you. “You close at six thirty.”
(How on Earth does he remember that?)
To avoid thinking about it too much, and so you don’t have to try to navigate asking, you roll your eyes.
“You’re right,” you say to him. “That’s way better.”
“Do you like what you do?” He asks, and you tilt your head at him. “Well — okay. If you ignore the… boring, back-office stuff.”
“Yeah,” you say after a pause. “I guess I do.”
“Then it’s cool.”
Your coffees both go cold as you talk more, and more, and more — he asks about your life, and growing up, your friends, and he answers all of your questions in turn when you ask them. He has an interesting way of talking about himself outside of his job; it’s not so much that you have to pry for information, but he’s not super forthcoming. It’s as if he’s taking all of your questions at face value, like he doesn’t know how to go about expanding on them. 
Maybe he’s just more of a listener, you contemplate once he turns yet another of your questions back on you and you teasingly pull him up on it. It flusters him, which you can’t help but find very endearing. 
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry — I just… you have such a pretty… voice?” he confesses, rubbing the back of his neck, ears burning pink. 
“Oh?” You ask, stumped for a moment as your heart lurches in your chest. When he nods, you find the gall from somewhere to say, “takes one to know one.” 
(You’re not sure how.)
And on it goes. On, and on, and on. More questions, more answers, more lighthearted shoves and lingering touches and shy glances away from each others’ scorching gazes as heat rushes to your cheeks. He even shows you his record collection and puts on one of his favourite albums for background noise before you settle back into the couch. It’s so natural, even when the vinyl runs to the end and the only noise from the player is a distant crackle. Being in his space and having mindless conversation after mindless conversation feels almost as comfortable as being in your own home. 
You notice something, as you’re rounding off a monologue about why your highschool math teacher was the worst person you’d ever met. A tiny hair on the apple of his cheek. One of those lashes you envy so much. Even as you try to focus back on your closing remarks, your eyes keep dropping to it and you trail off into silence a few words short.
“I’m sorry, you’ve-… got an eyelash,” you say, tapping roughly the same spot on your own cheek. 
“Mm. I have a few of them,” Vernon counters, wiping the heel of his thumb against his skin. He misses, though, and drops his arm back down with the lash still stuck to his face. 
You move before you can stop yourself, hand lifting up to his face and hovering just a few centimetres away.
“Can I?” you ask. 
Vernon nods, wordlessly. He goes cross-eyed and his lids twitch in a flutter as he watches you get closer; you brush the lash onto your thumb and he only breathes again when you rebalance it on the tip of your finger.  You hold it up to him, settling back into your own part of the couch; he just stares back at you. 
“Make a wish,” you prompt. 
His confusion is poorly concealed, head cocked to one side as he looks from the lash to you and back again. “Huh?”
“Don’t you…?”
He shakes his head. 
“Okay, wow,” you laugh, glancing down at your finger too. “You have to make a wish on your eyelashes when they fall out.”
“No, I got that part,” Vernon snickers. “I just mean — why?”
“I—” you start to explain, but you fall short of an explanation and frown instead, biting the inside of your cheek. “… I don’t know. It’s just what you’re supposed to do. I’ve always done it.”
The downturn of your lips doesn’t last very long, though. 
“Well, what if it’s not an eyelash? What if it’s like… one of my eyebrows, or something?” He asks. 
It's such a simple but off-the-wall response that you can't help but laugh, except it comes on so suddenly you start to choke on your own saliva. One of his hands circles around you and rubs soothingly between your shoulder blades as you cough, succeeding in bringing him even closer and failing to lower the fever you’re starting to feel creep up on you. By some miracle, you don’t drop the lash, even as you hack pathetically into the crook of your elbow; Vernon waits for it to subside, a weirdly fond look on his face all the while.
Now, when you turn your head, he’s right there. In your space. His arm still around your back, the glint of the bar pierced through his brow drawing your attention up away from those smiling lips. 
“I guess it just doesn’t come true? I don’t know,” you say, shaking your head. “I’ve never tried wishing on an eyebrow before.”
“I’m just saying,” he starts, falling back against the cushions now he knows you’re not suffocating. His arm doesn’t move, though. If anything, he sort of pulls you with him. “What if it ends up like a reverse wish. Whatever I ask for, the opposite comes true, or something.”
“If you don’t want it, I’ll take it,” you say, starting to bring your finger closer to yourself. 
Quicker than you can blink, he reaches to you and lightly lays his fingers around your wrist, stopping you in your path.
“Wait,” he says, pouting a little. “I didn’t say that.”
Both of you glance down to this new point of contact. Two sets of lips stay parted but two identical breaths remain held, burning in both your lungs and in Vernon’s. His gaze shifts back up to your face, eyes wide and wholly serious and unblinking. 
“What do I do?” He asks on the eventual exhale. It reminds you to breathe again, too.
“Close your eyes.”
It takes him a second to obey, but he does. His eyes flutter closed and you clear your throat, lifting your finger until it’s just in front of his face. 
“Make a wish.”
A few seconds later, his brows relax and he nods. 
“Then… blow.”
His lips purse and he pushes a breath through them, lifting the stray lash off your skin and sending it out into the room. He opens his eyes, then, smiling in a manner that you can tell is absolutely despite himself. 
He doesn’t move away, and his cologne, fresh and citrusy, mixes tantalisingly with the sandalwood candle he lit on your way back to the couch a little while ago, both accented by the chewing gum he popped to get rid of the mocha aftertaste still lingering on his breath.
“What did you wish for?” You ask, dropping your hand back down to your side.
He frowns. 
“I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you,” he says. “Pretty sure that’s against like… wish laws, or something.”
“Boring,” you chide, slumping your shoulders, but he just grins at you, darting his tongue out over his lips.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see his Adam’s apple bob in a thick swallow and you can feel the gentle brushing of his thumb. The slow movements, up and down over the exposed area on your hip where your shirt has started to ride up, make you shiver, and you know your chest stutters when his fingers move to press wholly against your bare skin. You know he notices, because he does it again. And again, and again. 
It's maddening. You end up stuck in this never-ending feeling of falling head-first into his arms.
“Where do you think the laws stand on showing you, though?” He asks, inching a little closer.
You hold your breath, little more than anticipatory static flooding your brain. 
“I think they’re okay with it.”
You mirror, slowly, hooked in the gaze that has adrenaline dripping down the length of your spine like honey, and you can’t bring yourself to look away until you can practically taste him. He closes the space between you in half speed, but gently, like you’re both made of tissue, he brings his thumb and forefinger to your chin and touches his lips to yours. His nose presses against your cheek. 
It’s comfortable. It’s warm. It’s easy, it’s exhilarating, it’s perfect. You feel like your heart just might burst clean out of your chest—
But… you can’t.  
“I’m so sorry,” you gasp, tugging yourself away and clamping your hands over your mouth. “Shit — I’m-… I’m sorry.”
Out of nowhere, you’re fighting to catch a breath, head spinning in circles, and no longer in the good way. Have those beers finally come back to bite you in the ass? Or, deeper down, do you know your sudden intoxication isn’t alcohol related at all? Vernon shoots back from you like you’ve gone up in flames and he might catch, too — his eyes search your face as you scramble to get to your feet, and he looks… scared. 
“Are you okay?” He asks. You don’t respond right away, already looking around the apartment for where you left your shoes, already trying to locate your bag too. (As you try to swim towards the surface, you forget that it wasn’t you who still had hold of it when you came through the door and placed it on the loveseat back in the living room.) “Hey… is everything-…?”
“I’m fine,” you interrupt. You’re not. “I just-… I remembered-… I have to go.” 
You catch sight of your shoes, hidden behind the ones Vernon kicked off just after you, and you hurry across the apartment to get to them. 
No bag. Where’s your bag? Where did you leave it? But… ah, your keys are in one back pocket and your phone is in the other and maybe it’s not the end of the world if you never see that lipstick again—
“It’s really late,” Vernon says as you bend down to re-tie one of your laces, hovering just a few steps behind you. “Are you gonna be okay to get home?”
“I’ll be fine,” you rush. “I’ll get a cab.”
“Well, at least let me wait with you until it—”
“I said I’m fine,” you insist, you snap, only now looking up at him again. He tenses, but his eyes stay soft. It’s not in the same way you’ve seen them all night, though. Not in a nice way. Not glittering and full of intrigue. No. He’s hurt. And like a wounded animal, he takes several stiff, unsure steps back away from you, swallowing hard and looking anywhere, everywhere else. 
“I’m fine,” you say again, trying to sound a little quieter, a little calmer.  Even if that is miles away from the truth. 
“Okay,” he says, unconvinced and wringing his hands in front of his stomach. “If-… I’m sorry if that was-… I didn’t mean to make you-…”
You shake your head, standing back up to your full height, but you don’t close the gap between you. You don’t reach out to him, even though you want to. You just have to blindly hope he can read your mind somehow — there’s no way to explain it quickly enough without leaving you both in a mess, and right now... 
“Hey,” you say, forcing him to look at you once more. “It’s not-… it isn’t you. I just have to go, okay?”
He doesn’t seem overly reassured by this, but he nods anyway. “Can-… you text me when you get home?” He asks. Then, hurried: “Just so I know you’re back safe. That’s all.” 
You swallow hard. 
“Yeah,” you say on an outward breath, cringing at how exasperated it sounds. You don’t mean it to — you’re really not mad at him. “I will. I’ll message you.”
Biting the inside of his bottom lip, Vernon takes another step back. He doesn’t say anything else, just shoves his hands as far into the pockets of his jeans as he can and watches you. 
“I’ll message you,” you repeat, opening the door, speaking more to yourself than to him. “I promise.” 
Then, you’re stumbling out into his hallway. Hurrying down the too-narrow staircase. Leaning your back against the brickwork outside, a light drizzle of rain splashing all over your bare arms. The stone prickles through your t-shirt as you slide down, as you feebly try to suck thick, damp air into your lungs, as your head starts to ache, as a dull throb starts to reside behind your eyes. 
It takes ten minutes of staring into the empty road in front of you before you feel steady enough to attempt to wrestle your phone out of your pocket. No matter how many buttons you press, no matter how many times you tap it, the screen refuses to come to life and you only now manage to recall the ‘low battery’ notification that came through several hours ago. Briefly, it crosses your mind to go back upstairs and ask if you can request a ride on Vernon’s phone. You know he’d say yes. Hell, he’d probably throw a blanket over your shivering shoulders and fix you another cup of coffee while you waited, too. But you can’t. The look on his face as you slid out his front door is burned into your memory like a brand and there surely couldn’t be anything worse than having to go back in there and face him like this.
Five more minutes pass before you find the energy to stand, to stretch out your bunched up muscles, and start on the walk home. Another thirty until you’re trudging, sodden and blurry eyed and heavy-hearted, through your apartment door. Three and a half after that before you finally manage to text Vernon to say your phone died, but you’re back, you’re safe. That you’re sorry. 
Barely ten seconds tick by before it pops up that he reads your message. (Followed by ninety seconds of staring down at the bubble that says he’s typing, waiting for a reply that ultimately doesn’t come.)
And four hours later, you’re still wide awake, lying under your covers, staring blankly up at the ceiling. You think you ought to be giddy, squirming, hiding your smile in your pillow — that’s how first kisses are supposed to make you feel. Isn’t it? Alas, you’re flooded instead with visions of the last time a first kiss felt like it made this much sense; in place of all the endorphins you’re sure should be ricocheting off every inner surface of your brain, all you know is heartache and dread. 
So you stare, and you stare, and you keep on staring; even when your eyes start to burn, you stare a little more. 
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thank u so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! as always, likes, reblogs, comments & feedback are so so appreciated. parts 2 and 3 are very nearly finished, as well, so stay tuned.<3
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hoshifighting · 4 months
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Code of temptation
Synopsis: When a series of cyber threats puts national security at risk, Y/N is assigned to lead the investigation. Her team is complemented by Vernon, a computer genius known for his dexterity in deciphering the most complex codes.
Words: +1k
Reader! SecretAgent x Vernon! Hacker
Warnings: Smut, oral (f. receiving), penetrative sex, exhibitionism, unprotected sex (wrap it up), dry humping, fingering, hair pulling, chocking, dirty talk and etc.
Your tight TechWear is starting to get uncomfortable, your fingers attached to the trigger, and your arms are already weak from holding the heavy gun, one wrong movement, everything is done. You wait for the sign from Mingyu, who is already in position to catch the target “1, 2, 3… Now!” he says in the little point of sound in your ear, and you do your shot.
The bullet hits the target directly in the head, and Mingyu runs in the middle of the basement to steal the small device that is the pivot of the mission you have been working on for the last few weeks. The both of you run to the back door, you enter the armored car that awaits you. 
“Objective accomplished successfully, mission completed with distinction and mastery.” Your chief says on the other line. Body finally relaxing on the car seat, while you do a little weak punch on Mingyu’s hand.
[…]
“We did a great Job Mr. Lee, we trained for this, but it’s difficult ultimately, they are more attached to the systems day by day, so we need to take action, and ask for the Department Head to recruit a Technical Expert, so we can obtain coordinates during missions” you point your pencil on the map in front of you “Promise me that by the end of the month, we will have some ‘technology guru’  to help us, and I promise to complete another mission as always.” that said, you leave the meeting room slamming the door loudly.
[…]
You hold a cup of coffee while you try to decipher the nominal codes on the computer screen, you snort and immediately give up on understanding the logic of the system in front of you. The computer room doorbell rings, and you can see a young man with brown hair waiting for the door to be opened, showing his FBI badge. You put your fingerprint into the system, and the door is slowly opened, revealing the boy, holding the shoulder strap from his backpack, wearing a black uniform, just like yours. 
“First off all, I am almost freaking the fuck out seeing all these algorithms with letters on the same screen” you point to the computer with raised eyebrows, and he closes the door behind him “and we should have met before the mission started, but since you're here now, we need to track them down as quickly as possible.” He agrees and sit on the chair in front of the desk.
“My name is Vernon by the way” the sarcasm is proliferated from his lips, while he maintains an extremely unbothered expression.
You snort incredulous at his audacity - even though the ironic tone in his voice may not have been intentional - you stop to look at him from top to bottom, analyzing his mannerisms until he actually starts doing something on the electronic device that hovers in front of him “very funny of you, but I would like more respect since I am leading this mission, and the hierarchy is very-“
“Oh come on don’t play like you’re 10 years older than me!” He says with the face still buried on the screen “and since you are leading the mission amidst so much cyber invasion, you should at least know how to clear your history, if I were your enemy, and found out that you listen to the same Backstreet Boys song for 9 hours straight, you would definitely no longer be my target, freaky ass girl”
The heels on your feet touches the cold ground towards him “This is an invasion of privacy!” You turn the chair, so now you make eye contact with him, pressing his shoulders on the chair. 
“This is being on the verge of madness!” You let him go, sitting on the couch on the other corner of the room, drinking your coffee ashamed.
The clicks on the mouse and the sound of the keys were driving you crazy, until he lifted his back from the chair and widened his eyes towards the computer, you run to see the screen popping a map with a lot of red ropes interlinked “Fuck! they’re on the building!” You recognize the structure of the department you are hiding in, running to get your guns attached to your waist, while Vernon turns off the trackers “We need to run away right now, we don’t have time!” You hold his arm, and you run through the company halls, until you leave the building, running down the opposite street. You led the way, while Vernon, the shy hacker, tripped over his own legs. The sound of sirens echoed through the streets, mixing with the frenetic rhythm of your footsteps. The cobblestone streets made escape even more challenging.
"Y/N, I think they saw us!", Vernon exclaimed, breathing hard.
You threw a quick glance behind you, displaying a confident grin. "Don't worry, Vernon, I have a foolproof plan." you say with pure sarcasm, and with a quick gesture, you grabbed Vernon's hand and led you into a narrow alley. The space between the two of you is tiny, you can clearly feel Vernon's minty breath hitting your face, the space doesn't help either, as your breasts are pressed against Vernon's chest - he'd be lying if he said he wasn't starting to like it.
The tension in the air was palpable as your eyes met, breathing heavily, you shared a moment of complicity that transcended the imminent danger. You instinctively grabbed Vernon's forearm, running your fingers over the skin still warm from running his eyes revealed a mixture of surprise and expectation, an electrically charged silence filled the narrow alley as your proximity grew. You, who are normally focused and fearless, felt a unique vulnerability at that moment. Then, without words, but with a shared intensity, you leaned slightly towards Vernon. The world around him disappeared when his lips finally touched, an instant of defiant lust in the midst of chaos. The narrow alley became a stage for the beginning of an immense desire between the two of you.
His right hand goes to your neck, pulling your hair, and the other, grab the meat of your ass, you moan in his mouth - you had even forgotten that you had a small beef with him earlier -, your hand goes down until you can fill your hand with his hardened cock, making him stop the kiss to bite his lip “Turn around” he orders. You hardly turn because of the compact space, and now your ass was pressed against his dick, as he pulls your skirt up, massaging your clit over the thin fabric of your panties “More, we don’t have time!” You whisper, and he slaps your cunt “Stop being hasty! Where's your 'foolproof' plan uh?” a high pitched moan leave your mouth, your hands holding on the little bricks of the wall so your face doesn't lie on them.
Vernon pulls your panties to the side, entering his fingers in your cunt, you hump your ass against him, feeling he hiss in your ear, the wet noises from your pussy and the sound of your panting breaths fills the alley, you moan feeling him going faster with his fingers. He suddenly stops the movement, opening his jeans, so he can slide his cock through your folds. “You are so hot, but fuck, you are so annoying!” he pulls your hair, slowly moving his hips finally diving into your heat, your eyes roll at the back of your head, his mouth kissing your neck.
The space was small, but he was doing wonder with his hips, circling his hips so his tip brushes against your g spot, making your legs go numb, you're lucky that he held you tight with an arm around your hip “Such a whore… Tsk” 
You can hear footsteps approaching you, while a light from a flashlight approaches, Vernon pulls you to hide deeper in the alley. 
“I think I heard something coming from here!"
He covers your mouth with one hand as he bites your shoulder, furrowing his eyebrows, still pounding deep inside of you, feeling your juices run down your thighs.
“It must be all in your head, come on, they must have gone that way!”
Vernon pulls you to rest your back against his chest, chocking you, while his hips are working faster “Afraid of being caught hm? So nervous that got you clenching so hard around my cock.” Your mouth opens, as you feel your orgasm approaching, his dirty talk between his moans was driving you crazy, squeezing him, while he throw his head back. “Fuck, I’m cumming” his cock twitches inside of your pussy, shooting ropes of cum inside of you, moaning low in your ear.
You can feel his cum running down your legs, he starts to rub your clit again, so slow it almost burns, his scent invading your nostrils, making your mind go blank, your body begins to tense, and an intense climax makes your legs shake, as he laughs proudly in your ear “Hmm… Thats it! Good girl..” He turns you around, so now you're face to face with him again, his kisses going down your jaw, as he fix your skirt. 
“The night isn't over yet, we still have targets to catch” he gets dressed again “but first, let me clean you up” he bends down, licking your thighs, until he reaches your pussy, holding your leg up on his shoulder, while you tremble sensitive. He stands up, wiping his mouth with his thumb. Vernon steals a kiss from you, before pulling you to run through the streets once again.
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dropsofletters · 11 months
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how to unsubscribe to dating
SUMMARY: on april 18th, hansol likes his favorite youtuber’s instagram picture. not because of her content—though, he finds himself laughing at all of her weekly videos—but because he thinks she’s gorgeous. that is how it ends. just a like on a picture that no one will see.
three years later and after a tough break-up, the internet hates her and a misstep has hansol dragged into the drama. now, everyone thinks they are dating and what a better way to gain subscribers and have millions on views on their videos? just let them think it’s real and work on a whole season of dare videos for the world to enjoy.
only that it is not so easy, one can subscribe to a youtube channel but not really unsubscribe to falling in love.
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TITLE: how to unsubscribe to dating.
PAIRING: chwe hansol x reader
GENRE: youtuber!au ; fake dating-ish!au ; youtube drama!au ; strangers to friends to lovers!au ; idiots in love!au
WORD COUNT: 14,014 words
GENRE: fluff ; humor ; drama ; angst if you squint ; suggestive
NOTE: this was a kofi request! if you want me to write anything, you can go over there and request something from me.
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The secret to color theory is that there are primary colors, and the rest are just blend-able shades that would not exist without bases, foundations and ‘trials-and-errors’. In some sense, we correlate the color of our lives to that primary stance—we are red, we are yellow…the intensity that we want to be. How we want to counterpart in a main role that, inherently, sometimes won’t be settled upon us. The saddening truth of being a purple, or a lime green.
She would have never imagined herself to be anything more than a yellow. She said, when she was younger, that her voice would be so high that the annoying tone that came with her made her stand out in any crowd. Yellow. And then came heartbreak, teenage years, the blending with a pure gray or a black undertone that could never get her to darken her soul. It was more like a mustard yellow. Lulled. Not as bright. Just wishing upon standing out again, blending nicely with everyone, but always sticking out like a sore thumb. Hard to look in the eyes.
For the past two months, she felt like she was back to her bright yellow. To smiles with all teeth, shared with Jay as he wrapped his arms around her shoulder; to late-night talks with the phone screen glaring across her vision as she whispered small ‘I don’t want to go’s. Relatively, that comes to a stop. Because, in the eyes of a man that she dated with the dumbfounded hope to finally meet the love of her life, she was never yellow. God, he’d cringe at the mere sound of the Coldplay song. She was brown.
As in shitty brown.
Jay should be better than this. In actuality, after how everything fell down with a break-up text that he never really responded to, she doesn’t think he’s better, but hey, common sense is a thing still, isn’t it? As a YouTuber, quite like her, who shared the same interests and niche with a commentary channel based on pop-culture, one would think that he would not incorporate their ‘not-that-talked-about’ relationship in a Tweet. Though, maybe she had seen him as a bright blue, when he’s nothing but—at best—a plum or a dark gray.
You know, like having concrete between your teeth. Not that pleasurable, neither something she wants to try again.
@notthatjay_lee: how does that song go? a, b, c, d, e, f…thank you for wasting my motherfucking time.
She chuckles. Actually, full-on laughs when sitting on the counter at her kitchen, trying or supposedly about to edit her newest video commenting on Disney’s old shows and how she binge-watched them on a brim. Not that the viewers should know that she watched the entirety of Hannah Montana in a week because she was going through a break-up and crying for the asshole that Jay Lee is, but she needed to update after being a month away.
She continues scrolling, watching the thread that has formed in the tweet and the hundreds of comments that tag her. They weren’t precisely out as a relationship, but it was known. They went to conventions together, appeared in pictures with fans tagged together. It wasn’t hidden under the rug, but it was also not blasted out of proportion like Jay is doing right now.
He responded to a fan.
@jaysassissick: We are here for you, Jay! I can’t believe what some bitches can do for fame.
@notthatjay_lee: imagine getting cheated on by someone who can’t even reach a million subscribers. lol. can sadly relate.
“You just didn’t…” She mutters to herself, standing up and closing her laptop with a bang. More notifications pop up, from all social media that she could muster. Pictures tagged of the two of them together coming up with headlines that read commentary-channel YouTubers feuding. Cheating. Cheater, out of all things.
And that’s the thing about women. If they are not colors that blend well with the primary ones, like men expect to be, they are tarnished and burned to ashes to stay in the ground. That was her case, in which her silence was the ignition of a chain of events that now are out of her reach. None of those people that keep harassing her online can know that Jay had been distant the past month; that he’d spend more of his days running away from her than actually trying to put effort into the relationship.
That it’d be more looking through social media to see him commenting on pictures of his supposed ‘friends’ wearing bikinis and his phone hidden with his face down whenever they were together. It was not confirmed, of course, she didn’t have enough proximity with him, neither did they live together for her to confirm that her suppositions were true, but something she knows. Jay is not a saint, neither is she for the rage that builds within her like a Lego house that burns with the unsatiable need of revenge.
She almost believes that the best way to go about this is making it as public as he is. However, she knows she’s better. Yellow, bright, shining, as she has always been, just shadowed by someone who was envious of how burning her colors could be. Hence, she puts her phone down after turning it off, quite like he did whenever a fight ensued between the two and he would play the victim card with a pout to his lips. She thinks about it—the video she is supposed to edit, the pictures on her phone she has yet to delete and the revival, that word that speaks about new beginnings and definitely, a smirk that tells the past that she’s doing much better.
For now, she’s just alone in her apartment. With a bowl of noodles that has gone cold and a heart that is palpitating far too fast, for heartbreak isn’t easy, much less when it’s this open, but she can think of ways of getting back to Jay, whether the public knows it’s directly thrown his way or not.
She owes this man nothing.
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“Jeonghan, I need you recording my shit. Not looking at your phone.”
With a hand quipping closed as if asking for Hansol’s lips to remain shut, Jeonghan remains as relaxed as he had been when they started recording this weekly’s recap. Though, while Hansol had been stumbling over his lines—as per usual on a Saturday morning, that’s the only time they could meet up because Seungcheol was going on a trip this weekend for his cousin’s wedding—, Jeonghan had frankly lost his mind to whatever is showcased in his phone. So far in the text he’s reading, which Hansol is certain is not a book, that he leaned back on one of the love seats in Hansol’s office, propped his knees to his chest in fetal position and lurked through whatever caught his interest like a lion looking for his prey.
“The moment you can get a word out without stuttering is the moment we start recording.” Jeonghan runs a hand through his black hair, covering the rudeness of his words with a soft smile. Hansol knows better than to take Jeonghan’s words close to heart, but still.
“I just needed some more coffee.”
Seungcheol enters the room then, with a new Starbucks drink since Hansol decided to steal his. “You drank my macchiato.” With a slap on the back of Hansol’s head, the man takes a seat on the other empty love-seat, as if there is not a whole video to be recorded and posted on Monday. “But Hansol’s not wrong. I have to get on that plane at four and it’s nine in the morning. We can get through this video if we just start recording it.”
Jeonghan doesn’t respond and Hansol takes this time to sigh deeply and toss his head back. Things were easier when posting a YouTube video wasn’t so…meticulous. At the beginning, just over eight years ago, Hansol had posted a video on social media that had gotten quite visibly viral. He had over a million views in just fourteen hours, breaking records somehow, making it to meme accounts and Vine compilations. Stupid as it could get, it was a video of Hansol wearing a swimming hat and those aesthetic sunglasses that resembled John Lennon’s style, with Jeonghan zooming in on the frame and him saying: ‘bitch’ before the video came to an end.
It had literally no context, but he made a living out of it.
That’s how he launched his career, changed the name and created an online persona. He called himself Zach, sporting bright and quite frankly unfitting outfits and making meme weekly recaps. He spoke about what was new on the Internet, made fun of some videos, never quite made it to the commentary channel spectrum but became a voice that over ten million people had subscribed to. No one knew that his real name was Hansol, or that he wasn’t as outspoken as he was in his videos. Never an opinion that breaks or makes a room.
Jeonghan grabs the coffee mug from Seungcheol’s hold, ignoring the man’s complaints to take a sip. “I think I have a topic we need to add to this week’s review.” He finally pulls away from his original position, biting down on his lip like he does when he has an idea that he can’t keep on the depths of his chest. “Have you heard about the newest drama with Jay Lee?”
Hansol crosses his arms across his chest, sitting on the edge of the desk that holds his computer, always in front of him in his videos. “Jay…Lee? Doesn’t ring a bell for me.”
“You know, the TikTok guy who makes POV’s videos.” Jeonghan urges on, tossing a glance towards Seungcheol who finally snatches his drink before giving a curt nod.
“Even I remember who he is.”
“How many guys don’t make ridiculous videos on TikTok?” Hansol prompts, only to have Jeonghan sighing.
“He was known on YouTube for his music videos and parodies. You know how that went a little bit downhill lately, so his niche has changed. Makes videos every once in a while.” Jeonghan includes in his narrative, turning his phone around to show a picture of a man he now recognizes. Damn, even in his beginnings as a YouTuber, Jay Lee already had a bunch of people under his name. With long, tossed back black hair, tattoos that scatter across a slim, tall body and a pair of glasses that always rest on the brim of his straight nose. He was of interest for a bunch of people on the Internet, even to this day.
“What about him?” Hansol questions, only to have Jeonghan clapping his hands once.
“He’s burning the Internet with his latest allegations. He was dating a commentary channel YouTuber, though they never accepted it, but he’s making the allegations that she cheated on him and has announced that he’s releasing a diss track to explain everything.” He’ll never understand how the world revolves around drama, but Jeonghan gives more explanation by saying her name and giving him the phone once again.
The picture shows a couple together with a fan, and he recognizes her with far more ease. He remembers last summer, when he would spend most of his afternoons laughing about her videos with the graphics she made. Very rarely does her face show on her videos, but she draws a little character that speaks, through her commentary, about the topic at hand. Always a show. A video. A meme. Hell, he thinks that she once talked about him on a video years ago.
Jay is much taller than her, with his arm wrapped around her shoulder, squishing their cheeks together as they hold peace signs, her hand interlocked with the young fan’s. They didn’t look necessarily in love, but close enough to it. Like the beginning of a love that had just started to flourish.
“What has he said?” Seungcheol questions, now interested in the topic.
“What hasn’t he said? He has spent the past three days creating a YouTube war. He has even dropped her name a few times, tagging her, asking her to be upfront because she has escaped the internet. MIA and all.”
Hansol can’t imagine how tough it is to go through a break-up where the other person is trying to plot everyone against her. Sure, he’s not certain if she cheated, but he takes his own phone to look through Twitter, seeing him post pictures of the two of them together—clearly personal, never seen by anyone but them—, adding thread after thread of how in love he was with her and how badly she broke his heart. It seemed like he was bleeding through a wound that was never quite as open as he made it out to be.
“What an asshole.” He mutters, getting closer to the computer and writing something down on his script. “I think we can add it to this week’s episode. The last bit. Just for a few clicks and because…he’s really getting out of control.”
“And everyone is supporting him.” Jeonghan adds, shrugging his shoulders. “Would be nice to give an opinion that isn’t sided one way or the other.”
“…That’s putting Hansol against a man that has just about the same following as him. Including him in the war isn’t going to do the channel any good.”
Hansol looks up at that moment, raising his eyebrows and weighting the options. Seungcheol isn’t wrong, but he knows this is a topic that needs to be talked about. Break ups on the internet. Where some people post videos crying and hugging for the last time, while others take their following to side with them as if it was a parent going through divorce.
“Yes, but this whole Zach character is about that. Speaking about what I think is wrong, right or funny…and these tweets? Stupid, borderline funny, over-line worrying.”
Seungcheol takes a sip of his macchiato, bringing a shoulder up in nonchalance. “I’ll have to take care of the mess after, but if that’s what’s going to bring the views, go for it.”
Is he really doing it for views, though? Or maybe, he just thinks it’s inherently wrong to destroy someone’s career that way, until they are too afraid to go on the internet because of hate. Jay Lee will have to learn a lesson about being made fun of.
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@notthatjay_lee: glad to know the mystery’s resolved. @chwethatzach you’ve cleared the rumors up. song coming in three days!
Hyeji had said it seven months ago when she started liking Jay, as she flipped on tarot decks, spread them neatly on the coffee table between them, speaking through a cloud caused by the blunt between her lips. Jay Lee’s an imbecile, he’ll break your heart. She didn’t listen, because in her mind all men go through a phase of being overly-confident and, quite frankly, assholes. She opted to believe that Jay was willing to change and talk, venturing into a friendship and then, into whatever kind of relationship they had held that now is a complete disaster.
Her best friend, Moon Hyeji, runs her fingers through her dirty hair after showing her the tweet that Jay had just posted. Tagging her after, nonetheless. Hyeji, as wild as she is, with long locks of wavy hair and a rose tattoo on the column of her neck, had called Jay just a day ago, telling him to back off before she took legal actions. Taking it from the woman who is the daughter of one of the richest men in the country, a businessman nonetheless, Jay should have taken it a little bit more seriously. Hence, he doesn’t.
“What the fuck do I even have to do with that dude?” She questions, finally standing up from her position on Hyeji’s lap. Ever since this issue went to absolute hell, with the diss track incoming and a handful of people making drama videos about the timeline of their very short-lived relationship, Hyeji had travelled all the way from London to get here and eat piles of ice cream while bad-mouthing Jay. Only that it didn’t help her the slightest.
She wants to talk, but she doesn’t know how to go on about the issue. Fueling the problem even more if just going to have his fans speaking with more fervor, and just like how he doesn’t have proof of her cheating, she also doesn’t have anything to defend herself with about not cheating.
“There’s a video, apparently…” Hyeji roams through her phone with long nails before she displays her screen on the TV in front of them. The image that loads is of the start of a video of someone she knows somewhat well, for she really likes Zach Chwe’s videos, or at least, she can catch up on them every once in a while.
Zach has always been a little different than most. He feels like a true friend that one can talk with as he launches in that green chair of his, always wearing clothes that leave everything to the imagination and would have everyone talking about him. He’s wearing a tie-dye hoodie, as per usual in some of his videos, with an apron on top of it that reads ‘the chef’s dead’ and a pair of sunglasses that rest on top of his brown hair. His soft eyebrows move with each of his words, firstly greeting his audience, then speaking about the newest memes found on the internet.
“He must have spoken about your issue with Jay.”
“How so? He never talks about drama.” She asks, getting a look from Hyeji who clears her throat soon after.
“People believe he’s the one guy Jay is saying you cheated with.” Her best friend whispers, moving through the video, getting fast glimpses of Zach laughing, tossing his head back, speaking through slim lips and using his ring-cladded hands to express his points. Only three minutes before the video ends does the image of Jay with her and a fan comes on the screen, earning Hyeji a few taps on her shoulder.
“There! There! Stop the video there!”
The darkness of her room, reeking the smell of orange chicken and diet soda, is bathed in the light of Zach Chwe as he rolls on his chair and says: “There’s a reason us men are called assholes and I think it’s because Jay Lee exists. Okay, I’m not anyone to be putting my opinion here and I usually stay away from these things, so I’m not sure if she cheated or not…but isn’t it, at least, the best thing you can do to spell correctly as you’re dissing your ex?”
Then, the screen shows screenshots of Jay’s tweets, bathed in hate, writing in the worst possible way and yet, with a few errors.
She hadn’t noticed that as she got drowned into the drama that he had created, so she smiles for what feels like the first time this week.
“You don’t even spell that well, Zach!” Someone shouts from the background, and she knows Zach Chwe normally has his friends putting in some words for spice on his videos, but she actually laughs along with him.
“More of a reason to critique, I guess.” He shrugs his shoulders. “But hey, remember those Facebook videos we talked about a few weeks ago? If you haven’t checked it out, I’ll leave the link to that video on the description, but we were making fun about those mom videos where they make their daughters fearful of sending nudes because some creep will post them on their Facebook page. I thought men like that didn’t exist, until I figured out this whole Jay Lee thing. He’s a hair away from posting a picture of her feet, I tell you so.”
The video doesn’t last much long after that, with Zach making fun of Jay’s tweets and then, the camera zooming in on his face for an outro recalling his beginnings online. However, Hyeji has fallen silent, with her knees propped under her chin, using her free hand to caress the column of her ear, as always, seeking for a way of making her feel better through touch.
“This sounds…like the internet is going insane.” Hyeji then reaches for her phone, shaking in the air. “Come on, unlock it and turn on your notifications again!”
“What? Why?” She is not sure she’s ready to lurk through social media once again, Hyeji has been doing that for her instead, like her little manager, blocking the hate that gets real and personal.
“Jay is playing it off as if Zach Chwe is the one that you’re dating, or the one you cheated on him with.”
“I didn’t cheat on him—
“I know, but he’s trying to get views and I need to know if Zach’s team contacted you, so open that phone and get a pair of balls for what we’re about to face.”
A pair of balls would be little to what she needs once she opens Twitter and Instagram.
On Instagram, she has been tagged on a bunch of pictures. Headlines that include her profile picture on YouTube and Zach Chwe’s picture. Titles that go on the rampant lie of ‘YouTube Stars Zach Chwe and OfDrawingsAndWords on a relationship!’ scattering across her vision on every platform she comes across of.
“I’m doomed. Jay keeps winning no matter what I do—”
“Because you haven’t said anything. You’re protecting him even when he’s trying to destroy you.” Hyeji advices, pushing on her Instagram notifications until she sees it, a direct message from the YouTuber who is implicated on this drama with her, nonetheless. “So, you either take the reigns right here, right now or Jay Lee is going to drown your career before it even reached the shore.”
Shaking fingertips reach for the Instagram message, closing her eyes tightly until she opens it.
“Read it.”
“Come on…” Hyeji trails, clasping the phone in her hands. “I know it’s been tough, but I don’t need you hiding away.”
“I’m scared! This guy has nothing to do with me!” She screeches, slapping her hand on her shoulder only to have Hyeji looking at her. With that softness that characterizes her under all her strength.
“Alright…” Hyeji whispers, soon after reading out loud. “Hey, it’s Zach Chwe. I’m sorry that my comments involved us in a mess bigger than what you already had going on and my team and I want to make mends on the issue I just created. Do you mind talking about it, in person or with my PR team getting in contact with you? Sorry for the inconvenience once again.”
Hyeji takes in a deep breath before tossing herself onto the half-done bed.
“We’re talking about it in person.”
“…Uh, we’re not.” She finalizes, trying to snatch her phone back but Hyeji isn’t relenting. Though, she’s not as rude as one would imagine, she still consenting by looking her way and expecting her to change her mind. “Hyeji, I don’t want to see anyone right now. Jay’s blowing everything out of proportion—”
“Reason as to why you shouldn’t hide. Zach Chwe can be a great person to have on your side right now. The internet loves him, and now they’re not as cruel. You have to see the comments, people are torn just because he is involved.”
That makes her ponder, inspecting every portion of Hyeji’s face to find some fun or joke in her features, but she’s full-on serious. Not a drop of insecurity in those quirked eyebrows. She sighs deeply, taking the phone in her hands and seeing the sign that reads ‘you follow each other’. Why is it that people naturally gravitate towards what a man can say or not, even when she has been expecting to be trusted by anyone online and no one seemed to be by her side?
No one but him and a few people. Even the friends that she had collaborated with several times had taken his side.
Hence, she starts typing, not caring about the consequences of fueling the fire a little bit more, because she’s already getting burned, but she won’t relent without a fight.
“I’m down with meeting up so we can sort out how we will go on about this. You select the place and the time. Thank you for getting in contact, by the way!”
Hyeji places a kiss on top of her head, squishing her slim cheek against her scalp.
“We will get past this, love. I swear we will.”
She doesn’t think this unreasonable love war is anywhere near over, however.
“I sure hope we will.”
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Hansol thinks making ramen is an art form. He does it when he’s nervous instead of nibbling on his bottom lip or tugging his black beanie down his ears for the umpteenth time. Only he would think it was a great idea to meet with one of his favorite social media creators on a fucking convenience store, but he feels protected by the quietness and the sweet buzzing of the microwave as he wishes upon a start that the stacks of cheese that he poured on his flaming hot noodles becomes a puddle at the bottom that relishes its exquisiteness.
So, maybe, he’s a bit nervous. Reason as to why he had lost his grip a bit when pouring the cheese on the ramen basket.
It passes him how she has been able to spend weeks receiving the messages she does, but the moment he posted that video, the narrative took another turn. Hell, he even thinks he has seen some edited videos of the two of them as a supposed ‘couple’. The song has been released, heard by thousands, even more news coming up about them and he’s…surprised. About the sheltering that came from his pseudonym and how the world is torn. Now, Jay shines as a real villain and people ponder if leaving him for Hansol was the right choice.
How in the hell he got in this situation is misunderstood by him?
However, he rubs on his eye after grabbing the ramen noodles and plopping them on the nearest table, he hears the bells by the door ringing, the worker too occupied in organizing the strawberry milks to even care about her, but he does. None of her pictures online would ever compare to how she looks in real life. With a gray turtleneck for the weather, face ridden of any makeup, sweater half-tucked into her pants and yet, as her sunglasses rest on the brim of her head, she looks like a whole…dream.
She reminds him of the warmth that comes from a gust of breath on top of freezing hands when winter drops around. They are just barely reaching fall, but the weather has fallen significantly. She stands in front of him, looking away from her phone before a small smile reaches the corner of her eyes, not adding a small ‘hi’ as he does with a wave of his hand, but something to the air between them nonetheless.
“You look different when you’re not mumbling ‘bitch’ into the camera.”
Breaking the ice, warming the air, significant matters that only she can do and does in the brink of a second. Hansol plops the two bowls of ramen on the table, watching as she scrunches her nose at the cheese to stir it within the mixture, but he tries not to think too much about his decision. Maybe, she’s just not fond of cheese.
“I take that as a good thing. I don’t call anyone ‘bitch’ unless I get a really good check out of it.” Hansol jokes around, soon after widening his eyes when she quirks an eyebrow at him, the corner of her mouth barely lifting in a smirk. “Not that I’d call you anything of the like. Gosh, I’m being stupid. Uh…hi, I’m Hansol.”
“You’ve already said hi.” She prompts, picking up some of the noodles and unlike him, who has already burned the bridge of his mouth, she twirls them on the chopsticks, blows on them and munches on the cheesy treat. “But I didn’t know you were called Hansol. I would’ve sworn on my life that your real name was Zach.”
He shakes his head. “I want my real life nicely divided from who I am as a person online. Not that I am much different, but Hansol’s the name that I have on my ID and that I use for personal matters, so I don’t want to mix the two.” He shrugs his shoulders soon after, saying her name and earning a nod from her. “Okay, so, uh…to the matter at hand, right?”
“Straight to the point.” She clears her throat, giving him a smile before reaching for the diet soda Hansol had brought. “So, half the internet thinks we are dating…and that you’re that supposed side guy that I had while dating Jay.”
He shouldn’t ask. Shit, this is Jeonghan speaking in his brain, telling him to fucking ask, but he’s curious. He heard the nonsensical beat that Jay released in the form of a diss track that now has fifteen million views, so… “Did you really cheat on him or is he taking everything out of context?”
She spreads her hands across her chest, defending herself. “Here’s the thing, I am a woman. Me breaking up with a guy just because I was unhappy in a relationship directly has to mean I cheated on him. For starters, I didn’t. I liked Jay even after the break-up, obviously until the moment he decided to blow everything out of proportion.” She explains, sighing deeply after. “I didn’t, for instance. I’m sorry that you got involved.”
“No, I am the one that should be sorry.” Hansol shakes his head, rubbing his eyebrow as if something was bothering him. “It’s just—No, I’m sorry but I don’t regret it. I had to talk about it. Part of it was because obviously, it’s a trending topic, but also because…no one deserves to get the hate you’re getting right now.”
She remains silent, playing with the straw in between strawberry lips. Not an ounce of makeup and yet, the inside looks as if they were bitten to utter perfection. Hansol’s embarrassed that he has liked every picture of hers on social media ever since they started following each other.
Things that the public had sadly taken account of and had completely used against them to prove a supposed relationship.
“I don’t regret it either. That you did that, I mean.” She counterparts. “Sure, I shouldn’t be thinking about revenge, but Jay has been so distraught and the public has turned against him, while also not being on my side. They are just on your side.” With a mellowness that, somehow, he thinks should never belong to her, for the twist of her lips on a downwards motion is a terrible contrast to the smile he saw earlier. “Reason as to why my friend got in contact with one of the people from your team. I don’t have a team myself—”
“I’m surprised I even have a team, so I don’t judge you.” Hansol’s eyes twinkle, remembering the words he had shared with Seungcheol earlier. After all, he’s the manager and the one—technically, for Hansol still has his input—in charge of what is posted on his channel or not. “Seungcheol, my manager, talked to me about what your friend and mine talked about.”
Seungcheol was not that happy about the exposure that Hansol got, but after a while, Jeonghan weighted the options and became a mastermind for what the internet was aiming to see. They wanted to learn the other side of the story, just because it would be told by one of the most liked characters in YouTube as of now. Zach Chwe, venturing into the world of a person that no one would have ever thought he’d be compatible with. To break all the rumors with a show, a mini web-series for the world to gnaw at while both teams earned money.
“For the record, I know it’s a difficult thing to think about. I wasn’t in for it at first.” Hansol explains, and he’s not sure he’s ready to have a different light casted on his channel, but Jeonghan was clear to say that he wasn’t intending on a dating show or a couple’s channel. Instead, he wanted something…vague. “They just want us to work on a challenge mini-series. We’d do stuff like go to haunted houses or anything of the like. To make people wonder if we really did date or we were just in it for the show. They’d give us views, hoping to find something or any clues, and we’d leave with a good paycheck and a big question mark after what we were.”
She continues eating, pondering with fluttering eyelashes and a sigh that gets trapped on her throat. “Yeah…I’m okay with it. I don’t think it’s a bad idea.” She responds, and Hansol thinks the deal is almost over, but she continues: “You’ll have to keep in mind that while there may be a huge wave of people loving our series together, you might also get a lot of hate. Jay did a great job at—”
“I don’t care.”
“Huh?”
“You’ll come to learn I don’t care about a lot of stuff. Hate? I don’t care.” Hansol explains, giving her a soft smile. “A wanking old man can tell me I’m the worst YouTuber he has ever seen, and I won’t take it to heart. I’m not a plate to be enjoyed by all.”
“Whoa…” She whispers, plucking a lot of noodles up to show it to him. “Not only are you the antonym of a lactose intolerant person, but you’re also awfully wise.”
“You’re welcome for the visit to the bathroom later.” Hansol comments, earning well-heard laughter by her. She tosses her head back and the laugh comes out in spurts. Odd and yet, cute.
“I’ll have to get used to those comments, Z—Hansol.”
“We’ll get used to each other. We have a whole season to plan, after all.”
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WE VISITED A HAUNTED HOSPITAL? | EP. 1 S1 | ZACH CHWE
She’d kill Hansol for thinking of visiting a haunted hospital as the first topic of their new show, but she’s too scared to actually want to murder him right now. What if he came back as one of those ghosts who were supposedly here? She can’t risk it.
Drops of petrichor build on forgotten walls, where once were supposedly patients that needed help but were abandoned to a beckoning fire. Hansol said on the way here that he truly doubted the events happened. If the hospital was burned down to its core, why was it still standing and why were tickets sold for people to go through it like tourists in Sydney? She doesn’t have a clue. All that she knows is that they were placed on opposite ends of the hospital, bound to meet through clues, but she hasn’t been able to move from her position under a table.
She was aware that Hansol’s team and hers, which only includes Hyejin, had insisted on having jump-scares all around. One of those jump-scares could be Jeonghan in a clown uniform, but the moment she saw it, the moment she sprinted away. Now, she has been seated there for more than thirty minutes, ignoring her next mission and the door in front of her, with a beating heart and her knees pressed to her chest.
Great, she’s about to ruin their first episode.
Beheld with destiny, she thinks she’s about to shit her pants the moment she hears that old, wooden door creak under the weight of someone entering. Caught, she’s imagined to be, unable to discern between the group of people there to add spice to the video and the actual ghosts that are supposedly in this hospital. However, the first thing she sees are a pair of converses in light green and soon after, someone is kneeling in front of her.
Hansol’s long hair is clouded by a hoodie so thick his earlobes are red, or so she thinks that’s the reason, because his hand pats on the expanded leg of her jeans. Bell jeans were in once again, and she had opted to have them on her outfit. However, Hansol’s high cheekbones lift in a smile when he counterparts:
“If you’re really trying to hide from ghosts, having half of your leg out from underneath the table is not the way to go.” Hansol spares a look at the corner of the room, perhaps pinpointing where the camera is, before she shakes her head at him. She’s still a little shaken, letting out in a trembling tone what must be the most pathetic thing he’s ever heard.
“What if this place is actually haunted?”
“I don’t know percentages, but I am sure someone has died in every possible place on earth. Here, if it’s haunted, or anywhere.” Hansol drags himself under the table, sitting down next to her and taking up the same position she has, though he presses his cheek to the upper portion of his knees. “So, as a matter of fact, every place should be haunted.”
“You’re not helping.” She adds, turning her face to look at him and my God, is Chwe Hansol actually very handsome. He’s different from Jay, with higher cheeks, rounded eyebrows, and a color that resembles honey on tea in his irises. She should look away, not feed into the idea that people have of them being together, but they were meant to act as natural as possible for this show, and looking away has never been more difficult.
“…Said my mom as I helped with the dishes, and my sister after I met her first boyfriend. Helping is not really my biggest forte, but I try.” Hansol shows a full row of teeth when he smiles, like he does it without a care in this world. He probably does. Something about Hansol tells her that he doesn’t really care what people think of him. “But I found you, so I think that’s us winning the game, isn’t it?”
“Is this a park ride for you or something? You’re all smiley and shit.” She tells him, mimicking his smile though hers is a bit more crooked, like she’s trying to push it away so it doesn’t reach him as the most dumbfounded, surprised expression.
“I like this place.”
She feigns a ringing cellphone with a purr of her lips, folding her hand to mimic a phone only to be caught in between his digits, pressed to his ear as if he’s picking it up.
“Yes, hello?” He asks, fluttering eyelashes in between sweetened laughter. One would think that someone like Chwe Hansol was a punch of pink lemonade, but knowing he’s more like a very sweetened soda is a new occurrence.
“It’s your psychologist. He’s asking for another appointment.”
Hansol chuckles at her words, putting down her hand and yet, leaving her with a tingle that awakens in the pit of her stomach and blossoms like butterfly wings across her chest, filling her in with a breath so profound that every single one of her ribs expands with glee.
“They should.” With that, he stands up,extending a slim hand that wavers its fingers for her to grab. Once she does, she’s up her feet, chest to chest with a man who looks at her with pink lips closed together, hiding the row of teeth that she had grown so fond of in just minutes, for how beautiful and calming his smile could be. “I think we should get out and get to the exit—”
What they don’t expect is for the door to bang open, irrupting on their fort and creating a tense atmosphere when they come face to face with a clown, much of the like of what It could look like. And while Hansol laughs from the moment he sees it, she doesn’t. A shout trips from the back of her throat, much like herself, as she jumps onto Hansol’s back and feels his hands contracting against her thighs, catching her just in time. Her eyes, hidden by his neck, are barely touched by the long hairs on his nape that don’t get to be trapped in his beanie, and when she mumbles for them to leave, Hansol starts sprinting like his life depends on it.
Never does he stop laughing, though, as whoever is dressed on the clown outfit follows after them. He’s secure, for some reason, even when they don’t know each other very well, something about Hansol makes her feel as though she is protected. Sheltered from a world that had always been so tough, but with him is just a tiny bit more complex. And for Hansol, that’s okay.
Something tells her that Hansol doesn’t push himself to understand the majority of things. The reason why the world goes around the sun, or why so many people choose heartbreak. He knows he’s a particle, a mere second in a clock, a reason to laugh or a momentum to flee. While she lives through memories, Hansol relishes on breaths. On moments that are here and now, enjoyable and yet, somehow dreamy in the way that they go by so fast.
She doesn’t know him much, but when they reach the exit and the sun bathes them through peaks in between gray clouds, he is still holding her. Even when Seungcheol points Hansol’s camera at them and he’s talking, he still doesn’t let go of her. She hears a faint joke, a reason to part from his neck, but lord does she wish she would not have looked away.
For his face is too close and that mole on his temple is right there, valuable enough to catch her attention.
So, she drops herself to the floor, falling on her knees and raising her hands in the air before shouting to the camera:
“Good fucking Lord, we made it!”
And Hansol laughs, like he does in these situations, but how she wishes that laugh would not feel precisely like home should feel like.
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Thirteen million views and just the third episode of the series has been posted. Now, that is breaking records.
She would have never believed the world would become a big number for her. Flop or not valued by the amount of people seeing you; regardless of interest or not. She seeks for that validation—much more after the break-up—. From people who don’t really know her, but love to give conspiracies about how Hansol and she met. They say they are together, and they don’t really deny it. The closer they get through episodes, the more people seem interested in it, and while she’s in the thrive for more—fame, success, whatever the fuck it is that is sedating her, Hansol stays…the same.
He invited her over to his place. So unorganized, just like his thoughts. He leaves his coats hanging on his poor couch, picking them up per demand, with splashes of coffee on the coffee table from early this morning still forgotten. Tonight, on this Saturday night, Hansol has brought soju with himself, licking off the remaining bits of his black bean noodles from his chopsticks. She still has a bit left on her place, but she has opted to sit with her head hanging from the sofa, looking at him from upside down, maybe a bit boozed because of the alcohol he had prepositioned for ‘idea organization’.
“What if we ate noodles on a rollercoaster?” They have planned up to episode ten. The end of the season, after all. But people have been asking for another season, and while it’s not confirmed, a company had ventured into the hardships of wanting to promote them for a second season and that meant giving them ideas on a silver platter in hopes of them liking it enough to support it monetarily.
“You want a POV of us vomiting on a camera. Got it.” She drags, inspecting the way his cheeks turn maroon and how he puts his bottle of soju down, giving her a smile that, if she had to describe, would call it extremely dumb.
“When you put it that way, sounds incredibly hot.”
“Ew, Hansol.” She has gotten used to calling him that name now, a month into their venture and almost four episodes in. Her head starts thumping and with four bottles of soju, she can’t stop thinking. Hansol has almost been like a bubble; he lets her see on the outside and still, protects her in some way. She knows that the death threads are still there, as well as the ongoing rumors with Jay that include her in a love triangle, but with him, recording and a new group of people around them, she has managed to lose herself a bit more. “I can’t think straight at this moment.”
“Probably because you’re losing blood flow.” Hansol drags himself closer to her, never lifting his butt of the ground, twisting her hair in a bun that falls the moment she sits up straight. Not because he told her so, or because she was afraid of losing oxygen in her brain, but rather the reason behind it was that Hansol was a little too close to her. Enough for her to see those beautiful speckles in her eyes.
Yes, so that’s the thing…Hansol is extremely pretty.
Awfully so.
In a drunken state, that’s multiplied by a hundred.
“What if we made a ‘Show Me The Money’ parody?”
Hansol shrugs. “I’d eat you up.”
“You think so?” She slurs, pressing her cheek to the edge of the couch and almost twitching when Hansol reaches for the corner of her joggers, pulling them down where they had bunched at her ankles. That’s when his skin comes in contact with hers, wrapping entirely around that portion of her leg and letting his thumb caress the joint behind it. “Mm, don’t do that.”
“S—Sorry.” And Hansol pulls away at that moment, cheeks even more flushed with the alcohol, eyes widened. “I—I didn’t…”
“It just feels nice.” She tells him in a whisper, dozing off and letting her eyes close as the only thing she can hear in the background is the faint sound of Drake’s latest record and, of course, his calm breathing. “…And I don’t like getting used to it. You don’t know how many times I’ve gotten used to things only for them to hurt me…after…”
It’s the alcohol talking and the sleepiness losing her, because she doesn’t remember what else she had said or why she falls asleep so fast. What she does remember is what she dreams. She sees Jay in dreams, remembering the way his palm fit so snugly around her knee, and how he’d trace the underside of it with how big his hand was. Now, she sees it in third person, in some cramped-up party of the like of those he went to, with his lips spread around another woman’s, doing the same thing he did to her, and somehow breaking apart the little threads left in her heart. Because that’s what men have always done to her—hurt her until she couldn’t recognize herself.
She awakens with sweat pooling at her neckline and breaths unarranged in a manner that has her clasping the first thing she feels. Hansol has turned down the lights, his back pressed to the edge of the couch, head lulled back in a way that will probably have him aching in the morning. His brown hair spreads on top of his forehead like vices, eyelashes straight and long, jaw squared yet somehow relaxed as his lips part. He’s snoring softly, barely audibly, laying there like he wouldn’t move even if the world ended.
So, she drags her hand across his forearm, feeling every bump and mountain of slim muscle until she reaches his knuckles and touches them, shaking his hand in hopes of getting him to open his eyes.
He doesn’t, but he does hum at the mention of his name.
“Hansol…I had a nightmare.” She has them often. Each time, she looks into the shadows of the night hoping for the real monsters to appear. Not the ones that make their guest appearance in horror movies, but the ones that actually hurt her. People that tarnished her heart in ways that now has it stopping from time to time. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, but could…could you please hold me? When I’m held, I can fall back asleep.”
“Yeah, sure.” He rasps out, dragging himself towards the couch as she makes him some space. He doesn’t talk about his room or taking up the bed, because he’s probably too sleepy to even care, when he places an arm under her head and lets him square a leg in between his just to make room for the two.
“I’m sorry for getting so close.”
He drags her until her face rests on his collarbone, humming what she can imagine is a ‘no’. “You’re not doing it for anything bad. It’s okay.” He whispers. “Is this tight enough?”
She looks up at him, eyes still closed. So naturally peaceful and yet, somehow blaring war noises inside her head. Ready to flee away just in case her stomach drops to the ground at the mere sight of him. “It’s perfect.”
Hansol shouldn’t feel perfect. Not if season two is ever going to happen.
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Usually, the one with the cruel ideas is Jeonghan. Hyejin has finally met up to that standard. Her friend, not his, and that’s surprising. Hansol has to give her some props for the idea of the ninth episode.
‘Never Have I Ever’. He doesn’t think he has played the game since that one moment he joined college. Only recently did he get his degree, and the engineering degree normally doesn’t get invited to the kind of parties that have drinking games, but Hansol was friends with a bunch of people who would take any kind of game as a reason to drink. This one doesn’t include drinking, but it’s either eating something really nasty, laid in front of them on a picnic cloth—there are testicles in there, as far as he knows—or answering.
Hansol should be concentrated on making her eat the five meals that are meant to be eaten by her, but he is tranced by her. Has been since two weeks ago, when he decided that sharing a couch with her was a good idea. Not only did he have to walk away before she noticed that he had accidentally wrapped a hand around her waist while asleep, but he also had to fight off the thoughts that ventured into his head. He didn’t want to be the rebound, but that’s precisely what he would be if he tried to get with her. If he played the cards he does sometimes, when life is a little simpler, of rubbing the back of his neck and buying someone’s favorite Pokémon cards.
It doesn’t help that she has decided to look absolutely gorgeous while they sat on a bench, in a secluded park that Seungcheol had found fitting for filming. Roses scatter around them in the same color of red that splashes on her dress. A loving heart neckline that has him looking down and—fuck, Hansol, don’t be stupid. She’s way out of your league—
“Never have I ever…” She drags her voice while reaching into the hat that was placed nearby for them. He looks at the shape of her mouth, the length of her eyeliner and he wants to punch himself for a second. For staring with that intent, even with cameras around them. For feeling a bit protected in front of them just because everyone thinks they are dating. Or so. “Eaten or tasted earwax.”
“Do I have the face of a man that has tasted earwax?”
“Yes.” She responds, chuckling at him only to have him scrunching up his nose. He looks down at the plate that is served in front of him, this round’s beverage for anyone to enjoy. “Hansol, don’t tell me you have.”
“I’m not sure, but I was a weird kid! May have!” He tells her, picking up his chopsticks and biting into the testicles that he had repulsed from the moment the game started. She throws her head back, laughing like the child in her had awakened at his response, before she’s shaking her head and tossing the card to the side.
“You’re so nasty.”
“Tell me you haven’t done it.”
“Just because I am sure I did it as a kid as well, I’ll help you out with those testicles.” She picks up the chopsticks from his hands, giving it the slightest of bites before sticking out her tongue and dropping it to the ground. “Gross! Jeonghan, where the fuck did you find this stuff?”
“It was Cheol!”
The game continues, with the two of them a point away from either losing or winning. She has her legs spread in front of her, crossed by the ankles, waiting for him to read the card that he’s just opening when his eyes widen for a fraction of a second. Oh, this wasn’t Seungcheol. This has Hyejin’s name written all over it. He knows it because she has been wriggling her eyebrows whenever he makes his way past her, opting to tease him about the ‘obvious crush’ he has on her best friend.
“Never have I ever liked the person across from me.”
Hansol doesn’t move, and he should be drinking the broccoli lemonade that the team prepared, but she moves with a little more precision, as if her anatomy was made to act in cue. His heart stops when she grabs the glass and brings it up to those lips that had been burgundy red at the start of the recording to drink. She closes her eyes, tosses her head back, and gags at the taste, but Hansol is far too lost.
…She had liked him? Then? Now? When?
“Confessions, confessions. Always coming up from these videos.” She is more of a natural in front of the camera, taking his hand and bringing it up in the air as per a champion from a boxing fight. She has won him over, if only if she knew. “We’ve got ourselves a winner. Give a round of applause for Zach Chwe, everyone!”
Hansol can’t even smile. He’s dumbfounded, staring at her profile and seeing her grin in such an easy going way. Though, the moment they say their goodbyes from the video, she pulls away from him, clearing her throat and looking at him as if she expects an answer. One that never comes and leaves him just to stand up, excuse himself out of the park and lock himself in the nearest bathroom.
Being the rebound is not what he wants, but God, would he be lying to himself if he didn’t accept he has liked her for longer than he’d want to admit.
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Two months pass by. The first season becomes a success and still, not a word has been uttered about that episode. The subscribers’ favorite episode, but the forgotten episode for those who were involved.
No one asks questions when they come together for VidCon. It feels natural, actually. She doesn’t think she would have been able to just go on her own anymore. As some kind of way the world had planned it, Hansol feels like her counterpart in whatever this is right now. Friendship, work, whatever they have garnered together that people seem to love enough to have a panel for them, where they speak to fans and take pictures together. She notices then that she’s not the only person awestruck by Hansol’s beauty, even when that’s obvious at this point. He looks like a daydream in his black t-shirt, rounded glasses and skinny jeans, smiling in pictures and even joking around with fans.
Sometimes, she just looks at him from the side and blames him for it. For letting things slide so smoothly in between the two after that forbidden episode. He never said a word, neither did he try to clear her head with a kiss to her lips or even a strict ‘no’ that would have her moving on. It’s his fault for being likeable; for giving her a necklace with her initial as a celebration when their first season became a success. For him to receive her with a bowl of noodles for every recording they had each week. For him to tag her on stupid memes on Twitter, not giving a care what anyone could say.
The venue is packed and Hansol gets a little too lost on conversations with a fan that is talking about his beginnings as a gamer—that wasn’t really good to start with—when she feels someone tapping her on the shoulder. Her hips move from the edge of their table, where an enormous poster of the publicity image for the first season of their show spreads in the background, to turn around and respond to the subscriber that was trying to get her attention. Nonetheless, like a clashing thunder in a summer day, Jay stands there looking like the oddest thing she has seen in the past three months.
Because she’s not used to him anymore. Neither has she felt like she was truly comfortable with the idea of him. He’s a few heads taller than her, with his black hair pushed back and the sleeves of his shirt dragged up to showcase his tattoos. He’s smiling when he greets her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and hugging her briefly before he pulls away. They are lucky that is not peak hour and most people have scattered to look at the music presentation that was taking place.
“Jay?” She questions, only to have him smiling proudly, like he would do whenever he got recognized in public.
“The one and only. I had to pass by when I heard you were making it to this year’s convention.” His dark brown eyes splay across the poster behind them, trailing after every detail of the image of Hansol wrapping an arm around her shoulder, both smiling at the camera as they spread their hands in peace signs, smiling gleefully. “Haven’t watched a season of the show, but I might start. It’s fucking everywhere.”
She should not talk to him, but she scoffs at his words, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms across her chest to portray just how closed she is to him, but she doesn’t miss her sarcastic smile. Not an ounce of hate is within her chest anymore, but she recalls the wounds he opened just to make bigger ones. “…Mhm, it’s not the type of show you’d watch. Too much of a big brainer.”
“Oh, come on, you know I’m smarter than I look.”
For the way he plotted the entire internet against her, she knows for a fact Jay could very much be a lawyer or an astronaut if he wanted to. Misspells or not. “I’m certain. I’ve never doubted you’re a cunning, smart little shit.”
“I like that. Might make it my new motto.” Before Jay could venture into more of a conversation, her waist is grounded by a pair of thin arms wrapping around them. Soft skin connecting with her through the fabric of her pink hoodie has her looking back to see that Hansol is hugging her from behind, hiding his hands on the pockets of her hoodie and pressing his chin to her shoulder before whispering into her ear.
“We’ve got stuff to do, remember? Like organizing our things at the hotel and sign some posters for tomorrow…” He never rushes with those things, but at the presence of Jay, Hansol’s a bit more masculine and selfish with time. When she tries to answer him, far too lost in the beauty of him now that he has pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, pulling the strands of his hair back, his golden eyes have settled on Jay, not even sparing him a grin out of courtesy. “I’ll have to snatch her away from you.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me.” Jay adds, aiming to hurt and taint, but Hansol doesn’t let him. Instead, he pulls her by the strings of her hoodie, interlocking their hands together before speaking closely to her face.
“So, are we going?”
It’s not a doubt that she says ‘yes’. After all, if her heart had grown a bond for Hansol without him touching her that way, having a glimpse of what it could be like to be with him has her brain going feverish.
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Hansol is certain about many things. That he likes the color green. He loves tie dye hoodies. That he would die in a beanie if he could. He enjoys weird scary shows, and he would marathon the entirety of Scream in a minute. He is also certain that he doesn’t want to talk to her, as they sit across from each other in his hotel room. Not just because, but for the matter that she was talking to the ex that had done anything in his willpower to push her to be absolutely nothing.
He sits on a brown leather couch, working diligently on signing posters while she has opted not to do so. For the past ten minutes, she has ventured into all the possible conversation topics in order to get him to look up, even smile, but while Hansol likes living his life in tranquility, he also has his angered moments. His blood felt like it had rushed to his knuckles from how tight he was holding them closed when he saw Jay. He couldn’t bear but admit to himself that, while he had opted not to think about her in that light, the idea of her going back to Jay and not with him infuriated him. Sure, she wasn’t his—neither was she anybody’s, for that matter—but if someone had to have her as the person by their side, it had to be him. Right?
Anyone but fucking Jay Lee.
But preferably him.
Yet, she knows how to get the world to look at her with eyes that had been rose-colored by her voice and eyes alone. After ten minutes, she knows that he won’t talk to her and when the beads of silence surround the cream-colored room, he almost imagines that she has left. Only that he gets to see her jean-cladded thighs standing in front of his knees, his eyes darting to her face for a fraction of a second until he sees her. The closeness, the little smile that splays in the corner of her mouth, and that wave to her eyebrows that tells him that she’s a bit confused, amused, but also a tad annoyed.
“Why are you angry at me? I haven’t done anything to get the silent treatment.” God, she’s one of the smartest women he has met. With the way she can think of matters in the spot and make a drawing on the screen the most interesting thing in the world. He knows her commentaries on movies are the most precise, intelligent words that could be said, and yet, he wishes she could wake up and realize that he has been here, all along, for three months and even a bit more, liking her like a complete fool. “Hansol, you either talk to me or you talk to me. I’m not giving you another option.”
“That man was…okay, I’ll talk to you.” Hansol stops himself when he hears just how mortified he sounds when he starts talking, putting the poster he was signing to the side, laying on the table next to him with the other pile of posters. Soon after, he’s spreading his hands on the armrest, leaning back on the couch. “Jay has done nothing but make your life an absolute hell and there you go, just being nice to him, letting him hug you and talk to you—”
“Hold up,” She interrupts him, spreading a hand on her waist. “If I just ignore him or treat him like shit, I’m giving him even more of a reason to talk. I’ll be the first to admit to say that the stuff Jay put me through wounded me in ways that will take more than a few months to work through, but I also don’t want to give him the benefit of being aware of how much he hurt me.”
Hansol can understand that, but he also knows what men like Jay think. He runs his fingers through his hair, groaning through half-parted lips. “He probably thinks he still has you on the palm of his hand.”
“He doesn’t.” She shrugs. “So, what’s the problem?”
“I don’t want to see you with him. That is the problem.” Hansol says, standing up and staring at her, face-to-face. “I know you won’t go back to him but it makes me angry to think you ever thought of being with him. Not only doesn’t he match up with you on looks, but he never deserved you. You could put him on a pan and drop an entire bag of salt on him and Jay Lee would still be flavorless. The biggest mistake you could ever make, and the thought alone of him wanting to be with you—”
“I don’t want to be with him.”
“Yes, but…” You also don’t want to be with me, he completes for himself. Sure, she had once said she liked him, but what reassures him that it wasn’t just for the camera?
“You’re making a big deal out of it!”
“I fucking know!” He exclaims, widening his eyes.
“Then?”
“I will make everything that happens to you a big deal because I care for you. I’ve liked you for God-knows how long. Sorry for getting jealous, but I don’t regret it one—”
She interrupts him before he could say anything else, with her lips spreading across his, savoring the tremor of his mouth before he opens it to the granting touch of her tongue. His bottom lip fits between hers as if they were made for her, her hands gravitating to his waist and pulling him closer, though the fact that she was the one to make the first move did not stop Hansol from adding his own motions. His hands spread on the back of her neck, thumbs coming in contact on the column of her throat and dragging a sweet stripe down, rising goosebumps all over her skin. Hansol tilts his head to the side, a cloud of humidity building from the breath he lets out before kissing her lazily, albeit strongly, like he knows he doesn’t have to do much to do it right.
She would like to punch him, ask him why he never did anything when she confessed to liking him in that video, but Hansol has seated back on the chair, hands landing on her hips as he continues to kiss her, and her thighs part to settle comfortably on his lap. When she pulls away from him, lips tainted in that romantic shade of pink that he leaves everywhere he goes, she traces the outline of his mouth with a peck before she goes down to his neck, hiding in there for a second.
“You had me guessing for so long, Hansol. That’s what assholes do.”
Hansol’s hands rub at her hips, one of the portions she’s more insecure about, but with him it just feels right. “I don’t want to be your rebound.” He tells her, grabbing her by her chin before pushing their lips together once again. He keeps his eyes closed when he speaks against her mouth, just minutes after biting on her bottom lip. “Please, don’t let me be a rebound. If I am, stop me now.”
She’d be crazy to stop him. Not when his mouth looks like a rose petal and her heart feels the more at ease she has felt in a while. Sure, this is always the start of every romance. She knows that men feel comfortable before they destroy her heart even worse than the last time, but something tells her that this is not the case with Hansol. She closes her eyes, venturing into the shape of his mouth to trace it like the map she should have followed a long time ago.
For now, she’ll get lost in him, in the way he makes her feel like she’s the newest star in the sky and he’s drawing it himself. Calling her something that goes unnamed for now.
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The word ‘for now’ is so funny. It prolongs in time, so much that three months turn into six, and then, an entire year.
She had said that Hansol’s idea was a ‘for now’. That him, as a person, was temporary as it gets, but the clock was making fun of her as she rushes to his car, holding onto the coldest coffee she could get at this hour of the morning. Some people feel comfortable, not because they are colored certain way or how they make you feel, but what you two make together. Blue and green are colors on their own, but together they make something different. The creation of new matters is what makes the world a little bit more interesting.
Hansol doesn’t enjoy mornings, not after a short night of sleep, and that may be her fault, but with the way he smiles at her when she opens the car’s door, she’s sure he has forgiven her. For how great they felt last night, she’s sure that there were no grudges held. A camera is pointed her way, though she knows that the second season of their show is still being published on her channel and, no way in hell, he would ever post the videos he takes of her. Little vlogs to remember what it was like here, now, forever. God, forever sounds amazing with Hansol.
“Here we have a whole coffee addict, making her way to my sick Porsche.”
“It’s a Toyota, Hansol. Sit the fuck down.” She completes, entering the car and pushing her hair over her shoulder, leaning over the seat to let him taste the coffee. That makes the camera a little too close to her face, laughing and pushing it to the side the slightest. “I’m sure I don’t look that good in that angle.”
“You don’t, but real love will make me say you do.” He completes, sipping a few more times into her coffee before giving it back to her. He has the hood of his shirt all the way over his dark hair, turning off the camera and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before he starts the car.
Talking about their relationship in public was forbidden, for she doesn’t want to blur the line in between the faux relationship and what became real. In fact, it happened with its bumps along the road. She can’t say that everything has been easy, that sometimes her nightmares don’t wake her up with the idea of Hansol leaving one day, or not precisely leaving her, but stomping on her heart before he flees away, but that idea alone is pushed away with a served kiss and a few words that save her from doubting. Hansol is not much of a talker and yet, when he opens those lips of his, he always seems to say the right thing.
So, while the subscribers have never gotten a real video of them admitting to their relationship, it’s almost public notice. She sips on her drink, looking at his profile and the tranquility of him before asking.
“So, I saw a Tweet not too long ago. As I was waiting for coffee, actually.”
“From who?” His voice grows serious, expecting to hear anything from Jay or anyone else on the internet, but she calms him down by interlocking their fingers together, tracing the small promise ring on his finger with her thumb.
“From a subscriber that wanted to point out our supposed beginnings.” She likes looking at those conspiracies from time to time. They are so ridiculous that she can’t help but be amused by how close and obsessed people can get from someone they saw on the internet. Well, as long as it’s kept like a good momentum on someone’s life, and they know not to blur the line, she’s sure it’s okay. “The first picture you liked of me was on April 18th, three years ago. It was a picture of me on my desk, looking down at my I-Pad as I drew, working on my next video.”
Hansol twists his head to the side, laughing to himself a bit before nodding. “I remember that picture.”
“You do?”
“I do.” He looks at her for a fraction of a second before bringing their interlocked hands up, giving it a soft kiss. “Your hair was shorter then. Way shorter. I thought you were pretty.”
“Sometimes, I wish I had met you earlier.”
“Huh, earlier wasn’t our time, I guess.” Hansol responds, letting go of her hand to grab her coffee.
Holding her breath, she looks at his sleepy profile. At him as a person. It has been so long and yet, the words don’t weight on her mouth when she opts to mumble it for the first time:
“I love you, Hansol.”
His eyes twinkle when she says those words, spreading a smile into his face that show all his teeth before he gnaws at his bottom lip.
“I love you, too.”
860 notes · View notes
wheeboo · 5 months
Text
apartment 218 | hansol vernon chwe
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SYNOPSIS. in which living with a ghost is something you consider routine, but it sucks getting too used to his company when your lease is about to expire. PAIRING. ghost!hansol vernon chwe x gn!reader (ft. kinda nosy seungkwan and a mention of mingyu) GENRE. ghost au, fluff, kinda angsty (pls take my laptop away from all the angst i've been writing) WARNINGS. cursing, mentions of death (cuz yk... he's dead), seungkwan playfully calls the reader "honey" at some point WORD COUNT. 3k
notes: shoutout to the special gose ep for giving me ghost vernon lol 💘 i've been writing a lot of vernon lately oof ,, maybe this is a sign
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You find yourself fumbling with the keys to your apartment, struggling to not drop the groceries in your hands, and you can feel the plastic bags cutting into your fingers. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you manage to insert the key into the lock and turn it.
The door swings open, and you step into the familiar comfort of your apartment. The cool air inside welcomes you as you shut the door behind you, immediately darkening the inside of your place and muffling the sounds of the bustling city outside. With a sigh of relief, you set the bags of groceries down on the kitchen counter and turn on the light.
However, you freeze for a moment to listen to the silence, noticing how that it's too quiet for your liking. Stepping to the side, you glance down at the floor, eyes catching sight of the empty cat bowl by your feet.
And with that, you call out, "Vernon!" Then you pick up the metal bowl in your hands. "I thought I told you to refill Tofu's bowl when I was gone."
There's some harrowing silence that passes as you tug a bag of nearly-empty cat food from your small pantry, and with a resigned expression, pour the last remaining contents of kibble into the bowl. The clinking sound of the kibble hitting the metal is the only noise in the room, and when you finish, you place the bowl back down on the floor.
You hear a faint rustling sound from behind the couch in your little living room. Tofu emerges, stretching lazily before padding over to his refreshed meal, shooting you a brief glance with his bright blue eyes. His long white tail swishes back and forth with excitement and curiosity as he eagerly begins to nibble on the food.
Then, you hear a voice whisper closer to your ear, practically startling you, "Sorry."
"Shit! I𑁋" You purse your lips together. "I told you not to scare me like that!"
"Sorry," Vernon mutters again, voice barely louder than a whisper. A slight breeze brushes past your ear, and you can't shake the feeling of someone's presence lingering in the room. Then when you glance up, you see him materialising in your direction, flickering translucently under the dim lighting. "I was going to feed him, but it takes a lot of energy to... you know..."
You watch as Vernon's ghostly figure wavers in the air, saddened features traced on his face. It's not the first time he's struggled to maintain a solid form, and you've come to understand that his energy is limited, especially when trying to interact with the physical world.
"Yeah, I... Sorry, I should've thought about that," You say apologetically, scratching at your neck guiltily.
You watch the way Vernon kneels down at Tofu's side and runs a barely-there hand over the cat's fur, as if trying to reassure him. Tofu seems to sense the presence and leans into the touch, purring contentedly, before resuming back to his meal. It's an unusual scene, but it's become a part of your everyday life𑁋coexisting with a ghost in your apartment. Usually you'd hear that kind of story in a horror movie, but honestly, your experience has been anything but scary.
It's unusual, but... also oddly comforting; a bit less lonely.
"It's fine, really," Vernon says as he stands back up, observing as you start to sluggishly put your groceries away. You're probably tired, he assumes. "But I was able to finish the rest of your Nutella sticks𑁋"
"Are you kidding me? You don't need food," You groan annoyingly, yet there's a hint of a smile at your lips.
"Dude, you left it open on the table. Did you want ants to get to it?" Vernon laughs softly, the sound like a gentle breeze rustling through the room. "I'm just trying to be helpful, you know. Sharing is caring."
"Yeah, whatever. Thanks, I guess."
Vernon lets out a little chuckle, and for a moment, you almost forget he's not a living, breathing person. You take a step closer to him, and although you can't quite touch him, you offer an air-high-five. He responds by mimicking the gesture, and you both laugh.
You still remember the first time you met him. The context was... strange: you had just gotten out of the shower, dressed in nothing but a towel and when you had gone out of the bathroom to head to your bedroom, you had spotted Vernon hovering in the hallway and let out a startling scream that echoed through the apartment. In that ungainly moment, your towel nearly slipped from your grasp, and you had scrambled to keep it up.
Vernon, for his part, had looked equally flustered, stammering out apologies and explanations about not intending to startle you and looking away awkwardly as you slipped inside your bedroom and shut the door behind.
(However, you thankfully never caught the way his ears flared a faint shade of pink, as if he were blushing too, despite being a ghost, as he had overestimated his materialising ability. He would bring that secret to his otherworldly grave, or wherever spirits go when they finally move on.)
At first, you wanted nothing to do with him, but you also really had no choice but to get used to him. He's lived here longer than you, bound to the confining walls of your apartment that he used to call home himself, even telling you that you're the only person from previous tenants to stay longer than three months.
To be honest, you find yourself looking forward to his company more often than not. And over time, you both developed an unusual but deep friendship. It was an arrangement that defied logic but... somehow felt right. While you couldn't exactly touch him (you can if he was solid, which was quite rare) or share a meal, you could share your about your day and your thoughts. You'd tell him about your work, your family, the little joys, the frustrations, and he'd listen willingly. He looks to be around the same age as you, despite you being alive and him being dead, and you often wonder about his life before he became a ghost.
But Vernon is mostly tight-lipped about his past, and you've learned not to pry. All you know is that he was your age or around your age when he died, and that he used to live in the apartment you reside in. You didn't mind all that though. It wasn't your place to ask, and if you were a ghost yourself, you probably wouldn’t talk about it as well.
Sometimes there are peculiar incidents that happen in your apartment, like objects moving on their own or lights flickering. There were times where the snack you're eating or the drink you're drinking empties, wondering where the hell it even goes after that. Like does he even digest? You’ve never seen him use the bathroom…
But it's become normal for you, knowing Vernon was just trying to interact with the physical world in his own limited way without trying to disturb you𑁋just to let you know that he's there.
It just sucks knowing that in a few short months, you're moving out.
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“And, oh my God, you wouldn’t believe this, Y/N…”
It’s another voice that hits Vernon’s ears, which immediately prompts him to fade away from his spot on the floor where he was petting Tofu as he hears the door unlock. He recognises the voice, knowing it's one of your closest friends who has come to your place quite a lot.
Over the past year of you staying here, he's seen many people come and go out of your place. Whether it was a visit from close friends, family, or the occasional date that you'd have over that would go nowhere, Vernon had become accustomed to sharing the space with them. Yet, he couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy that would occasionally surface when he saw you with other people.
He knew it was irrational to feel that way. You're alive, and you deserved to live your life to the fullest. But the sensation persisted, like an unfamiliar ache that lingered within him.
It's only recently that he's grown to accept these deeper feelings within him, realising himself of how much you captivate him. Like the way your eyes light up when you're excited, the subtle blush that graces your cheeks when you're embarrassed, and the warmth in your smile that even reaches your eyes. He found a strange comfort in simply being near you and watching you from afar.
He often found himself thinking about you, wondering what it would be like if he could hold your hand, if he could brush a strand of hair away from your face, among other things. Perhaps it was just the loneliness that came with being a ghost, but he couldn't deny that he had grown attached to you more than he could ever realise himself. After all, what could he, a ghost, offer you?
You gasp loudly. "No way, I thought Mingyu broke up with that asshole."
"Clearly not! Since I spotted them together when I was getting coffee the other day," Seungkwan exclaims while closing the door to your apartment behind him. "They were all over him, it was so disgusting. Poor Mingyu. He deserves better."
You could only chuckle as you hear Seungkwan's exasperated voice, knowing that his dramatic retellings of gossip always brought a smile to your face. At the corner of your eye, though, you spot the door to your bedroom open slightly, noticing Vernon's ghostly figure reappear with a small wave, to which you give a knowing look and a subtle nod back to him.
"Y/N, why do you have so many cups out?" Seungkwan points out to the three glass cups sitting on your kitchen counter, also noticing an opened Nutella sticks snack standing idly next to them. "Jeez, honey, you're gonna catch roaches!"
Vernon, is all you can think about, and it makes you roll your eyes.
"I guess I got a bit lazy with the dishes," You excuse, and you swear you can feel Vernon's eyes peering in your direction. "I'll clean them up later."
"Yeah, well, whenever you move into your new place, I better not be seeing any of those little fuckers around," Seungkwan muses teasingly, and instantly, the smile to your face fades away.
Vernon is listening. You know he is. And when you shoot a glance in the direction of your bedroom, you watch the way the door quietly and slowly shuts itself. You bite down at your bottom lip, cursing to yourself lowly. You've never told him about your lease expiring and plan to move away, and for some reason, it makes your heart feel way heavier than normal.
"I'll... make sure of it," You respond quietly.
Seungkwan leaves your place when evening starts to settle into night. There's a deep sigh that leaves your lips as the sound of his footsteps fades away and you're left to yourself. The apartment suddenly feels too quiet, a noticeable void in the air surrounding you, a noticeable absence... of Vernon.
You catch your feet heading in the direction of your bedroom, stopping in front of the door with a weight to your chest that feels almost suffocating. You push it open and step inside, finding Vernon sitting on the edge of your bed, his body flickering in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. He's not looking at you when you enter the room; instead, his gaze is focused on some distant point in the room.
"Vernon?" You call out softly, approaching up to him.
He glances up, his glassy eyes meeting yours, and he offers a faint smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Hey."
Another round of silence passes. It's full of anticipation, hesitation, hanging thickly in the air between the two of you. The soft hum of the bedside lamp is the only sound in the room, casting a warm, golden glow that paints shadows on the walls.
"Uh, do..." You pause. "...do you want to watch a movie?"
The question leaves your mouth so suddenly that you're not even sure where it came from. You see the way Vernon's features shift in surprise, his translucent form wavering slightly.
"Sure, that sounds nice," Vernon finally replies, the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. You can see the flicker of excitement in his eyes, a glimmer of something that resembles joy, and it warms your heart.
He follows you into the living room, a coolness hitting your skin as he settles down on the couch next to you. Tofu jumps onto the couch as well, settling in a cozy spot between the two of you and letting out a contented purr. You select a light-hearted movie that you both have watched a plentiful of times before, but never fails to bring smiles to your faces and laughs cascading out of your mouths.
As the movie starts, you and Vernon fall into a comfortable silence, watching the plot unfold on the screen, the weight in your chest lightening, but the tension is still evident in the air. You occasionally glance at Vernon, noting the way the light from the TV passes through him, yet the features on his face are almost as clear as day.
The movie plays on, and you find yourself absorbed in the familiar storyline, but your mind keeps drifting back to Vernon. Your gaze lingers on his profile for a moment longer than usual, taking in the way his eyes flicker with the light from the screen, the way his lips curve in amusement, just him.
You've spent so much time with him the past year, yet the thought of leaving him behind when you move to your new place carves a bittersweet hole to your chest. You've always been taught to venture out into the world, to seek new experiences and make new memories, but it seems like the universe hadn't accounted for the attachment you would build with a ghost, of all things.
You glance down at his hand, and a fleeting thought crosses your mind. Without thought, you tentatively extend your hand towards Vernon's, your fingers reaching out to graze the faint shimmer of his see-through form, and you swear you can almost feel the faintest tingle of his touch. The sensation is imperceptible, but it still sends a shiver down your spine.
Taking his attention away from the movie, Vernon's eyes widen as your fingers make contact with his hand. The sensation is weird, a combination of a subtle chill and an even more subtle warmth, like a faint breeze brushing across your skin. His physique flickers for a moment, the contact seemingly affecting him as well.
Absolutely no one would understand the kind of situation you've dug yourself in, but that's okay. You like knowing that it's just you and him.
The two of you only share a small smile, before returning your focus back to the movie.
And when the movie ends, with your hands still touching-but-not-touching, you both sit in silence, the credits rolling on the screen. Time seems to slow down as the room falls into a hushed silence.
"I'm sorry," You mumble, voice barely audible in the quiet room. "for not telling you."
Vernon's gaze remains locked on the spot where your fingers had grazed his hand, even though there's no longer any contact. He remains silent for a moment, his ghostly form flickering like a fragile flame.
Then, in a soft, almost hesitant tone, he finally speaks, "It's okay, Y/N."
There's a mixture of emotions in his voice𑁋understanding, sadness, and perhaps a touch of longing. His eyes meet yours, and there's something unspoken there that you both convey.
"I didn't want to tell you because... I didn't want to make you feel alone," You explain. "But I also didn't want to leave without saying goodbye."
Vernon's sheer body seems to soften as he listens to your words. There's a vulnerability in your voice that he can feel deep in his own heart. It's a strange sensation𑁋this longing to comfort you while knowing that there's little he can do in his current state.
"I get it," he says gently. "It was bound to happen eventually."
A wistful sigh leaves your lips as you rest your back fully against the couch, your hand still not leaving its place on (or in?) Vernon's own hand at your side.
"Do... do you ever wish things were different?" You ask almost hesitantly, and nervously.
This only makes a faint smile cross his face. "Yeah," he answers, before shooting a glance down at your hands. "I wish I could touch you without the pain, or just... be with you in a more real way, you know?"
A smile of your own tugs itself at your lips.
"I wish that too," You confess, voice soft, a vulnerability in the room suspending in the air. "But maybe you can... try? It-It's okay if you don't want to, or if it hurts too much. I just... wanted to know."
Vernon's gaze lingers in contemplation on your intertwined fingers for a moment before he closes his eyes, a deep breath escaping his lips. You can see the struggle in his face, the effort it takes to materialise just a little bit more.
And then, it happens. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, his hand becomes more solid, the ghostly quality fading just a bit. Your breath catches as you feel the warmth of his hand enveloping yours, fingers entwined together seemingly perfectly.
A soft gasp escapes your lips as you savour the feeling, your heart beating a little faster than before, the moment suddenly feeling incredibly intimate. Vernon's eyes remain closed, his concentration evident, yet when he opens his eyes, he finds you gazing at him with nothing but wonder. He swears he can physically feel the heat rising up his neck and into his ears the longer you look at him.
When your eyes drift back down to his hand, you let your free one trace light shapes on his knuckle with a finger.
"I... I'm really going to miss you," You let out quietly.
This only makes his grip on your hand tighten just slightly.
"Yeah," he whispers begrudgingly. "I'm going to miss you too."
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nonranghaes · 4 months
Text
heads up: angst. depression. trauma. idk anymore.
"it's like..."
vernon doesn't say anything when you trail off. he waits, arm draped around the back of your couch as he watches you carefully. your eyes are still red and wet, and he pushes a tissue into your hand so that you can dry your cheeks if nothing else.
"it's like..." you trail off again, brows drawing together ever-so-slightly.
"like?" he supplies, as though it'll do something.
"it's too big a part of me." you toy with the tissue in your hands. "like... going to therapy helps, but i'm never going to get rid of it."
"that's not the point of--"
you cut him off, "i know. i know i'm supposed to get to the point where i can live with it, but... even then, i don't think most people realize how deep it goes."
vernon nods slowly. "try me."
"like..." you trail off once more, and then you meet his eyes. "it's like it's a part of me. getting rid of it would be like losing a vital organ or something. if i just... forgot all of it, i wouldn't be me anymore."
but you'd be happier, a voice in the back of his head says. he pushes it back: maybe you'd be happier without your mishmash of mental bullshit (your words, never his), but he knows what you're saying. you'd still be losing a part of yourself with how deep it all goes and how you're living with it now. "i see."
"it's not just a scar now," you say, fingers trailing over the edge of the couch. "it's me. it's... it's a part of me now."
he pulls you into his arms. "but it's not you," he says quietly. "you're still you. this stuff doesn't define you."
he thinks you want to argue. but you relax into him, wrapping your arms around him. "maybe," you settle on. "just... hold me for a bit. if you don't mind."
(he doesn't. he never does.)
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novalpha · 11 months
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𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘰𝘯 𝐹𝑖𝑐 𝑅𝑒𝑐𝑠
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♡ Fluff || ୨୧ Angst || ★ Smut || ꗃ SMAU || ⌗ Series || ✿ Drabble || ♤ Mature (No smut) || ✹ Humor
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Buy A Boyfriend ♡★⌗ -> @sluttywoozi Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4
Summary: Being a professional boyfriend on SVTHub is great - all Vernon has to do is respond to a few texts, send out a couple selfies, do a stream every now and then, and he makes enough to cover tuition. Things get a little tricky when he finds himself wishing he actually was your boyfriend.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ By hook or by cross ♡୨୧★ -> @kabira
summary — so you punched a guy, and now he wants you to teach him how to fight, because clearly, you know how to do it better. well, fine, you say. as long as he keeps his distance. (spoiler alert: he doesn’t.)
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ divorce child ♡★ -> @lovelyhan
summary: you like to think that your most recent breakup with vernon ended on relatively good terms. there’s only one issue left to sort out: who’s getting custody of the cat you got together?
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Cold hands, Warm hearts ♡ -> @duhnova
synopsis: this holiday season, your daughter decided the best present she could give to you was a new boyfriend, which is why she and her best friend yujin have taken it upon themselves to play matchmaker. their candidate? yujin’s father.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Operation : Hot girl summer ♡✹★ -> @shuaflix
SUMMARY ▸ the summer you started putting more effort into your appearance also happens to be the summer where vernon chwe's piercing gaze leaves you feeling like you're floating high up in the clouds.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Not a virgin ♡✹★ -> @ncteez
Vernon, a friend of your friend spills his spicy sex life and accidentally reveals to an entire group of near-strangers (including you) that he’s had sex one and a half times and that it was sick.
or the one where despite vernon not being a virgin, he is somehow more of a virgin than an actual virgin. 
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ High and fucked ★ -> @rubyreduji
summary: hansol is nothing to you but your ex-boyfriend's roommate, but you still find yourself alone with him while you get high together
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Risk it all ★ -> @sluttywoozi
Summary: Vernon's got a crush on his tutor, and everything gets harder when you start wearing thigh high socks. Everything.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ The soulmate service ♡✹୨୧ -> @dkfile
the soulmate service has one purpose: to help those who drew the short end of the stick and ended up without a person to live their forever with. after the heart wrenching realization that the boy you’ve loved since you were thirteen isn’t the one meant for you, you put your love life in the hands of vernon chwe — which, now that you think about it, is probably a very bad idea.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Work husband ♡✹ -> @wondernus
synopsis: falling for the young and flirty high school history teacher is inevitable especially when he pays for your groceries and calls himself your work husband
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Trillium ♡★ -> @beahae
Summary: Vernon is flying in to see his girlfriend. Oh shit, that’s… you. Being away from him for the past few months ago makes it hard for it to feel real, especially after two years of what you both convinced yourselves was a purely platonic friendship. Now that he’s here in the flesh, you are determined to make it feel real. And very non-platonic.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Say you love me (i love you) ♡✹ -> @viastro
synopsis: three heavy words. you’re so used to saying this to the one person that’s always been by your side, because you know that he’s your other half; platonically. these words have always held some sort of meaning whenever you say it to vernon, in hopes that maybe one day he’ll say it back to you.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Distraction ♡✹★ -> @minghaoyoudoin
summary: typically, when a person’s house smells like fire, you call the fire department. when your house smells like fire, you know it’s because Vernon is cooking.
[ More Vernon fic recs will be updated ]
Want more Seventeen fic recs? -> Click here
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