#vernon hansol chwe scenarios

[hoshifighting]

WARNINGS: non-stabilished relationship, oral (f.receiving), big!cock vernon, semi-public sex, reader is bent over the university's rooftop railing, alcohol, hangover, ditch classes, mentions of getting caught,

thinking about college fling!vernon so badddd 😫

college fling!vernon that you would meet in one of those lame college dorm things that somehow ends up being packed even though the music’s trash, drinks are watered down, and you can’t move without bumping into some dude playing beer pong way too seriously. seungkwan’s buzzing around, doing his best “life of the party” impression, talking to anyone who’ll listen—mostly about how great his friend vernon is (the boy that looked too quiet for the setting) “you gotta meet him,” seungkwan had said earlier, face glowing like he'd just won the lottery. you’d been mid-sip of some cheap punch that tasted more like regret than alcohol. but you nodded because why not? you’re there, stuck, might as well meet the guy.

so here you are, watching vernon from across the room, trying to look like you’re not watching him. he's got this frank ocean shirt on, the one that’s slightly faded, like it’s seen too many nights like this, and you can’t help it—you have to comment on it, break the ice before this gets any more awkward. “nice shirt,” you say, sliding up next to him, trying to sound casual like you didn’t just spend the last five minutes psyching yourself up to say that.

vernon looks at you, and there’s this second where you swear he’s sizing you up, not in a judgy way, just like... observing. “thanks,” he replies, voice low, almost lazy. “you a fan?” you nod, and he gives you this small, almost imperceptible smile. it’s the kind of smile that makes you feel like you’ve passed some sort of test, like you said the right thing. and just like that, the awkwardness melts. he loves music, that much is clear, and suddenly you’re talking about frank ocean’s best album like you’ve known each other for years.

the thing with vernon? he doesn’t say much. but he’s got this way of looking at you—direct, almost too direct, like he’s daring you to break the eye contact first. you’re talking, yeah, but his eyes are doing most of the work. they flicker over you in that slow, lazy way, like he’s got all the time in the world to take you in, to make you squirm.

and you do squirm. because damn, when was the last time someone looked at you like that? like they see you?

he doesn't try to hide it either—the fact that he finds you hot. there’s no playing it cool with vernon, no pretending he’s just here for the conversation. but he’s not crass about it; it’s more subtle than that. like, instead of throwing some cheesy pick-up line your way, he just lets his eyes do the talking, like the way they drop to your lips when you laugh, or the way they linger on the curve of your neck when you turn your head. it’s fucking magnetic, honestly. you’re not even sure if you’re saying anything coherent anymore, but you’re still talking because it feels like a game now. you want to see how long you can keep this up, how long you can hold his gaze without breaking.

so, somehow, after that intense stare-off that lasted way too long, the night blurred after things got a little hazy after the third round of whatever cheap alcohol was in that red solo cup. the party faded into background noise, and all you could really focus on was vernon—how his hand would brush against yours, how his eyes didn’t leave your face, even when you weren't looking. and damn, the way he kissed you, slow at first, but chocking you at the same time, had you practically yanking him back to your room by the end of the night.

college fling!vernon that is butt-naked in your bed in the morning. as you wake up to a dull throb in your head and an even duller one between your legs, the kind of discomfort that reminds you exactly what went down last night. you hiss, eyes squinting against the light filtering in through your half-assed curtains, feeling the sheets sticking to your bare skin.

you groan, sitting up slowly, body protesting every movement. your legs feel a little wobbly, and as the blanket shifts, you wince at the slight sting between your thighs. it’s not intolerable, but enough to remind that you definitely overdid it.

vernon stirs beside you, stretching out like a cat before blinking his eyes open. he sees you, and without a word, sits up, grabbing a half-empty water bottle from your desk. instead of handing it to you like a normal person, he holds it out without the cap—just letting you sip straight from it. it’s messy, some of the water spills on your chest, but whatever, you’re too thirsty to care. you down it in a couple of gulps, the cool liquid soothing your dry throat.

you’re about to bitch about it, complain about your sore muscles or whatever, but vernon’s eyes are already on you, half-lidded but sharp, like he knows exactly what’s going on in that head of yours. before you can even think about capping the bottle, vernon’s already leaning down, shifting the covers off of you, and making his way between your legs. “gonna help with that hangover,” he murmurs, hands gently parting your thighs as he settles down, face close enough to your core that your breath catches. and yeah, you’re hungover, sore, but the second his mouth touches you, all that discomfort? gone.

he’s sloppy, so sloppy, like he’s thirsty for it. his tongue drags over you in these messy, wet strokes that have you gasping, body tensing under his touch. vernon’s got this way of eating you out that’s chaotic and precise. like, one second he’s all over the place, licking you like he can’t get enough, and the next, he’s right there, focused on your clit, swirling his tongue in tight circles that make your toes curl.

“shit, vernon,” you gasp, your hand instinctively finding his hair, tugging as he goes at it like it’s his fucking job.

the slurping, the little moans he’s making like he’s the one getting off—it’s obscene. he’s not even trying to be neat about it, just going all in, licking you like he’s lost in it, like he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. and honestly? u don’t want him to. not with the way your hips are lifting off the bed, chasing his mouth, chasing that high that’s building so fast it’s almost embarrassing. your hand shoots to his hair, tangling in it, pulling him closer because jesus christ, this is—

“so fucking good—ah!”

your body arches off the bed, thighs trembling as he pushes you over the edge faster than you can even process. the orgasm slams into you, fast and hard, and all you can do is ride it out, his mouth still on you, not stopping until you’re completely wrecked. you cum in record time, panting and shaking, and vernon pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like it was nothing.

“feel better now?” he asks, voice all smug and hoarse, and you want to say something—anything—but your brain’s too scrambled to form words. he chuckles, before crawling back up the bed, like he didn’t just ruin you before breakfast. he knows he’s got you.

college fling! vernon that when you’re sitting in class, staring at some powerpoint slides that you know you're never going to remember, your phone buzzes in your lap. half paying attention, you glance down at the screen. it's a message from vernon, and already, a smirk tugs at the corner of your lips because you know this dude barely makes it through class without some kinda stunt.

“yo. wanna ditch?” is all it says, and you can already picture him slouched in the back row of his own class, practically melting from boredom. god, he’s so bad at hiding when he’s bored. you bite your lip, torn between ignoring it like a good student or just saying fuck it—like you always do when it comes to him. why even pretend? with a quick glance to make sure the professor’s not paying attention, you text back:

“where we going?”

he sends the location pin. and it’s for the rooftop.

now, you know the university rooftop’s supposed to be off-limits. it’s plastered with no entry signs, and apparently, they’ve got some security guards roaming around to make sure no one goes up there. but vernon? he doesn’t give a fuck about rules, and, honestly, neither do you when he’s involved.

five minutes later, you’re sneaking out of class, the adrenaline already starting to build as you make your way up the stairwell, heart racing. when you finally push open the heavy door to the rooftop, vernon’s already there, leaning against the rail, hat on backwards, that signature lazy grin spreading across his face when he sees you.

“thought you might leave me hangin’,” he teases, eyes flicking down to your legs as you walk up to him.

“you wish,” you scoff, rolling your eyes but feeling the heat rise between you two the second you’re standing next to him. the air up here is cooler, but with vernon looking at you like that? it’s making it hot, at least down there.

“so... what now?” you ask, though you know exactly what he’s got in mind.

he doesn’t answer right away, just steps behind you, hands sliding down your waist, squeezing your hips as he pushes you gently toward the railing. “bend over,” he mutters.

you hesitate for a second, glancing at the drop below you. “you want me to fall off this fucking roof?”

vernon laughs under his breath, stepping closer until his body presses into yours. “nah, i got you. promise.”

you roll your eyes but do as he says, leaning over the edge, gripping the metal railing for balance. your heart’s pounding in your chest, half from the thrill of getting caught, half from the fact that you’re so fucking turned on. and when you bend over, purposely sticking your ass out, vernon lets out a low whistle.

“goddamn,” he mutters, hands gripping your hips harder, fingers digging into your skin. “you always gotta tease me like that?”

“maybe,” you throw over your shoulder, a smug smile on your lips as you give your hips a little shake, knowing exactly what you’re doing to him.

“fuck.” he groans, and you can hear him fumbling with his belt behind you. the sound of the metal buckle makes your breath catch, and soon his cock’s out, heavy against your skin as he drags it along your entrance. he’s teasing you back now, taking his time, like he’s trying to make you beg for it.

“you want it?” his voice a little strained. you can almost picture the way his brows are furrowed, cheeks probably turning pink from how hard he is.

“you’re too fucking big to be playing games like this, vernon,” you shoot back, though the words come out breathier than you intended.

that makes him pause, his grip on your hips tightening, and when he finally slides inside you, you feel the stretch—god, you feel all of him. it makes you gasp, your fingers clutching the metal railing as your body adjusts to how thick he is, pushing in until he's buried to the hilt. vernon’s groan is low and drawn out, like he’s losing his mind a little, too. “shit. you—” he starts, voice hitching, “you feel so fucking good.” you moan in response, pushing back against him, and that’s all he needs. he grabs you by the waist, holding you tight—so tight you’re sure there’ll be bruises tomorrow—and starts fucking into you, each thrust rocking your body against the railing.

“hold on,” he growls, one hand sliding up your back to grip your shoulder, pulling you back against him, making sure you don’t fall forward. the metal of the railing digs into your stomach, but you’re too lost in the feeling of him pounding into you to care. your knees r weak, but vernon’s holding you so tightly that you don’t even have to think about standing.

“fuck, vernon,” you moan, turning your head to try and catch a glimpse of him. his jaw’s clenched, beads of sweat gathering at his temple, but when he catches your eye, he looks embarrassed for a split second.

you manage a smirk. “you’re—fuck—big.”

he blushes, actually blushes, but he doesn’t stop. if anything, he fucks you harder, grunting something that sounds like an unite of a complaint and a thank you. his hat’s still backwards, so you grab it, yanking him down into a sloppy kiss, lips crashing together as his hips slam into you, fucking you into the rooftop’s edge.

he pulls away just long enough to bite out, “we’re gonna get caught if you keep moaning like that.”

“then stop fucking me so good,” you snap back, voice shaky as he hits that perfect spot inside you.

vernon just grins, all cocky now, and mutters, “never.” with a deep thrust that makes you see white, angels and everything.

he doesn’t stop until you’re both cumming, bodies so in sync that you don’t even notice the footsteps until they’re too close. panic flickers in your chest as you realize someone’s coming—probably a guard—but vernon just pulls out quick, shoving you behind a vent as the guard makes his rounds. both of you are a sweaty, fucked-out mess, trying not to laugh as you adjust your clothes, and vernon gives you one of those signature smirks.

“guess we’ll have to finish this next time”

[sillyuin]

Seventeen and kisses (OT13)

Yuin's note: Poorly proofread. I'm going through a really bad writer's block, bear with me.

Seungcheol. Mingyu. Dino. - Forehead.

His main goal in this relationship is that you feel loved, and takes his job quite serious. There's not a safer place than his warm embrace, he loves to hold you and tenderly kiss your forehead like there's no time or something more important, is his silent way to say that will protect you and be there whenever you need him (cuz' words alone cannot express how important you are to him).

Joshua. Jeonghan. Minghao - Knuckles.

For him you're a princess, his princess and what better way to make you feel like that? Your hands are the prettiest, from time to time he will hold it and tenderly place a kiss on your knuckles. Oh, he's so in love with your lovestruck gaze, he can do this all day long just to see you blushing and getting shy over him, so it's not big surprise if he gives more than just one kiss.

Seungkwan. Dokyeom. Hoshi. - All over your face.

He loves your face, the tender way you look at him and your cute smile are his biggest weaknesses so don't be surprised, he's always so eager to kiss you and will just choose anywhere, it doesn't matter since it's you, all he wants to do is shower you with all his love and put a big smile on your face. It doesn't matter if you're depressed or just minding your business, when he wants to kiss you, There is nothing in this world that can stop him from achieving his goal.

Vernon. Woozi. Wonwoo. - Cheek/Lips.

Let's be honest, he's a simple man so he is just going to kiss you straight on your lips. Does it mean that's boring and not special? Better think twice. He respects your personal space and knows that can't just be stuck to you all the time but he's a human too, a person that loves you deeply and will remind you that he is there by suddenly going by your side, kissing your lips, and then returning to whatever he was doing (leaving you clueless and blushing).

Jun. - Nose.

He's eccentric and everyone knows that for sure, so it is not a big surprise when he just stares at you, with a serious gaze and suddenly caress his nose againts yours, followed by a shy laugh. But don't blame him. The truth is, Jun feels very comfortable when he's with you and likes to just be himself, is his way to say how much he loves you.

[cherryredcheol]

quiet time

tldr: what exactly is he staring at? a/n: this is an ode to my own headphones. thank you for everything you do. (none of this would exist without you)

you think the best thing vernon ever did for your relationship was buy you your own pair of noise-canceling headphones. not only was it cute that you two had a subtle way of matching, but the gift was the catalyst for what you two called “quiet time”. 

you knew vernon needed his alone time. knew he needed time with his headphones on and music blasting in his ears, in his own world. you were happy to give him the space and do your own thing. when you opened the headphones he had given you, you weren't really sure you’d use them, perfectly happy with your small earbuds. the large headset seemed excessive. however, you quickly got the appeal after using them for the first time.

now every time you two hung out, you’d have quiet time. each doing your own thing, existing in the same space but not interacting with each other. hair getting flatter on both your heads as the band of the headphones pressed down. 

today you were sat on opposite ends of the couch, several feet of space between you both. you were absorbed in a game on your phone. he couldn’t help but stare at you, the music blasting into his own ears becoming background noise as he focused on you. he loved seeing you in those headphones, pleased to no end when he sees how well you use them. when he bought you the exact same pair that he had, he was nervous they would get mixed up but that fear was put to bed when you promptly decorated yours with little stickers, saying they needed to be “cuter” and as he stares at those stickers now, he can confirm you’re cute, but it might not be the headphone’s doing. 

you could feel vernon’s gaze on you, you’d felt it for minutes now. no longer able to stand it, you turned your head to him, pulling the headphones down to rest around the back of your neck. 

“why are you staring at me like that?” 

vernon pulled his own headphones down, unphased, “what?” 

you huffed, “why are you staring at me so intensely? it's creeping me out.” 

he smiled easily, “i just love you so much, bug.” 

you rolled your eyes, pulling the headphones back up, “well knock it off, you’re distracting me from my game.”

vernon just continued to stare, not missing the soft blush on your cheeks and little smile tugging on your lips as you tried to focus on the small screen in your hands. unsuccessful, you turned your head again pushing the headphones just off the ear closest to vernon, "for real stop staring. i need to beat this level before i can even think about making dinner so if you want to eat soon, you’ll look away.” 

laughing, vernon crawled closer to you, closing the distance between you two on the couch. wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he pulled you closer and whispered in your exposed ear, “i’ll wait forever for dinner if it means i can keep looking at you.” 

[amourcheol]

𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐨-𝐳𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝

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

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

𝒘 𝒐 𝒓 𝒅 𝒄 𝒐 𝒖 𝒏 𝒕 : 21.7k words

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

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

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

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

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

back to masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, the fated question. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes darted to the newcomer. 

They stayed as he beheld you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled at him.

Then dropped the bomb.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My god, you’re a filmbro!” 

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

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

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

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

There was one, solitary, quiet moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A tilt of your head. “Are you lying?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello again, Mr. Filmbro.”

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

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

He would be cordial—kind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit. 

Maybe his irrational dislike ran further than he thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Disney Princess Movie Set—Complete Edition.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re for my ex-boyfriend.” 

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

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

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

“Oh?” Small world. “What’s the name?”

“Kim Mingyu. Do you know him?” 

Vernon Chwe nearly shit his oversized jeans.

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

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

Right. 

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

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

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

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

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

A half-truth—that should suffice. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for minding his business.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What master plan?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely.”

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

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

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

“Did _____ actually?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You, that is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vernon visibly shivered. 

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

“Damn it,” he said under his breath. 

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

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

vernon: u dont have to wait till next week 

vernon: ill help u with the plan

There. And now, he shall wait.

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

normal disney enjoyer: wait who tf is this??

Oops. 

vernon: oh mb this is vernon lmao

vernon: from the filmstore

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

vernon: ??? ive said it now tf

normal disney enjoyer: and im happy u have ;)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nevermind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course not. “Sure.” 

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

Sure. “Of course not.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wonder why,” he muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Swear on my life, Mr. Filmbro.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then an idea came into his head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me.” 

“No.”

“Tell me!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mr. Filmbro…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blinked back. 

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

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

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

“Is this where magic comes from?”

“What the fuck?!”

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

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

You nearly burst out laughing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still, he knew it was now or never.

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

He whipped his head around, anticipating the worst.

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

Oh. Jesus. Christ.

“The nerd from film theory?”

Vernon’s face dropped. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“_____?”

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

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

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

“This is for calling me a stupid bitch.”

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

And run for your life.

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

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

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

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

The car revved to life at your signal.

It was time to get the fuck out of here. 

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

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

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

Just then, you burst into laughter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You and your fuck ass movie collection…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

A glance at you. “Yep.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How recently are we saying?”

“...yesterday evening.” 

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

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

He then looked at you. “Oh, Jesus.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Jesus—”

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

Oh, he was stunned alright. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That dread disappeared instantly when Flynn confessed his little secret.

“Eugene Fitzherbert?!” The boy demanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was then Vernon heard your favourite Disney song.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Standing here, it’s oh! so clear…!”

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

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

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

You were already looking at him. 

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

“I’m where I’m meant to be!” 

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

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

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

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

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

You would have only sang your favourite song to him. 

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

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

“All at once…everything looks different…”

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

“Now that I…see you.”

Shit. You were rather beautiful before him.

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

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

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

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

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

In any romantic comedy, he would have kissed her.

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

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

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

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

“I should make you wait.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked back at you, and the self-conscious glint in his gaze had you watching his every movement. “I was hoping to show you my favourite movie instead.”

You were ready to make a comment on how you prided on avoiding Nolan films like the plague, but then you remembered the conversation at Mingyu’s house. Your eyebrows could have touched your hairline. “You said I could never know.”

“Well…” a small smile escaped him, slowly pulling himself away. “If I am to be your exception, _____, then I suppose you can be mine.”

Gaping at him, you could only keep silent as he, with great effort on his part, heaved off you, making his way to the shelf. He was lucky, you thought—had he been a moment slower, that comment alone would have had you kissing him again. 

What quickly caught your attention was him sliding his pointer finger through your collection, a series of your favourites. The anticipation was rising, you not quite believing that Mr. Filmbro’s favourite film was within your arsenal. Weeks ago, you would have bullied him relentlessly for the ironic hypocrisy.

When he pulled out the fated DVD, you let out the greatest laugh.

The boy instantly frowned, but you did not realise, cackling and cackling away at the selection, the final boss of Vernon’s favourite film, nestled between his fingers. “Shut up,” he mumbled, but again, you did not hear him, lost in the shrill sound of your laughter, erupting the room to life. 

“Oh, Jesus—” Your chortling did not seem to stop, almost to the point of hiccups. “Your ass…this entire time—!”

“And suddenly I’m leaving!” Vernon announced, getting up and about to drop the DVD. 

He did not last long in his determination when you grabbed onto the end of his shirt, grinning still. “Thank God you’re not a Nolan kiss-ass…that’s all I’m saying.”

All he could do was stand like an idiot, the tips of your fingers caressing the skin just above his trousers. “But I am a Nolan kiss-ass,” he murmured, crossing his arms. 

“That’s what I thought, too, but this film—” you jerked your head towards the prize in his hand. “You’ve redeemed yourself.”

“Stop it,” he only said, crouching down to pull out the Tangled CD, replacing it with the new, and, in his opinion, improved movie. “This is why I didn’t want to tell anyone.”

“And nobody will know,” you assured him, watching the movie’s main menu pop up, the PLAY option highlighted. “This’ll be our secret.”

“First the trespassing,” Vernon began, sitting down beside you, “Then the tampering of movies, and now this.” He grabbed the remote, about to play the movie. “How much more are we gonna sneak around?”

You looked at him, and the smile you offered him had him glancing away—only for a second. “Have you not had fun, though? Sneaking around with me?”

Normally, in a situation where he had zero balls, he would have evaded such a question, not fanned the flames of your fire. But tonight he had watched a Disney movie with you, felt your fingers caressing his skin, had even kissed you in the purple hues of Tangled’s light. Tonight, he could conquer the world.

What would answering a heated question do any harm?

Vernon locked eyes with you then, trying to fight his smile. “I think I could have fun with you anywhere…in secret or for anyone to see.”

As something in your gaze shifted, he turned the film on (an entendre which was completely intentional). 

Once again, the two of you were in the same position, watching yet another film, this time another’s all time favourite. The narrator began in a strange, European accent, explaining the tale of an unfortunate princess, much like Rapunzel, and her dire situation. 

Although it was undoubtedly his most treasured film, the boy had a very hard time paying attention when all he could feel was that penetrating stare of yours, capable of revealing his very soul from beneath his measly shirt. Even when the stranger main character was introduced, following his main routine in his strangest abode, Vernon was not particularly concentrating anymore.

Not when he heard your voice, a soft question amongst the gaudy music of the 2000s. “Do you mean that, Vernon?”

And perhaps it was because you said his actual name, especially when your voice sounded like…like that. Like something from a perfect movie soundtrack, akin to the end-credits of an unforgettable TV show. 

Because he was too occupied with simply admiring you, he merely nodded, biting the inside of his cheek.

And because you were too busy admiring him, his words, the entire night where you had felt pure, euphoric joy, you did Mr. Filmbro a little dirty by making a decision that negated his film.

You shifted closer once more, hands reaching out to hold his face. 

This time, Vernon was prepared when you kissed him.

There was a certain eagerness in your lips this time which was newer—more enjoyable to his senses. It made sense now, why all these couples in movies made out for hours and hours on end. He felt as if he could kiss you forever, move against your mouth, delve inside until his tongue memorised your very imprint. 

You moaned a little louder this time, and the very sound had his heartbeat racing, moreso when, as he pressed you against him, shifting upon his beanbag, he knew then and there that something in the air shifted.

Last time, you had stopped. This time, there was no such indication—the very thought had him skirting his hands around you, holding you tight enough to never let go.

Still—even with such possibilities, there was no way you and him would escalate to the point of losing his virginity.

Whatever happens though, he will still watch the end of his favourite film. 

Whatever happens, Vernon would not be having sex with you if Shrek was playing in the background.

VERNON LOST HIS VIRGINITY WITH SHREK PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND.

Certainly not his greatest achievements, considering he could not focus on his favourite movie, but it was certainly not his fault. You were—to put it quite plainly—hot as fuck.

He did not leave until the very next day because—as he had stated that night—he still wanted you to watch Shrek, and did, somehow, end up watching it properly. You did not stop teasing him, and he did not stop shutting you up by kissing you senseless. 

Unfortunately, the boy did have college the next day, so he had to leave at some point, but not without promises of meeting you again. This time, however, you two did not continue the crimes he committed with you. You and Vernon were not modern-day Joker and Harley Quinn.

When the two of you were not terrorising Mingyu’s livelihood, you decided to hang out at the filmstore, where it all began. Vernon would host weekly movie nights, and both of you would eat popcorn and watch each other’s recommendations, scoring them differently in accordance to what was most important for each other.

For the film majoring student, the rating was influenced not only by the actors’ performances, but also from the intricate storyline, the character developments, their relationships. A story, for him at least, was about relationships. Good cinema was about the chemistry between two actors, the emotional connection they had not just with each other, but also their effect on the audience. The actual editing of the film, too, was another bullet point in his criteria.

Your rating, on the other hand, differed slightly. 

“Michelle Yeoh is such a MILF,” was your only comment upon finishing Everything Everywhere All at Once. 

This comment nearly made Vernon lose his mind. “One of the greatest movies of this decade, and this is your only input?”

“But am I wrong, though?”

Vernon sighed a little at that—at the end of the day, you were absolutely in the right. There was a reason Crazy Rich Asians went platinum in his dingy little room. 

Of course, it was not just his personal recommendations that played. You had compiled a list of your all-time favourites, going beyond Disney’s borders, and Vernon was introduced to the dashing timeless genre of the rom-com. Now having a younger sister who (he thought) was a basic bitch meant he did possess some knowledge of the genre, but he had never really sat down and watched a rom-com without falling asleep in Sofia’s bed. 

For you, though, he braved the most famous romances, which he found himself enjoying more than he would have liked—more so when he found one of his favoured actors in 10 Things I Hate About You.

“Heath Ledger singing was something I never thought I needed,” Vernon commented as the ferocious couple finally kissed. 

“And this is the same fella who was the Joker in your little Nolan film,” you reminded him, as if he was not aware already. “Oh, and he was the gay cowboy in that movie.”

“Gay cowboy?” His confusion lasted for approximately thirty seconds before he groaned, pushing you over on your beanbag. “My god, are you talking about Brokeback Mountain?”

“Yes, that one!” you exclaimed, picking up the TV remote. “My guy has range, but him as a high schooler is still my favourite role.”

“You do realise how bad that sounds, right?”

“You know what I mean,” you said, waving him off as you began searching for the next movie. “Now, Two Weeks’ Notice or The Proposal?”

Vernon endeavoured to weigh in on the options. “Which one do you think I’d like?”

“Well, both have Sandra Bullock in them…”

He looked over both DVDs. “Now that’s a white woman I can get behind.” 

You scooched a little over to him, locking your hands together. “We can watch something you like…” When he knitted his brows together, not quite answering you, you went on, almost unable to look him in the eye. “You’ve been super nice, you know…sitting through all my favourites.” 

The boy could not help it, unable to let a smirk slip. “Is this _____ appreciating me for once?” The beginnings of his shit-eating attitude did not develop, since your smack on his arm completely snuffed it out. “Ow, damn!”

“You deserved that,” you muttered, beginning to scoot away until Vernon’s hand on your wrist stopped you. 

When you focused your gaze at him, he already beat you to it. “Let’s watch both today.” 

It was silly, how that made your heart beat faster. “Really? You would watch two rom-coms in a row?”

As his hand pulled you closer, his stare had you almost—almost—nervous. “I’ve done worse for you.”

“Very true,” you said, absent-minded, more lost in the twinkle of his eyes. “Very, uh…good point.”

Vernon thanked all the higher bodies that may have existed for the pure, unadulterated rizz he was attempting to spew. “I’m full of good points,” he crowed. “Now, are you going to stare at me all night, or are we going to watch Sandra Bullock?”

Although your cheeks burned, you pushed him off, earning a chuckle from him. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Mr. Filmbro. The only man I’ll be staring at will be Ryan Reynolds in The Proposal.”

All of the boy’s suave attitude dissipated at his shock. “The Deadpool guy?!”

“Ryan Reynolds did have range before,” you explained, shaking your head. “Then the superhero bug bit him.”

“What a shame,” he only said, as if Vernon did not follow the Deadpool universe to the point of possessing special editioned comics in his room. Still, he happily slotted the CD inside the player, and excused himself to make more popcorn for the two of you.

As the boy prepared snacks, glancing back every time at the opening scene, he managed to sneak a look at you, eagerly watching the screen. 

He could only smile, putting all the popcorn in the huge bowl before hurrying back to you. 

THIS WAS PROBABLY THE FIRST TIME YOU WORE A SUIT TO A CINEMA. PERHAPS THIS WAS THE FIRST TIME YOU WORE A SUIT AT ALL.

Admittedly, it was not as if you had intended to go into the cinema in formal attire—or, at least the only formal clothing you had. Your first plan was to steal something from your father’s wardrobe, but when you tried it on, it did not fit properly, and you refused to look like an idiot in public.

Not that you cared much about looking like an idiot in public before, but there was another person to look out for. And that person, although had already done embarrassing enough actions for you, did not want to push it further. One more ceremonious act of humiliation, and Vernon would have run a thousand miles from you—or that was what you thought. 

You observed your cinema fit one last time before your bathroom mirror, fixing the lapels for the nth time. Your rented three-piece suit was almost a second skin, waistcoat snug underneath the tweed jacket, matching coloured trousers adorned alongside. You borrowed some Oxford brogues from a friend, which made you realise that you had more posh friends than you knew. You tried to find a hat similar to the one Cillian Murphy wore in the promotions, but because you did not have the wardrobe of a middle aged man, you resorted to let your head rest. 

All of this elaborate planning to see Nolan’s (apparently) greatest release yet—Oppenheimer. 

Because the cinema was not far away from you, you decided to walk, messaging your date to let him know that you were on your way. You were certain he was already there in the cinema; Vernon, since you had started hanging out more with him, had only ever talked about Nolan’s upcoming epic. You swore if you recited the IMDB plot out to him during sex, he would have spunked within minutes (a mental note to experiment on that later). His excitement had you booking midnight release tickets, which consequently made him so happy you thought you had invited Nolan to the town cinema. 

The night, furthering along, had beautified the black sky, stars twinkling on your journey. The consistent vibrations from your phone indicated the boy’s imminent excitement, and you smiled, double-checking your formal attire once more. You would have romanticised the nighttime further but living in student area brought you right back to fearing slightly for your life, so you quickened your step, cinema already a close speck in the distance. 

You knew you were nearer to the destination when the flocks of pink and black grew, the cowboy hats and fake pipes all piling up in your vision. Seeing the pink reminded you of Barbie’s influence, also being released tonight alongside the more serious counterpart. 

A small part of you really wanted to see the midnight release for the new movie. The original plan most people were following was either to watch Oppenheimer and then Barbie, or the other way around. You were so close to procuring tickets for the latter, but decided that it was important to accompany Vernon to the seemingly bigger release. After all, you were never as excited about films as the dear film major you had rather grown to like.

Another vibration of your phone, and you finally decided to stop ignoring said-film major and text him, possibly informing you of his arrival.

mr. filmbro: yo where u at

mr. filmbro: they’re too many pink mfs out here im getting suffocated

You rolled your eyes.

_____: im coming to save u kitten.

mr. filmbro: :0

Once you were inside, it was a complete sea of pink and black and grey. Two sides, which one would assume would be opposing, were all celebrating, sharing their drinks, anticipating when the theatre doors would open to let everyone in. Within this myriad of fans, you tried to search for the most mentally ill one—the one who you were certain had a finer three-piece set than you, who would have happily stolen Cillian Murphy’s set clothes to truly honour the movie. 

Strangely enough, after a few minutes, you could not find him, even after confirming your seats. You searched for anyone wearing anything devoid of colour, but did not find the boy. This time, you decided to bother him, calling him and pressing the phone to your ear. 

“Where are you, kitten?” you purposely growled, lowering your voice an octave. “Daddy’s waiting.”

“Kitten actually killed himself after hearing that,” was his purposeful monotone. 

“Can you resurrect yourself for me real quick? I’m tryna find where you are.” 

“I’m next to the Oppenheimer popup.” Immediately you tried to find it, scouring through the crowds. “I figured you’d find me easier.”

Scoffing, you ignored the Barbie stalls, walking further ahead. “How very smart of you to wear Oppenheimer clothing while standing next to it. So much easier to find you, isn’t it?”

He did not retort back, instead inciting your excitement. “Wait, I think I can see you…?”

Your eyes darted over to the fresh faces of the Nolan fans, all taking pictures of the cast pop-ups. What you were observing were the men and women, all lack of colour. 

What your gaze ended up on was someone completely different. 

What you were expecting was a mini-Oppenheimer, the too-large blazer, the sashed hat upon pretty brown curls. What you received instead was a boy engulfed in all the pinks of the colour wheel.

Pink was the colour of his top, bubblegum pink the colour of the stringy fur coat sporting over said shirt. Magenta was the colour of his flared trousers, whilst rose was the colour of his converse. What topped off the entire look was the hot pink cowboy hat, sitting perfectly upon his wavy locks, completing his fit—a fit which was perfect for the Barbie movie. 

It was around that point that he caught on to your stare—through the oceans of opposing fans, he, too, finally found you.

Vernon heard your curse murmur through the phone. “Oh my fucking God.”

That was when his own gaze roamed over you, shocked and shameless amongst the crowds. Not that the crowds mattered, not anymore. He was a little nervous, he had to admit it to himself, only because there were so many people, and they were only watching for the fad, for the trend. A part of him wanted just you and him in this midnight cinema, the biggest official date yet. 

But then seeing you here, in all your black-clad, Oppenheimered glory, had stunned him to his core. Although he had specifically brought you here to watch the movie, he had completely expected you to arrive in the pinkmania fit. Because you had kindly booked tickets for his anticipated film, he thought at least to participate in the Barbie craze fit.

It was like instinct, how his steps gravitated towards you, his phone still pressed against his ear, very much like you. You followed him slowly, hearing his ragged breaths through the speaker, watching him walk closer and closer until you both were a mere couple of feet away.

Only then did you drop the call, your hands at your sides as you admired him. It was a while before any of you spoke. 

Like always, you spoke first. “Tell me the fur coat is yours.”

A ghost of a smirk. “Sofia’s.”

“Stealing’s like second nature to you now, isn’t it?” you taunted. 

Like always, he dodged your taunts. “I thought you were gonna wear all pink.”

“I thought you were gonna wear all black.”

He tilted his head. “Well, I thought since we were watching both movies…”

Your confusion was clear, the corner of his lips curling further up. “Wasn’t Oppenheimer first?”

He then went inside his flared trouser pockets, fishing out two tickets—its colours matching his outfit. “I know how much you wanted to see Margot Robbie be silly.” 

“I did!” you exclaimed, taking the tickets from him, admiring how pretty they were designed, especially when compared to the Oppenheimer marketing tickets. In your admiration, though, you noticed a detail which had your excitement faltering. “Wait, are you sure? It says the movie’s at the same time.”

Vernon then checked the timings, mouth parting. “Oh shit. Didn’t think about that.” He shook his head, mouth straightening in a line, dejected. “This is what happens when I try to do something romantic.”

“I have to give points for effort,” you offered, bringing your hands to his wrist. “Hey, it’s okay. Let’s watch Oppenheimer, honestly. Cillian Murphy is still hot when he’s old.”

“No, no,” he countered, clasping your hands on his wrist. “It’s chill.” He glanced down. “Let’s do Barbie first.”

You attempted to argue him on this, but he simply let go of your hands, with his one hand wrapping around your waist, and the other hand’s wrist being checked for the time. You bit back a smile at his mere actions, relishing his fingers skirting under the suit, the waistcoat. “Vernon,” you attempted. 

“_____,” he said back, staring at you with an awe that you would have deserved had you worn a couture gown, not some rented hand-me-downs. 

You knew he would not take no for an answer now. “But what about Oppenheimer?” you asked anyway as the two of you made your way to the cinema. 

Vernon only pretended to think extremely deeply of the situation, making you elbow him playfully. “Now tell me, Dear Disney Hag, how did we enter Mingyu’s house?”

“Why, we walked straight in!” you answered like an over-enthusiastic student, in which he sarcastically clapped for you. 

“Right on.” As you both walked towards the Barbie theatre, the opposing movie was being screened right beside you, where people were bursting in. “See how everyone is walking in right now?” He gave you a knowing glance. 

That knowing glance had you scoffing in excited disbelief. “My God! Look at you, all ready to commit crimes!” you looped a hand around his arm. “I have taught you well, young man.”

He patted your arm. “Mr. Filmbro has come a long way from chatting shit about your movie taste.”

“So you admit it?” you leaned in. “Disney makes better movies than your flop directors?”

“That’s a completely different claim,” he clarified. “My taste in films is objectively better.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact you're watching the Barbie movie before Oppenheimer.”

He rolled his eyes, tugging you closer. “That’s ‘cause I like you a lot, Disney Hag…”

You did not stop your smile from lighting up your entire face. “You’re not the most insufferable filmbro I’ve dated I guess…”

”I better be the last filmbro you date,” he muttered, watching over the last of the crowds, where they now stood, waiting to enter the theatre.

The longer you waited to answer him, the more incredulous his face became, brows knotted in disbelief. You only chuckled, leaning in and pressing your lips upon his. Of course, he was taken aback, but surprises like these were pleasant, welcomed with open arms as Vernon closed his eyes, pulling you in. 

The moment the line started quickening you broke away, only to make sure no one skipped in front of you and him, and thus deal with yours and his passive aggression. You could not help the giggle that escaped you at breaking away from his lips, relishing in his dazed state. 

Honestly—you truly would not have minded being anywhere with him.

When it was finally your turn to go inside the Barbie screening, you held tightly to his hand. “Let’s go, Mr. Filmbro.”

Vernon only smiled. “Right behind you, _____.”

And as the two of you entered the theatre, hand-in-hand, the boy learned that perhaps he, too, would have gone anywhere with you. 

[mangocustard16]

BOYFRIEND VERNON WHO...

pairing: idol!vernon x reader genre: fluff, established relationship, comfort warnings: skinship, kissing :) wc: 216 a/n: i'm back! 1st year of college finally over!

bf! vernon who is literally the best match for you, like soulmate level shit

bf! vernon who is not that into showing his affection publicly but he would whisper the quietest "i love you's" in your ears

bf! vernon who buys the weirdest stuff he could find whenever he's on tour

bf! vernon who lives to hear you talk about every tine detail of your day

bf! vernon who could never and i mean never could miss a single anniversary. Was he an hour late to your anniversary dinner last year? But that was traffic....yeah

bf! vernon whose ears go red the moment you try to make the first move

bf! vernon who loves to go for movie dates, and have deep conversations about the characters and the plot

bf! vernon who is definitely a takeout kind of guy

bf! vernon who likes kissing you everywhere, lips, cheeks, down your neck over your shoulders

bf! vernon who loves the way you smell whenever you hug him

bf! vernon who took the longest to introduce you to his parents

bf! vernon who would create a new shared playlist for the two of you so that you guys can add new good songs

bf! vernon whose favorite thing about this entire day is coming home back to you

@kflixnet @k-films@k-labels

taglist-˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅: @bangchansbae @haecien @aaniag @aaasia111 @weird-bookworm @gigification @bewoyewo if you want to be added just send me an ask ♡⸝⸝

pls reblog if you liked !!

[seungkw1]

you're so sweet, but... — hvc

♡ pairing: bf!vernon x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut ♡ wc: 3.1k ♡ warnings: brat!reader, brattamer!vernon, sub!reader, softdom!vernon, praise kink, degradation kink, slight exhibitionism, unprotected piv sex (do not do this), fingering (f. receiving), gagging (f. receiving), lots of spit going on, body worship, spanking, manhandling, hair pulling, head pushing, nipple play, doggy, riding, dacryphilia, oral (m. receiving/f. receiving implied), cum swallowing, slight possessiveness, pet names (princess, babygirl, good girl, slut), minor fluff at the end ♡ a/n: ummmm yeah so here’s the vernon fic i’ve talked about writing for a while i kinda went feral hope u like it !! :)

Your sweet, wonderful boyfriend always treats you so well - but you secretly wish he would be a little bit meaner sometimes. One day while he’s working from home, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

“How long is the call?”

“Shouldn't be more than an hour.”

You pout at your boyfriend, tugging at his arm, trying to drag him away from work. 

“That's too longgggg,” you whine. 

“Sorry babe, duty calls.”

You cross your arms, rolling your eyes at him. “Vernon, you can't just say duty calls about a Zoom meeting.”

Vernon turns around, taking your hands in his as he steps back toward you. He leans in and gives you a big kiss on the lips. 

“Love you.”

He spins you around and sends you off with a light tap on the butt. 

“It's a good thing you're cute,” you say, looking back at him with a grin. He gives you a playful smile before shutting the door, leaving it slightly ajar. 

You last about 15 minutes. Ever since you moved in with your boyfriend, you hadn't spent much time apart from him at all - so when you went on a trip with friends, you didn't realize how much you'd miss him. You were only gone a week, but it was enough to drive you nuts - and make you stupidly horny. 

You lay upon your bed, caressing yourself lightly through your clothes, imagining Vernon was here on top of you, stripping your clothes off so he can worship your crevice of your body. He always is so good to you, speaking soft, sweet praises as he fucks you: 

“You’re taking me so well, baby.”

“You look so pretty riding me like this.”

“That’s it, cum for me darling.”

It’s incredibly hot, and you're so grateful to have such a loving partner who prioritizes your pleasure above everything. 

However…

You’ve never admitted this to him, but sometimes you wish he would be a bit meaner. 

Vernon is well aware that you have a praise kink - it pairs perfectly with his love of complimenting you. But recently you’ve started dreaming of your sweet, wonderful boyfriend calling you a dirty little slut as he throws you around, pins you down to the bed, fills your pussy up with cum and then fucks it into you all over again. And it really turns you on. 

You’ve been hesitant to share this with him - only because you don't know if it’s something he'd be into. In the year or so you've been together, he has never spoken down to you in any way - the man simply doesn't have a mean bone in his body. You worry it would upset him if you expressed this desire to him and he couldn't deliver. 

You ponder this as you lay there, fantasizing about being dominated, degraded, fucked so hard you forget your own name. You don’t even have to touch yourself to know how wet this is making you.

A very debaucherous idea suddenly comes to you. 

You think about it for a minute. You know you probably shouldn't do it, but you're feeling so depraved right now that you don't even care. 

You hop to your feet, making your way back to Vernon’s office. The door is still unlatched. Praying the hinges aren't creaky, you slowly push it open about halfway, enough to bring your whole body into view. You see him sitting at the desk’s chair, looking a bit bored but focused, his posture pin-straight and perfect as always. His eyes flicker over to you as he notices you standing there. He looks at you with concern - you never interrupt him when he’s at work unless it's something urgent. He tilts his head slightly, silently asking you if something is wrong. 

You bite your lip to hide the smirk creeping upon your face. You slowly lift your shirt, sliding it above your bra to reveal your tits. His eyes widen. He’s still on camera, so he doesn't let himself react more than than, but you can tell he’s getting flustered already. 

You pull your shirt over your head, dropping it to the floor. Your hands make their way to your jeans, unfastening them, slowly dragging the zipper down. Vernon stares at you, shaking his head as subtly as possible. 

Don't do it, his face reads. 

Doing it anyway, you start pulling your jeans off, caressing your hips seductively as you slide the pants down your legs. As you kick the jeans off, you pull your underwear up tight against your cunt, showing off the existing wet spot - making it even wetter as the thin fabric sticks to your soaked folds. Your pussy is all but on full display. 

Vernon’s ears burn bright red. He tries to ignore you, turning back to his computer. 

“Sorry, can you repeat the question?” he asks somebody on the call, his voice straining to remain unwavering. You hear a muffled voice in his headphones, repeating what they just asked. Vernon gives an abrupt nod and answers the question. 

You wait until he finishes his response. Once he’s done speaking, you see his attention start to drift back over to you. You reach behind you, releasing the hook of your bra. Your breasts fall softly out of the garment as you slide it off; you toss the bra toward Vernon, not quite far enough for it to be spotted in the webcam, but daringly close. 

The flush begins to spread to his neck. He maintains a cool facade, but you can tell he is stewing inside. You smirk, pleased with yourself for managing to make him so distraught so easily. 

He answers another question, shifting in his seat slightly to accommodate the growing erection in his pants.  

You take a step into the room. He shoots you a panicked look. You take another step, reaching over to the desk. You lean over and- 

Pewwww. 

With a sad sounding noise, the entire computer shuts off. You release the power button. Vernon stares at the black screen for a moment, in shock. He turns back to you, shock washing over his face. 

“What the fuck are you doi-”

You disappear from the doorway in an instant. Vernon runs after you. 

“Hey!!”

He chases you into the bedroom. 

“What the hell was that for??”

“I dunno,” you reply, grinning at him coyly. “Just felt like it.”

“You can't just interrupt when I’m in a meeting like that! What if it was important??”

“Was it?”

“No, but-”

“See? You’ll be fine. Just say your internet went out.”

He purses his lips shut. “That’s not the point. You could have gotten me in huge trouble.”       

“Oh no,” you say cheekily, poking him in the chest. “I guess you'll just have to put me in my place then.”

Vernon looks at you, his expression shifting from anger to disbelief. He lets out a huff. 

“So that’s what you want,” he responds incredulously. “You’re acting like a brat on purpose.”

You step forward, grinning as you get in his face. 

“Now you get it.”

“Jesus y/n, that was too risky!” he scolds.  

You clasp your hand tightly on the bulge in his pants. He lets out a sharp groan. 

“Yeah, but you like it.”

He stares at you, trying to be upset, but his eyes start to glaze over as you squeeze his cock. 

“Now,” you continue, speaking softly. You lean in and let your lips linger in front of his. “Are you gonna fuck me or not?”

He stands there, mouth slightly agape, dumbstruck by your audacity. 

“I-”

Before he can continue, you start undoing the button on his jeans. You tug on the zipper, having to put a little extra effort in due to his hard cock straining to escape from the confines of the denim.  The zipper glides down over the bulging mass; he sighs at the relieving sensation. You pull the waistband of his boxers down just enough to free his tip - he's already leaking with precum. You collect it on your index finger and bring it up to your mouth, licking your finger clean. 

“God,” Vernon groans through gritted teeth, his cock twitching against his stomach. “You’re a fucking menace.”

He reaches for your core. He pulls your hopelessly drenched panties aside, dragging the pads of his fingers over your slit. 

“Look how fucking wet you are.”

You whimper as he slips his middle finger inside you. He slides it in and out a few times before adding his ring finger. You cry out as he curls his fingertips to hit your g-spot - he always knows how to touch you in your most sensitive spots to drive you fucking crazy. 

He starts fucking your pussy, the heel of his palm pressing deliciously against your clit with each motion of his hand. After several deep pumps he pulls his hand out - it’s already soaked. 

“Open,” he commands. 

You open your mouth and stick your tongue out. He shoves his fingers inside. You latch onto them, sucking your own juices off. He pushes further into your mouth, making you gag. Your eyes start to water. 

By the time he pulls out, his hand is coated with your spit. A big string of saliva sticks to his fingers; it breaks, the remainder dribbling down your chin. Vernon leans in, slipping his tongue into your mouth, dragging it around the inside of your teeth.  He reaches for your cunt again, gently circling your clit. His spit-covered fingertips glide easily over the bud, the stimulation making your pussy clench around nothing. 

“Oh my god,” you moan into his mouth. You start grinding your cunt against his fingers. “Just fuck me already.”

You whine as he pulls his hand away. Grabbing you by the hips, he pushes you over to the bed. He practically throws you onto the mattress. He pulls his jeans and boxers down in one go, yanking them off hurriedly. His shirt quickly joins the discarded clothes on the floor. Standing fully nude before you now, he slowly begins stroking his cock. With one finger he reaches beneath the crotch of your underwear, pulling the elastic back. The cool air of the room stings pleasantly against your wet cunt. He releases; you jump slightly as it snaps back against your pussy. 

“Get rid of these.”

You don't move. “Do it for me.”

He stares down at you, his eyes filled with lust.

“Fine,” he growls.

He reaches for you, running his hands up the sides of your thighs. You lift yourself up a bit so he can strip your panties off - but instead he grasps you by the hips, flipping you over onto your stomach.

He nearly rips your underwear off, not bothering to remove them, but sliding them down just enough to expose your cunt. He smacks you on the ass, hard. You let out a small cry at the stinging sensation.

“You like that?” he asks as he traces his fingernails over the tender area.

“Mhmm,” you mumble into the sheets.

He grabs you by the hair, yanking your head up.

“Speak up, princess.”

“Yes,” you whine. 

He spanks you again, even harder this time. Your skin begins to burn where his hand struck you.

“More,” you plead.

He leans over, gripping your hair in his fist still as he speaks softly into your ear.

“Oh I don’t think so,” he mutters. The hair on the back of your neck stands up. “You’ve been very bad today, I’m not just going to give you what you want so easily.”

He grabs his cock in his other hand, leading the tip to your heat. He strokes it over your entrance a few times, the combination of your juices and spit coating his cockhead. He pushes into you slightly to tease you, but you’re so wet that it slips right in. You cry out at the sensation; he lets out a long moan as he slowly pushes further, making you take his full length. He rests for a moment with your pussy wrapped around his whole cock, breathing deeply.

“God your pussy is so perfect,” he whispers into your ear. “And it’s all mine, isn’t it babygirl?”

“Y-yeah,” you whimper. “All yours.”

“Good,” he grumbles. “A good little slut all for me.”

He begins to fuck you, slowly at first, sliding in and out of you, making you feel every inch of him. Quickly though his pace increases, thrusting into you with powerful strokes, his hand unreleasing in your hair. Your legs start to quiver as his cock hits you in the perfect spot each time. You grasp onto the sheets, desperately clinging to them as your boyfriend fucks you like never before, your cries muffled into the mattress. Vernon pulls you up again, your moans filling the air as he wraps his other arm around your torso, squeezing your breasts as he holds you tight against him. He plays with your nipples, pinching them and rolling the bud around between his thumb and index finger. You already start to feel your orgasm approaching when he releases your tits, sliding his hand down your stomach and reaching for your clit.

“Fuck I’m so close,” you cry out between an unholy symphony of moans. Vernon groans as he fucks you even harder, his cock pounding into you as his fingertips flutter over your sensitive bud. Your screams escalate, so near to your climax - but before you can cum he pulls his cock out of you; he rests it against your ass, dragging your wetness all over your skin. He flips you around again to face him, throwing you onto the pillows. 

“Not yet,” he tells you as he climbs over you. He lays beside you, grabbing your arms and hoisting you on top of him. “Wanna see your pretty little face when you cum for me.”

You straddle him, sitting with your pussy resting upon his shaft. He laces his fingers through yours, holding your hands as he pulls you toward him. You begin to rock your hips back and forth, sliding your cunt up and down his length. Your clit pulsates as his hardness presses against it with each movement.

“Want you to cum like this,” he mutters, his eyelids halfway closed as your pussy strokes his cock. He grips onto your hands tightly, supporting you as you pleasure yourself upon him. You grind against him, your cunt throbbing, begging for release. A burning sensation builds in your gut; your mind starts to go blank - the only thing you can think about is Vernon, laying under you as he watches you unravel atop him, losing all composure on his cock.

“I’m gonna cum,” you wail. You relinquish all control, letting your orgasm take over. Your body trembles as every nerve in your body is set ablaze like fireworks. You scream out your boyfriend’s name as you release over him, cumming long and hard, your climax seemingly endless.

You start to come down, breathing heavily as you recover from your high. You collapse onto Vernon, laying your body on his chest as you bury your face in his neck. He lets go, sliding his hands around you, squeezing you against him in a tight embrace. He lets you catch your breath, but only for a moment. 

“Look at me,” he demands as he lifts you up to face him. Your face is undoubtedly a mess of tears, but Vernon thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful.

“Such a good girl for me,” he says as he plays with your breasts. His cock twitches against his stomach, painfully hard, straining for release. “Should I give you my cum now, love?”

“Please,” you beg.

“Where do you want it, baby?”

You open your mouth wide and exaggeratedly stick your tongue out. 

“Fuck,” Vernon groans. “Whatever you want, babygirl.”

Quickly you climb off of him, kneeling between his legs as he sits upon the edge of the bed. You take his cock in your hand, giving him a few pumps as you take his balls in your mouth. You lick up his length, letting his tip rest against your swollen, wet lips as you look up at him with big doe eyes. He brushes your hair out of your face.

“So beautiful.”

You stick your tongue out, giving his cock kitten licks as you gaze into his eyes. You then take his length in your mouth, swallowing him to his base.

“Oh fuckkkk,” he moans.

You look up at him as you suck his cock, gagging on his length and creating a mess of spit all over him. He stares at you as if he thinks you’re the most desirable thing in the universe - and to him, you are.

“Look at you, princess,” he coos. “So pretty with my cock in your pretty little mouth.”

You speed your pace, your head bobbing up and down faster and faster. Nothing matters more to you in the world right now than bringing him pleasure. His eyelids flutter as his eyes begin to roll back, soft moans emanating from his lips as he pushes your head down, making you take all of him with each stroke of your mouth. Grotesque sounds try to escape you, to no avail; the vibrations of your hums send Vernon over the edge. He lets out a string of “ah, ah, ah”s, getting louder as he gets closer and closer, until…

“Oh my goddddd.”

His hips jerk upwards as he releases, painting the back of your throat with hot white ropes of cum. His cock throbs in your mouth as you swallow his load. The pressure upon your head lessens as the tension in his body begins to fade. Giving you a final few spurts of cum, he relaxes; he pulls you back up onto the bed, taking you in his arms as he rolls over onto his side. He holds you against him, you as his little spoon, as he peppers your cheek with kisses. He whispers into your ear, his voice low and raspy.

“I fucking love you.”

You smile. “I fucking love you too, baby.”

He takes your chin in his hand as he turns your face toward his. He gives you a long kiss. As his lips part from yours, he squishes your face playfully.

“But don’t do that again,” he says with a grin.

You giggle. “I won’t - but next time I come home from a trip you have to fuck me right away.”

Vernon presses his nose against yours, his face dead serious. “Yes ma’am.”

You kiss him again. “Don’t you have to get back to work?”

He shakes his head. “Can’t work, the internet is out.”

“Oh yeah,” you grin back at him. “Bummer.”

“Besides,” he continues, shifting you onto your back and making his way down the bed, positioning himself between your legs. He wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling you up to his face.

“I’m starving.”

[headlinerkwan]

whispered - c.hs

pairing: vernon x gn!reader

genre: nonidol!au, mutual friends to lovers, secret dating, featuring the rest of svt, reader & vernon are whipped for each other, slight comfort, suggestive.

summary: vernon had always been the guy you saw across the room but never spoke to, until you did. who could blame you for keeping your relationship quiet?

warnings: profanity, mental health, alcohol, implied family problems, highly suggestive - MDNI!!

wc: 4.4k

a/n: i hope you guys like this!! i've always loved the secret dating trope and vernon's so sweet sooo. song rec for this fic is leonard cohen - boygenius ₊ ⊹₍ᐢᐢ₎

The night that you met Vernon was ordinary. Or, at least, it was meant to be ordinary. Another party at Jeonghan and Seungkwan’s place, no different from the one they held last Friday - chaotic as always, right? You had seen Vernon around before, it was impossible not to notice him. There was something that drew you to him, something that made you curious. Maybe it was the way his dark eyes sparkled under the low kitchen lights, or how he really didn’t seem to care what was going on around him, focusing only on the music and the drink in his hand. 

“Everyone! Listen up!” Seungkwan yells, standing on top of a chair. You lift your head to watch him, catching Vernon’s eyes briefly as you do. “Who’s up for a game of suck and blow?” 

As soon as he says that, you know there’s no escaping. Your friend grabs you by the arm, already sensing your hesitation. 

“Pleaseee” Lia babbles into your ear, leaning against you “Just this once. One game, then I promise I’ll let you return to your dungeon, come on! It’ll be fun.”

Absent-mindedly, your gaze drifts to Vernon. You stifle a smile whilst you watch Chan and Jeonghan hassle him similarly. You sigh and reply to Lia, “Fine, one game.”

Seungkwan has always been methodical when it comes to games. Everything has to be just right from the set up to the number of players, it’s all a process. You’re standing with your friends, and a few strangers, waiting as Seungkwan creates the ‘perfect’ formation. 

“Kwan, hurry up!” Mingyu whines. 

“Ugh you don’t get it, fine.” He starts pulling people out, each one of your friends lined up and, like the child that he is, he puts you behind Vernon of course. 

He turns to you, adorning an awkward smile before he offers his hand.

“I’m Vernon.”

“Y/N” You say, shaking his hand. 

“I know.” 

Your eyes widen, he knows?. He turns around, a smug look on his face, chuckling to himself. 

The next time you see his face, he’s holding the card to his lips and bending down slightly to meet you. It’s like everything goes quiet once his eyes look into yours, like it’s the first day of your life as he leans in closer, and closer. 

And then, he drops the card. 

And his lips are on yours. His lips are on yours. Oh shit. 

You pull away quickly, your heart fluttering as the party hollers around you. 

“And… you two are out!” Seungkwan yells, pointing at the both of you, as if you needed more of a reason to blush. 

Keeping your eyes on the floor, embarrassed by your shy smile and red cheeks, you immediately walk towards Lia who, after being sat in front of Chan, had already lost the game. 

“I’m gonna go home now.”

“Huh?”

“You said one game, and I’m tired so…”

She sits back in her chair, sighing “Ok, I’ll keep my end of the deal, text me when you get home.”

“Mhm, stay safe, I’ll see you later!”

“Yeah yeah I know.”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Stepping out onto the street, you finally feel like you can breathe. The night sky, a gathering of stars to guide you home and the wind blowing gently through your hair. 

“We shouldn’t have lost, you know. Seungkwan’s a bad referee.”

Huh? You freeze. Is that…

You turn around to confirm your suspicions and there he is. In the middle of the road, Vernon is stood waiting for you to respond, hoping you’ll respond. 

“Huh?” 

“That wasn’t a real kiss,” he says, stepping closer to you. His eyes are soft as he scans your face as if he’s trying to memorise every freckle and blemish, “this is.”

He places two fingers under your chin, lifting your face to look at him. His lips crash into yours, he tastes like sweet vanilla and beer, his hands move gently to cup the side of your face. You’re still for a second, still frozen in place until you finally come to your senses and begin kissing him back. His tongue licks over your lips, and you part them in response, leaning into him as his tongue smooths around your mouth, tangling your fingers in his hair as he teases and smiles into you. 

Pulling back, he rests his forehead against yours, opening his eyes to look at you with a breathless grin. “Better?” he whispers against your lips and you can’t manage anything but a nod in response. 

His hand drops from your face to find your hand, warm and strong. You find yourself speechless as he turns away from you, dragging you along the street as he giggles to himself like a small child, “C’mon, I’ll walk you home”. 

You don’t live far from Jeonghan’s apartment, but the walk with Vernon feels almost like a lifetime as you trade anecdotes on your mutual friends and daily lives.

You learn he works at the record store downtown, he’s been friends with Seungkwan since they were teenagers and, just like you, he had been dragged to the party by his friends - your friends. 

Between you two, you note at least six times that you had just missed meeting each other at group hangouts, four times that you had seen the other but been too shy to approach them. A multitude of missed chances, all the times you had gone against the strings of fate.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

As you shut the door to your apartment, you can’t help but smile to yourself, thinking back on the last hour.

If you were being honest with yourself, you were… somewhat of a pessimist when it came to romance. The whole dating thing, to be blunt, you had grown sick of. The back and forth, the chasing, the disappointment. You’re not sure you have the energy for more disappointment. 

Vernon, though, manages to slip past you somehow. Manages to slip past the walls you’d built over the years. The way he makes you laugh, his heart-shaped smiles, his chestnut hair perfectly framing his face, the way he views the world with a pure curiosity.

Fuck. Tonight might have been the first time in months that your smiles have been real. Tonight your smiles weren’t products of politeness but real, genuine happiness. 

God this can’t be good. You’re going soft. You’re letting a man turn you soft.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Maybe: Vernon [13:12]: I know we JUST saw each other but I can’t stop thinking about that donut place we saw last night.

Your phone vibrates on your desk and you immediately catch yourself smiling. It’s almost embarrassing how he has you giggling at your screen from such a simple message. 

Ok. Compose yourself. You still need to respond. 

Y/N [13:15]: It’s like you can read my mind. 

Vernon [13:16]: I’ll be there in 15.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

“I should tell you something.” You say, walking down the street hand-in-hand with Vernon.

“Out of the blue?” 

“Mhm, out of the blue!” You respond, nudging him playfully.

“Go on…”

“I just… I’m not like, ashamed of you. I’m just, I like it like this, just you and me, I like us.”

He chuckles quietly at your sudden candour and timidity.

You hit his arm softly “Bro! I’m being serious.”

“Bro! I know!” He pulls you closer, “It’s nice with you, peaceful, like everything else fades away. I like having you to myself I guesss.”

“Hmm, maybe I should be ashamed of you, I can still change my mind” You say, laughing. 

“You couldn’t even if you wanted to” 

You respond with a pouty smile, he giggles, his mouth moulding into the heart shape that always manages to melt you. 

“Ooo! Wait let’s get ice cream!” He says, his hand leaving yours as he runs to the food stall across the street, still grinning from ear to ear.

You find yourself smiling again. If someone had told you two months ago that you would fall for a film nerd who has the Wikipedia app downloaded onto his phone you might’ve punched them square in the face - and yet, here you are.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

“Cheers!”, your friends call out, clinking their glasses together. All of you are crowded around a small table, you’re sandwiched between Seokmin and Lia who are in the midst of an intense conversation about film adaptations. Vernon is sitting silently at the other end of the table, listening to Chan and Seungkwan rambling on about a lost bet. His eyes meet yours and a quiet smile appears on his face in time with yours. 

“Y/N! You’re the literature nerd, can you pleaseee explain the phenomenon that is the 1996 adaptation of Romeo and Juliet” Seokmin says, pulling you away from your silent exchange.

You clear your throat and prepare yourself to give somewhat of a lecture on what you think may be the best modern retelling of Shakespeare.

Almost an hour later, Vernon pipes up, seeking an opportunity. “Anyone want another pint?”

A mumble of yes’s respond as empty glasses are lifted into the air. 

“Y/N, mind giving me a hand?” He asks, impressively casually. 

“Oh, uh yeah of course.” You say, shooting up from your seat (not so casually).

Standing at the bar waiting for the bartender's attention, Vernon leans over to whisper in your ear, “Should we just… run away?”. 

“So tempting Mr. Chwe but I think they might catch on.”

“Hmm I’m not sure, I think they might be too caught up in their own conversations to piece it together.”

“A good point.”

“Wait five minutes, I’ll be outside.” He says assuredly, slyly reaching to squeeze your hand. 

And then he’s gone, returning to the table to bid your friends goodbye, glancing at you one last time before he leaves and turns the corner.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

“Finally” He whines jokingly as you exit the bar after escaping the tipsy grasp of your friends. 

You laugh, throwing your head back at his dramatics whilst he pulls you in by the waist, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. 

“I missed you.” He whispers.

You can’t stop yourself from giggling again, “We’ve literally been together the entire night.”

“Sure, but now you’re all mine.” He replies, pressing soft pecks into your skin. 

“Can’t deny that.” 

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Y/N [23:17]: Are you free rn?

Vernon [23:17]: For you? Always.

Y/N [23:19]: Can you come get me? 

Vernon [23:21]: Are you ok?

Y/N [23:21]: Yeah, I just need to get out of here

‘Y/N’ shared their location with ‘Vernon’. 

The rain is sharp and cold as it falls on you, staring at the puddles forming by your feet. There isn’t a thought in your head as you watch the raindrops fall.  Dinner with your family has always brought out the worst in you, always wearing you down, leaving you empty. Your heart is heavy with exhaustion, anger, sadness. Exhaustion. 

Then his hand slips into yours. Warm and strong as always. 

“Y/N?”

You turn to him, slowly lifting your head to look at him, tears in your eyes. His expression immediately softens, “Come on bub, let me drive you home.”  he says, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and opening the car door for you.  

“Do you wanna talk about it?”  

“I don’t know ‘non, can we not go home yet though? I just need some time to think.”

He nods, starting the engine, “Of course.”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

The sand falls from the gaps between your fingers, you sit beside Vernon, resting your head on his shoulder and letting the sea’s mist kiss your face. 

Vernon is the first to break the silence, “I come here a lot, to think.”

“Mm,” you hum “it’s nice here, quiet.”

He kisses the top of your head and returns his focus to the waves crashing against the rocks. 

“Sometimes I feel so out of my depth, like I don’t know if i’m doing the right thing or what the right thing is,” you admit quietly, his hand finds yours to show you he’s listening, “It all just feels so out of my control, like everything’s happening around me and not to me and that’s … not fun.”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you against his chest, “I know bub, and it’s not like there’s an easy fix. It’s just- you just have to feel it, the sadness, the anger, the happiness, that’s the best way. Just like how some waves pass and others break apart, and some mountains seem impossible to climb, that’s just how it is, even if it’s shit. And when it’s overwhelming, that’s okay too because I’ll come and rescue you, we’ll climb the mountains together.”

There’s a moment of silence before he lifts his pinky finger to yours. 

“Promise.” he says softly. 

You loop your fingers together and seal it with a shake. The sea air carrying your whispers into the night. 

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

“Okay, options are ramen or takeout.” He calls from the kitchen.

“Hmm, I think we definitely deserve takeout.”

“How come?”

“For being the power couple of the century, what do you mean?”

His laugh echoes through his apartment, “Brooo, you’re so right I can’t believe I even asked.”

He runs over to you, lazily splayed across his couch, lying on top of you he continues to giggle as he buries his face into your neck. 

You love lazy Sundays with Vernon, they had quickly become your escape from reality, a sanctuary for yourself, your happiness and your love.

“What movie are we watching today then ‘non?” You ask sweetly, your hands subconsciously playing with his hair.

“I was thinking… academy award winning classic ‘The Grand Budapest Hotel’?”

Ah yes, the film you and Vernon had watched ten times over, the one you would never get sick of, “LETS FUCKING GOOO!!” you yell, excitedly punching the air. 

He sits up, looking at you with a cheesy grin, laughing and mirroring your fists, “LETS GO BROO!!”

As much as you love the film, staying focused on it proves to be a struggle - especially with Vernon next to you. You can’t help but watch the intense sparkle in his eyes as he’s entirely consumed by the screen. You find yourself mesmerised by the way he watches and laughs along like it’s the first time. 

“It’s hard to focus with your eyes on me” he states abruptly, refusing to tear his eyes away from the TV.

Your cheeks burn red from embarrassment, “Oh, sorry.”

He turns to you then, a blend of concern and mischief on his face, “I didn’t say that I didn’t like it.”

Your eyes widen slightly at his sudden confidence, a part of him that always makes your heart flutter. You don’t even get a chance to respond as his lips capture yours, melting into him as he kisses you passionately, stealing the air from your lungs. One of his hands cups your face gently, a direct juxtaposition from the other which finds its way to your waist, gripping firmly as the two of you move against each other like ocean waves. 

Tangling your fingers in his hair, he pulls you onto his lap, moving his lips to suck and nibble at your neck as your breath grows heavy with desire. The moans he releases against your skin echo through you, his hands running up and down your body as you throw your head back, getting hungrier by the minute. 

And then he stops. 

Huh? 

You immediately open your eyes, slightly concerned by the suddenness of his actions, to find his eyes back on the TV whilst his hands continue to fiddle with the hem of your shorts. 

“I love this scene.” He whispers, breathless and fascinated.

“Vernonnnn” you whine, throwing yourself back down onto the couch. It’s sweet, honestly, endearing, you find yourself giggling “are you kidding?”

He looks down at you, an innocent smile plastered on his face, his hand still caressing your thigh. He raises a curious eyebrow before breaking into a loud chuckle and leaning back towards you.

“Dude… Of course I’m kidding. I think the film’s gonna have to wait until I’m done with you.” He whispers against your skin, trailing kisses from your lips to your collarbone.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Five months in, you and Vernon had mastered the ‘Romeo and Juliet’ routine. Even around your friends, you cherished every moment with him, every smile, secret touch, knowing look. Even on bad days, your heart feels lighter with Vernon around. 

It’s another chaotic Friday night, just like when you had first met Vernon, except this time your friends hadn’t dragged you to Jeonghan and Seungkwan’s apartment but to their favourite karaoke bar. The table you’re sitting at is littered with empty soju bottles and beer cans, you listen intently to one of Jun’s famous anecdotes as BooSeokSoon serenades your friends loudly.

“How do they still have the energy for that?” Wonwoo asks, astounded as the three men jump around, microphones in hand. 

‘They’re machines, you know that.” Minghao replies.

“Mm, you’re right.” 

Watching your friends, wrapped up in their own little worlds, you’re almost emotional - so happy to see them having fun, so proud to have watched them grow, and then there’s Vernon of course - maybe it’s the alcohol talking but you’re not sure you’ve felt so happy before. 

“We should play a game,” Seungcheol slurs, “Should we play a game? Yeah we should play a game.” You laugh at the conversation he’s having with himself, watching as Vernon, grinning stupidly, walks over to his friends to lead them down from the stage and back to the table. The boys around you cheer for the others as they stumble to their chairs, bowing dramatically to their new ‘fans’. Once the havoc settles down, Mingyu taps his ring against his glass “Ok,” he points his finger, scanning the group before landing on Joshua “Shua, what game are we playing?” 

“Uh… 365?” Joshua replies, being met with drunken agreement from the rest. 

The time passes quickly as you drink and play. Growing tipsy, you hardly notice the change in Vernon’s demeanour when Soonyoung rests his head on your shoulder. It’s nothing new to you, he’s known to be an affectionate drunk - and a light weight, you’re used to his drunken skinship.

Vernon’s patience is running low as the minutes pass, his leg shaking as he watches Soonyoung cuddle up to you. He stands up from his seat across the table, walking over to your seat and taking your hand, leading you outside. Confused, you look back at your friends as you walk with him, finding them all too drunk to notice you and Vernon’s absence.

“Non? Is everything okay?”

“Can we go home now?” He asks softly with hurt eyes.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” 

“I should be sat over there with you, I just don’t want to watch Soonyoung be all cuddly with the person I love.” 

“Non, you know he’s just a sleepy drunk, we can go home if you want-”

Wait. 

“The person you love?” you question, your eyes soften as you process his words. 

“Oh uh, you, I mean… you.” he breaks eye contact, fidgeting nervously. 

“For real?” you smile.

He laughs to himself, “Yeah dude, for real.” 

You giggle again, smiling wide and throwing your head back. As you do, his hands cup your face, bringing you back to him matching your grin. You reach up to move a strand of hair out of his hair. 

“I like jealous Vernon.” you whisper.

“Shut up.” he says, his lips finding yours in a soft and wanting kiss. 

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · 

You’re lying in bed, glowing with sweat, tangled up in your sheets and wrapped in Vernon’s arms. The calmness that washes over you in these moments is immeasurable, the comfort and contentedness you feel is something that you wish would last forever.  

There’s a knock on your door and you both shoot up from the bed. 

“Y/N, are you home?” Your roommate calls from the other side of the door. 

“I thought…” He whispers with wide eyes.

“Yeah… Lia’s not meant to be back until tomorrow” You reply, scrambling to throw some clothes on. 

“What do we do?”

“Y/N?” Lia calls again.

You search your room looking for some kind of escape plan before it dawns on you, there was only one option. 

You point to the closet.

He shoots you a questioning look.

“I don’t fucking know bro” you whisper, rushing to make yourself somewhat presentable.

You open the door, Vernon finally hidden, “Hey, you’re back early!” you say to Lia, trying your best to hide the fact that there was a man hiding in your closet.

“Yeah, we finished early so I got the train this morning. I was just wondering if you wanted to get lunch later?” 

“Sounds good! Give me like 30 minutes?”

“Yep that works for me” Lia says as she disappears into her room. 

You shut the door, letting out a deep breath. 

“You can come out now.”

Vernon pokes his head out of the closet, scanning the room before stepping out. You stare at each other in silence before bursting into laughter. 

“I swear I almost shat the bed!” Vernon says, throwing himself down on the mattress.

“Bro, that was crazy…” you agree, joining him on the bed.

Your laughter slowly fades into a comfortable silence.

“Should we just…” you begin.

“Tell them?” Vernon finishes.

You hum in agreement. 

“I mean… why not? As long as you’re with me, I think… I think It’ll be okay.” You speak softly, he’s quiet for a few seconds until he starts peppering kisses all over your face, smiling sweetly against your skin. 

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

A couple days later, you and Vernon stand in front of the restaurant, you can see your friends chatting inside the building. Your hand is in his, his thumb caressing yours. You look at each other, sharing an anxious but determined look, before nodding and walking towards the door. 

When you enter the restaurant, it’s almost comical the way that your friends turn to look at you, their eyes dropping to your interlocked hands. 

Anticipative silence fills the room as you exchange looks. 

“I FUCKING TOLD YOU GUYS!” Seungkwan yells excitedly, standing up from his chair and pointing an accusatory finger at your friends, inciting a blur of exclamations from the rest of the group. 

Vernon looks at you, smiling, before you sit down beside each other and prepare yourself for the abundance of questions coming your way.

taglist: @christinewithluv

[talkingsaxy]

PHOTOS YOU'VE TAKEN OF YOUR BOYFRIEND VERNON

please don't repost, requests open!

[ssentimentals]

seventeen members as love tropes: choi hansol

forced proximity

'coincidence? baby, they don't exist'

'so, what's your name?'

you blink, turning around to face the guy with who you got stuck in the elevator. he is now comfortably sitting on the floor with his knees tucked closer to his chest, leaning on the wall. the look on his face has zero traces of nerves or anxiety, he's opening bag of chips with a small smile on his face, looking at you like what is happening right now is absolutely normal. is this how an average day goes for him?

'you think this button is broken?' you ask instead, turning back. you push at 'call' button again but no sound comes out. 'we can't actually be stuck here with no connection to the outside world, right?'

'it happens quite often.' my god, so you were right, this is an average day for him. 'but no, this button works, we just need to wait a little. maybe these guys are out somewhere.'

'out where?' you ask, turning back to him. smell of chips starts filling up the cabin and you try to concentrate on it instead of thinking about being stuck here forever. 'should i just keep on pressing that button?'

your voice gets caught in your throat because the guy looks at you with... you don't know what. his gaze is piercing and it's like he's looking right at you, within you, in your soul. it's unsettling, especially when it comes from someone that handsome. in all three months since you moved into this apartment complex, you only met several families and few kids here and there, but never this guy. your brain unnecessarily reminds you that right now you're standing in front of a really handsome guy in old washed out t-shirt and pj pants, while he's at least dressed in jeans and sweatshirt.

'i'm hansol,' he says suddenly, breaking your thinking spiral. 'your neighbor from the forth floor.' he then pats a space next to him: 'come sit? i think it's more comfortable than standing.' you open your mouth to argue when he adds: 'i'll be the one pressing that button, no worries. just come sit down, yeah? you can meditate that way better, no?'

your nose scrunches in confusion. 'meditate?'

it's time for hansol to look sheepish. 'isn't this what people do when they start panicking? i mean- i am not implying that you are panicking right now, but you look pretty worried and i thought- shit, you are not panicking, right? there really is no need to, i promise we will be out of here in no time. i thought if you can sit and mediate then you can-' he shuts up, noticing his rambling and how your eyes grow only bigger with each word he says. after a second of hesitation, he stands up, grabs his chips and comes over to you, shoving them in your direction. 'here. chips.'

there are a lot of things that you can say or do, but your mind chooses to grab offered snack and silently move to where he was sitting. hansol seems to approve, as he smiles a little and leans with his back on the opposite wall so he can still look at you, while insistently pressing the 'call' button. 'so.'

'yes?' you raise your head, slowly munching on the chip. it's salty taste helps you stay here in the moment instead of disappearing in the anxiety.

'i feel like it's my fate, you know? to get stuck in the elevators. like god is trying to tell me something through it, you know? like i don't get stuck just because, i get stuck for something. and then i think-'

it takes you five seconds to realize that hansol is doing this on purpose. he is distracting you so you won't panick and this gesture is incredibly sweet for a random stranger. you're not sure how much time passes, because hansol's storytelling is fascinating (and a bit weird, but in a more 'not ordinary' way than bad). you don't notice how your spine is not rigid anymore, but hansol does. he notices how you slowly relax, hold his gaze more and eat chips more actively. he notices how corners of your eyes crinkle when you smile and how cute you look with confusion written all over your face. in truth, he has no idea what he is even saying, but he can't stop, can't let you remember even for a second that this stupid elevator is not working. his thumb is numb from how strongly he pushes on that 'call' button but he ignores it in favor of staring in your eyes, catching every emotion that sparkles in them. you are cute and you don't even realize it and that makes you even cuter.

'hello? is someone there?' when static voice cuts through, both of you jump a little. 'apologies for this horrible inconvinience, elevator will start working in few minutes. are you alright?'

hansol takes a look at your surprised face and half-finished bag of chips. 'yeah, we are all good.'

pang of regret slashes through him when you hastily stand up and cheer, when cabin finally starts descending. shit, he didn't even manage to learn your name! when elevator door opens, hansol reaches out for your hand and is pleasantly surprised when you take it with a smile, rushing out with the cutest little 'whoop!' he saw in his life.

'i think you are right,' you suddenly speak, making him look up. 'what you said about you getting stuck in the elevators meaning something? i think you're meant to help people like me.'

i think i was meant to meet you, he wants to say but doesn't. instead what comes out of his mouth is: 'you owe me.' at your confused expression, he points at his snack. 'chips.'

'oh. oh!' you exclaim, getting flustered. 'of course, i will-'

'-and your name.' he adds, making you freeze. he watches understanding dawn on you and smiles. 'and your favorite drink. so i would know what to buy for you.'

it's bold. not exactly his style, but his head-to-mouth filter is not working anymore. for a second he thinks he overdid it, but then you blush (so prettily), then smile (so, so prettily) and he knows he didn't mess up. when you step closer and introduce yourself, hansol knows he not only didn't mess up, but also won something out of this whole situation. (and he doesn't know it yet, but this big win? it's your heart. it really is).

a/n: guilty for having this trope as my most favorite one!! and who is better than hansol to write this for, am i right? - nini

my other works are here

[xiaominghao]

Prettiest eyes in the universe

Genre: fluff.

Pairing: Vernon x fem!reader.

Warnings: none.

"Can we buy some marshmallows?" you suddenly askedas you walked toward the store checkout.

"Right, you don't have any..." Vernon whispered to himself, looking at the shopping list you wrote before going out. "Sure."

When you reached the candy aisle, you grabbed two bags of different brands, unsure which one to take, so you brought both to the register where Vernon was waiting patiently.

"Tell me, which one do you prefer?" You placed both bags at shoulder height, he stared at you but said nothing. "... Then?"

"Yeah?" Vernon tilted his head slightly, blinking fast a couple times.

"Please, help me" you smiled awkwardly, behind you was a person waiting for their turn and didn't seem to be friendly.

"Whatever you want, princess" He replied with a shrug.

You sighed and left one bag in the cart to return the other to its place, then you went to the register to help with the bags.

On the way back to home, you were walking down a nearby alley and there was a beautiful fluffy cat resting in a planter.

"Hey, is our little neighbor" you said with joy and leaned to the cat, who stood up to greet you with a meow. "Do you think his owner knows he sneaks out to sleep here?"

You turned to Vernon waiting for his response, to tell one of his out-of-context jokes, but he just stood there, gazing at you fondly. As you smiled, you both resumed the way to home.

After putting away the groceries to its place, you took a shower and changed into comfortable clothes, thinking about wath you should cook for dinner.

"Yesterday we had spicy food, what about hotcackes?" you asked while tying your hair.

Hearing no response, you turned around, only to find him sitting on the bed looking at you with a big smile on his lips. You sighed deeply.

"Hansol, you've been too quiet all this time" you said with some concern, looking at him with tender gaze. "Do you wanna tell me something?"

Vernon stood up from the bed and walked towards you, he remained silent for a while, then he cleared his throat.

"Recently, I've been thinking..." Vernon made a small pause and gave you a warm smile. "My princess has the prettiest brown eyes in this universe"

You felt your cheeks starting to burn as you bursted out in laughter, covering your face with both hands. He liked to do it, saying those kind of things out of blue; for you it may seems like a game of his, but for him is the perfect excuse to make you smile.

Watching you that happy is all he needs to have the perfect day.

You caught your breath, drying the small tears in the corner of your eyes, and then you took his face in your hands like the most precious thing that ever existed.

"C'mon, Hansol" you said softly, looking him straight in the eyes "You have the prettiest brown eyes in this universe"

[hoshifighting]

Hi, I love your work!!!! I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind writing about cock training with Vernon? Thank you❤️

cock training with vernon

WARNINGS: smut, big cock! vernon

would be the slowest, hottest build-up, because will make you work for it. the first time he pulls out his cock, you’d probably think, oh shit, this is gonna be a struggle. he’s got this knowing smirk on his face, like he’s already thinking how tight you’ll be around him, and that makes him take it even slower, teasing the fuck out of you. he’s definitely starting with fingers, no way he’s going all in from the jump. “lemme stretch you out first,” he’d say, so, two fingers go in, working you open while his thumb circles your clit, he’s not saying much, but you can feel how much he’s enjoying watching you take it, stretching you just enough to keep you desperate. “you good? want more?” he’d ask, and even though you’re dying to say yes, he’s already pushing a third finger in, stretching you even more. he’s getting you ready for the main event. “gonna need you real ready for me,” he’d mumble, eyes half-lidded as his fingers keep working you over, building that burn that has you aching for him.

when he finally decides to give you his cock, it’s not all at once. no way. nah, vernon’s too fucking patient for that. he’d line himself up, that thick cock teasing your entrance, sliding just the tip in and then pulling back out, leaving you clenching around nothing. eyes flicking between your face and the way you’re trying to push back, desperate to take him. but he’s having none of that, hands gripping your hips to keep you still. “slow down, babe. you gotta take it all.” he’d ease in a bit more, still not giving you everything, just enough to stretch you out, to make you feel every inch sliding inside, filling you up inch by inch. he would be teasing you, only halfway in but it feels like he’s splitting you apart. “feel that?” he’d ask, his voice raspy as your walls clench around him. “you’re doing good, think you can take more?” and even if you’re already whimpering, nodding desperately, he’s still gonna take his time.

he’d finally push in all the way, you’re stretched tight around him, struggling to take him fully, but he’s not letting up. “come on, babe, you can take it,” he’d groan, and fuck, that moantone alone is enough to push you over the edge. he’d pause once he’s all the way in, letting you adjust to the stretch, but his grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging into your skin as he holds back from really fucking you. then, when he knows you can handle it? he’d start moving, slow, just to let you feel every inch sliding out and slamming back in, his cock filling you up to the point where you feel like you’re gonna burst. his eyes stay on you, watching how you fall apart around him, how you’re struggling to take it, but he knows you will. “that’s it, babe. knew you could take me.” his words, the way his cock hits that spot inside you—it’s fucking mind-numbing. gives you just enough roughness to make you see stars without going too far. his hand would come up to your throat, not squeezing, just holding you there, keeping you grounded while his cock stretches you open, again and again, until you’re completely used to the thickness. and the whole time, he’s murmuring those low praises, like “look at you, taking me so well,” and “knew you were a good girl for me.” and when you finally start to feel like you’re taking him easily, he’d smirk, pulling you closer, his rhythm getting deeper, hitting every spot that makes you lose your mind. “told you, babe. you can handle it.”

[sillyuin]

Svt reacts - When you're wearing their favourite hoodie

Seungcheol. Dokyeom. Hoshi.

You better be ready for having this man all flustered and admiring you with the loveliest gaze possible. You look so tiny, so pretty and he just couldn't resist you; it doesn't matter what he was doing, he just leaves everything behind and starts showering you with so much love. You better don't take it off for the rest of the day or you'll break his heart! (Will ask you to return it tho, he wants to take to home something that reminds him of you).

Jeonghan. Seungkwan. Joshua.

Will certainly say something like "it looks better on me" but we all know he is in love with you wearing his clothes. There's two possible paths: One, you get sulky and starts a pointless arguing that ends up with kisses and laughter. Two, you follow his prank by saying that his hoodie definitely fits you better, and he won't object nothing because you're right. Either way he's going to be happy and will tell you to wear it more often.

Minghao. Wonwoo. Woozi. Vernon.

The man is too stunned to speak, altho his wide smile says everything. He has a soft spot on you doing this kind of stuff, is like hitting in the weakest point. Congratulations, you've won soft kisses on your forehead and a new gift from your boyfriend, because he will want you to keep it. Don't be surprised if he left "forgotten" some of his other sweaters and shirts at your place.

Jun. Mingyu. Dino.

Clings to you for the rest of the day and doesn't let you go, you're way just too pretty to be real and he wants to brag about it. "c'mon here! let me take a photo" but you're too shy about it and that's your biggest mistake, because that only makes him fall for you even more. You lowkey regret to do it, but in the end, seeing him happy is all that matters, so is a win-win.

[miniseokminnies]

rivers and roads —- c.hs

˚｡ pairing: chwe hansol x afab!reader ˚｡ genre: friends to lovers, idiots to lovers ˚｡ wc: 5.6k ˚｡ warnings: 18+ MDNI, drug mention (weed), alcohol mention, one uncomfortable situation with a stranger who is a man, lying to hotel staff, spit kink, oral [m. receiving], multiple orgasms, praise kink, slight dacryphilia, insecurity, anxiety, slight angst with a happy ending ˚｡ synopsis: having just graduated college and having some time before the real world starts two best friends decide to take a road trip that might change their friendship forever. ˚｡ playlist: rivers and roads

mood board by: @myhimbomingi

You smooth your hands over the rough polyester of your ugly blue graduation gown. Staring ahead and starting to fidget in line to walk across the stage you felt a hand slip into yours and give a supportive squeeze. Looking up your eyes met the deep brown of your best friend, Hansol’s. 

“Nervous?” he asked softly, beginning to rub circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. Your eyes drifted back to the stage and you nodded,

“What if I trip?” you muttered as the two of you moved forward in the line, the monotonous announcer continuing to read through the names of your graduating classmates. Hansol chuckled, knowing that your concern is valid, but not anything you needed to worry about. Hansol and yourself have been friends since college orientation the summer before your freshman year. The two of you were in the same group and immediately clicked. Slowly the two of you expanded your group, mostly consisting of the two of you and some guys that lived on Hansol’s dorm floor freshman year. 

“Chwe Hansol” the announcer boomed over the microphone. He smiled down at you and you felt his hand slip out of yours. 

***

“So does anyone have any big plans before we join the workforce?” your friend Seokmin smiled at your group’s last weekly Saturday lunch before you all went your separate ways. 

“Y/N and I are going on a road trip” Hansol said nonchalantly without looking up from his menu. Joshua and Jeonghan exchanged a quick glance, 

“Oh? Where to?” the latter asked. 

“Dunno” you shrugged, “just taking two weeks to see where we end up” Jeonghan nodded, glancing at Joshua again. 

“Sounds boring” Junhui muttered, engrossed in his phone, “ow!” he yelped as Minghao shoved his elbow into his ribs. 

*** 

Clutching onto the straps of your duffle bag you began to bounce on the balls of your feet. You saw Hansol’s red pick up truck pull into the parking lot of your apartment complex and you slung your backpack over your left shoulder and your duffle over your right and bounded out the door. Hansol laughed as he spotted you, so clearly excited. He wordlessly took your duffle and placed it in the back of the cab behind the passenger’s seat. You set your backpack on the floor of the passenger's seat and climbed into the truck. 

“Ready?” Hansol asked as he got behind the wheel.  You smiled widely at him and nodded. He gave you a single nod and started the truck. 

Driving with Hansol was always something you enjoyed, the two of you spent a lot of time during college just driving around. He always had new music to play for you. He was always a comfort for you, and comfortable silence, apart from the music from the speakers, took over the drive quickly. 

After a few hours of driving and intermittent conversation, you felt your eyelids getting heavy. You shifted in your seat, trying to get more comfortable. 

“Close your eyes, nap” Hansol said softly without looking away from the road. 

“Mmm, keeping you company” you mumbled, closing your eyes and leaning your cheek on your hand. 

“I’m fine, Y/N” he chuckled. You nodded, slipping into sleep quickly. Hansol looked over at your sleeping form, and feeling an odd sensation in his chest, looked back to the road. 

You felt a hand on your shoulder, shaking you awake, “Y/N” you heard Hansol, your eyes fluttered open, seeing him close to you. 

“Hm?” you hummed, rubbing your eye and looking up at him. 

“I found a motel, they have a room for us” he told you. You nodded and picked up your backpack from the floor. Hansol already had your duffle over his shoulder and his backpack on. Once you were settled he began leading you toward the room he rented.  

“Where are we?” You called to Hansol from the bathroom and squeezed some of your cleanser into your hand. 

“About six hours south of your apartment,” your friend appeared in the doorway to the bathroom, now in his pajamas, and leaned against the doorframe, “I don’t know the name of the town, or what’s here” 

Once the two of you were ready for bed you settled in one of the two beds in the room. 

“Good night, ‘Sol” you yawned. Hansol hummed in response and shut off the light. 

*** 

You were up before Hansol the next morning. Letting him sleep you slipped into the shower, what felt comfortable in the car the previous day was now responsible for some stiffness.  You let the warm water run over your body, getting lost in the feeling. You’re not sure how long you stood there enjoying the warmth loosening your tight muscles before you heard the bathroom door swing open.  

“Y/N?” you heard the sleepy voice of Hansol call out, “I’m…I just need to piss” 

“Go ahead,” you replied, trying to be less awkward than your friend and beginning the process of washing your hair.  

“Breakfast?” you asked, sitting on the edge of Hansol’s bed after your shower.  Looking up from his phone he nodded eagerly at you, 

“Please, I’m starving.”

***

Hansol and yourself didn’t stay in that town long after the meal, it was small and there wasn’t much to see beyond the amazing local breakfast cafe and your motel.  The two of you have been on the road for a few hours now.  

“I love this song,” Hansol mumbled, a laugh escaped your lips, “What? I do!” he scoffed at your reaction, 

“I know, Hansol,” you reach across the center console to take the partially smoked joint from behind his ear, “I was the one who played you this song, remember?” He watched you from the corner of his eye place his joint between your lips and bring his zippo to the end, lighting it up. 

Hansol does remember hearing this song for the first time, the crackle of your old record player in your college apartment. You looked similar to how you do now, hair tied up haphazardly, baseball cap from the university bookstore you bought that orientation day on your head. Admittedly, the hat is much more worn now. You took your single puff of his joint before passing it to him to finish off that day too. 

This may be his favorite you he ever gets to see. A single blow of smoke escaping your lips. You only ever want the one, and Hansol only ever smokes his half of the joint when you start it for him. Currently, he was trying to calm his racing heart, and trying to distract himself from the fact that the joint was between your lips a few moments ago.  

“Of course I do,” he took the joint between his fingers, drumming the steering wheel, “Feels different now…” he trailed off listening to the words, a year from now, we'll all be gone, all our friends will move away. Absentmindedly, he thought about how different things might be after he drops you off at your apartment in two weeks.  

You watched as he blew smoke toward the window, he got this far away look in his eyes, you knew he was thinking.  You knew better than to ask, Hansol was a man of few words, and if he wanted to talk about it, he would.  Eyeing him you turned up the volume on the radio, you saw the corner of his mouth quirk up ever so slightly, you knew he appreciated the gesture, one of not making him talk before he was ready.  

The drive droned on like this for the majority of the day, eventually the smoke stopped curling towards the window as Hansol had smoked it all away, he would need to roll more before bed.  Eventually, you saw Hansol blinking furiously, trying to stay awake. 

“‘Sol” you reached out to touch his arm, “Maybe we should take a break” he jumped slightly at your touch, so focused on the road. 

“Where…” he chuckled, once he had regained his calm demeanor, “we’re in the middle of nowhere” you only shrugged in response, 

“Pull over, it doesn’t matter” and soon the impenetrable line of trees on the side of the road gave way to an open field. Hansol pulled his truck off the road matting down the grass in its wake, he drove close to the tree line, worried about getting in trouble if someone saw the car from the road. Once the truck was safely in park you watched Hansol reach to the back of the cab and tugged a few blankets toward you two. Wordlessly he opened his door and moved toward the bed of the truck. 

Turning around you watched him spread the blankets in the bed through the back window. He poked his tongue through his teeth in concentration, when he was finished he hopped off the bed and moved toward your side of the truck. You scrambled to look nonchalant, and as if you totally were not watching him, a ghost of a smile playing at your lips. 

“C’mon then” he opened up your door. Following him out to the back he helped you up. Laying on your back you felt the plush of the blankets and watched Hansol as he settled down next to you. Once he was comfortable you turned your eyes to the sky and covered your eyes with your forearm. The hand nearest to Hansol was left in its place, unbeknownst to you, his pinky inched closer, trying to build the confidence to take the plunge. 

You woke up to a cool drop of water plopping directly onto your forehead.  When did you fall asleep?  Barely having the time to wonder before the skies open up and begin to drench Hansol and yourself.  

“Hansol!” you sat up and shook his shoulders, “Hansol!”  his eyes fluttered open slowly, somehow for a moment you forgot the rain was beating down on you as you watched his eyes soften from the confusion they held when he first woke.  The softness he usually works so hard to shield you from was on full display, you wanted to stay in this fleeting moment forever, but you realized just as quickly as the gaze softened it turned panicked. 

“Oh my God!” he sat up, almost bumping his head on your nose, “it’s pouring” he stated almost too simply.  The two of you worked to heave the now soaking blankets out of the bed of the truck and into the back of the cab.   

Hansol slams his door shut and throws his head back against the rest behind him.  He pushes a hand through his now sopping wet hair.  Turning to look toward him you catch his eyes taking in his appearance.  After a few seconds of holding eye contact the two of you burst into a fit of laughter.      

The drooping fan blades cut through the stale hot air on the ceiling of the motel about thirty miles from where you got caught in the storm.  You were sprawled out on the bed looking up at the fan, finally feeling warm now that you were able to change out of your wet clothes.   

Hansol was still down in the lobby, trying to talk the motel manager into letting him use their large driers for the blankets. Finally, you heard the door open and the squish of socks inside wet shoes approach you. 

“One bed?” Hansol asked. You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking him up and down, stifling another bout of laughter at his state of disheveledness. 

“That’s kind of what happens when you take a trip without a plan” you pointed out, letting yourself smile so he knew you were joking.  Hansol rolled his eyes, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. 

“I guess you’re right” the softness in his eyes returns for a moment, before he remembered he was dripping on the floor, “I’m gonna change…” you flopped back on the bed and resumed the exhilarating activity of watching the blades of the fan lazily cutting the air. 

The bathroom door clicked closed and you heard Hansol’s muffled sigh. Imagining him hanging his wet clothes next to yours over the bar of the shower you tried to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks. 

“I’ll sleep on the floor” Hansol stated, startling you, you were too deep in thought to notice him. You watched as he busied himself with taking out his phone charger. 

“No” you sat up again, “there’s no need to do that, it’s not like we didn’t fall asleep next to each other earlier” you watched him turn to you, greedily taking in his form, his baggy sweats and his t-shirt, “plus this floor is more than likely disgusting” 

“Good point” he smiled at you, moving toward what he decided is his side of the bed, the side closest to the door. The two of you settle under the covers and Hansol clicks off the lamp on his side, “Goodnight Y/N” he mutters 

“Goodnight ‘Sol” your back was turned to him, but your eyes were stuck open, feeling the adrenaline of an invisible line being crossed. 

*** 

“Do you think everyone in this town is this stupid?” Hansol asked incredulously as the car in front of you break checked him. 

“Probably,” you kicked your feet up on his dashboard, “I bet they teach them all to do this at driver’s ed, to cut people off when they’re from out of town” Hansol laughed at your made up story, 

“We need to find a city I think” he muttered, “I’m a little tired of motels and small towns” Nodding in agreement you reached for the joint behind his ear, freshly rolled before you left this morning, and tried to not think about the way that his tongue darts out to wet his lips.  Hansol slowed at the red light and you felt his heavy gaze as you lit the joint.  You had to all but hold yourself down so you didn’t squirm under the sudden attention, inhaling and blowing the smoke toward the window.  Meeting his eyes you placed the joint between his lips as the light turned green.  

***

“We have no rooms that will accommodate you” the snobby hotel clerk sneers at you from behind the desk.  The two of you had found a city six hours west of where you started this morning, and the hotel you decided to try evidently had standards, ones that your leggings and Hansol’s basketball shorts didn’t meet.  You opened your mouth to argue, but Hansol beat you to it, 

“Look,” he started, surprising you, “it’s our honeymoon,” you had to stop yourself from staring at him like he had grown a second head, “the hotel we had reserved, they double booked us, it doesn’t need to be your best, just a room.” The clerk sighed and began typing furiously clicking through his computer, you took the opportunity to glance at Hansol, questions evident on your face.  He merely shrugged with a lopsided smirk painting his face.  

“We had a last minute cancellation…” the clerk muttered reluctantly, once again taking in the state of your apparel, “Names please?” 

“Vernon and, “ he looked at you expectantly, after no less than a solid 15 seconds of panic you mustered up, 

“Kate” 

“Vernon and Kate Chwe” Hansol affirmed. 

“Well congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Chwe” the man behind the desk offered as he held out a pair of room keys and you had to ignore the way your stomach flips at the sound of that.  

The elevator dings and opens its doors to you.  Quietly, you both get inside and as the doors close, and not a second sooner you are turning to your friend, 

“What the Hell, Hansol?” you whisper urgently, “why—how did you lie like that?”

“You don’t spend as much time as I do with Yoon Jeonghan and not learn anything,” he shrugs, “it got us a room, didn’t it Kate?” 

As soon as the door opened to your hotel room you dropped your bag on the floor and rushed to the window.  The view overlooking the city was surely better in the other more expensive rooms but this was good enough for you.  Hansol leaned against the wall behind you and watched as you perched yourself in the window sill.  

The sun was just starting to set and you were determined to watch it disappear behind the skyscrapers.  Hansol folded his arms over his chest, acutely aware that the two of you had already been on this trip for almost a week. He tries not to let the reality of life after college, after the trip hit him square in the chest, not now, not when you were so intently watching the slow descent of the sun from the window in the hotel room he lied his way into.  Any of his friends would tell you that this was out of character, in any other situation Hansol is almost brutally honest, but if they knew it was for you, they wouldn’t bat an eye.  

Hansol genuinely lost track of time just watching you get lost in your world, before he knew it the stars were twinkling overhead and the sun was long gone.  

“I think we should go out” you announced without turning away from the window, Hansol’s heart jumped into his throat, 

“What?!” he sputtered, trying to process what you just said to him.

“There are clubs here I’m sure,” you turned to him, “we should go out tonight” at your clarification Hansol let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.  

***

Clubbing wasn’t really Hansol’s scene, and you knew that, but you were hoping to help him break out of whatever anxiety fueled funk he had been in for almost the entire trip.  You saw the spark in his eyes a bit back at the hotel when he scored a room.  However, almost as soon as the two of you arrived at the club, he parked himself in a secluded corner near the bar and has been nursing a whiskey for the better part of an hour.  Currently, you could feel his gaze boring into the back of your head as you were talking to someone on the dance floor.  

“I’ve never seen you around here,” he puts a hand on your arm and leans into your ear so you could hear him over the music, “I frequent this spot, what brings you in?” you repressed a scoff, there’s no way this guy memorizes everyone coming to this club in this huge city.  

“Oh” you back up slightly, “I’m just on a road trip and passing through” he followed you as you tried to step away from him, trying to stay in close proximity with you.  

“Let me show you a good time then,” he put his hand back on your arm and the other on your hip.  Unbeknownst to you, behind you Hansol had downed the rest of his drink.  You felt a pair of arms snake around your waist and move you out of the man’s grasp.  Looking up you saw Hansol, his jaw squarely set. 

“Can I help you?” He nearly spat. You saw the other man’s eyes take in Hansol and then moved to rake over your body, “Speak up” Hansol glared. 

“I was talking with her,” the man crossed his arms.  

“And now” Hansol started turning you toward the exit, “you’re not” you melted into Hansol’s side and tried to just leave.  

“Who are you anyway?” the man called, catching Hansol’s arm, “You didn’t even ask her if she wanted to leave with you.” Hansol’s eyes drifted down to where the man had ahold of him, 

“I’m her husband,” he went to shake himself out of his grip but he was holding on tight, “I suggest you let go” the man’s hand dropped, “Good choice” and Hansol was sweeping you out of the building.  

The cool air of the summer night bloomed in your lungs as you breathed more easily out on the street.  Hansol has not let go of your waist, and you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted him to, after the alcohol and the interaction you had moments ago.  “Are you okay?” Hansol asked, taking a step back from you, planting his hands on your hips, his eyes searching yours in a panic.  

“I’m okay” you breathed, “but….thank you for stepping in when you did” He smiled at you, breathing a sigh of relief.  

“Let’s go” he slipped his hand in yours and intertwined your fingers, so no one could question him again.  

The walk home was…strange, to say the least.  Hansol had never kept his hand in yours longer than it took to give it a reassuring squeeze in the several years the two of you have been friends.  In addition to this, you never once felt like you wanted him to let go.  You never questioned his assertion that he is your husband back at the club, that’s what he told the hotel, so might as well continue that, right? 

In the elevator up to your room things only got stranger, Hansol wrapped his arms around your waist again, pressed the button for your floor, and unwrapped himself from you and stood at the opposite side of the small room, staring at you.  

Entering your hotel room you watched Hansol close the door behind you.  He took a deep breath and moved toward you, you stayed still, wondering what was about to happen. He cupped your cheek in his hand, setting a swarm of butterflies loose in your stomach.

“I think” he whispered, “if it’s okay with you, while we’re here, we should play pretend” his eyes searched yours again as his thumb moved to rest on your chin.  You nodded, however added, 

“Hansol…we, we’re friends…” your breath hitched as he applied pressure on your chin with his thumb, 

“Ah” he watched your mouth open at his request, “but we’re Vernon and Kate here, we just got married, babe” the pet name rolled off his tongue so easily as he got impossibly closer to you and spit into your now open mouth, you almost recoiled as his action, before realizing he was right.  What was there to lose at this point? You closed your mouth and swallowed without him having to ask, which earned you a groan, “God, what a good girl, I didn’t even have to ask…”  and then his mouth was on yours, falling into rhythm as if this was something that happened all the time.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and your fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck.  His tongue swiped your bottom lip, requesting access that you swiftly granted.  His tongue explored your mouth with a fervor that if you were less distracted would make you wonder how long he has waited for this moment.  There was no time for thoughts like that, he was backing you toward the bed.  He sat you down on the edge with your legs dangling off, and broke the kiss.  Settling on the floor between your knees he began to help you remove your shoes, and then your pants, and he began to work towards your shirt before you cut him off with a whine.  He looked up at you quizzically.    

“Not fair,” you stated, “you’re still fully clothed.” 

“Earn it” he chuckled, and reached between your legs to lay the pads of his fingers on your clothed cunt, “shouldn’t be too hard, considering you’re so wet for me already,” which earned him the deepest blush he has ever seen gracing your cheeks.  He began slow ruminations on your clit over your underwear, your hips bucking involuntarily at the stimulation, “that’s right” he nearly growled.  What you’ve learned about Hansol over the last several years is that he is a patient man, he doesn’t need to rush, but you really wish he would right about now.  Another whine escaped your lips trying to egg him on.  

Evidently, it worked because he began to peel your ruined panties away from your dripping heat, “God babe, you’re beautiful, all ready for me” he lined himself up and gathered up his saliva and spit into your already wet cunt.  He used the mixture of wetness between your legs to ease two fingers inside of you, moaning at the sensation of being filled, your eyes screwed shut.   The pad of his thumb found your clit and he began to circle the bundle of nerves meticulously.  “Remember what you’re working for” he reminded you, picking up his pace.  You felt the coil in your stomach begin to tighten as you heard his fingers working in your pussy.  

“I’m…” you cut yourself off with a moan as Hansol curled his fingers inside you to inch you closer to your approaching high.  

“Let go” was all you needed for the coil to snap and white hot pleasure overtook your senses.  “That’s it, you did so well for me” you heard Hansol’s soothing voice as you were coming down.  Your eyes fluttered open as he was standing up from between your legs and pulling his shirt over his head.  

“Here,” you sat up and reached for his belt, “I can help” you added, unhooking the belt and pulling his pants and his boxers down.  You watched as his cock sprung free, hard and leaking already.  Pulling him closer by his hips you watched his face intently, a mix of lust and anticipation.  You took him in your hand and he let out a hiss, “You need it that badly?” At your comment he took a handful of your hair and pulled it so you were looking up at him and he gave you a warning look.  You nodded in understanding and gave his cock a few pumps before leaning down.  You took the tip into your mouth and swirled your tongue around his slit, taking in the precum that had already mixed with your saliva.  

“Let me” he thrusted experimentally.  You hollowed out your cheeks and sunk your lips further down, in a way letting him know he could use your mouth to get off. He grunted and thrusted into your mouth at a bit of a rushed pace, it was obvious that he was wound up tight.  “Good girl, letting me use her, fuck”  tears pricked at the corners of your eyes but you were determined.  Hansol’s thrusts became sloppy as the tears began to stream down your cheeks, using the hand that was still in your hair he pulled you off his dick, “you have another one in you” he stated as he lay you down on the bed.  

He hovered over you and wiped your tears with his thumb, “you okay?” he asked quietly, you nodded, not being able to form words at the moment.  “Good” he smiled down at you, you felt him tease his cock head through your folds.  You flinched from the sensitivity.  Slowly, he eased into you.  Simultaneously, you both moaned at the sensation, which made you smile at each other, like this was just another normal night in your friendship, even though that was so far from the truth.  

After letting you adjust to his size he began to thrust slowly in and out of you.  “I won’t last long, you did too well…” he choked out, your pussy clenching around him at the continued praise.  His thrusts again became erratic and you knew he was close.  Somehow, you were impossibly close as well, chasing a high that snuck up on you.  You felt every delicious drag of his cock on your walls before you felt Hansol pull out and his white ropes shot into your stomach as your high crashed into you.  

Hansol pushed his sweat drenched hair off his forehead.  The two of you stared at each other for a few fleeting moments, realizing the gravity of what just happened, before silently agreeing that you will figure all of that out later.  He climbed out of the bed and hurried to the bathroom and returned moments later with a warm towel and a glass of water.  

“Are you okay?” he asked again as he was gently wiping himself off of your stomach.  

“Yes,” you assured him, “I am surprisingly calm about what just happened” he smiled up at you before leaning down to kiss your now clean stomach.       

***

Hansol and yourself didn’t talk about that night for the next several days, but nothing went back to normal either.  He was holding your hand, he was giving you kisses, and right now he had his hand on your thigh as you left that city behind.  Hansol insisted you stay there for a few more days than you had originally planned, you had a sneaking suspicion as to why but you decided not to push it.  You weren’t one to complain, especially when you were getting pleased nearly every night.  

“Take me to see the ocean” you piped up suddenly.  

“What?” Hansol laughed looking over at you quickly before returning his eyes to the road.  

“Sounds like a good way to end this little adventure” you shrugged.  You felt Hansol freeze up for a moment before recovering.  

“Right” he muttered, “Let’s get you to the ocean,” he said, squeezing your thigh.  

***

You watched out the window as the ocean came into view on your side, you had been to the ocean once in your life, but it seemed important to see it now for some reason.  Seeing something so grand felt like a great way to begin your new life in the next few days, you were nervous, but so excited.  You watched as Hansol parked the truck in a public beach access parking lot and turned to you.  

“Ready?” he smiled

“Ready” you smiled back.  You walked hand in hand over the sand and the sea breeze catching your hair.  It was early evening by the time you had found your way here so it was cooling down as the sun was setting.  

Hansol spread one of the blankets from the truck over the sand, close enough to see the waves but not close enough that it would get soaked from a rogue wave.  You sat down and Hansol slotted himself behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

You don’t know how long you sat, in quiet contemplation, neither one of you wanting to break whatever spell settled over you two over the last week or so.  “Hansol-” you started, 

“Vernon” he tried to correct.  

“No,” you said firmly, “Hansol, what are we doing?” 

“Two more days,” he sighed, “Just…give me two more days, I swear you’ll get back in time” he rested his chin on your shoulder, waiting for your response.  

“Two more days, and I get to call you Hansol” 

“Deal” 

***

You left the beach headed for home two days later, as promised.  Hansol drove quietly away from whatever the last few weeks were between you, his hands were firmly on the wheel, he hadn’t touched you at all today.  It’s as if with your kiss goodnight the illusion was broken and you were back to reality.  You weren’t sure which was better for you, living like Hansol was your boyfriend or having him as your best friend again.  Then again, you weren’t sure why you couldn’t have both honestly.  

About an hour into your drive Hansol took the joint out from behind his ear and tried to pass it to you wordlessly.  

“Oh, I can’t” you told him, “I start my job next week and they told me I need to pass a drug test before my first day” Hansol dropped the joint, pulled over, and flung open his door, “Hansol?! What the fuck are you doing?” You followed him into the woods on the side of the road, “Hansol!” you caught his arm and pulled him so he was facing you, there were tears in his eyes.  

“God I am so stupid” he wiped his eyes furiously with the back of his hand. 

“Hansol what’s going on” your voice softened at the sight of his tears, you wanted so desperately to wipe them away, but thought better of it due to the nature of the situation. 

“Y/N” this is the first time he has used your real name, not a pet name or Kate, in several days, it almost felt foreign to your ears, “this is it! You’re gone after this, you’ll be working and busy, I’ll have lost you and everyone I care about” he threw his head back, looking at the sky, “I have no plans, no job, and no friends,” he looks back down at you, “and you can’t even smoke my weed” 

“Hansol…I-” you tried. 

“No it’s true, everyone is gone, Hell, some of the guys have moved across the country, I’ll be lucky if I ever see Seungkwan again” Hansol was crying now. “And I know this is a great opportunity for him, and for you, I’m so proud of all of you, but what about me, what am I supposed to do, Y/N?” he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, you could tell he felt stupid about crying and feeling sorry for himself.  

“Move in with me” you blurted out, without really thinking, but it felt like a logical thing to say.  You watched as he pulled his hands away from his eyes, 

“What?” 

“You heard me,” you moved closer to him and rubbed his arms with your hands, “move in with me” 

“Like…as friends or-” “No” you cut him off, “absolutely not as friends,” it was his turn to cut you off, he closed the short distance between you and pressed his lips firmly to yours.

[cxffecoupx]

vernon as a girl dad

girl dad! vernon fluff, crack, a little smut, requested warnings: reader has a womb, vernon and his daughter sharing one braincell, sex (only a little though) wc: 771 writer's notes: it's been too long so i couldnt wait to post this (read: i didn't proof read this). to the anon who requested it, i'm so sorry for the long wait😭😭 but i really hope you understand and forgive me and that you enjoy it :) do lemme know your thoughts!!

girl dad! hansol who zones out during the birth of your babygirl. like, man's just stood there like🧍‍♂️while you're screaming out in the pain and frustration. he seems motionless, but trust that he's just processing the whole situation. like, what do you mean he's having a new member in his family? a little proof of your love for each other? he needs some time to compose.

girl dad! hansol who does not get overwhelmed for some reason. it's funny cause you just bawled your eyes out to him like, two hours after giving birth, and he's sitting beside you, one hand holding your hand and stroking it, and the other carefully cradling your daughter, who sleeps oblivious to all this chaos.

girl dad! hansol who becomes hesitant with your daughter. he knows he isnt the best to take care of her, and constanly worries if he'll end up doing something wrong. asks you every minute about what he should do, or why she's crying, or how to burp her. he's like a little boy trying to take care of his little sister.

girl dad! hansol who LOVES it when his baby plays with him. he'd be just sitting there, and she crawls over, pulling the ends with his pants to get his attention. he lifts her up on his shoulders, while watching the program on the tv. the next moment he feels her pulling his hair and his ears and he starts blushing and giggling. you sit beside from them, watching his giggles elicit hearty laughs from your daughter.

girl dad! hansol who secretly worries if your daughter will like the room he's taken so much effort to decorate. he's tailing along as you take her to her new room; he eagerly watches her as her tiny eyes look around the room; he ends up beaming with pride and joy when she squeals and runs to him for all the beautiful decorations. he feels so happy his heart threatens to explode and his cheeks hurt from smiling too hard.

girl dad! hansol who is eager to spend some alone time with you. dont get him wrong, he would love to spend every waking moment with his little girl, but it's been too long without any intimate touch and it has slowly driven him crazy. so the moment his sister, Sophia, is out the door with your daughter, his mouth is on yours and his hands on every inch of your skin, like he's trying to remember what your body felt like before all this beautiful chaos.

you're giggling, watching his rush and eagerness, but he takes no time to silence you and replace them with moans and whimpers as he slowly relishes you. his tongue moves with a new grace and vigor, and all thoughts to remain silent leaves your mind as you call out his name repeatedly throughout the night.

girl dad! hansol who is beyond ecstatic over the fact that his daughter and he share the same love for food. who steals food from your plate and ends up indirectly teaching his daughter the same. so now, when you have burgers and fries on special nights, you remain extra cautious because one moment of distraction could lead to the crunchy fries and half a burger going missing.

girl dad! hansol who looks forward to fridays for movie nights with his favourite girls. you both have always had this ritual, but now with a new member along, he takes this as an opportunity to pass on his love for movies to his little princess. by 8pm, you prepare caramel popcorn and vanilla ice cream as she rushes to sit on her daddy's lap and pick the movie to watch.

girl dad! hansol who begins to slowly learn along with his baby. hearing you talk to your daughter about the importance of expressing emotions helps him understand that hiding them only pains those who love him. catching himself laughing loudly over some antics of his girl's make him realise that laughing out loud only brings more happiness to your life. watching his babygirl go from hearing her mother read stories to her to reading those stories on her own made him worry of the fact that time passes by too quick. he starts to cherish every laugh they share, every hug they have, every silly little competitions they keep.

and although his worry still remains, he likes to push it away with the thought that there's no other people he'd rather watch the sunsets and sunrises (that bring the calm after the chaos of crying over sleep and getting ready) with.

[saythenametotheworld]

Did You Like Her in the Morning? | c.vn (18+)

How do you move on from the man you thought you'd marry? You can't. As you navigate the bittersweet memories of your shared dreams, you are forced to grapple with the harsh reality that Vernon has found someone new.

one | two | three | four | five

Genre: strangers to lovers (to exes), smut Pairing: Chwe Vernon x afab!Reader Warnings: angstyyy, mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+), cheating!!! Notes: 27k words. Part 4 of the Heartbreak Hotel series, but it can be read as a standalone fic. Listening to Did You Like Her in the Morning by NIKI. This was too long and I tried to cut it down but I couldn't leave anything out lol. ENJOY~~ Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

Playlist: Did You Like Her in the Morning by NIKI, champagne problems by Taylor Swift, Fine by Taeyeon, His Car Isn't Yours by Wendy ,

“What are you making?” you heard Vernon’s familiar voice behind you as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the warmth of his embrace. He pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, and you leaned back into him.

“Eggs,” you replied, smiling as you rolled the omelet in the pan.

Vernon hummed, nuzzling his nose against your neck, sending a shiver up your spine. “I love eggs.”

“Good,” you chuckled, basking in the gentle intimacy. “Because that's all we have. We need groceries.”

“Then let's go together later,” he murmured, turning you to face him.

You smiled at the sight of your boyfriend, handsome in the morning light filtering through the windows of your shared apartment. There were remnants of sleep in his half-lidded eyes and messy locks of brown hair. His lopsided smile was something you’d grown familiar with but still couldn’t get enough of. He was beautiful in a way that made your chest tighten with love and disbelief.

You lifted the spatula, careful not to graze his neck as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Tiptoeing, you pressed a brief but tender kiss to his lips. “Did you sleep well?”

“The best sleep I’ve had in days,” he murmured, his voice low as he brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His hand lingered on your cheek, thumb tracing the outline of your jaw. “Thanks to you.”

You rolled your eyes, though the warmth in your chest spread. “You’re welcome,” you teased, “but go set the table. Let’s eat breakfast before we leave for work.”

He grinned, but instead of pulling away, he tugged you closer. “Breakfast is good, yes, but…” He paused, one hand traveling down the length of your spine and stopping at your backside. He cupped it with his hand, squeezing ever so gently as he pressed his lips on your ear. “There’s someone else I wanna eat.”

A soft laugh escaped you. “Now, now,” you said calmly, putting your hands on his chest and pushing him back slightly. “Food first.”

You turned back to the stove, turned it off, and put the rolled omelet on a plate. Vernon followed behind you, unable to keep his hands to himself as he tried to touch you everywhere while trailing kisses on your neck and jaw.

“Nonie,” you chided softly, though your body was doing something else entirely—tilting your head to the side so he could nip at your neck with ease. You let out a soft sigh—warmth and goosebumps spreading through you when he sucked on your skin.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, hand cupping your breast as he ravished your neck again.

Then, without warning, the world shifted. The comforting scent of eggs and the morning light faded. Your eyes fluttered open, and instead of Vernon’s embrace, you were met with the cold, dull gray of the ceiling above you. The room was deafeningly quiet save for the faint hum of the air-conditioning cutting through the silence.

You opened your mouth to breathe, eyes darting around the room as you tried to transition out of your dream and back into the dreary reality of your present. The faint ache in your chest grew sharper as you slowly sat up, pressing the heel of your hand to your temple, trying to shake away the dream—no, the memory that you thought would not visit you again until today.

On your nightstand, your alarm clock was glowing, highlighting bright red numbers, 9:30 pm. “Fuck this,” you muttered to yourself, rubbing your hands over your face.

In need of fresh air, you stepped out of your quarters and trekked the quiet hallways of the hotel, heavy thoughts weighing on your chest. Walking without a set direction brought you to the hotel bar, where the low murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses provided a welcome intrusion to your scattered thoughts. Your eyes scanned the room, landing on Seungcheol, nursing a drink alone at the bar.

Sighing, you crossed your arms over your chest, leaning on the entryway as you watched him curiously. This enigmatic stranger came to your hotel seeking services in the form of storytelling. When you think about it, it was a strange request, asking a stranger to share anecdotes of her past relationships and why they failed. But now that you were watching him from this distance, with his eyes locked on his glass seemingly lost in his thoughts, maybe it wasn’t a strange request after all. Maybe, behind the enigma that is Choi Seungcheol, was a lonely man trying to make sense of the things that had caused his own relationship to fail.

“Whatever,” you muttered, walking straight toward him.

He looked up as you approached, surprise and relief washing over his face. “Good evening.”

You nodded, sliding onto the stool beside him. “Mind if I join you?”

“Please do.” He gestured to the bartender for another drink. “Your company is most welcome.”

You took a moment, watching the bartender pour your drink and push it toward you. Then for a second, you stared at it, swirling the contents of your glass. “How do you move on from the person you thought you were gonna spend the rest of your life with?”

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “Is this another story? I’m all ears.”

You took a sip of your drink, the spice lining your throat and leaving a bitter aftertaste on your tongue. “Alright then. Tonight, I’ll tell you about Vernon Chwe.”

“The one that got away?” he asked, leaning in with curiosity.

“Something like that,” you replied, your mind drifting back to memories that felt so fresh, that one would think it all happened yesterday.

Blind dating was a game of hit or miss. At least, that’s what you believed. When Mina set you up with her friend’s friend, you’d expected it to be just like any other blind date—awkward, forced, and uncomfortable, not that you’d been in one before. This was your first, and you almost didn’t show up if not for Mina’s insistence that you only need to do it this once then she wouldn’t bother you again if you ended up disliking the whole thing. 

With lowered expectations, you walked into the restaurant, bracing yourself for nothing more than polite small talk between two people who didn’t want to be there. You weren't expecting much—a brief chat, maybe a rushed cup of coffee, and then an awkward goodbye.

The cafe staff pointed you to his table and you approached carefully, studying the back of his head.

“Mr. Vernon Chwe?” you prompted politely, peeking slightly at his face.

He glanced up at you and you were momentarily caught off-guard by the gorgeous pair of light brown eyes. His appearance alone was already surpassing your expectations by miles. 

“Yes, hi!” he greeted, standing up at once and offering his hand for a shake. He said your name and it rolled off his tongue effortlessly, as if he had practiced it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He was well-dressed in a neat white shirt and a light brown button-down, the sleeves rolled just enough to look casual but put together. His hair—neatly styled yet effortlessly tousled—framed his face perfectly. And that face? Sculpted, handsome, with sharp features softened by a warm, welcoming smile.

“The pleasure’s mine,” you replied.

When he moved to pull out your chair, it didn’t feel forced or like he was 'trying too hard.' His gestures were smooth and respectful, like second nature. You blinked, trying to keep your surprise in check as you took the seat he offered.

“Thank you,” you said, setting your purse aside as he sat across from you, his movements just as easy, just as considerate.

“How was the commute? I hope it wasn’t too far for you,” he began, right as the waitress handed you menus.

“Oh, no, not at all,” you said, smiling. “I actually walked here. I live nearby.”

“That’s a relief,” he replied, his tone sincere, as if your comfort genuinely mattered to him. You were struck not only by his appearance but by how well-spoken he was. His voice was steady, polite, and confident without a trace of arrogance.

After you both placed your orders, there was a pause. But it wasn’t the dreaded awkward silence you had imagined. Vernon didn’t rush to fill the space with idle chatter. He simply sat there, watching you with attentive eyes, as though he had all the time in the world. You noticed then how carefully he observed you—his gaze steady but not overbearing, his expression open and genuinely curious.

You nodded, feeling more at ease than you expected. “Yeah, I do. And you’re in… software development, right?”

“That’s right,” he confirmed, leaning back in his chair. “But I promise I won’t bore you with tech talk.”

His playful smile made you laugh softly, and the ease with which the conversation flowed caught you off guard. It was seamless. No awkward pauses, no forced topics. And Vernon wasn’t just polite—he was thoughtful. He asked questions about your life, your interests, your thoughts on books and movies. And he listened, really listened, like every word you said was worth considering. Every now and then, he’d tilt his head slightly, his smile never far from his lips and his attention never wavering.

Time passed quicker than you realized. The conversation was so comfortable, so engaging, that it wasn’t until your phone buzzed that you noticed the hour.

“Oh no,” you murmured, frowning at the time. “I’d love to stay longer, but I have work tomorrow.”

“I understand,” Vernon replied, smiling warmly. “It’s getting late anyway. Shall we head out?”

He offered to walk you home, and you didn’t hesitate to accept. The night was cool, the air crisp as the two of you strolled through the quiet streets. You kept chatting until you reached your apartment complex. You couldn’t help but linger just a little longer under the streetlights, hoping time would stretch on and you could spend more time together.

“I had a really great time tonight,” you admitted, slightly embarrassed by how much you meant it.

“I’m glad,” Vernon replied, turning to face you. His eyes sparkled under the light, and for a second, you forgot where you were. “I’d love to do this again if you’d allow it.”

You paused, not because you were unsure, but because it felt almost too good to be true. You hadn’t expected this. Not from a blind date. And yet, here you were, standing in front of your apartment, feeling something stir in your chest that hadn’t been there at the start of the evening.

“Yeah,” you answered, a genuine smile tugging at your lips. “I’d like that.”

His smile widened, and there it was again—that effortless charm. Everything about him—from the way he carried himself to the way he spoke—felt disarmingly natural. His manners, his attentiveness, his respect for your space, all of it was impeccable. This was a man who knew how to make someone feel seen and heard. It was almost unsettling how easily you connected with him.

Before parting ways, he took a step closer, his hand brushing gently against your arm in the most careful, respectful way. “Goodnight,” he said, his voice low.

“Goodnight, Vernon,” you whispered.

And just like that, Vernon Chwe became someone you couldn’t stop thinking about. The blind date you thought would be awkward and forgettable had turned into the beginning of something promising.

“Tell me everything!” Mina gushed when she Facetimed you the next day. “Don’t skip a detail. What happened?”

“Aren’t you too energetic for a Monday morning?” you teased, patting moisturizer into your skin.

“Paul said Vernon kept talking about you after the date. Does that mean it went well?”

You smiled, remembering last night, and Mina caught on immediately. She clapped her hands. “It did! Oh my God! How was it?”

“It was great,” you replied, trying to sound casual but failing because you couldn’t stop smiling. “Vernon was... really great. He was nice, polite, funny—and he’s handsome too.”

You told her about the date while getting ready for work, and by the end of the call, Mina was patting herself on the back for setting you up. You laughed it off, but inwardly, you were grateful. She had insisted on this blind date, and now, well… things were looking good.

Later, at work, you greeted your coworkers cheerfully before settling in at your desk. It was going to be another mundane day of taking reservations and answering guest queries, but today felt different. The thought of Vernon had put a little extra bounce in your step.

“You look happy,” asked Sally, a coworker and a friend. “Date went well, I take it?”

“It went amazing, Sal. Don’t be surprised when I get a boyfriend in the next few weeks,” you chimed, lifting your shoulders with pride.

Sally sighed, leaning her elbow on the back of your chair. “Guess I’ll be eating my dinners alone from now on.”

“I hope not,” you chuckled. “And let’s not count our chickens before they hatch. We still have a long way to go.”

“You’re the one who’s talking about having a boyfriend!” she chided playfully, nudging your shoulder. As she walked away, the phone rang, so you took it to your ear.

“Diamond Hotel, how may I help you today?” you asked with practiced ease.

“Hi, is this…” The man on the line said your name.

“Yes, this is she. How can I assist you?”

“I’m calling to reserve a table at the Diamond Hotel Restaurant.”

You started typing away, already processing his request. “Can I have your name for the reservation? And when would you like it?”

“It’s uh… Vernon Chwe.”

You paused, fingers hovering over the keys as you wondered if you’d heard him right. “Vernon Chwe?” you repeated, heart racing at just the mention of his name.

“Yes,” he answered, and you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “I’m booking a table for two, but only if my date agrees to dinner on Friday night.”

He has a date? You pondered, a sudden pang of disappointment hitting you. That was quite unexpected. You just went on a date with him last night and you thought it had gone well. Now he has another date?

You chased your thoughts away, maintaining a professional tone when you said, “I’m sure she’d love to if you asked nicely, Mr. Chwe. The hotel restaurant has an impeccable menu.”

“You think so?” Vernon asked, sounding curious.

“Absolutely.”

“What’s your favorite off the menu?”

You hummed thoughtfully, pulling up the list of recommendations on your computer. “There are a few things I can recommend, but I’d suggest you check out the Menu of the Day once you get there.”

“I see, but I need to know your favorite so I can remember to order it for you.”

Ah, now you got it. You smiled, glancing around to see if anyone was listening. “Mr. Chwe, shouldn’t you ask your date first if she’s available Friday night?” 

“Well, are you available Friday night?”

“Maybe,” you chimed.

Came Friday night, you met him outside your workplace, told him you canceled his reservation, and asked him to take you elsewhere. 

“I lied about the hotel menu,” you said as soon as you approached him. “All fancy stuff, nothing that’s actually good. Let’s go somewhere else.”

Vernon laughed at your admission, throwing his head back as he casually offered his arm for you to hold onto. “So? Where should we go then?”

“Actually, I’m not sure,” you replied, sliding your hand around his elbow before you started walking down the sidewalk. “I know a place just around the block. Their fajitas are to die for.”

“Alright, then. Lead the way.”

Without thinking much about it, Friday nights became your thing. Vernon would pick you up after work, his car always parked at the same spot by the entrance, and from there, you’d go from one spot to another, trying different foods and discovering new places together. At first, he insisted on taking you to posh restaurants—decent places with cloth napkins and polished silverware. It was sweet, but you could tell he was trying a bit too hard and you didn’t want him to do that—especially considering the startup company that he had just launched with his friend.

One night, after yet another fancy dinner, you decided it was time for a change. You took him to a small, family-owned burger joint tucked between two larger chain restaurants. It was far from glamorous, but it had character—and, as you both agreed, the best fries in the city.

“See?” you said, grinning triumphantly as you dipped another fry into ketchup. “Hidden gem.”

Vernon chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied expression. “I guess I should’ve let you pick the places from the start.”

“It’s a perk that comes with working in the hospitality industry. You get to know where the best places in the city are,” you replied with mock arrogance, making him laugh again.

You watched him for a bit, taking in his easy demeanor and the slight flush on his cheek caused by laughing. He took some fries, dipped them in the sauce, and ate with gusto.

“I like this better than seared salmon. What do you think?” you asked.

Vernon glanced over, his eyebrow quirking in surprise. He seemed to understand what you were trying to imply. “Are you sure? I thought… well, I wanted to take you somewhere nice.”

“I know, I appreciate it. But I think our time and money would be better spent on food we would genuinely enjoy. Don’t you?”

He laughed, and the sound was easy and light. “I think so too.”

And from that night on, things became better. Your dates grew simpler—more relaxed and spontaneous. You spent Friday nights strolling along city streets, your hands full of fast food bags instead of wine glasses.

The pressure of formality faded, replaced by easy conversation and laughter that came naturally between bites of burgers or slices of pizza. You didn’t feel like you were trying to impress each other anymore. Instead, you were just getting to know each other—two people enjoying each other's company, no pretense, no expectations.

“You have ketchup on your chin,” Vernon pointed out one night, his eyes glinting with amusement as you wiped at your face, missing the spot completely.

“Where?” you asked, wiping again, only to have him shake his head.

“Here,” he said softly, reaching across the table to gently swipe it away with his thumb. The gesture was so natural, so intimate, that it made your heart skip a beat.

“What’s going on? Are we filming a movie or something?” you asked—an obvious attempt to defuse the growing tension between you.

“Yeah, and you’re a bad actress,” he retorted, grinning.

“Do you wanna know why?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow playfully. “It’s because God thought it wouldn’t be fair to other people if He had given me talents in acting and performing. I’d be unstoppable as a celebrity and He knew it. He had to draw the line somehow.”

You had expected him to roll his eyes, but Vernon chuckled heartily, scrunching his nose with what looked like cuteness aggression. “God made you so adorable too.”

You simply shrugged, as if to take the compliment nonchalantly despite the giddiness you were feeling inside. “Born this way. What can I do?”

You used to look forward to Fridays because it marked the start of the weekend when you needed not to go to work. Now, Fridays came with a different kind of anticipation—the kind that came in the size of a Vernon Chwe. Your ‘dates’ weren’t just dates anymore; they were a ritual, a habit, a comfort. 

You got to know each other better this way, sharing dreams and aspirations. You told him how you were on the lookout for an opportunity to write, and he talked about his startup—how it was both exciting and exhausting to build something from the ground up. You listened intently, watching as he animatedly explained the challenges he face.

“I didn’t realize how much work it would be,” he admitted, taking a bite of his burger. “Some days, it feels like I’m making progress, but other days… I don’t know. It’s like I’m just treading water.”

“You’ll get there,” you said, offering him an encouraging smile. “I mean, Mark Zuckerberg’s Facebook didn’t become a billion-dollar enterprise overnight, did it?”

Vernon glanced at you, his expression softening. “Thanks. That is oddly reassuring.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. He hadn’t said it outright, but there was a growing closeness between the two of you—a connection that went beyond the casual dates and easy conversations. It was in the way he looked at you, the way he listened to your every word, and how he valued your words like you were an important person in his life.

Bit by bit, these Friday nights were becoming something deeper. And as you sat there with him, sharing burgers and laughter, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, you’d found something you wanted to hold onto.

The more you got to know Vernon, the easier it became for him to bring you into his world. The first time you really saw him in his element was when he invited you to a tech convention as his plus-one. You hadn’t known what to expect—just a room full of serious people talking about things that flew over your head. Tech enthusiasts passionately discussing the future, engineers excitedly showcasing innovations, and the occasional investor looking polished and reserved—it was a melting pot of people who were said to be at the very core of humanity’s technological advancement.

“Come meet my business partner,” Vernon prompted, pulling your attention from the crowd. 

You followed him to a table where a small group of people stood chatting. Vernon tapped a man on the shoulder, who turned around immediately.

“Vernon! Finally. Where have you been?” the man asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Sorry, man. Traffic was brutal,” Vernon replied. “This is my friend, Boo Seungkwan. We founded the company together.”

Seungkwan gave you a grin, his eyes glinting with humor. “Nice to finally meet you, though I heard nothing about you. He’s been keeping you a secret, something about not jinxing it, whatever that meant.”

You smiled. “That’s fine. I’ve heard plenty about you.”

“Oh, really?” Seungkwan leaned in, lowering his voice playfully. “Did he tell you I’m insufferable and run the place like a dictator?”

You laughed. “No, actually. He said you’re the best at managing the company’s money and keeping things together.”

Vernon shot Seungkwan a look. “See? No badmouthing.”

Seungkwan scoffed, turning back to you. “Give it time. Once you two get close enough, he’ll spill all my secrets,” he ranted jokingly, making you chuckle.

Watching Vernon in this environment where he clearly belonged made you realize how seamlessly he could move between these worlds—his professional world and the easy, laid-back version of himself you’d grown close to. While he was deeply immersed in this world, always kept an eye on you. Even in the middle of a conversation, he’d look over, checking in without saying a word.

As you settled into the flow of the event, Vernon was suddenly called up to the stage to present their latest project. He leaned in before leaving, his voice soft in your ear. “I’ll be back soon. Wish me luck.”

You smiled, giving his arm a squeeze. “Good luck!”

He flashed a quick smile before making his way to the stage. You watched as he stepped up to the podium, transforming from the Vernon you spent casual Friday nights with to the CEO Vernon Chwe—confident, composed, and incredibly eloquent.

“Good evening, everyone,” he began, his voice steady as he launched into his presentation. He spoke with passion, seamlessly balancing technical jargon with approachable explanations and engaging everyone in the room.

He looked different up there. Not in a way that made you feel distant from him, but in a way that made you see him in a new light. He wasn’t just the guy who made you laugh over greasy burgers. Up there, he was someone who commanded respect and attention—a leader, fully in control of his domain. His intelligence shone through in every word, and you couldn’t help but feel proud.

When he clicked through the last slide, the room burst into applause. Vernon gave a modest bow and stepped down from the stage, his eyes scanning the crowd until they found yours. He smiled—this time, not the professional smile he gave to the audience, but one meant just for you.

Seungkwan elbowed you lightly, leaning over to whisper, “He’s impressive, isn’t he?”

You nodded, unable to look away from Vernon as he approached. “Yeah,” you murmured. “Really impressive.”

As he reached you, Vernon sighed in relief. He glanced at Seungkwan and you. “How’d I do?”

“You were amazing,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. “You looked so cool up there.”

“Yeah, so cool. You totally sold it. Investors are gonna—oh! Here comes one now.”  Seungkwan walked up to meet the man approaching your circle.

You both watched him for a bit as he engaged in a serious discussion with the man. Vernon’s touch on your elbow shifted your attention to him.

“I’m hungry. Do you wanna get out of here?” he asked, eyes gleaming with mischief. 

“Don’t you need to talk to these people?”

He shrugged. “Seungkwan will take care of it. He’s better at conversing with these people than I am.”

“You sure he won’t mind?”

“Totally,” he replied, taking your hand in his. “Let’s go.”

Vernon took you to a Mexican restaurant where you stuffed your faces with food and talked about anything and everything. After that, he said he’d show you to their office, and snuck you there in the middle of the night. 

“This feels illegal,” you told him as he led you through the dim hallways.

“Well, technically, it is. Seungkwan is pretty strict about workplace conduct, so no girlfriends in the building, and especially not in the middle of the night like this.”

“I didn’t know I was a girlfriend already,” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Vernon’s eyes widened as he stammered, “No, I don’t mean— I meant girlfriends in general, not just my girlfriend specifically. What I meant was if an employee or someone in the company had a girlfriend—or boyfriend—they’re not allowed to bring them here to, you know, hang out or whatever it is that people in relationships do.”

You smirked, enjoying how flustered he had become. “You know, you were really attractive when you were talking earlier. All eloquent and smart. I didn’t think you could ever stutter like this.”

He gave you a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “Is that bad? Did I ruin my ‘cool’ persona?”

“Not at all,” you replied, your voice softening. “Quite the opposite. You’re cute.”

He laughed, though it was soft, nervous even. “Thanks, I guess?”

You stood together in front of the sleek glass doors of their office building, and Vernon swiped his keycard to let you in. The lights inside were dimmed, casting a soft glow over the open-concept workspace. It felt intimate, like you were stepping into a new part of Vernon’s life.

“I swear, this place is usually more lively during the day,” Vernon murmured, his voice low as if he didn’t want to disturb the quiet.

“I can tell,” you replied, eyeing the desks. There weren’t that many of them, just about a handful. The office was just large enough for less than ten employees, and you could tell they were in the earliest days of establishment.

You stopped in front of a glass-walled office room, a small one with a desk at the center and a nameplate with Vernon’s name on it. “Is this the CEO’s office?” you teased, stepping inside and running your fingers along the edge of the desk.

“Something like that,” he replied, leaning against the doorframe, watching you. His eyes were darker now, his posture more relaxed, but there was a certain intensity in the way he looked at you. “This is where Seungkwan bosses me around, and I pretend I know what I’m doing.”

“You seemed pretty convincing earlier during the presentation,” you teased. “All eloquent and smart. I didn’t expect to see you in full business mode.”

He grinned. “You liked that, huh?”

You turned to him, taking a deep breath. “It was impressive, yes,” you began, voice soft. “And I have to admit, I did want to see your office but not in the middle of the night. It feels a like we’re breaking the rules.”

Vernon chuckled, pushing off the doorframe and walking toward you, hands shoved casually into his pockets. “I did say we were breaking a rule,” he said, his tone lighter. “But, for the record, I think Seungkwan would make an exception for you.”

You smirked, holding his gaze. “Would he?”

“I mean, I would,” he said, the words coming out more confident than before. He was close now, standing just a step away. “I’d definitely make an exception for you.”

There it was. The shift. The air around you seemed to hum, like the tension had finally caught up with you both. You could feel it, the way your heart started beating faster, the way Vernon’s eyes flickered between yours and your lips.

“That’s because you want to sweep me off my feet. Seungkwan doesn’t like me like that,” you teased, keeping a lighthearted tone and pressing an index finger on his chest.

He held your hand and kept it there. “Well? Am I good at sweeping you off your feet?”

“Well, you’re…” you paused, keeping your eyes locked with his as the space between you grew smaller and smaller. “...adorable.”

“Adorable, huh?” he murmured, his voice lower now, rougher around the edges. He seemed less concerned with the conversation and more focused on whatever was happening between you.

His hand came up, almost tentative, fingers brushing against the side of your face as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re making it really hard to follow the rules right now,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart raced at the closeness. “Maybe we don’t need to follow them tonight,” you replied, lips quirking into a small, daring smile.

Vernon smiled back. “I’ve never been good at following rules anyway,” he murmured, his thumb lingering just at the side of your face, his touch barely there but enough to send ripples of warmth through you.

You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t need to. Instead, you closed the space between you, rising on your toes just slightly, enough for your lips to meet his in a soft, lingering kiss. It wasn’t rushed or frantic—it was deliberate, the kind of kiss that had been building for weeks. Vernon responded in kind, his hand moving to cup the back of your head as he deepened the kiss. There was something sweet in the way he kissed you, something gentle that made your heart flutter, but there was also an undeniable heat—like he had been waiting for this moment as long as you had.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were a little breathless. “Okay,” you whispered, meeting his gaze with a teasing grin on your lips. “Now I can definitely say you’re adorable and hot.”

He laughed warmly. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Did you sleep with him?” Mina’s voice rang out, loud and direct through your phone. You hurried to cover the screen, as if that could somehow muffle her. 

“No, I didn’t!” you hissed back, your tone sharp enough to scold. “We just talked, and then he took me home. That’s it.”

“Why not?” Mina pressed, not letting it go.

You leaned back in your chair, arms crossing defensively. “I don’t know. He just… stopped halfway. Then he said he’d take me home. I think he wasn’t ready to go there yet, and honestly, I was fine with that. I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.”

“Girl, even if you had hooked up, there’s no way this would be a one-off. You’re way past that.”

“Right?” you agreed, thinking it over. “I thought so too. But I kinda liked that he didn’t push for more. His actions told me he wants to take things seriously with me, don’t you think?”

“Totally,” Mina said, her voice buzzing with excitement. “Oh my god, I really like this Vernon guy for you.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at her enthusiasm. “I like him too. Thanks for setting us up.”

Mina made a smug sound, clearly pleased with herself. “You’re welcome. Now go make him fall madly in love with you, okay?”

You laughed, but as you ended the call, Mina’s words echoed in your mind. You hadn’t realized it until now, but you were falling for Vernon—slowly, deeply, and in a way that felt entirely different from anyone before him.

And you continued falling for him—with every Friday night spent together, with every late-night conversation when his deep voice lulled you to sleep, and with every weekend spent exploring new places and activities he thoughtfully picked out. Each moment felt more intimate than the last, a slow and steady unraveling of who you were together, effortlessly comfortable yet thrilling in its own way.

You noticed the little things that made him, well, him—his mannerisms, the politeness in his tone even when he was talking casually, his little thoughtful gestures, how he could somehow always remember exactly how you liked your coffee, or how he always made sure you were walking on the safe side of the sidewalk. These were the things that made your heart feel full, as if the entire world narrowed down to just the two of you when you were together.

One weekend, he asked if you wanted to see a movie with him—a break from your usual routine. It was one of those perfect days where everything just seemed to fall into place. The air was cool but not too cold, the traffic lights turned green just as you approached, there was barely a line at the cinema, and you got the best seats in the house. Even your popcorn tasted better than usual.

You watched the movie quietly. Every now and then, you felt Vernon’s eyes flick toward you. Whenever you caught him staring, he’d look away, only to glance back a moment later. He seemed... nervous.

Halfway through an intense scene, where the protagonist was inches away from confronting the villain, Vernon leaned in, gently tugging your elbow. 

“Can I ask you something?” he whispered, his voice barely audible under the suspenseful music. 

You blinked, startled by the interruption. “Now?”

He nodded, his smile almost sheepish. “Yeah, now.” You leaned closer, expecting him to comment on the movie or make a joke but instead, he took a deep breath.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

For a moment, you thought you’d misheard him. In the middle of a suspense movie, with the protagonist literally facing life-or-death stakes, Vernon had just asked you to be his girlfriend. You had to stifle a laugh, quickly covering your mouth to avoid disturbing the other moviegoers.

“Are you serious?” you whispered back, your eyes wide with amusement.

He nodded, his grin growing wider, though his nervousness was still apparent. “I know. I know, the timing’s weird. But I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I just couldn’t wait anymore. I wanted to ask you now. Here. I don’t know why… I just—”

You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he was practically holding his breath, waiting for your answer. The softness of his confession, paired with the ridiculousness of the setting, made your heart swell. It was so him—earnest, sweet, and dorky all at once.

You smiled, warmth flooding through you. “Of course, I’ll be your girlfriend. But you know this is the worst possible time to ask, right?”

Relief washed over his face, and he chuckled softly, clearly flustered. “Yeah, I kind of panicked.”

“If I had known you were gonna do this, I would’ve picked a rom-com,” you teased.

Vernon grinned, his hand slipping into yours. “It would make a funny ‘How Your Mom and I Got Together’ story though, don’t you think?” he whispered back, eyes twinkling with that familiar Vernon charm.

You rolled your eyes playfully, leaning your head on his shoulder. “You’re such a dork,” you whispered, your words filled with affection. And as the suspenseful music swelled around you, you couldn’t help but think that this out-of-place, spontaneous confession was exactly the kind of memory you wanted to hold onto.

And so you’d officially become his girlfriend, and even though nothing really changed in the way he treated you—still sweet, still thoughtful—it felt different in the best way. Everything felt a little lighter, like you were walking on cloud nine.

The next morning, you woke up with an inexplicable giddiness bubbling inside you. Vernon texted you good morning with a picture of his messy bed hair and a caption that read, “Your boyfriend just woke up. Isn’t he handsome?” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling at your phone.

You: the handsomest!

In the days that followed, being in a relationship with Vernon felt like the easiest thing in the world. There was no awkward transition, no need to overthink anything. You just were together now, and it felt natural.

You spent Friday nights hanging out at your place, sometimes ordering takeout and binge-watching your favorite shows. He’d wrap his arm around you, pulling you close as you both debated whether pineapple belonged on pizza—it didn’t, according to him, but you had other opinions. His hand would absentmindedly play with your hair, and you’d find yourself smiling for no reason at all.

You found yourself getting used to all the sweet texts, random kisses on your forehead, and the way he’d always pull you closer when you least expected it. There was a sense of security in being with him, like you didn’t have to worry about anything because Vernon was there—steady and kind.

You knew you’d made the right choice. Vernon wasn’t just sweet or thoughtful—he was the kind of person who would always go the extra mile, who made you feel cared for in the smallest but most meaningful ways. And being with him was fun. There was something light and easy about it, like the two of you were building something beautiful without even realizing it.

And of course, you also found a way to keep things interesting. One weekend, you planned a surprise road trip—“Just pack a bag and drive. Don’t ask questions,” you told him over the phone.

You ended up driving to a cozy cabin by the lake, where you spent the weekend hiking, making s’mores by the fire, and cuddling under thick blankets while watching the stars.

“Thanks, love,” he murmured against your hair. “I needed this.”

You snuggled closer into his warmth, letting him tighten his arms around you. “You’re welcome. You’ve been working nonstop since last week. I figured you should take a break.”

“Seungkwan’s gonna kill me for slacking off.”

You chuckled, tilting your head upwards so you could meet his gaze. “I don’t think he will. He was so happy when I told him I’d take you away for the weekend.”

“He was?”

“Yeah. He was so grateful,” you replied, reverting your gaze back to the starry night sky. “I thought he’d kiss my feet.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Have I been working too much? Didn’t feel like it.”

“People saw it. I saw it,” you said. “I know how important this is for you but you don’t have to push yourself too hard, Vernon. What’s the point of all this if your body gives out?”

“I didn’t realize I was that bad,” Vernon admitted, breaking the silence. “I mean, I knew I was working hard, but I didn’t think it was too much. Truth is, I feel like I should be doing more.”

“You do plenty, Vernon,” you replied softly. “You’re passionate. That’s one of the many things I love about you. But, you know, even superheroes need a break sometimes.”

He smiled, his hand gently tracing patterns on your arm. “You think I’m a superhero, huh?”

“Well, you’re definitely my hero,” you teased, nudging him playfully. 

He chuckled, his chest vibrating under your cheek. “Thank you. I needed this. I needed you. It’s nice to have someone who reminds me to slow down.” His gaze turned serious for a moment. “You have no idea how much I appreciate that.”

His honesty touched you, and you found yourself smiling up at him. “Well, it’s part of the girlfriend duties, I guess.”

Vernon leaned in closer, his forehead gently resting against yours. “You’re doing a really good job.”

You giggled. “I also have to pull you out sometimes because what about me? I need your attention too!” you whined playfully, pouting. “Lots of it.”

“Right now, I’m all yours,” he chimed, nuzzling his nose on your cheek.

The air between you shifted, softening with the closeness. His eyes, normally so full of focus and energy, now held something softer, something deeper. Your breaths mingled, and the world around you seemed to fade into the background.

Your eyes landed on his lips—plump, pink, inviting, upturned in a lazy smile. Your heart fluttered with the thoughts of kissing him swimming in your mind. “You know,” you whispered, “you could thank me properly.”

His lips twitched into a playful smile. “Oh? And how should I do that?”

You bit your lip, the corners of your mouth curving up as you glanced at his lips, then back to his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Vernon’s smile widened, his hand moving to cup your cheek as he leaned to kiss you again—slowly, deliberately, deliciously. His hand slid down from your cheek to the small of your back, pulling you closer. His touch was tender, yet there was some strength in the way his fingers pressed into you—a subtle intensity that matched the growing heat between you both.

The world around you seemed to blur, the crackling fire and the cool night air fading away as you focused entirely on him—his lips, his warmth, his steady breathing. Your hands found their way to the nape of his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. You could feel the shift in him too—his breaths becoming deeper, his body relaxing into yours while his lips moved with more intent.

When you finally pulled back, your heart was racing, your faces still so close that you could feel his breath fanning your face. His eyes searched yours, asking a question that he didn’t need to say out loud. There was no need for words—everything you both felt was there in the way you kissed and held each other.

Without breaking the gaze, Vernon leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on your neck, then another, his lips grazing your skin with such care that it sent a shiver down your spine. The tension was spurred not just physically but emotionally—a culmination of the trust, the affection, and the love that had been building between you.

“Vernon…” you whispered, moaning as he sucked a bruise on your collarbone. “Vernon, let’s… let’s go back inside.”

Without a word, he rose to his feet, lifting you with ease. You locked eyes only for a second before he leaned in for another kiss that he didn’t break until you were back inside the cabin. It wasn’t long before the two of you were lost in each other’s touch, filling the quiet night with labored breath and whispers of sweet nothings in each other’s ears.

Making love with Vernon for the first time was magical—so much more than you’d imagined. It was beautiful and satisfying. He was attentive to your needs and made sure you were comfortable all throughout. What you weren’t expecting though, was the aftermath. Ever since that night, there had been a small but unmistakable shift in Vernon—he couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself anymore.

He’d sneak up behind you when you were cooking, wrapping his arms around your waist, trailing warm kisses along the curve of your neck, making it impossible to focus on anything else. Sometimes he’d press his crotch on your ass, making himself known. If you were sitting on the couch, reading, or just relaxing, he’d find a way to pull you onto his lap, his hands gently resting on your waist or your thighs. Sometimes, you’d catch him staring at you with that look, like he was waiting for a chance to pounce and devour.

“Vernon,” you’d tease, laughing as you tried to push him away half-heartedly, but his arms would only tighten around you, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“What? I can’t help it,” he’d say, his voice low and playful. “You’re too irresistible.”

You couldn’t deny it—you loved how close you’d become, how his affection seemed to overflow in the quiet moments you shared together. And yet, there were times you had to remind him that the world existed beyond the two of you.

Like that one time at the grocery store, when he reached for your hand and tugged you into the nearest aisle, pressing you up against the shelves with a grin.

“Vernon, we’re in public,” you whispered, cheeks flushing as you glanced around to make sure no one was watching.

He just shrugged, his lips brushing against your ear. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to kiss you right now.”

You rolled your eyes, but you let him steal a quick kiss anyway, unable to resist the giddiness that bubbled up inside you every time he acted like this—like he couldn’t get enough of you.

“What happened to you? Since when did you get so….” you’d asked him one time when you had just arrived from work and he was already up on you.

“I got a taste of you. That’s when,” he replied, grinning before he pinned you down the bed.

It was both endearing and exhilarating, this new phase of your relationship, where everything felt so easy, so light. You were falling even deeper for him, caught up in the joy of just being together, in love, and in sync. It felt like you were living in a dream, where Vernon was both your best friend and your lover, and you couldn’t wait to see where this adventure would take you next.

Just like that, a year passed like a beautiful, fast-paced blur—a time spent in moments of laughter, late nights, and whispered intimacies.

Winter came first. You spent cozy evenings at your place, wrapped up in blankets, sipping hot cocoa, and watching snowflakes fall from the sky. One particular night, after a snowball fight outside, you’d collapsed on the couch, laughing and drenched from the snow. Vernon pulled you into his arms, warming you with his body and peppering your face with soft kisses, each one melting away the cold. 

You spent that Christmas with his family, who welcomed you like you were one of their own. The fireplace crackled warmly, the glow of the Christmas tree lights twinkled like stars, and the scent of pine filled the air, wrapping you in a nostalgic embrace. You felt at home in their care, much like how Vernon made you feel safe and cherished every day.

Spring arrived, and with it, new adventures. You both took long walks through blooming gardens and parks, hand-in-hand, admiring the colors and the new life that seemed to pop up everywhere. 

It was also the time when Vernon’s startup had taken off in ways neither of you had anticipated. After months of hard work and sleepless nights, the official launch of their software was met with enthusiastic support from consumers and investors alike. This new milestone in his career meant more late nights at the office, and while you missed him, you celebrated his success as your own, often texting him little reminders of your love during his busy days.

You often attended work galas together where you couldn’t be any prouder seeing him in his element, confidently navigating conversations with clients and investors. Vernon always had a way of making things look effortless. He’d occasionally glance your way, flashing you a soft, knowing smile whenever your eyes met from across the room, making you feel like the most important person there, even among the fancy suits and champagne flutes.

By the time summer rolled around, the two of you were already inseparable. He had earned enough to get himself a bigger apartment, and he’d invited you to live with him. Without a second thought, you accepted, giddy at the prospect of sharing every waking moment together.

On weekends, despite his hectic schedule, Vernon always made time for you. No matter how tired he was, he’d insist on going out for brunch or planning a mini-adventure to clear his head from the work week. It was one of the things you admired about him—his ability to balance ambition and affection, making sure you knew you were never second to his career, even when he was juggling so much.

You went on beach trips a handful of times—your way of making sure he gets his rest. You’d run down the shoreline, laughter echoing as he pretended to chase you, only to sweep you into the waves for a splash-filled embrace. The salty breeze tangled in your hair, the sun warmed your skin, and the sound of his laughter filled the air—it was a slice of pure freedom. You’d spend hours lying on a beach towel together, your head resting on his chest as he traced lazy patterns on your back, feeling completely at peace.

There were times when work stress started to get the better of him, though. He would come home exhausted, bags under his eyes, and you’d find him sitting on the couch, staring into space. During those moments, you’d sit beside him, take his hand, and just let him breathe. He’d always pull you into a hug, sighing in relief, as if just being near you helped ease his mind. 

Autumn came swiftly, marking a year since you’d become official. Your jobs still took up most of your time, but you’d always come home to each other’s embrace. Almost a year to the day since he’d asked you to be his girlfriend, you both went hiking up a nearby mountain, relishing the crisp autumn air and breathtaking view. When you reached the top, Vernon pulled you close, his breath visible in the chilly air. “This past year with you has been the best year of my life.”

He wasn’t usually the sentimental type, but the sincerity in his voice made your heart swell. You kissed him, long and deep, filled with all the love that had grown between you.

Yet, your relationship wasn’t without its trials. You had fights too, arguments that were either petty or intense as you navigated the complexities of a steady relationship. Vernon’s calm and understanding demeanor guided you through the turbulent waters. Each time you emerged stronger, growing as a couple and as individuals.

“I know you’re a grown woman, and I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself, but—” Vernon paused, running his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “You still have to let me know when you’re coming home late and where you’re going so I’d know where to find you if anything bad were to happen.”

You pouted, arms crossed over your chest as you stared at the wall, unable to meet his gaze. He sighed, reaching for your elbow, gently tugging you face-to-face. “I hope you understand what I’m getting at,” he said softly.

“You still love me, right?” you asked, still scowling and still avoiding his gaze.

“Look at me,” he insisted, but you turned your head away. “Love, look at me when you ask me that.”

You finally glanced at him, biting your lower lip as you fidgeted with the sleeves of your T-shirt. Vernon pushed the hair out of your eyes and lifted your chin, his gaze steady. “I love you so much. Nothing’s changed.”

As the year drew to a close, you reflected on how much had changed since that first movie night. You had built a life together, rich with love, laughter, and countless small moments that brought you closer..

As snow began to fall once again, marking the beginning of another winter, you found yourself daydreaming about what the next year would hold for the two of you. Whatever came next, you knew one thing for sure—you were in this together, and that was all that mattered.

You stepped out of the closet, dressed neatly in your work uniform—a beige top with a matching beige pencil skirt. Vernon was sitting on the edge of the bed, phone in his ear as he talked to who you assumed was Seungkwan.

“Okay, got it,” he said, smiling upon seeing you. “Yeah, I’ll be there before 10. See you.”

“Is that your work wife?” you asked after he hung up, tying your scarf around your neck as you walked toward your boyfriend.

“Stop calling him that,” Vernon chuckled, his laughter warm and inviting as he welcomed you into his arms when you moved to sit on his lap. “He hates it.”

You grinned, tilting your head to the side as he pressed a soft kiss on your cheek. “Well, he is your work wife. Wait—no. I think ‘Work Mom’ would be better. He’s like a mom, very strict and always nagging.”

“Why don’t you two like each other?” he asked, fiddling with the scarf around your neck, tugging at it playfully until it came undone.

“Ex-wives and new wives don’t always get along, love. Everyone knows that,” you quipped, leaning back to meet his gaze.

Vernon hummed thoughtfully, his eyes glimmering with fondness as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “We gotta fix that. Can’t have my wives fighting all the time or else I’d crumble to the ground. You guys are the reason I’m still standing, did you forget?” His kisses trailed up your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

You giggled as his nose tickled your ear. “Yeah, no. Seungkwan and I are close. We just fight for fun. I thought you knew that?”

He took a long sniff of your skin, his eyes fluttering closed as he moaned quietly, clearly enjoying your scent. His hand began to unbutton your blouse, but you playfully pushed him back. “What?” he asked, his gaze dreamy and half-lidded.

You huffed. “You’re insatiable,” you grumbled, shifting your positions and pinning him down on the bed.

Vernon was caught off-guard but only for a second. He relaxed on the bed, placing his hands under his head as he watched you straddle him with amusement in his eyes. “You look amazing up there.”

“Really? Well, you look like you’re running late. Get up,” you demanded, standing up abruptly and striding over to the full-length mirror to fix your scarf, a playful smile lingering on your lips as you caught your reflection.

Vernon followed you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. The warmth of his body against yours was comforting. “Ten minutes?”

“No,” you replied without missing a beat, your smile widening at his hopeful tone.

“Seven?” he pressed on, his voice teasing. “Okay. Five. How about five?”

“No. You’re supposed to be at work by 10 am,” you chided, packing your stuff into your bag. “And I’m supposed to be in mine in thirty minutes.”

“Alright, fine,” he conceded, pouting playfully, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his exaggerated disappointment. You helped him put on his coat, patting it down and taking a moment to marvel at his sharp appearance. The way he looked in that coat made your heart flutter. “Do I look handsome?”

You giggled, tiptoeing to plant a quick kiss on his lips, savoring the warmth of his smile. “Very. Come on, let’s go.”

At work, the familiar hum of chatter and the soothing ambiance of the hotel welcomed you. Today was the day of the promotion announcements, and despite the anxious knots in your stomach, there was a flicker of hope within you. As you settled into your cubicle, you exchanged a smile with Sally, both of you sharing that unspoken excitement. You spent a few minutes organizing your workspace, distracting yourself from the jitters.

Finally, the manager gathered everyone in the conference room. Your heart raced, your mind wandering to what it would feel like to hear your name called. A promotion would mean more than just a new title; it would feel like a validation of your hard work, a step forward toward something more fulfilling.

“And finally,” the manager said, his voice pulling you back to the moment, “Sally, our newest concierge who will be gracing the front desk from now on.”

A round of applause erupted, but the sound felt muted, and distant. You clapped along, though your hands felt heavier with each passing second. Sally beamed, and while you were happy for her, a weight settled in your chest. You had worked just as hard and poured just as much energy into the job. Yet here you were, still in the same place, while Sally was moving forward.

As the applause died down and the meeting wrapped up, you returned to your desk, your steps slower than before. You felt pride for Sally but you were also frustrated about the recognition you thought you’d receive. You reminded yourself that promotions sometimes came down to factors beyond performance, like qualifications—Sally had a degree in Hospitality, while you didn’t. Undeniably, you were good at your job, but you didn’t have the same training as Sally and the others.

You sat down, staring blankly at your computer screen. You didn’t dream of managing reservations every day. Back in college, you’d chosen Communications because you had dreams of becoming a journalist, of writing stories that mattered. The hotel reservation desk wasn’t where you thought you’d be.

The phone on your desk rang, jarring you from your thoughts. You took a deep breath, forcing a smile as you picked up. “Diamond Hotel! How may I assist you today?”

You couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed the stability of your day-to-day life—especially with Vernon by your side. The two of you were happy, navigating life together, cheering each other on in your respective paths. Vernon, with his drive and passion for his startup, was thriving. And you, well… you liked being part of his success story, the one who was there to help him unwind, to be the arm candy beside him at work events.

But the more you thought about it, the more you realized—his success wasn’t enough to fill the gaps in your own. Vernon was doing what he loved, chasing his dreams, and growing in ways that inspired you. Meanwhile, you were stuck in a job that felt safe but unfulfilling, and every day, it became harder to ignore that nagging feeling in your chest—the one whispering that you were meant for more.

You glanced over at Sally, who was now chatting excitedly with your manager. Her promotion felt like a reminder of what you were missing. And while you weren’t resentful, the ache of unmet potential gnawed at you. It wasn’t jealousy—it was the realization that somewhere along the line, you’d stopped pursuing what truly mattered to you.

“Are you ready?” Vernon asked, walking into the bedroom to find you putting on a thick jacket over your dress.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you smiled, accepting his hand and letting him guide you out of the apartment.

It was the weekend and you were set to meet your family for dinner. The evening air outside was cold, with a chill creeping in as winter began to settle into the city. You walked hand-in-hand with Vernon, the streetlights casting a soft glow over the two of you as you headed toward his car. His thumb gently brushed over your knuckles, and you couldn’t help but smile at the small, affectionate gesture.

The drive to your parent’s place was quiet, filled with the comfortable silence that came after years of being together. This was Vernon’s first time meeting your parents in person, and although you knew they’d love him, you were still nervous thinking about how the night would unfold. Vernon must’ve sensed your unease because he reached for your hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

“You okay?” he asked, eyes searching yours with gentle concern.

“Yeah,” you nodded, giving him a small smile. Only then did you notice the slight but unmistakable furrow in his brows. Paired with his clenched jaw, you could tell he was nervous. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a little nervous.”

“Aw. Don’t worry. They’re gonna love you,” you chimed, kissing his knuckles. “Just like I do.”

He laughed softly, your confidence easing some of his tension. “That’s the plan,” he replied, eyes still fixed on the road ahead.

You had told your parents all about Vernon—how caring he was, how ambitious yet down-to-earth, and how he always knew how to make you feel at home. But seeing him interact with them, watching their first impressions form, felt like a major milestone in your relationship.

When you arrived, the familiar sight of your childhood home came into view, the porch light already on and your family’s laughter spilling out from the windows. Vernon parked the car and turned to you with a grin. “Ready?”

“Ready,” you smiled, letting him intertwine your fingers.

As soon as you rang the doorbell, the door flew open and your mother welcomed you with a warm embrace. “There’s my beautiful girl!”

“Hi, mom!” you greeted, hugging her back. Behind her, your father was standing with a smile. “Dad!” you exclaimed, moving to hug him next while your mom greeted Vernon.

“You must be Vernon,” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you,” he replied rubbing your mother’s back when she pulled him into a hug.

Your father regarded Vernon, greeting him with a manly pat on the back and a handshake. Letting them get to know each other, your mother guided you into the house, whispering in your ear, “He looks so much better in person.”

“Right? I told you he does,” you replied and you both giggled all the way to the dining hall.

Dinner was a lively affair, filled with stories, laughter, and, as expected, the occasional nudge about your future plans with Vernon. But you took it all in stride, enjoying the simple pleasure of being surrounded by family. Vernon, as promised, managed to deflect most of the pointed questions with his charm, turning the conversation back to lighter topics whenever things got too personal.

“How come you waited this long to bring him home?” your mom questioned, and you could only smile sheepishly.

“Oh, I know,” your father joined in, sniggering. “She wasn’t expecting him to last this long.”

“Dad,” you chided softly, shaking your head. “That’s not true.”

He turned to Vernon. “It is. She was trying to see if you can handle her and won’t run away at the first chance.”

“Well, sir, your daughter’s not going anywhere because I’m not letting her go,” Vernon boasted.

Vernon’s confident remark earned a few chuckles around the table, and even your dad smiled, seemingly impressed by his boldness. But soon, the conversation drifted toward Vernon’s work, a natural topic considering your parents’ curiosity about the man you’d brought home.

“So, Vernon,” your dad began, taking a sip of his drink. “I heard you’re running your own company. How’s that going?”

“It’s been great so far, sir. A lot of hard work, but we’re starting to see some real growth. I’ve got a solid team behind me, and we’ve been lucky to land a few big clients this year,” Vernon explained humbly, though you could hear the pride in his voice. It made you smile, knowing how hard he’d worked to get to this point.

“That’s fantastic,” your mom chimed in, her eyes gleaming with admiration. “Running your own business at such a young age—that’s no small feat.”

“Yeah, he’s been doing great,” you added, glancing at Vernon with pride. “He’s always working late nights, but I keep trying to remind him to take breaks.”

Your dad grunted in approval, nodding as he cut into his steak. “That’s the kind of dedication that pays off. Not a lot of young people can say they’re doing something they’re truly passionate about.”

And then, without missing a beat, he continued, “At least one of you is doing something they actually like.”

You froze, your smile faltering slightly as the comment landed a little too close to home. Your mother shot your dad a sharp look, her eyebrows raised in disapproval.

“Honey,” she scolded, her voice tinged with warning. “That was a bit uncalled for.”

Your dad blinked, genuinely clueless, his expression one of mild confusion. “What? I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said then a glint of recognition flashed in his eyes when he saw your face. “I just meant... you know... Vernon’s following his passion, that’s all.”

You forced a laugh, though it came out more strained than you intended. “It’s fine, Mom,” you said quickly, hoping to brush past the comment. But deep down, his words had struck a chord. You kept your emotions at bay, not wanting to spoil the night. 

Vernon must’ve sensed something because his hand slipped under the table to give yours a comforting squeeze. You squeezed back, grateful for his silent support, even though you didn’t meet his eyes. You didn’t want him to see the flicker of doubt creeping in.

The conversation shifted again, your mom steering it back to safer topics—family trips, funny memories, anything that didn’t revolve around work. But even as laughter filled the room once more, the words lingered in your mind like a quiet echo, reminding you of the dreams you’d put on hold.

Another year passed, filled with love, laughter, and the small routines that had become the foundation of your relationship with Vernon. You marveled at how easy it was to slip into life with him—lazy Sunday mornings spent in bed, quiet dinners after long workdays, and spontaneous weekend getaways that kept the spark alive. He was always there, steady and present, his love for you unwavering.

But as Vernon’s star continued to rise, something inside you began to shift. You watched him become more confident, more assured in his path, while you remained exactly where you had started: sitting in your cubicle, answering phone calls, and managing hotel reservations.

You were proud of him, of course. His dedication and hard work were paying off, and you loved seeing him thrive in an industry he was passionate about. But every time you heard about his achievements, a small part of you felt left behind. While he soared, you stayed grounded, rooted in a job that had long since lost its appeal.

You told yourself that it didn’t matter, that you were happy supporting Vernon and building a life together. But as the months went by, the excitement you once felt about your own future dimmed. Conversations at dinner turned into Vernon sharing news of his latest deals or the new office space his company had acquired, while you had little to contribute beyond the mundane details of your day. He never made you feel small—quite the opposite, actually. He always asked how your day went, listened intently, and reassured you that your time would come. But his words didn’t reach the parts of you that had begun to wonder if it ever would.

You started to notice things about yourself that you hadn’t before. The way your excitement for work had faded, the way your once confident posture slumped slightly as you sat at your desk. You’d catch glimpses of yourself in the mirror at the end of the day, your work uniform feeling more like a costume than a true reflection of who you were or who you wanted to be. It wasn’t jealousy—Vernon’s success was well-deserved. It was more a growing uncertainty about your own place in the world, a feeling that maybe you weren’t doing enough, weren’t being enough.

The nights when Vernon stayed late at the office became more frequent, and while you told yourself you understood, it left more time for your thoughts to spiral. You’d curl up on the couch, watching TV alone, wondering when you had started feeling so distant from the person you used to be. The person who had dreams of her own, who had once imagined writing stories that people would read, maybe even resonate with.

And though Vernon never missed an opportunity to remind you how much he loved you, you couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of inadequacy. Like somehow, you were falling short of the life you were supposed to be living—that somehow, you weren’t good enough for Vernon anymore.

But you pushed those thoughts away, burying them under your love for Vernon and the belief that as long as you had each other, it would all work out. Still, the doubt lingered as the year came and went.

“Good morning, love,” Vernon whispered in your ear, the soft press of his lips against your temple stirring you from sleep. You blinked your eyes open, greeted by the sight of his tender gaze and his charming smile. “Happy anniversary.”

You smiled back, leaning into his embrace, soaking in the warmth he effortlessly offered. Vernon wrapped his arms around you tighter, placing a kiss on your forehead. You looked up at him, noticing how at ease he seemed, his head propped on one hand while his fingers lazily played with the ends of your hair.

“Happy anniversary,” you murmured softly as you cupped his cheek. He leaned down to kiss you, his lips lingering on yours.

It didn’t take long for the soft kiss to deepen, sending a surge of warmth through your body and a wave of emotions in your heart. Vernon’s hand moved from hair to you arms, featherlight as he traced the path slowly, deliberately, like he was memorizing the feeling of you.

Your hand slipped into his hair, tugging softly, pulling him closer as if you weren’t already skin to skin. When his hand reached your ass, he gave a good squeeze that set off goosebumps all over your body. He then pulled away for a second, eyes searching yours as if asking a silent question, one that you’d already answered the moment you returned his kiss.

Your kisses grew deeper, breaths becoming shorter, bodies pressing closer. You could feel the heat of his skin beneath your palms and the steady beating of his heart. There was no rush, you both took your sweet time, agreeing on an unspoken understanding that you had all the time in the world.

He kissed your neck when you threw your head back, and you let him trail his lips down to your collarbone while his hand tugged the straps of your nightgown down. Soon, you were naked under him and you watched his eyes widen slightly at the sight of your breasts, smiling as you reached for his neck and pulled him down. Vernon let you guide his mouth to one of your nipples, and the moan that escaped your lips was ecstatic once his teeth grazed the sensitive bud.

He worked his way around your body, squeezing, pinching, sucking—all that while you held on to him, bucking your hips forward to feel any friction in your aching sex. Vernon slotted his knee between your legs and you humped on it desperately.

Your patience was running thin while Vernon was hyper-fixating on your supple skin, kissing and nipping and leaving bruises at his wake. You reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, pushing your hand inside and grabbing his manhood. Vernon jerked back slightly, but you didn’t let go. You thumbed the head of his dick, spreading the precum in a circling motion.

“Nonie, I want this,” you whispered, deliberately using the nickname that never failed to get you anything you wanted from him.

He pulled back for a moment, eyes dark with desire but softened by his affection for you. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, a playful smirk playing on his lips. “Are you sure?” His voice was low, the question barely a whisper.

“Are you kidding me right now?” you retorted, rolling your eyes but you were grinning from ear to ear.

“Just say it,” he sang, kissing the tip of your nose.

“Yes. I’m very sure,” you replied, voice laced with mock-sarcasm, but that was enough for Vernon.

He kept his eyes on yours, not breaking eye contact as he cupped your pussy and pressed on it. Your breath hitched, making him smile before slipping his hand into your underwear. For a moment, he played with the slick that had gathered there, spreading it and using it to lubricate his fingers as he rubbed your clit.

Your fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt, a desperate attempt to hold onto something solid as your body began to sink into his touch. The delight was short-lived because Vernon’s hand suddenly left your pussy. In swift motions, Vernon sat up and stripped himself out of his clothes before positioning himself between your legs.

The next few minutes was a blur of lewd moans blending with the sounds of sucking and licking as Vernon ravaged your sex with his mouth.  He went on and on, relentless even as your voice became hoarse and small tears trickled on the side of your face. And then with a strong grip at his hair, you focused on the pleasurable motions of his tongue and fingers, letting it drive you to the edge before a wave of orgasm crashed through you.

Your grip at his hair loosened, and your legs fell limp as you stared at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the high that took over you just now. Vernon appeared, hovering over you with an air of pride about him. You smiled a grateful smile, showing him how satisfied you were.

But then the sudden feeling of your cunt being filled to the bottom made you gasp, mouth gaping open as your back arched in response. Vernon lowered himself to kiss your cheek, cupping your face gently as he shushed you.

“You asked for it, remember?” he said softly, but the mischief in his voice was unmistakable.

In your titillating daze, Vernon moved and found his pace with practiced ease. Every nerve in your body seemed to come alive, making you lose your mind as every thrust gave you a taste of heaven on Earth. 

The room was filled the sounds of your whimpers, his guttural groans, and flesh slamming against flesh. The world outside the bed blurred into irrelevance. Every touch felt amplified—each caress, each whispered breath pulled you deeper into one another. Your fingers tightened around his shoulders, your body responding instinctively to the rising intensity.

“Nonie,” you called in a hushed, breathless gasp as his touch sent waves of sensation rippling through you. Your mind was a haze, lost somewhere between desire and release.

The pressure was building inside you, slow at first, then surging all at once. The world seemed to still for a second—then everything came crashing down as another orgasm came washing over you in waves, leaving you breathless and spent.

He followed you soon after, your bodies perfectly in sync, his soft groan was the only sound between you as he rammed into you relentlessly. One final thrust had him stuttering curses, then he stilled for a good minute before falling in your chest, face buried in your neck.

For a long while, neither of you moved, your bodies still locked together, the aftershocks of your release pulsing through you. Slowly, your breathing returned to normal, the frantic energy replaced by an overwhelming sense of warmth and closeness

Vernon lifted his head to look at you. “I love you,” he uttered before kissing your lips.

The kiss was sweet, comforting even, but as he pulled away, a thought flickered through your mind—how perfect everything must look on the outside. Here you were, in the arms of a man who adored you, who made you feel cherished. And yet, beneath that perfect image, your heart was aching with uncertainty and self-doubt.

For a moment, you wondered if Vernon could see it—the quiet battle you fought within yourself, the creeping fear that you weren’t enough. But his eyes remained soft, full of love, oblivious to the storm forming under your calm exterior.

You gave him a small smile, pushing those thoughts aside again, and whispered, “I love you.” As long as you could hold onto that love, maybe everything else would eventually fall into place.

“I think self-doubt is the worst but most effective way to self-destruct,” you said, staring at the contents of your glass. The bottle next to it was half-empty, a quiet testament to how long you’d been sitting there.

“You know, when your own insecurities start eating away at you, and you just… let them? It gnaws at you until there’s nothing left. And when that happens, you don’t even realize—you become the monster, and you start eating away at everyone around you,” you continued, the words settling heavily in your chest.

You glanced at Seungcheol, and though he stared off into space, you could tell he was listening intently.

“People might say I should’ve communicated with Vernon—told him what was bothering me, how I was feeling, but…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “Pride is a god-awful thing too. It wouldn’t let me show my perfect boyfriend that I was flawed.”

Seungcheol took a sip from his glass, his silence offering a kind of understanding that didn’t need words. You sighed, running your fingers through your hair, feeling lighter but also somehow more burdened by the memories you had unearthed.

“Funny thing is, on the surface, everything seemed perfect,” you said, half-laughing. “We went to galas, work events, dinners. From the outside, we were that couple—successful, in love.”

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, his expression inviting you to continue.

You exhaled slowly, the memory of one particular evening surfacing. “There was this gala we attended. I wore this gorgeous maroon dress, and Vernon… well, he looked like he belonged there—he was in his element. The room practically revolved around him.”

Your mind drifted back to that night. The flash of lights, the clink of champagne glasses, and the elegant murmur of conversation all seemed so distant now.

You were standing by the champagne table, watching Vernon talk to a couple of people animatedly. You quietly sipped your drink, letting your thoughts spiral into another wave of self-doubt and feeling of inadequacy.

“It pains me to admit this, but you look ravishing tonight,” Seungkwan prompted, appearing beside you with a deadpan expression.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully. “You don’t look so bad yourself. Is that Prada?” You fake exclaimed, eyeing his suit.

Seungkwan smirked, looking away and brushing his nose smugly as he puffed his chest. “This old thing? Stop. It’s nothing.”

You chuckled and let Seungkwan ruffle his feathers for a bit. Then he looked at you, really look at you. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course. Why’d you ask?” you questioned and it came out a little defensive.

“Maybe it’s just me, but your energy seemed off lately.”

Nervousness crept to your chest. “Off how? What do you mean?”

“I have no idea, but I can feel it. I have a good sense when it comes to these things.”

You couldn’t help feeling warm. Despite your cat and dog dynamics, you always knew Seungkwan cared about you. “I’m fine, Boo. It’s probably just the evening. I’m kinda tired.”

“If you’re tired, you should stop drinking,” Seungkwan said, taking the glass from your hand and setting it down. “Should I tell Vernon you’re ready to leave?”

“Thanks, but I’m fine. I’m not in a rush. Go have fun.”

“Okay,” he nodded as he started walking away. “No more champagne for you, alright?”

You sighed and waved your hand at him dismissively. At that moment, you spotted Vernon approaching you with a lady.

“Love, come meet Ms. Jean. She’s an editor for S Magazine,” Vernon introduced with a warm smile, gently placing his hand on your back. You turned to meet the woman standing beside him—a poised figure in a sleek black dress, her short bob neatly framing her face. She extended her hand toward you with a professional smile.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” she said, her voice smooth but authoritative.

You shook her hand, trying to steady your nerves. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Vernon’s been telling me a lot about you,” Ms. Jean continued, her eyes sharp but not unkind. “He mentioned you studied Communications. Have you always worked in hospitality?”

There it was. The subtle jab you always dreaded, though you knew she hadn’t meant it that way. You smiled, your response ready. “Yes, I work in hospitality right now, but I’m on the lookout for writing opportunities.”

Her eyebrows arched with mild interest. “Really? What kind of writing?”

You felt your heart race slightly, unsure if this was your moment to impress or if you were just another face in the crowd for her. “Mostly feature articles and creative pieces. I used to write short stories and some features for our school paper back in college.”

Ms. Jean nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip from her champagne flute. “Interesting. S Magazine has been expanding its lifestyle section recently. We’ve been looking for fresh voices, especially those with a knack for storytelling.”

Your breath hitched at the mention. The opportunity sounded almost surreal, but you tried not to get ahead of yourself. “That sounds incredible. I’d love to know more about what kind of pieces you’re looking for.”

She smiled, her expression professional yet a little distant, as though gauging your sincerity. “We’re always on the lookout for writers who can capture personal experiences in a way that resonates with a wide audience—something authentic yet relatable.”

Your mind buzzed with ideas, but doubt crept in alongside the excitement. Could you really fit the mold? Did you still have what it took?

“Tell you what,” Ms. Jean said, pulling out her card from a sleek case. “Send me a few samples of your writing. Let’s see where that takes us.”

Vernon looked at you proudly, beaming as if he could already see your success unfolding. You smiled back, though a small part of you wondered if you were ready for this—if you could really stand alongside people like Ms. Jean, in a career you once dreamed of but left behind.

“Thank you, Ms. Jean. I’ll definitely send some over,” you promised, carefully tucking the card into your purse.

The conversation shifted back to lighter topics, but your mind was elsewhere. As Vernon continued to chat away, you found yourself thinking of the stories you’d abandoned, the dreams you’d once nurtured. Maybe this was the sign you had been waiting for?

But even as that hope flickered, so did the insecurity, whispering in your ear: What if you’re not good enough for it?

“Shall we?” Vernon prompted, making you glance at him. The people he was talking to had left and you didn’t even notice.

“What?”

“Shall we go now? It’s getting  a little boring in here.”

You smiled, tilting your head to the side at the familiar scene before you. “Are you using me as an excuse to escape again?”

“No, not this time,” he grinned, taking your hand and then kissing your knuckles. “There’s something I wanna show you.”

You laughed softly as Vernon led you out of the gala, his hand firmly gripping yours. The cool night air greeted you, and you welcomed the fresh breeze on your skin, letting it sweep away some of the tension that had settled inside you. 

“Where are we going?” you asked, curiosity rising as you walked down the quiet street.

He flashed you a mischievous smile, the kind that always made your heart flutter. “You’ll see.”

You two walked for a few blocks, hand in hand, until you reached a small, familiar place. Your steps faltered as the brightly lit sign of the small Mexican restaurant came into view—the same one from your very first Friday night date. A wave of nostalgia hit you.

“Vernon…” you started, your voice trailing off as you turned to him. He gave you a knowing look.

“I figured it’d be nice to take you back here,” he said, opening the door and gesturing for you to step inside.

The restaurant was cozy, just as it had been two years ago. The dim lighting, the quiet atmosphere, and the scent of fresh tortillas brought back memories of that night—the excitement of getting to know him, the lighthearted conversation, and the comfort you felt by his side. You smiled at the memory, but it was tinged with an unexpected heaviness now.

You were the only ones there and Vernon led you to a corner table, the same one you’d sat at on that date. It felt surreal, like you were being transported back in time. After placing your orders, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against yours.

“Remember that night? You canceled the hotel restaurant and brought me here,” Vernon said with a chuckle, his eyes softening as he gazed at you. “I was a little nervous back then. I wanted to impress you so bad.”

“You didn’t have to try too hard,” you smiled, your heart warming at the memory. “You already won me over the moment I first saw those eyes.”

He laughed, and for a moment, the tension in your chest eased. But as the conversation went on, you noticed that Vernon seemed different tonight—his eyes held a deeper intensity, like he had something more on his mind.

After finishing the meal, Vernon took a deep breath, his hand gently squeezing yours. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to say for a while,” he began, his eyes locking with yours in a way that made your heart skip.

You blinked, your heart suddenly pounding, unsure of what was coming. Before you could fully grasp the moment, Vernon stood up and moved to your side, dropping down on one knee.

Your hand flew over your mouth, gasping softly as the world around you came to a halt.

“From the moment we met, I knew you were gonna be very special to me,” he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “You’ve been my best friend, my biggest supporter, and the love of my life. I can’t imagine a future without you, and I don’t want to. So…”

With a swift motion, he pulled out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal a delicate ring that shimmered in the warm light. “Will you marry me?”

The restaurant faded into the background. All you could hear was the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. Your mind raced as his words sank in. Marriage. The thought had crossed your mind before, but not like this—not now. Not when you were in the midst of so much uncertainty about your own life, your own future. You felt your chest tighten as doubt crept in, louder than ever.

Vernon was everything you could have ever wanted, but the timing felt wrong. Then again, he had never been good with timing.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love him—you did, with every fiber of your being—but your heart was torn. Your career felt stagnant, your sense of self was wavering, and suddenly, the idea of committing to something as important as marriage felt overwhelming.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, seeing the love and hope in his gaze. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to speak past the lump in your throat. “Vernon…” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I love you, but I… I can’t. Not right now.”

His face faltered, the flicker of hurt evident in his eyes. He quickly stood, pulling you into his arms as tears slipped down your cheeks. You buried your face in his chest, your sobs muffled against the fabric of his suit.

“I’m not ready,” you choked out, your voice barely audible between sobs. “I want to marry you, I do… but I’m not in a place where I can think about that yet. There’s so much going on in my head and I don’t want to bring that into our marriage.”

Vernon’s arms tightened around you, his hand softly stroking your back. His voice was gentle as he whispered, “It’s okay. It’s alright, love.” But the heavy sigh he let out betrayed his disappointment, a subtle reminder of how much he had hoped for a different answer.

You pulled away slightly, your tear-streaked face tilted up to him. “I love you. I swear, I love you so much. I just… I need more time,” you pleaded, your heart aching at the sight of his eyes dimming with understanding.

“I know,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I understand. We’ll figure it out together.”

And yet, in the stillness that followed, your rejection lingered between you like a buzz in your ears—one that neither of you could fully shake.

You gulped down your drink, tilting your head back to finish every drop. As you reached for the bottle, Seungcheol pulled it away.

“We’re not even in the intense part yet, and you’re already cutting me off?” you teased.

Seungcheol sighed, unimpressed. “You’re about to finish the whole bottle.”

Giving up, you sighed, letting the tipsy haze settle. “You know what really happened to me at the time? I was in a phase where I had no idea what I was doing. I had a Communications degree with nothing to show for it in my resume.”

Shaking your head, you added. “How did I end up as a reservation agent in a fancy hotel anyway? I forgot, but I do remember working my ass off because the pay was good. And two years passed in a job I didn’t even like. Meanwhile, Vernon’s company was rapidly growing, his success was right around the corner, if not already achieved. He’d done so much in the same amount of time.”

“I was proud of him, but I was also jealous... and so insecure. I felt like I wasn’t enough for him, that he deserved someone on his level—and that wasn’t me.”

Seungcheol shifted in his seat. “Did you ever think that maybe what you did didn’t matter to him? That you were enough just as you were?”

You let out a humorless chuckle. “That’s funny, because that’s exactly what he said.”

Vernon said you’d figure it out together, but from that moment on, cracks started appearing in your seemingly perfect relationship. Vernon’s busy schedule, once something you admired, now felt like a gulf widening between you. Every time he stayed late at the office, every time he missed dinner plans, you couldn’t shake the gnawing thought that it wasn’t just work keeping him away. He would come home tired, still smiling, still full of affection—but you couldn’t feel it the same way anymore.

“You’re not even listening,” you snapped one evening after he zoned out during an argument about a towel he left in the bathroom.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said, rubbing his temples. “It’s been a long day. Can we talk about this later?”

But later never came. Each small incident piled on top of the last, and in your mind, it all added up to one conclusion: Vernon was pulling away because you’d rejected his proposal.

Then more cracks began to form, invisible at first but slowly spreading like cracks in a frozen lake. Everything he did seemed to tick you off and while you tried to keep your irritation at bay, sometimes you would just lash out without reaizing it.

One morning, as you both prepared for the day, you noticed Vernon had put your favorite mug in the dishwasher instead of the drying rack.

“Why did you put it in there? It was already clean,” you asked, unable to keep the annoyance from your voice.

Vernon turned, surprise flickering across his features. “I thought it was dirty. I didn’t want it to get mixed up with the clean dishes.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not that hard to tell the difference. I can’t believe you would even think that.”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry. I’ll make sure to leave it out next time.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you muttered under your breath as you pulled the mug from the dishwasher. It was such a small thing, yet it felt like a big deal in the moment, like a representation of everything that was building inside you.

As the week progressed, the little annoyances multiplied. Vernon left his shoes by the door instead of putting them away, and you found yourself snapping at him, “How hard is it to just put them in the closet? It’s not like you don’t have a place for them.”

Vernon shrugged, his voice steady, “I’m sorry, I’ll get to it. I just forget sometimes.” He always took the blame, even when it felt disproportionate.

Then there was the time you both decided to make dinner together. The moment felt lighter at first, the two of you dancing around each other in the kitchen, laughter spilling out between you. But when Vernon tried to help chop the vegetables, you couldn’t help but comment, “Do you have to slice them that thick? They’re going to take forever to cook.”

His smile faltered for a brief second before he responded, “I thought thicker pieces would have more flavor. I’ll do it your way.”

“Just move. I’ll do it,” you said, frustration bubbling up again as you took the knife from his hands. “It’s just food. Why does it matter so much?” you muttered, more to yourself than to Vernon.

Vernon stepped back, hands raised in mock surrender. “I just thought we were cooking together, but okay.”

You glanced at him, guilt creeping in, but instead of apologizing, you huffed and focused on chopping, feeling ridiculous for picking a fight over something so trivial.

As you settled into bed that night, Vernon’s hand slipped under your nightgown caressing your thigh firmly. You scooted away from him, but he reached for you again. Annoyed, you sat up and glared at him. “Can’t you take a hint?” 

His voice softened. “Right, sorry. Let’s just sleep.”

You lay back down, turning your back on him. He moved closer, hugging you from behind and kissing your cheek. You let him, sighing as you convinced yourself to calm down and just bask in the warmth you were familiar with.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked softly, concern evident in his voice.

“Nothing!” you snapped, then added, “Just go to sleep.”

You hated that you were pushing him away, but the insecurity inside you felt like it was consuming everything. With each argument, the little cracks widened, and you felt more lost than ever.

Days turned into a blur of tiny disputes that left you feeling drained, and yet Vernon remained unfazed, always returning to his gentle, loving demeanor. He brought you flowers one evening, a bouquet of sunflowers that lit up the room. 

“Just because,” he said, grinning. “I thought it’d make you smile.”

“Why? Do I look miserable?” you shot back, though your tone was sharper than you intended.

“Of course not,” he replied, taken aback. “I just wanted to brighten your day.”

You felt awful immediately, but instead of apologizing, you buried your guilt under a facade of anger.

“Do you want to talk about your day?” Vernon asked one evening as you sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone while he pulled off his tie.

“Not really,” you replied curtly, your eyes glued to the screen.

His brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing usually means something,” he pressed, sitting next to you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

You huffed, frustration bubbling over. “Yes. I know. I’m fine. Can we leave it at that?”

He blinked, taken aback. “Love, I’m here for you, alright? Can we talk about this? Don’t shut me out.”

“There is nothing to talk about, Vernon. Why are you making a big deal out of this?” you said, but the rise of your voice was contradicting your statement.

“What do you want me to do?” 

“I don’t know, maybe just actually listen when I say I’m fine?” you shot back, standing up and moving away from him. “Instead of thinking I need saving all the time.”

Vernon sighed, running a hand through his hair, a gesture of exasperation you recognized all too well. “I’m not trying to save you. I just want to understand you..”

You felt a rush of guilt but pushed it away. “Well, you’re not doing a great job of it.”

The evening passed in strained silence. You both tried to move on, but the weight of the argument lingered, coloring everything that followed.

Then came the email. You were sitting at your desk when the notification popped up on your phone. It was from S Magazine, inviting you for an interview based on your writing samples. At first, you stared in disbelief. You hadn’t sent them anything recently.

Later that evening, you confronted Vernon. “Did you submit my work to S Magazine?” you demanded, eyes narrowed as you watched his reaction.

He looked taken aback, his face contorting in confusion. “I did. I thought—”

“Why would you do that?” you cut him off, your voice rising before you even realized it. “You thought it was okay to make that decision for me? You had no right to do that without telling me!”

“I was just trying to help,” Vernon said, standing up from the couch, his brows furrowing in concern. “They told me you hadn’t reached out yet, and it’s such a great opportunity. I figured—”

“You figured what, Vernon?” you interjected again, frustration boiling over. “That I wasn’t good enough on my own? That I needed your help because I’m failing in my career while you’re off succeeding at everything?”

Vernon looked stunned, but his tone remained calm. “Whoa, hold on—” He walked over to you, gently placing his hands on your arms. “You’re upset, love. I can see that. Let’s calm down for a second, talk about this level-headedly.”

You swatted his hands away, your pulse racing. “Am I not good enough for you, Vernon? Is that what this is about?”

“What? No! Why would you even say that?” Vernon’s voice stayed steady, but the confusion was clear in his eyes. “I love you, just the way you are. I’m not trying to undermine you. I only wanted to support you.”

“Support me? Is that what this is? Why does it feel more like you’re trying to fix me?” you yelled, your heart racing. “What do you want from me, Vernon? To be some perfect version of myself so I can keep up with your success?”

He took a step back, his face contorting with hurt and disbelief. “I never said that. Love, where this is coming from?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you blinked them away. “It’s coming from me, Vernon. It’s how I feel every time you do something like this. Like you’re trying to make me better because the version of me that exists right now isn’t enough for you.”

His expression softened, but instead of comfort, it only fueled your frustration. “That’s not true,” he said quietly. “I love you—exactly as you are. I just wanted to give you a push toward something you’re passionate about, something I know you care about.”

“I never asked for your help,” you spat, throwing your hands in the air.

Vernon’s patience finally wore thin. “Why are you looking at this so negatively? We’re in this together. I am not against you.”

“You don’t understand!” you yelled, your voice shaking as you finally voiced what had been festering inside you for months. “I feel inadequate, Vernon. I feel like I’m stuck in one place while everything around me is moving forward. Every time you step in like this, it just reinforces that feeling. I’m fucking sick of it!”

His eyes widened, and he took another step back, stunned by your outburst. “That’s not fair,” he said, voice quieter now, as though the weight of your words had finally hit him. “I am so sorry if I made you feel like that, but I would never do it on purpose. I love you. I’m just trying to help you.”

You turned away, wiping your eyes quickly. “That’s enough. I don’t want to hear it anymore.”

There was a long silence before Vernon spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you,” he said, calling your name softly, as if it were a plea.

You heard him, clear as day, but his words felt distant—out of reach, like they didn’t belong to you anymore. Each fight, every misunderstanding, had been a drop in a bucket that now overflowed. The bitterness you felt was like a slow poison, creeping into every corner of your mind.

Vernon sighed heavily, and you heard him walking toward the bedroom, leaving you alone with your spiraling thoughts. The email notification from S Magazine was still open on your phone, but instead of excitement, all you felt was a hollow sense of dread. It should’ve been a dream come true, but now it only felt like a reminder of how lost you were, and how distant you were becoming from the person who loved you most.

A few weeks had passed since the S Magazine argument, but things between you and Vernon hadn’t improved. Every little thing seemed to set off another argument. Tonight, it started with something small—Vernon suggesting you take a break from work and relax. It was his way of showing care, but to you, it felt like a subtle dig at your career.

“I just think you deserve some time to recharge,” he said gently.

You crossed your arms, feeling the frustration bubble up again. “You mean because I’m not working as hard as you are?”

Vernon sighed. “Love, you know that’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you think, right? I can’t keep up with you.”

His face softened as he took a step closer. “I never said that. You’re amazing, and I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”

“How am I supposed to see myself that way when I’m always falling short?”

A heavy silence filled the room before Vernon spoke again, quieter this time. “I don’t know what else to do. I’ve given you space, I’ve tried to support your dreams, and I’ve never stopped loving you. But I can’t keep walking on eggshells, worrying that everything I say is gonna hurt you.”

“Oh? So you can’t do this anymore? Is that it? Do you want me gone, then?”

“No,” you groaned helplessly, rubbing his hands on his face out of frustration. He pulled you into a tight hug, one that made you want to just melt in his arms. “I love you so much. Please. I want to fix this.”

Your tears welled up, heart aching at how much love was in his voice. But that didn’t change the knot of doubt tangled inside you. “I don’t know what I need anymore,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “But I think this isn’t it.”

Vernon froze for a second before pulling away from the hug and looking at you with widened eyes. “No... no, love, don’t say that.” His voice cracked, raw with emotion. “Please, don’t do this. We can figure it out. We always do.”

Your heart clenched at his words, but the doubt that had consumed you wouldn’t let go. You took his hands off your shoulder. “I’m hurting, Vernon. And I’m hurting you. I don’t know how to stop it. I... I need to let you go.”

“No,” he whispered, cupping your cheeks and pressing his forehead against yours. “You don’t mean that. You can’t. Please... don’t leave me.”

Your tears spilled over, and you looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I can’t keep doing this. I am so lost and I can’t drag you down with me.”

“Love, please,” he begged, his voice cracking now as desperation took over. “We can work through this. I’ll do anything. Tell me what to do, just... don’t give up on us.”

You could feel the sincerity of his love but the storm inside you was too strong. You shook your head, your tears flowing freely now. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered.

Vernon’s face crumpled, and he dropped to his knees in front of you, holding your hands as if holding on would make you stay. “Please,” he choked out, his voice hoarse. “Please don’t leave me. I need you. I love you.”

His words broke you, shattered whatever strength you had left, but you knew it wasn’t enough. You gently pulled your hands away, your heart breaking as you did. “I love you too, Vernon. But I have to go.”

He stayed on the floor, his hands dropping to his sides, eyes red and pleading as he watched you walk away, unable to stop the finality in your stride.

“And then, we broke up,” you said to Seungcheol, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “I moved out and just went on with my life. I cut off all forms of communication with him. It was like... I completely erased him.”

“Was it easy?”

“Fuck no. It was hard. So damn hard.” You took a deep breath before continuing. “After we broke up, I just threw myself into work. It didn’t matter how repetitive it was—I needed the distraction. I didn’t pursue S Magazine either. Just the thought of it reminded me of Vernon… of everything we fought about. So, out of sight, out of mind, right?”

Seungcheol watched you quietly, waiting for you to go on.

“Six months passed. I thought I was fine, you know? That I’d moved on.” You swallowed hard, the memory still fresh. “Then, one day, I heard that Vernon was seen on a date with someone. That’s when it hit me. He really was gone.”

Seungcheol’s brows furrowed. “How did that feel?”

You tried to smile, but it felt hollow. “Like everything came crashing down all over again.”

It was Mina who told you. She said Paul had mentioned seeing Vernon out on a date. It occurred to you that you didn’t tell anyone about the breakup—not your parents, not even Mina who had set you up.

For the last six months, you’d convinced yourself that you were fine—that the breakup didn’t devastate you. And you really believed it was the truth, but when someone finally asked about it, you realized just how painful it was. Mina was gentle, reassuring, and she comforted you. But she was also honest with you when she told you it wasn’t fair for Vernon.

“Your personal issues had nothing to do with him,” Mina said, sitting next to you on the edge of your bed. “Yes, it was awful, and I understand why you were so conflicted and stressed out, but none of it was Vernon’s fault.”

“I know, okay? But there was a lot of things I couldn’t say to him. We had a lot of stuff we couldn’t talk about. Now, there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s over. We’re done,” you had replied, frustration and defeat twisting inside you. 

Mina looked at you with sympathy, but there was also that firmness in her words. “Exactly. So, let it go. There’s no point dwelling on it now that he seemed to be moving on with his life.”

You had nodded then, but deep down, you weren’t ready to hear it. You weren’t ready to face the fact that Vernon wasn’t coming back, or that he was moving on with someone new.

You pretended to be fine. “He’s allowed to date whoever he likes,” you told yourself, repeating the words over and over like a mantra. But at night, when the world went quiet and your thoughts grew louder, your resolve crumbled. You’d find yourself reaching for your phone, fingers instinctively pulling up Vernon’s profile, then Lee Suji’s. It started innocently enough—a quick check just to see how they were doing—but it quickly turned into a habit. Every night, without fail, you’d scroll through their posts, their stories, their pictures.

It was like they were living the life you’d once imagined for yourself. While you were stuck in your repetitive days—getting up, going to work, coming home—it felt like they were living in a different world. They went to fancy dinners, took weekend trips, and posted photos that made their life look like something out of a dream. We used to do that, you thought bitterly, remembering how you would whisk Vernon away to spontaneous trips to give him a break.

Even the small, intimate details made you bitter—the way he looked at her in pictures, his arm casually draped over her shoulders. He used to do that with me, you thought, jealousy gnawing at you. You pictured them curled up on the couch watching movies, the same way you two had on lazy Sunday mornings. Even her captions reminded you of things he’d say to you, the inside jokes you thought were yours alone.

At first, it was just small pangs of longing—a memory of his laugh, the way he’d hold your hand, the sound of his voice calling your name. But those pangs grew sharper, and soon, they twisted into something more painful, more unbearable. They were happy. You could see it in the way they smiled in every picture, the way they stood so close together. Suji was everything you weren’t—successful, elegant, effortless. The kind of woman who could stand by Vernon’s side without feeling out of place.

And with every post, every photo, you sank deeper into the realization that Suji wasn’t just someone he was dating. She was someone he shared the life you used to live with the man you used to love—still love.

You descended further into sadness and regret, your mind constantly comparing yourself to the perfection that was Lee Suji. No matter how hard you tried to shake it off, the feeling lingered, sinking deeper into your chest. It was suffocating. Every night, as you lay down in bed, your thoughts would spiral, and all you could see was Suji’s perfect smile and the way Vernon looked at her—the way he used to look at you.

Some nights, when memories of how Vernon used to touch you started creeping in your mind, the jealousy surged so intensely it left a bitter taste in your mouth. You could practically feel the ghost of his fingertips brushing against your skin—the way he’d run his hand along your back, how his fingers worked you up expertly, or how his lips traced every curve of your body as if he’d memorized them all. Those moments were so intimate, so second-nature between the two of you, that you didn’t even think about them until now—now that they were gone.

You imagined him doing the same things with Suji. Did he hold her the way he used to hold you? Did he memorize her body, just like he did yours? Did he whisper the same sweet words in her ear, making her feel like she was the center of his world? The thought gnawed at you, eating away at the edges of your sanity. It wasn’t just that they were together—it was the idea that your place in his life had been filled, your role in his heart now occupied by someone else.

You tried to shake it off, telling yourself it didn’t matter. He’s allowed to move on. You’re the one who left. But the logic didn’t lessen the sting. The jealousy would flare up, sharp and sudden, whenever you pictured him lying next to her, their legs tangled under the covers the way yours once were. You could almost see it—their lazy mornings, their heated nights, and the gestures of love and affection. You used to be the one he reached for in the middle of the night, pulling you close as if you were the most important thing in his world.

And now, all of that belonged to someone else.

One day, you bumped into Seungkwan at the supermarket—an unexpected encounter that caught you off guard. After exchanging pleasantries, for some reason, you both ended up sitting at a cafe down the street. The clatter of cups and faint hum of conversation around filled the awkward silence between you.

Seungkwan stirred his coffee absentmindedly, his eyes narrowing slightly before he finally spoke. “Her name is Suji, and she’s a friend of mine.”

You blinked at him, not quite sure where this is going. “Oh... I see.”

He took a sip, eyeing you with frustration in his eyes. “I should’ve introduced them sooner if I’d known you’d dump Vernon anyway.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you tried to shrug it off with a smirk. “Okay, Boo. I get it, you hate me. There’s no need to say it to my face.”

He set his cup down, the ceramic clinking against the saucer a little too sharply. His gaze didn’t waver, and there was no amusement in his eyes. “You see, that’s the problem with you. You jump to conclusions. You make these one-sided assumptions and cling to them like they’re fact. Right now, you’re assuming I hate you when I never did.”

The casual tone caught you off guard. You frowned. “But why—”

“You had your reasons,” Seungkwan cut you off, his voice firm but not unkind. “You had your own issues. I get that. What I hated wasn’t you. What I hated was what you did.”

You stared at him, the pit in your stomach growing heavier. “Boo...”

“I hated how you broke Vernon to pieces like it was the easiest thing in the world,” he said, his words blunt.

The sting of his words sliced deeper than you expected. You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but your voice comes out small, trembling. “You don’t get to say that to me. It wasn’t easy, and you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re right. I don’t know everything. I don’t know what it was like for you after the breakup. Maybe you were a mess, too, I don’t know. But I do know what a wreck Vernon was when you left him. Did it ever cross your mind how difficult it would be for him to deal with that?”

You stared down at your coffee, the steam swirling like the thoughts that had been haunting you for months. The truth was, you had thought about it—how much it must’ve hurt Vernon, how hard he was taking it. But you buried it, pushed it away because it was easier than facing how deeply you’d broken him.

“He didn’t deserve it,” Seungkwan continued, his voice softer now, more resigned. “Not when all he ever did was love you, support you, and try to make things better for you. You let your bruised ego push him away—someone who would’ve given anything just to see you happy.”

The words landed heavily, and you felt a lump form in your throat. Deep down, you knew he was right. You’d convinced yourself that walking away was the only option, that you couldn’t keep up with Vernon’s success, that you were dragging him down. But Seungkwan’s words twisted the knife—Vernon didn’t deserve it.

“I thought...” You swallowed hard, struggling to find your voice. “I thought I was doing the right thing. For both of us.”

Seungkwan scoffed, shaking his head. “Exactly. You alone made that choice for both of you, and then left him to pick up the pieces.”

The conversation with Seungkwan lingered in your mind the next day, following you like a shadow as you walked to work. Vernon had consumed your thoughts all night, leaving you tossing and turning, unable to sleep. By the time you reached the office building, you were moving on autopilot, too lost in your head to notice the man exiting through the doors.

You bumped into him, your balance faltering on your high heels as you toppled backward. But before you hit the marble floor, strong arms caught you, steadying you.

“Careful there,” the man said, his voice light.

You glanced up, meeting his gaze. His easy smile widened into something more familiar as recognition flickered in his eyes.

“Well, look who it is.”

Your brows shot up. “Kim Mingyu?”

“Kim Mingyu?” Seungcheol questioned, his brow lifting in mild surprise.

You waved your hand dismissively. “I know. The plot thickens,” you huffed, reaching for the bottle that Seungcheol had tucked away from your reach.

“No,” he said sternly, swatting your hand away.

Running into Mingyu after all these years was unexpected, but surprisingly pleasant. He was as charming as ever, his smile lighting up when he saw you, and after a few minutes of small talk, he’d casually asked if he could take you out to dinner and catch up. You agreed—there was something comforting in reconnecting with an old friend, especially someone who’d been a significant part of your past.

Dinner with Mingyu turned out to be more nostalgic than you expected. Over shared plates of pasta and wine, you talked about your lives, reminiscing over the days when things were simpler but also more uncertain. Mingyu had changed since the last time you’d seen him. The sadness that used to cloud his eyes had lifted, and he seemed lighter—less burdened by the weight of the world.

“So, how are you?” you asked, leaning back in your chair, swirling the wine in your glass.

Mingyu grinned, almost sheepish. “I’m doing better now. So much better.” His voice softened as he continued, “I don’t… disappear randomly anymore. I guess I’m finally where I’m supposed to be. I’m happier. Took me a while, but here I am.”

“That’s great to hear,” you said, smiling. It was nice to see him thriving, a stark contrast to the depression he’d struggled with before.

He met your eyes, his expression was sincere.  “I’m gonna be honest, it was the bears.”

You were confused for a second, but then your remembered. “Oh, you mean— No way?”

“Way. Here look.” He pulled his phone out and showed you a picture of bear figurines on a desk with his nameplate on it.

“Are you serious? You still have them?” you asked, genuinely surprised. Mingyu nodded proudly. “Wow. That’s… amazing.”

“The bears were just an excuse,” he admitted, his tone softening. “Truth is, I have you to thank. You sent them back with a kind note. You encouraged me to figure it out, even when I was too wrapped up in my own head. It made a difference.”

You shook your head, feeling a bit bashful. “That note was cheesy.”

He chuckled, the sound full of nostalgia. “Actually, yes, it is kinda cheesy now. But, back then, I was desperate for a helping hand, so... yeah, it meant a lot.”

“Well, you’re welcome. Although, I think it was all you.”

Mingyu smiled, leaning back in his chair. “Maybe. But sometimes, when you’re lost, you need someone to remind you that you’re capable of finding your own way. That’s what you did. But yeah, I guess you’re right. It was always up to me to make the changes.”

You smiled, pride and humility swelling in your chest. You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m so proud of you.”

His eyes softened, and just as you began to withdraw your hand, Mingyu caught it, his thumb rubbing gently over your knuckles. “It’s really good to see you after all these years,” he said quietly, his gaze lingering on yours.

The dinner continued at the bar, where you talked some more over wine. You had forgotten how funny Mingyu could be, and now that you were rediscovering it, you couldn’t stop grinning and giggling at his anecdotes. He seemed equally amused by your stories, laughing heartily in a way that made you feel like no time had passed at all.

Before you knew it, you were in the elevator, lips crashing into each other with a kind of desperation. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, while your fingers tangled in his hair, holding onto him for dear life. The soft ding of the elevator doors opening barely registered in your mind as Mingyu led you, still kissing, down the hallway to his suite.

Fumbling with the key card, Mingyu finally managed to open the door, and you stumbled inside together, your lips never parting. The room was dimly lit, and the city lights from outside twinkled beautifully. Mingyu guided you toward the bed, but you broke the kiss, breathless as you looked up at him, your heart racing.

“Is this what you came here for?” you teased, your fingers brushing against his cheek.

He smiled, a little out of breath himself. “I’m here for work, but, this is a welcome distraction.”

You giggled, leaning closer and biting his lower lip. Neither of you was gentle but you weren’t in a rush either. The way Mingyu touched you now was different from the rushed urgency in the elevator—this was tender, deliberate, and fervent all at the same time. Each kiss, each caress, felt like a reunion of sorts, as if you were both rediscovering each other after so much time apart.

You forgot how you managed to take your clothes off, but you knew you were already naked the second Mingyu’s lips found yours again—softer this time, and you melted into the sensation, the warmth of his body against yours was a welcome comfort. He paused, pulling back slightly to look at you, his eyes filled with desire.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

You smiled, trailing your fingertips from his nape to his chest that had grown more muscular over the years. “Yes, totally.”

And in the moment, you tossed away every weight pressing down on your chest, letting yourself get lost in the euphoria of Mingyu’s touch.

In the morning, you made your way out of Mingyu’s suite with a pit in your stomach. The walk of shame felt heavier than it should’ve. You scolded yourself for letting things go too far, for taking advantage of someone kind who was blissfully unaware of the mess inside your head. 

“I’ve missed you,” he’d mumbled sometime in the night, while you were wrapped around his warm embrace. “I missed you when I left. I missed you all these years. I tried to reach out several times but I knew it would be shameless of me to waltz back into your life without first fixing my own.”

And then, in your silence, he had added, “I’m all fixed now, baby,” just before he drifted off to sleep.

Mingyu probably thought last night meant something, that maybe you could rekindle what you once lost, and start fresh. But that wasn’t the case. You knew deep down you were just lonely, craving the warmth of someone else’s touch to fill the void Vernon had left behind.

When you reached the hotel lobby, you wrapped your coat tighter around yourself, hoping to slip by unnoticed. But as you neared the front desk, you froze. Vernon was standing there, talking to Sally.

Your breath hitched in your throat. For a split second, you considered turning around, making a quick escape, but then Vernon’s eyes caught yours. His face lit up with a polite smile, the kind that he often gave his friends. Your heart sank seeing that, knowing you’d never get to see him smile genuinely at you again.

And just like that, the weight in your chest doubled.

“Vernon,” you greeted as you approached him, forcing your voice to sound steady. “What brings you here?”

He took in your appearance, and you felt a rush of self-consciousness wash over you. You were aware that you didn’t look ready for work, the remnants of last night still clinging to you. “I, uh…” he hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. “I wanted to talk to you about something, but I didn’t know how to contact you, so I thought I’d drop by instead.”

“What is it?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light, even as your heart raced.

Vernon glanced around for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “Well, I need your new address so I can mail back your stuff that you left at our—well, my apartment.”

“Oh,” you blurted, not registering anything but the slip of his tongue that almost made him say ‘our apartment’. “Okay. Um…”

You stammered for a second, unsure how to proceed. “Actually, what if I just go pick them up myself? That way, I can make sure I don’t leave anything behind.”

Vernon hesitated for a second. “Sure. That would be more convenient.”

“Cool. When can I drop by?”

“When are you free?” he asked back. 

You searched his face for any hint of what he was feeling, but his expression remained carefully neutral. You cleared your throat. “How about Friday evening after work? I should be free then.”

“Friday works,” he replied, nodding slowly. 

You felt a knot tighten in your stomach at the thought of seeing the apartment again, the place where so many memories lingered like ghosts. “Okay, I will,” you said, trying to sound casual but failing to mask the underlying anxiety in your voice.

He glanced down, shuffling his feet slightly, and for a fleeting moment, you glimpsed the Vernon you once knew—the one who could fill a room with laughter, whose eyes sparkled with genuine warmth. “I hope it won’t be too weird,” he added quietly, breaking the silence again.

You wanted to reassure him, to say that it wouldn’t be weird at all, but the truth was that it would be strange, and painful too. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” you replied instead, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

He just nodded and you both fell quiet again. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, your mind filled with words you wanted to say but couldn’t. Not because you didn’t want to, but because there was no point saying them anymore. “I—uh, I should get going.” you prompted, not wanting to overstay your welcome but reluctant to leave him.

“Right,” he said, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary, as if he was searching for something in your eyes. “See you Friday, then.”

“Yeah, see you Friday,” you echoed, walking away.

The prospect of seeing Vernon again was both exhilarating and terrifying. But as you walked away, you reminded yourself that you were both on different paths now, and you should be moving forward instead of dwelling on what could’ve been.

Halfway through your shift, you stepped outside for lunch with your coworkers, the chatter around you was a welcome distraction from the morning’s events. As you returned to the lobby, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of Mingyu waiting for you. He greeted you with a broad smile, holding out a bouquet of vibrant flowers that seemed to brighten the entire space. You were flustered, and you became hyper-aware of the intrigued looks from your coworkers.

“You were gone when I woke up,” he said, his grin unwavering as you led him to a quiet corner of the lobby. 

“Yeah, well. I have work,” you replied, motioning to the front desk. “Were you waiting for me?”

Mingyu nodded, still smiling. “Yes. I was wondering if you have time tonight.”

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you, and it clashed with the lingering happiness of the previous night. “Mingyu, I’m sorry. I don’t think we should do this. Last night was amazing, but I’m not really in the right headspace for any kind of commitment right now.”

His smile faltered for just a moment before he shrugged. “Oh, well. That’s a shame then.” You thought he’d be more disappointed but he seemed… indifferent? “I would have loved to try again, but it’s fine if you can’t.”

The sincerity in his voice tugged at your heart. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” he said, his grin returning like a boomerang. “Does that mean you wouldn’t want to hang out with me again? Even if it’s just… casual?”

You hesitated, weighing the implications. It didn’t sound so bad. “I… would love to. Heh.”

“Great! So, are you free tonight? I’m going to this gala later and I’m looking for a date.”

Caught off guard by the suddenness of his invitation, you blinked, your mind racing. A gala? With Mingyu? You didn’t want to lead him on, but the thought of dressing up, laughing, and being swept away from reality for a few hours was tempting. “Okay? Yeah. Sure.”

Mingyu’s smile widened, infectious and genuine. “Perfect! I’ll pick you up at seven?”

You nodded. “Sounds good.”

That night, you stood in front of the mirror, your silvery satin dress shimmering under the light. It hugged your figure perfectly, something you hadn't paid much attention to in the past six months. As you adjusted a strand of hair, memories of those glamorous nights with Vernon surfaced uninvited—how he’d surprise you with a new dress and an invitation to a posh party, how he’d walk into the venues with his hand on your back, swelling with pride because you looked graceful next to him. And of course, there were those moments when you’d leave those parties early to grab pizza in some greasy diner, laughing in your tux and gown, ignoring the puzzled looks from other diners.

A smile tugged at your lips, recalling the memories that used to warm your heart but now left a bittersweet taste in your mouth.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling you out of your thoughts. Mingyu had arrived. With one last glance in the mirror, you grabbed your things and hurried downstairs, finding him by his car. He greeted you with a wide smile, taking your hand and brushing his lips against your knuckles. It was a sweet gesture, and yet, it felt… foreign.

“You look stunning,” he beamed, holding the car door open for you.

As soon as you sat down and he closed the door, you felt a sudden pang in your chest—one that pained both your heart and your soul. The car was nice, but the unfamiliar interior and smell weighed heavily in your chest.

“Are you ready?” Mingyu asked, prompting your attention. You didn’t even notice him getting in, too absorbed in your thoughts.

“Yes,” you replied, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

When you reached the venue, the soft murmur of voices and the clinking of champagne glasses surrounded you. Mingyu’s hand rested lightly on your back as he guided you through the sea of guests, his presence warm and reassuring. Yet, despite his charm and ease, your mind kept wandering to the memories of the parties you’d went to with Vernon. 

Then, in a moment that seemed to pull you out of the haze, you saw him—Vernon, standing by one of the tall, draped windows, dressed in a sleek black suit. For a second, your breath caught in your throat. He looked just as you remembered, the same effortless grace, the quiet confidence. And…was that a flicker of jealousy in his eyes? You thought it was—his gaze lingering on you and Mingyu as you passed by.

Your heart raced as you tried to gauge his reaction, convinced he was feeling what you thought he felt. But just as quickly as the thought surfaced, Suji appeared beside him. She was stunning—tall, poised, with an air of elegance that made her impossible to miss. You haven’t met her before, but she looked like the kind of woman who had it all together, someone who seemed to float through life with ease. The way she stood next to Vernon with her hand lightly brushing his arm, sent a wave of nausea rolling through you.

Your chest tightened. Why did he have to pick someone who was so much better than you in many ways? Someone who knew exactly what she was passionate about and pursued it. Someone who exuded confidence effortlessly, not only in how she carried herself but in how sure she was in her career, her life, her choices.

You couldn’t stop the flood of comparisons. It was like Suji was standing on this pedestal that you could never quite reach, her brilliance making you feel smaller with every passing second. It was the worst. Vernon had moved on to someone who was everything you couldn’t be, everything you had once dreamed of being but had never managed to become.

Mingyu said something, trying to catch your attention, but his words blurred into the background as you watched Suji laugh at something Vernon said. The sound of her laughter—genuine, light, carefree—echoed in your mind like a mocking reminder of all the things you weren’t.

He’s happy, you realized, the thought hitting you harder than expected.

You turned away, clutching the stem of your champagne glass a little too tightly, forcing yourself to swallow the bitterness rising in your throat. But the smile you gave Mingyu, like everything else that night, didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Was it a bad idea?” Mingyu asked, cocking an eyebrow at you. “Coming here with me, I mean. Is he not supposed to see us together?”

You followed his gaze and saw that he was looking at Vernon. You shook your head. “No. It’s nothing like that.”

“Are you sure?” He held his jaw and moved it. “What if I get smacked? My jaw still hurts from getting punched by some dude two weeks ago.”

“Why would someone punch you?”

Mingyu grinned naughtily. “Let’s just say I’m a main event everywhere I go and I invite trouble from boyfriends who couldn’t stand seeing their girls fawn over me.”

You smirked, rolling your eyes though you found his cockiness funny. “Well, then you don’t have to worry about your jaw tonight. He has no reason to break it because…” you trailed off, sighing. “Just because.”

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it,” he chimed before excusing himself to talk to someone and leaving you alone for a moment. You glanced around, trying to distract yourself from the heaviness that had been following you all night.

That was when Vernon appeared by your side. “Hey,” he said, his voice casual. 

“Hi,” you replied, forcing a smile. “Good to see you. What’s up?”

“I thought I should let you know,” he began, a little hesitant. “I’m selling our apartment.”

You blinked, taken aback by his statement. “Oh. Well, you didn’t have to tell me. It’s yours, you can sell it if you want,” you replied, steadying your voice to hide the fact that your heart was racing.

“I know, but you lived there too, so you should at least know it’s going to someone else now,” he said, flattening his lips together. “It’d be good to grab your things as soon as possible too.”

“Of course! Friday after work, right? We agreed.”

“Yes,” he said before both of your fell silent.

You wanted to say something, anything, to cut through the tension, but everything felt wrong. Then, Vernon added, “I should go.”

You just hummed in response, nodding  as he walked away. Mingyu rejoined you then, tugging your elbow gently as he faced you with a mischievous smile.

“Would you care to fill me in on this… situation?” he asked teasingly.

You rolled your eyes but you couldn’t hide the self-deprecating smile on your lips. “It’s a situation, that’s all you have to know.”

Mingyu took the flute from your hand and swapped it with a new one from the busboy who happened to pass by. Before giving it to you, he lifted it and grinned. “How many glasses of champagne before you willingly tell me everything?”

You scoffed. “Even if you give me an entire bottle—” you swiped the glass from his hand. “I’m not gonna tell you.”

“Boohoo. So boring,” he sniggered.

Some time within the night, you’d find yourself in a deserted hallway with Mingyu, making out with your back against the wall while he towered over you. The champagne buzz had reached your head and it didn’t help that you were clinging on a incredibly good-looking man who kept a firm hand on your waist all night. You knew you had to go back to his suite with him, and honestly? You were looking forward to it.

Soon, the party started to wind down. You and Mingyu agreed that it was time to go. You stepped out of the hotel with Mingyu’s coat on to shield you from the cold. His arm around your shoulders helped keep you warm too as you waited for the valet to arrive with his car.

Mingyu’s phone buzzed in his pocket and upon checking it, his brows furrowed darkly. “Damn it, not again.”

“What’s wrong?”

He sighed and then squeezed your shoulder before letting go. “I need to check something. I’ll be right back.”

You nodded and he pressed a soft kiss on your cheek before walking away. As you watched him leave, you tightened his coat around you, looking back at the hotel lobby and wondering if you should go back inside. You were doing that when your gaze caught Vernon’s.

He was standing just a few steps away with his phone pressed on his ear. He saw you looking and nodded as a greeting. You mirrored his greeting, looking away right after and hoping to avoid conversation.

Mingyu came rushing back in no time, his phone pressed to his ear, frustration lining his face. He muttered a quick apology into the receiver before hanging up.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, furrowing your brows.

Mingyu let out a long sigh. “My car won’t start. I was trying to get it sorted with the valet, but it looks like I’m going to be stuck here for a while.”

You glanced at the time on your phone, noting how late it was getting. “Oh no… do you need me to wait with you?”

Mingyu shook his head, his expression still annoyed but softening when he met your eyes. “Nah, you don’t have to. I’ll be fine, but you should head home. I’ll get you a cab.”

Before you could figure out how to respond, Vernon spoke up. “I can give you a ride,” he offered, his voice firm but not insistent. “It’s no trouble.”

You hesitated for a moment, glancing between the two men. Mingyu gave you a hesitant look. “Is that okay with you? Do you know each other?” he asked, though he already knew who Vernon was to you.

“Yes, but I’m not sure,” you replied, surprising yourself with your honesty. “I think I’ll take a cab. I don’t want to impose.”

“Please, I insist,” Vernon said, walking closer. He must have noticed you looking behind him because he added, “You’re not imposing.”

You stared at him for a while, gouging out what he was thinking, but there was no hint of it in the way his expression remained unfazed. Mingyu’s hand on your shoulders prompted your attention.

“If you don’t trust him, let’s just get you a cab,” Mingyu offered, but you could see the glint of mischief in his eyes. He was enjoying this. He probably thought this ‘drama’ was entertaining.

“I’m sure I’m far more trustworthy than any taxi driver,” Vernon interjected.

“Well… if you’re sure,” you mumbled, avoiding Vernon’s gaze. You met Mingyu’s instead, and you could almost see the triumph in his eyes. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine. Just text me when you get home,” he said, waving goodbye. You could almost say he was excited to see you leave with your ex.

Mingyu gave you a soft kiss before saying goodbye. Still wrapped in Mingyu’s coat, you walked quietly behind Vernon, trying to steady your breathing and hoping he wouldn’t notice that you were nervous.

Vernon opened the passenger door for you, and as you sat down inside his car, a rush of memories hit you all at once. It was familiar, too familiar. Even the scent was engulfing you with nostalgia. This was the first time you’d ever felt like an outsider in such a familiar space.

“Where’s your apartment?”

You quietly typed in your address in the navigator and didn’t say anything else. Vernon seemed to understand your silence and he started driving without a word.

“I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” Vernon was the first to break the silence that had stretched on for about fifteen minutes.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Same here.”

“How do you know Kim Mingyu?” he asked, his eyes flicking toward you briefly before focusing on the road again. You couldn’t tell what his intentions were, nor could you grasp his emotions when he asked that.

“Why do you care?” you retorted, the words coming out sharper than you’d intended.

He paused before answering, his voice measured. “It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me. I just want you to be careful. I’ve heard things about him. He’s got a bit of a reputation for being… a player.”

You scoffed lightly, turning your gaze out the window. “He’s a friend from college. I’m sure I know him better.”

“If you say so.” There was a moment of hesitation before he added, “Just… take care of yourself. I’m not trying to tell you what to do. You can hang out with anyone you like. I just hope you’d be careful, that’s all.”

Your chest tightened at his concern, but instead of acknowledging it, you let out a small breath. “His car wasn’t yours.”

Vernon glanced at you, clearly puzzled. “What?”

You stayed quiet, refusing to repeat yourself. Soon, the car slowed to a stop in front of your apartment building. You unbuckled your seatbelt, hesitating before reaching for the door handle. Vernon’s hands remained on the steering wheel, his knuckles pale in the dim light.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, your voice softer than before.

“No problem,” he replied with his eyes straight ahead, avoiding yours.

You opened the door but paused halfway out. There was something in the air between you and it made it impossible to just leave. You needed to ask him, even if you weren’t sure you wanted the answer.

“Vernon,” you started, turning back toward him. His name left your lips before you fully realized what you were about to say. He glanced at you, brows slightly raised in question. “Why didn’t you… why didn’t you fight for us?”

The question hung in the air, almost visible in the thick silence that followed. Vernon blinked, his expression unreadable at first. He shifted in his seat, letting out a slow breath as if he’d been holding it for a long time.

“I did,” he said finally, his voice low, like he was admitting something he hadn’t wanted to. “I did fight for us. But you—” He stopped, choosing his words carefully. “You were already gone. You’d made up your mind.”

You swallowed hard. “But you just let me go.”

Vernon turned his body slightly to face you, his eyes finally locking with yours. “I just let you go? I begged you to stay, did you forget?”

“No, I didn’t. But after that, when the emotional outburst was over, when we were calmer and more rational, why didn’t you try to fight for us?” you asked, your brows furrowed in curiosity.

“Well, why didn’t you?” he asked back, and suddenly, you forgot how to speak. Vernon watched you for a while, taking in your silence and seemingly coming to his own conclusion.

“I didn’t let you go because I wanted to,” he said, his voice rough around the edges. “I let you go because you wanted to. And I thought it was what you needed. And besides, I didn’t know how to fix it. Everything I did felt like it just made things worse. I loved you, but… I didn’t know how to make you stay.”

Something open inside you, something you hadn’t wanted to confront. But hearing him like this now, you had no choice but to accept the truth that it was your fault you broke up. You already knew, you just chose to delude yourself into thinking it was both your fault and his. 

The car felt smaller now, with the tension hanging in the air so thick it felt like you were suffocating. You could hear Vernon’s breathing, steady but shallow, and you realized how close you both were.

“I should go,” you whispered, but your body stayed frozen in place. Neither of you moved.

Vernon just nodded, his eyes still searching yours as if he was trying to figure out if there was something more to say. In the dim light, they seemed softer, more vulnerable than you’d remembered. His gaze flicked down to your lips for the briefest of moments before returning to your eyes. It was barely noticeable, but you caught it and your pulse quickened.

You should leave. This wasn’t part of the plan—letting things get tangled up again, letting the past claw its way back. But instead, you stayed rooted in place.

You gathered your thoughts for a proper goodbye. “I’m sorry for everything, Vernon. I wished things had gone differently between us,” you said quietly. Your hand had somehow found its way to his arm, just resting there, the warmth of his arm seeping into your fingers. He looked down at your hand, and then back up at you.

“Too late for that now, isn’t it?” His voice was soft, vulnerable, and the intensity of it made your heart ache. 

“I know,” you replied, smiling timidly. 

Vernon didn’t say anything and just stared at you. You stared back, trying to understand the meaning behind his gaze and the significance of the slight scowl on his face. You didn’t even notice that you were both leaning in slowly. Only when you felt the warmth of his breath against your cheek did you realize how close you’d gotten. Your breath caught in your throat, your body frozen in place, torn between wanting to close the gap and knowing you shouldn’t.

For a split second, you thought he might kiss you. The thought sent a shockwave of emotion through you—longing, confusion, excitement and fear all at once. You tilted your head ever so slightly, your lips just a breath away from his.

But you stopped yourself. “No,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to break the spell that had momentarily taken hold of both of you. “This isn’t… we shouldn’t.”

“Right,” he said quietly, his voice flat. His jaw clenched, his eyes flicking away from yours as he leaned back into his seat. “I’m sorry.”

“I… I should go,” you repeated, this time you mean it. You pushed the door open and stepped out.

Vernon didn’t stop you. He just nodded, his eyes no longer meeting yours. “Take care of yourself,” he said softly.

You nodded, slipping out of the car, your body still buzzing with the closeness you had almost let happen. As you walked toward your building, you didn’t look back, but you could still feel his presence behind you.

And despite everything, as you climbed the steps to your apartment, a part of you wondered what would happen if you didn’t pull away.

The next day, you met with Mingyu just before he left. The conversation was easy, perfectly civil as if nothing significant had happened. He flashed his usual grin as he told you, “I’m flying back tomorrow.”

“It was fun having you around,” you said, offering him a polite smile.

“You liked the distraction, huh?” he retorted, wiggling his eyebrows.

Chuckling, you hit his chest. “Let me know if you’re ever in town.”

“Are you gonna show me a good time?” he teased, tilting his head as he leaned closer.

You rolled your eyes, a small scoff escaping your lips. “Just go away.”

After a tender kiss on your cheek, Mingyu waved you off, and just like that, he was gone—another fleeting moment in a series of encounters that left you feeling emptier than before.

By the weekend, you felt like dying, literally. It started with a sore throat, then chills, until finally, you found yourself curled up under layers of blankets, sick and miserable—alone in your apartment that felt too quiet, too cold. 

You lay there, groggy and disoriented, and all you could think about was how Vernon used to take care of you when you were sick. He’d make you soup, sit by your bedside, and remind you to take your medicine. He knew exactly how to make you feel comforted, even when you couldn’t take care of yourself. 

But now, Vernon was gone. You had to handle this on your own. You didn’t realize how much you’d miss being babied until now.

The day dragged on, your body was weak and heavy, and the hours blurred together in a feverish haze. It wasn’t until the afternoon that you heard a knock at your door—insistent, again and again, until it forced you to get up.

You shuffled to the door, body aching with every step. When you opened it, it was Vernon standing on the other side with a suitcase, most probably filled with the last of your things from his place. 

“Hi. You didn’t come by yesterday, so I thought I’d just…” he started, but then his eyes took in your pale complexion, the fatigue written all over your face. “...drop your things—are you okay?”

“Peachy,” you managed to quip.

“Here, let’s take you back inside.”

Before you could protest, Vernon took you by the arm and guided you back inside to your bed. You were too weak to argue, your body giving in to the relief of being cared for, if only for a moment. He tucked you in nicely, and you watched as he moved across the room to adjust the lights and your thermostat.

“How long have you been sick like this?” you heard him ask, and although you opened your mouth to speak, you weren’t sure if you answered him out loud before drifting off to sleep.

The next time you woke up, the room was dim, and the afternoon light pouring into the windows slowly faded into the evening. You blinked, disoriented, and realized you were tucked neatly into bed with a fever patch on your forehead. Across from you, Vernon sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone. The sight of him there, in your space, felt surreal—like a piece of the past had materialized in your present.

I thought it was a dream, you pondered as you pushed yourself up with your hands.

When Vernon noticed you stirring, he stood, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Sorry. I was just about to leave,” he said, his voice quiet. “I left some food on the table.”

You sat up slowly, the blankets still tangled around you. “Why are you here?” The question came out softer than you intended, but you needed to know. It didn’t make sense—why he was doing this, why he cared enough to be here now.

Vernon hesitated, his hand hovering by the doorframe. “I just… wanted to make sure you were okay. That’s all.”

You frowned, not buying it. “You didn’t have to. You had no reason to.”

“I couldn’t really leave you like that,” he replied, a tightness in his voice. “I’m just looking out for you. For old time’s sake.”

“For old time’s sake,” you mocked, your words tinged with bitterness. “Right.”

He shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting away from yours. But the tension in the air had already thickened, pulling at the edges of the conversation. You couldn’t let it go—not this time.

“You’re lying, Vernon,” you said, sitting up straighter now, the exhaustion in your body giving way to something sharper. “You’re not here just for old time’s sake.”

Vernon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not lying.”

“Then why are you here?” you pressed, your voice rising. “Why are you acting like you care? If you don’t—if you don’t love me anymore, then why are you here?”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. The silence stretched, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. 

“I’m just trying to do the right thing,” he finally said, his tone more strained than before. “It didn’t feel right to see you suffering alone.”

“You’re doing this because you still care,” you shot back. “I can see it. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

Vernon’s expression hardened. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” you demanded, your voice breaking slightly.

His eyes met yours, conflicted, and for a moment, you thought he might say something—something that would change everything. But then he shook his head, stepping back toward the door. 

“I’m leaving,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. 

A sudden impulse surged through you. You rose to your feet, feeling a little dizzy for standing up too fast. “Do you love her?” you asked, making Vernon stop dead in his tracks.

You stared at his back, chest tightening with frustration and longing. “Vernon, do you love her? Are you gonna marry her?”

“I don’t need to answer that.”

“Why not?” you demanded. “How hard was it? It’s a yes or no answer, Vernon.”

“And it’s not going to help you. If anything, I might end up hurting you more.”

“Why do you care how I feel?”

He turned to face you, frustration etched on his features. “What do you want me to say? That I’m miserable without you? That I can’t stand the thought of you with someone else? Because that’s not the truth and it isn’t fair to any of us.”

“Not fair?” you echoed incredulously. “What’s not fair is you leading me on! Making me think there is something for me to hold on to when there isn’t! That is what’s not fair!”

Vernon took a step closer, his expression darkening. “I’m not leading you on. Just because I care about you as someone who used to be special to me, doesn’t mean I’m trying to get back with you. It isn’t my fault if you’re misinterpreting my actions. ”

You glared at him, heart pounding. “Then answer my question,” you huffed, grabbing him by the collar and staring right into his eyes. “Do you love her?”

Silence enveloped you both, the tension was so thick that you could hear nothing but the heavy breathing from you and Vernon. You both stood there, staring into each other’s souls, tangled in a web of unresolved emotions.

Before you could register what was happening, he reached for you, cupping your face with his hands. And then his lips were on yours, tentative at first, igniting a fire that had long been extinguished. You kissed him back, the familiar warmth washing over you, the taste of him awakening something deep inside you that you thought had faded.

As the kiss deepened, it felt right in a way that nothing else had in months. You were lost in the moment, the world around you blurring until there was nothing but him and you.

But just as quickly as the warmth enveloped you, a cold wave of doubt crashed over your mind. You pulled away panting, uncertainty clouding your thoughts, telling you this shouldn’t be happening.

“Vernon…” you started, but he was already leaning in again, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss that stole the breath from your lungs.

In the haze of passion, you both stumbled toward the bed, and everything fell away—time, space, even the reality of your situation. It felt exhilarating to be with him again, to feel desired and loved, even if just for a moment.

But as morning light filtered through the curtains, reality came crashing back. You blinked awake, groggy and disoriented, the warmth of the bed and the fading memories of the night before slowly coming into focus.

“You’re so beautiful,” Vernon had whispered in your ear last night. “You’ve always been beautiful.”

You forgot how you felt when you heard that from him, but you knew it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. Your heart raced as you turned to the other side of the bed expecting to find it empty—and it was. The space beside you was cold. The warmth that enveloped you last night was now replaced by an aching void. Vernon was gone.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, heart sinking as memories of the night flooded back—how it felt to be with him, how everything seemed to fall back into place, if only for a fleeting moment. But the bliss faded as quickly as it had come, replaced by a feeling of immense unease.

Rubbing your eyes, you stumbled into the bathroom where the harsh fluorescent light flickered to life. You blinked at your reflection in the mirror, and your heart plummeted at the woman staring back at you—disheveled, hair a mess, eyes filled with confusion and regret.

“What did you do?” you whispered, covering your mouth with your hand as you fell on weakened knees.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you felt a wave of disgust wash over you. The reality and the consequences of your actions came crashing down. You had crossed a line. You made Vernon cheat on his girlfriend all because you couldn’t bear the thought of him moving on. How could you have let this happen? You felt awful, a knot of shame twisting in your gut. You had chased a fleeting feeling, clung to a moment that meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. 

And now as you sat on your bathroom floor, sobbing uncontrollably, you couldn’t escape the truth; you had betrayed not just Vernon or Suji, but yourself. Regret filled your mind, and all you could think about was the pain you’d caused everyone and how that would haunt you long after this moment faded into memory.

Seungcheol’s eyes didn’t leave you, the slight furrow on his brows was a clear display of his disappointment toward you.

“I know. I was disappointed in myself too,” you said, letting out a deprecatory laugh. “I was stupid and I regretted it.”

“I’m not disappointed. I can’t possibly judge you for that,” he replied, waving a hand dismissively. “It was just unexpected from you.”

“Oh, so you know me now?”

“You’ve shared three of these stories. I think I have a grasp on what kind of person you are now,” he replied, eyeing you with a hint of curiosity and amusement on his face.

You hummed, tilting your head slightly. “Touche.” You sat up straight, eyeing the bottle in front of Seungcheol. He saw how your eyes twinkled with mischief and as if in defeat, he took the bottle and poured you a glass with a sigh.

“Thanks,” you chimed, taking a sip. “So, since you have a ‘grasp’ of who I am now, how would you have reacted if you were my friend at the time and I told you what I did?”

Seungcheol didn’t miss a beat. “I’d tell you ‘you messed up’.”

You gasped, hands covering your mouth dramatically. “No fucking way.”

The first thing you did after realizing your mistake was take a long bath and cry your eyes out. After that, you called Mina, desperate to talk to someone who would listen. Her reaction was not what you had hoped for, but it was expected. 

Anger flickered in her eyes and disappointment shadowed her face. “You messed up really badly this time,” she said, her voice sharp.

“Thanks… That’s exactly what I needed to hear at the lowest point in my entire life,” you replied, your tone biting. It was hard to swallow her judgment despite knowing you had crossed a line. 

“No. What the actual fuck was wrong with you?” she hollered, placing her hand over her forehead in frustration as she paced around your apartment. “Why did you let that happen?”

“I don’t know. I was… I was desperate. I thought…” you trailed off, everything felt like an excuse now and you didn’t want to drag this out. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I was so stupid.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t—” She exhaled sharply. “What happened to you? Why did it have to come to this?”

You buried your face in your hands. “I don’t know.”

Mina must have sensed your frustration then, the weight of your actions pressing heavily on your chest. She sat next to you and hugged you, rubbing your back as she let you cry your heart out once again.

Later that week, Vernon asked to meet, and despite the turmoil churning in your gut, you agreed. As you sat across from him in the café, you couldn’t look him in the eyes. The quiet stretched on, both of you looking miserable, drowning in the weight of what had happened.

“I—I just wanted to say that what happened… it was a mistake,” Vernon finally said, his eyes avoiding yours. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”

His apology echoed in your mind. “It’s not just your fault, Vernon,” you replied, your voice trembling slightly. “You can blame me too. I pushed you into it. I should’ve just let you leave.”

“Still, it was me who—”

“I hope you’re okay,” you said, cutting him off. “I hope this doesn’t ruin what you have with Suji.”

“I hope so too,” he muttered, fiddling with his fingers. “I couldn't tell you I love her because we just started dating and I haven't fallen so deep in love with her yet. But I know for sure that I want things to work out with her. I like her a lot.”

His admission made your heart clench, not in pain but in relief. You were relieved to know he was serious about Suji, and that he’d try to make things work. For some reason, it gave you some sort of reassurance. It was odd because you didn’t know why you felt that way when you should be depressed over the fact that he really loved Suji and would not pick you over her despite what had happened between you.

“I wish you luck, Vernon.”

He smiled at you—one that was filled with affection, not for a lover but for a really dear friend. “Good luck to you too. I hope you find your own happiness soon.”

“You and me both,” you chimed.

You both agreed to move on properly, to face the consequences of your actions and try to find closure. As you parted ways for what felt like the final time, a heaviness settled in your chest, but it was a weight you knew you had to bear alone.

In the days that followed, you found yourself sinking into loneliness, drowning in your own thoughts. You replayed the events over and over, dissecting each moment until you could barely remember what had drawn you to Vernon in the first place. 

It was in this solitude that you realized it wasn’t Vernon that you wanted. You didn’t long for him or the comfort of his presence. You were just insecure. You wanted to prove to yourself that you were valued, loved, and that you were not inferior to anyone.  You didn't love him anymore; your ego was just bruised. The connection you thought you missed was really just a desperate need for validation, a desire to reclaim a part of yourself that you felt had been lost. 

The ache in your chest began to morph into something different—something like a resolution. You could rebuild, not just from the ashes of your mistakes but from the ashes of who you had thought you were. 

About two weeks later, you found yourself unexpectedly face-to-face with Suji at a library. As you watched her interact with children, you realized why Vernon was so taken by her. She really was amazing, not just because she was beautiful and radiant, but because she was soft-spoken, kind, and loveable. Shame washed over you, and you felt small in her presence, aware of the hurt you had caused her.

“Excuse me,” you managed to say while she was picking up the books the children had left behind. She glanced at you, eyebrows raised curiously.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I don’t know if you know me, but there’s something I need to tell you.”

“It’s okay,” she replied briskly, a polite smile playing on her lips. But the warmth didn’t reach her eyes; instead, you saw animosity in them. “I already know. Vernon told me.”

You bit your lower lip, feeling even smaller under her unwavering gaze. “I just wanna say I’m sorry. It was my fault.”

“It is, but it was also Vernon’s. You were both foolish,” she said, still with a smile but her words were blunt.

“I’m really sorry,” you repeated, your voice a whisper. You could feel your heart pounding, desperate for her understanding. “I don't know what else to say. I have no excuse.”

“Vernon and I are trying to fix things. We both intend to make it work, despite what happened.” Her expression hardened. “And I’m going to be honest: I don’t like you. I don’t really hate you either, but I hope we never have to see each other again.”

“Suji, I—”

“If we can’t avoid it, let’s just pretend we don’t know each other. I hope you’d do me that favor.” 

You nodded, the sting of her words cutting deep. “Of course. I just want you to be happy.”

“That includes Vernon. I don’t want you around us—around him.” She stepped closer, her face was calm but you could see the pain in her eyes. “It might sound childish, but this is the only way I’ll feel at ease.”

“Vernon is a good man. He would never hurt you. I—” 

“I’m sure he wouldn’t,” she shot back, her voice steady. “But when it comes to the woman he loved so dearly in the past, I think we both know what could happen. It’s difficult, you know? To compete with the ghost of the past you and Vernon had. He may be over it now, but that didn’t mean he’d completely erased you from his life.”

You clenched your fists at your sides, trying to contain the overwhelming emotions. “I don’t wanna come between you two.”

“Do you still love him? Do you still want him back?” she pressed, her gaze unflinching.

“No. Not anymore,” you said and you were surprised because it didn’t feel like a life. In fact, it felt liberating to finally say it out loud.

“Then that’s good enough for me,” she replied, her voice softening. “Just stay away from us. Please.”

“Please forgive him,” you pleaded, desperation creeping in. “He made mistakes, but he’s still—”

“We’ll solve our own issues,” she interrupted again, her tone final. “And you’re in no position to ask me for any favors.”

You took a step back. “I know. I’m really sorry. I’m gonna… go.” 

As you turned to leave, you could feel her gaze burning into your back. You wished you could have said something more in apology, but you were content with the conversation too.

“So, here I am,” you said quietly to Seungcheol. “A promotion was offered at work and I took it. I had to pack my bags and work halfway across the country, but that was the best part of it. I was able to leave. I couldn’t stay there. I needed a reset. Far away from the life I was now too ashamed to live”

There was a long pause, the air between you feeling lighter now, as if confessing this truth had somehow eased the burden on your shoulders.

“And now?” Seungcheol asked gently. “How do you feel about it after all this time has passed?”

You thought about it for a moment, really letting yourself feel the emptiness where all that regret used to sit. But instead of pain, there was something else there now. Something calmer. Softer.

“Now?” You sighed, the answer finally clear. “Now, I think I’m ready to move on. Not from Vernon, but from everything. From needing someone else to tell me I’m enough.”

You leaned back in your chair, feeling lighter than you had in months—maybe even years. “I’m okay with being on my own now. All this time away gave me time to rediscover myself.”

Seungcheol’s smile was small but sincere. “That’s the most important thing, isn’t it?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I think it is.”

For the first time in a long time, the silence that followed didn’t feel heavy or oppressive. It felt like peace. And for the first time, you let yourself believe it. You were free. Finally, truly free.

[fin]

[hansolsticio]

✦ — "brat". ᯓ c. hansol.

— veterano ! vernon × leitora caloura. — 𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗴𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗮: smut. — 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 3873. — 𝗮𝘃𝗶𝘀𝗼𝘀: todo mundo aqui tem caráter duvidoso, nonie fumante, br!au(?), bebida alcoólica, nonie meio sub, oral (f), penetração, spit kink & semi-public sex. — 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗮𝘀: "put a muzzle on me, I'll spit in your mouth" except this time you're the one spitting

Que "calourada" era sinônimo para "insalubridade" você já sabia, mas deveria admitir: estavam superando todas as suas expectativas. Nada de bom poderia ser esperado de um lugar cheio de jovens adultos com caráter duvidoso somados a uma quantidade bisonha de bebida alcoólica e outras substâncias — que aliás, sequer deveriam estar sendo misturadas. Mas, poxa, nessa idade é tão conveniente usar o 'só se vive uma vez' para fazer merda, o arrependimento sempre fica para depois. E, ao que parecia, o seu primeiro arrependimento da noite já tinha um rosto específico, só faltava ter nome e sobrenome — se bem que você não se importaria em saber o nome dele, hoje não.

Ele deveria ter da mesma idade que você, ainda que tivesse algumas características que o faziam parecer bem mais jovem. Porém, o que te chamou atenção foi toda a estética que circundava o corpo esguio. Era pálido, salvo os lábios rosinhas e muito bonitinhos, além das sobrancelhas marcadas que contrastavam com o rosto inexpressivo — era o pouco que a baixa iluminação do lugar te deixava ver. Parecia ter saído diretamente de algum álbum do 'My Chemical Romance' e não era novidade para ninguém que você curtia um esquisitinho. Eles sempre guardavam alguma surpresinha, bastava descobrir se essa seria boa ou ruim. E, porra, para compensar o cara era um gatinho — não tinha como deixar passar.

"Vem cá, quem é aquele ali?", questionou ao que sua amiga finalmente apareceu. Havia saído para encher os copos de vocês há mais de dez minutos, o cabelo desalinhado e o batom borrado por todos os cantos da boca revelando o motivo da demora.

"O loirinho?", passou longe.

"Não, o outro. O que 'tá me encarando igual psicopata faz uns dez minutos... É calouro também?", descri��ões físicas não te apeteciam e não havia como não associá-lo ao jeitinho de maluco.

"Ah! O Vernon?", viu? Ele era o único que se encaixava na descrição. "Não, é veterano. Tá no sétimo ou oitavo período, algo assim."

"Cês se conhecem?", estava intrigada. Sua amiga era veterana também, então já havia ouvido falar de praticamente todas as pessoas que ela conhecia — ainda que você só tivesse entrado na universidade agora — e ela nunca havia mencionado nenhum 'Vernon'.

"Não exatamente. Mas de todas as calouradas que eu ajudei a organizar, ele nunca faltou uma.", entortou os lábios, ela tinha fortes opiniões sobre gente que já estava quase se formando, mas que vivia atrás de calourada.

"Hmm.", acenou, mas era hora de perguntar o que interessava: "Solteiro?"

"Iih, nem tenta. Aquele é ali é red flag total. Só vem 'pra pegar novata.", alertou, expressando certa aversão com o rosto.

"E a red flag é...?"

"Perdão, esqueci que você também não presta.", murmurou em meio a um risinho.

"Não é assim... se eu já tô na chuva é 'pra me molhar ué.", tentou justificar. Você não entendia o que havia de ruim em dois adultos se divertindo. Não era falha de caráter se ninguém estivesse enganando ninguém. Sua amiga censurava coisas demais e, no final do dia, ela mesma era uma veterana que vivia atrás de calourada — ainda que usasse a desculpa de que fazia parte do setor que organizava as festas —, não tinha o privilégio de julgar ninguém.

Era informação o suficiente. Você não iria perder a chance de usar sua "carta" de caloura com o tal do Vernon. Estava prestes a renovar a historinha mais velha desse mundo: o veterano que "se aproveita" de uma pobre caloura inocente. Mas faria isso do seu jeito. Já tinha dado fora em dois ou três caras muito questionáveis, porém se recusava a terminar a noite de mãos vazias. Virou a bebida colorida e meio docinha que se encontrava em seu copo. Desde que se convenceu que ficaria com o homem não tirou mais os olhos dele. Vernon continuava a te olhar curioso, a expressão de quem não sabia se havia conseguido o que queria.

Você atravessou o cômodo inteiro sem tirar a atenção do homem, subiu as escadas, dirigindo-se à uma espécie de varanda. Era um ambiente meio extenso, com alguns móveis jogados pelos cantos — o pessoal costumava usar para fumar ou, por falta de expressão mais direta, foder. Se o tal do Vernon fosse inteligente, ele saberia muito bem que tudo aquilo havia sido um convite. Apoiou as mãos no parapeito, aproveitando a brisa geladinha. E como previsto, não demorou para que uma silhueta esguia surgisse do seu lado, o sorriu de imediato — então Vernon era esperto...

"Aceita? São de menta.", a voz baixinha te arrepiou, ele esticou um maço de cigarros na sua direção.

"Não fumo, valeu."

"Mas... eu posso?"

"A vontade, não me incomoda.", não era fã do cheiro, mas admitia sentir uma coisinha por assistir. O barulho do isqueiro soou e não demorou para que o odor da nicotina se espalhasse pelo ambiente aberto. Você olhou de canto, vendo a boca rosinha tragar a fumaça sem pressa alguma só para assoprá-la segundos depois. Não sabia mais dizer se aquilo era inerentemente atraente ou se ele só era gostoso 'pra caralho.

"Sabia que...", tragou outra vez, soltando a fumaça na direção oposta. "...uma das melhores campanhas antitabagismo do mundo rolou aqui no Brasil?"

"Ah é?", questionou com desconfiança, o teor da informação era irônico — dadas as circunstâncias.

"É sim.", apoiou-se no parapeito, finalmente te olhando nos olhos. "Começou nos anos 70 e tá aí até hoje."

"E por quê não funciou contigo?", sorriu de canto, ele era muito mais bonitinho de perto.

"Não sei... nunca me perguntei. Qual seu palpite?", os olhos correram pelo seu decote, mas você resolveu ignorar essa informação.

"Como que eu posso ter um? Não te conheço."

"Hansol.", murmurou, estendendo a mão na sua direção. Custou para assimilar que aquele era o nome dele.

"Ué... não é 'Vernon'?", estava confusa, mas apertou a mão dele mesmo assim. O homem riu de canto.

"Então você me conhece.", constatou.

"Saber seu nome não é o mesmo que te conhecer.", você tentou desconversar, mas não achava que aquilo mudaria alguma coisa.

"Vernon é meu sobrenome. Meu nome é Hansol.", conhecido pelo sobrenome? Um tipinho clássico... "E você é a...?"

"_____.", foi casual, mas não deixava de reparar que ele ainda não havia soltado a sua mão.

"E então, _____? Agora você me conhece.", tragou mais uma vez, virando o rosto para se livrar da fumaça. Logo apagou a chama contra o parapeito, deixando a bituca ali mesmo. "Qual o seu palpite?", aproximou-se em passos curtos, o cheiro de perfume masculino inundando seu olfato. "Tem carinha de ser inteligente...", elogiou, fingindo arrumar algo no seu cabelo.

O joguinho já era bem conhecido por você. Forçou um sorrisinho lisonjeiro, como se as palavras dele realmente significassem algo. Mas não dá para enganar quem engana. Nesse quesito você que era veterana comparada a Hansol.

"Acho que você faz por estilo.", os braços se esticaram, circulando o pescoço do homem — não tinha tanta paciência para fazer as coisas aos poucos.

"Por estilo? Ninguém fuma por estilo..."

"Muito pelo contrário, tem muita gente que fuma só 'pra parecer descolado.", provocou, as unhas brincando com o cabelo curtinho da nuca dele. A tensão era palpável, sentia seu corpo esquentar — Vernon já te olhava sedento.

"E você acha que esse é o meu caso?"

"Acho.", as mãos dele correram até sua cintura, te encurralando contra o parapeito num movimento cuidadoso.

"Pois é um palpite errado, linda. Tenta outro."

"Melhor: eu paro de fingir que 'tô interessada nesse papinho e você para de fingir que não tá só a fim de me pegar.", disse mansinha, agarrando o maxilar dele entre as mãos. "Facilita 'pra mim vai...", fez um biquinho que logo foi agarrado pela boquinha gostosa do homem. Não evitou o sorrisinho, retribuindo o carinho.

Hansol te chupava com fome, tinha um gostinho de menta insistente do fundo da boca. Se inclinava, forçando o rosto contra o seu, puxava sua cintura para perto, lambendo dentro da cavidade sem pudor algum. O beijinho de canalha te deixava mole, mas você não era fraca assim. Arranhava a pele leitosa do pescoço dele, colocava a linguinha para fora, fazia Vernon mamar ali. Era manhosa 'pra cacete, gemia dengosinha só para tirar ele do eixo. Você sentiu o exato momento em que a mão dele entrou entre os corpos de vocês e não conseguiu segurar a risadinha.

"Achei que fosse mais experiente, Nonie...", quase miou as palavras dentro da boca dele. "Mas já 'tá duro só de me beijar?"

"Nonie...?"

"Não muda de assunto.", provocativa, roçou o narizinho na bochecha dele. O homem riu com desdém, mas não parava de ajustar o próprio volume dentro da calça.

"Cê 'tá emocionada demais, linda. Tô normal.", desconversou.

"É? Tira a mão do pau 'pra falar comigo então.", contraditoriamente colocou uma das suas mãos sobre a dele, fez pressão, fazendo-o apertar ali. As sobrancelhas do homem franziram, a cara de putinho fez seu corpo esquentar. Avançou para mais um beijo gostoso, mordia, lambuzava a boquinha dele totalmente obscena. Livrou-se da mão dele e abriu a calça do homem num movimento rápido. O corpo de Hansol saltou em surpresa com a massagem que recebeu por cima da cueca. Era grande, porra... parecia uma delícia, a cabecinha babava abundantemente e fazia sua boquinha salivar.

"Que foi, Nonie?", zombou do rostinho meio atordoado. "Tá acostumado a pegar as mais bobinhas, não 'tá? São mais fáceis de manipular...", provocava, ainda apertando-o.

"Você quem 'tá dizendo. Acabou de me conhecer, pô... tá exagerando demais.", reclamou num suspiro dengoso, empurrando a cintura contra sua mão. Tão coitadinho...

"Relaxa, Hansol. Não precisa desse teatrinho 'pra me comer.", cortou o drama. "Vou dar 'pra você por vontade própria... só porque é gostosinho.", sussurrou a última parte contra a boca dele, como se fosse segredo. O homem revirou os olhos, insolente. Te empurrou pela cintura até o cantinho do cômodo, a diferença de altura fazia você ter que levantar o rosto para encará-lo.

"Se quer pagar de marrenta, vai ter que fazer direito.", sorriu com escárnio. Agarrou sua cintura, suspendendo seu corpo num solavanco, te colocou sentadinha em cima de um móvel resistente. E você aproveitou a elevação que a bancada te oferecia para olhá-lo de cima, fazia questão de subjugá-lo de todas as maneiras de conhecia.

As primeiras interações entre vocês impregnaram na sua cabeça a ideia de que Hansol tinha o jeitinho perfeito para servir de brinquedinho, não importa o quão extensa fosse sua lista de pretendentes "indefesas" — estava certa de que saberia colocá-lo no lugar dele, ele só precisava aceitar que era para aquilo que servia. Havia um brilho curioso nos olhinhos castanhos, o homem tinha a graça de possuir um rostinho muito mais inocente do que realmente era — talvez por isso fosse tão habituado a sustentar a farsa de veterano solícito.

Seus dedos contornaram desde a pele desbotada até os lábios rosados. Vernon seguiu o movimento, selando sua palma assim que ela ficou próxima à boca dele. Você brincou com a boca bonita, dedilhando-a por todos os cantinhos. Manteve contato visual quando timidamente enfiou a pontinha do dedo entre o vãozinho entreaberto. Queria saber o quão receptivo ele era. Abriu mais a boquinha, a língua resvalando contra os seus dígitos. Você quis sorrir brevemente, mas se conteve.

Deu mais um pouco a ele, enfiando outro nó do dedinho, massageou o músculo inquieto. A outra mão dirigiu-se ao cabelo do homem, ofereceu um cafuné lentinho, como se aprovasse o acolhimento. Iniciou um movimento repetitivo, retirava parte do dígito só para afundá-lo ali novamente, fodendo a boquinha com cuidado. Hansol franziu a testa, estava nítido que queria te questionar, mas nem por um segundo te impediu. Atreveu-se a colocar mais um dedo, socando-os com mais velocidade. As perninhas circularam a cintura do homem, puxando-o para perto, encurralando-o.

Firmou o aperto nos fios, Vernon não conseguiu refrear o sorriso safado, mesmo de boquinha cheia. Bingo. Os dedinhos cessaram o movimento, mais um olhar questionador por parte dele. Usando a outra mão, você manipulou um vai-e-vem com o rostinho do homem, agora fazia ele se foder contra sua mão. A saliva começava a escorrer pelos cantinhos, os estalinhos enchiam sua audição. Porra, era tão obsceno...

Precisou esconder a própria surpresa ao que Hansol agarrou seu pulso. Os olhos do homem se fecharam a medida que ele mamou seus dedinhos por conta própria. Até mesmo inclinava a cabeça de um jeito manhoso, lutando contra o aperto no próprio cabelo. Era muito mais putinho do que você havia calculado, se melava inteirinha com a ideia de quebrá-lo mais ainda. O corpo retesou ao que recebeu uma mordida, o primeiro reflexo foi puxar o cabelo dele. Mas Hansol já soltava os dígitos rindo todo malandro.

"Filho da puta...", praguejou, sentido a carne pulsar no local da mordida.

"Morre não.", ele desdenhou, já se enfiando no vão do seu pescoço. "Tão cheirosa, porra...", roçou o narizinho ali, logo te tirando de órbita com a boquinha molhada. Parecia não ter travas, corria as mãos pelo seu corpo como se já tivesse o feito milhares de vezes. Você fraquejava, era difícil se manter fixa ao plano inicial com Hansol apertando seus peitinhos de um jeito tão gostoso. As unhas maltratavam a pele do homem, mas ele parecia não se importar. Provocava mais, escorregando os dedos por dentro das suas coxas. Ameaçava tocar a bucetinha carente, mas se afastava logo em seguida. Sabia do próprio efeito, sentia o quão quentinha você estava — mesmo que de longe.

"Nonie, me chupa...", o que era para soar como um pedido veio acompanhado de você forçando a cabeça dele para baixo sem delicadeza alguma. Abaixou as alcinhas do próprio vestido, empurrando o tecido para debaixo dos seios. Se sentia febril, os biquinhos latejavam, implorando por atenção.

Os olhinhos castanhos te olharam por baixo com uma pureza conflituosa no segundo em que ele cuspiu nos seus seios, dava para perceber o sorrisinho preso dentro dos lábios quando ele recolheu a própria saliva com a língua. Abocanhou com gosto, abrindo a boca para abrigar o máximo que conseguia. Mamava, fazia carinho com os dentinhos, se afastava só para esfregar a língua... inferno, seu corpo já estava todo arrepiado.

Esticava-se o máximo que conseguia, forçando os peitinhos contra ele. A bucetinha era ciumenta, se babava inteira, também queria carinho. Mal piscou e já tinha enfiava a mão dentro da calcinha. Era impaciente, espalhava o melzinho pelas dobrinhas, sentindo-se mais molinha com o jeito gostoso que estimulava o próprio pontinho. Choramingava burrinha ao que a mão do homem tomou o lugar da sua. Os dedos esguios estavam geladinhos, esticavam seu buraquinho, ameaçando entrar.

"Minha buceta, porra, fode...", reclamou toda marrenta. Ele achou graça, lambendo desde o vão entre seus seios até a pele atrás da orelha, mordiscou ali. O corpo coladinho no seu, a respiração quente contra a pele molhada e o carinho vagaroso na sua entradinha fizeram sua cabeça girar. Abraçou-o numa preguicinha gostosa, carente de tanto tesão. "Nonie, eu quero seu pau... coloca...", se aninhou contra o ombro dele, apertando o volume por cima do tecido. O homem riu baixo, pulsava 'pra caralho, se melando inteirinho.

"Não quer mais que eu te chupe?", você era contraditória. Sequer se deu ao trabalho de responder, agarrou-o pelo cabelo, forçando-o para o meio das suas pernas. Vernon se ajoelhou sem resistir, te puxando maia para a borda da bancada. Você enrolou a sainha do vestido na cintura e ele te ajudou a tirar a calcinha, jogando-a no cantinho do móvel. Separou mais as pernas, abrindo a bucetinha sem hesitar.

Ele não tirava os olhos dali desde que se abaixou. Abocanhou sedento, da mesma maneira que fez com o seus peitinhos. Roçou o nariz desde a entradinha até o pontinho inchado, grunhindo baixo. A língua gelada esticava seu buraquinho e o nariz não deixava de estimular seu clitóris. Suas pernas se fecharam por instinto, prendendo a cabeça dele entre as coxas.

"Abre a buceta 'pra mim, vidinha.", murmurou, as mãos afastando-se do aperto. O apelidinho te fez rir desacreditada, agarrando o cabelo dele. "Isso, porra, assim..."

Os dedos dele abriram espaço na entradinha, meteu a linguinha entre eles, babando a carne macia de um jeito gostosinho. Afastava os dígitos, lambia a mistura dos líquidos, engolia tudinho e repetia o processo. Mamava o pontinho rígido, olhando para cima só para assistir sua carinha de tesão. Você se forçava contra a boca dele, revirando os olhinhos quando ele tentava chupar tudinho de uma vez.

"Nonie... fode agora, vai...", choramingou, o corpo febril continuava a se insinuar contra a boca dele. Os dedos não eram suficientes, sentia fome de algo maior. "Eu quero mais... me deixa cheinha...", maltratou os fios da cabeça dele outra vez.

Hansol não teve escolha. Levantou-se, livrou o pau dos tecidos meio desesperado, enfiando-o dentro de um preservativo que achou na carteira. Parecia pesadinho, a cabecinha soltava o líquido esbranquiçado que melava toda extensão — a boquinha gulosa salivou para sentir o gosto.

"A marra acabou foi?", ele provocou, se esfregando gostosinho na sua buceta. "É falta de pau, linda.", desdenhou, colocando só a pontinha.

"Cala a boca e ah-", ele forçou mais um pouco, ia fundo 'pra cacete. "E fode, porra...", saiu num fio, os olhinhos apertaram quando ele colocou até a base.

"A bucetinha nem aguenta... porra, tá me apertando 'pra cacete.", socou com mais força e seu corpinho tentou se afastar por puro reflexo. "Não foge, vida.", te segurou pelas coxas, a boquinha roçando na sua orelha "Quer que eu foda só com a cabecinha?", forçou uma manha fingida, seu corpo esquentou inteirinho por pura raiva — e um tesão do caralho.

Quis revidar a provocação, mas sua cabeça não conseguia mais processar o ritmo gostoso das estocadas. Choramingava cheia de manha, nem se atrevia a tirar os olhos dos dele. Sentia e ouvia ele arfar contra o seu rosto, o aperto possessivo na sua cintura deixava suas perninhas fracas — a carne tremia, mal conseguia mantê-las abertas. Quase ronronou quando Vernon avançou na sua boca, sentiu o frio na barriga triplicar com o beijo quente. Ele alternava entre os seus lábios, sugando-os para dentro da cavidade quentinha. Puxava a carne entre os dentes, sorrindo lascivo com seus gemidinhos.

Você cortou a provocação, agarrando-o pelo pescoço para deixá-lo paradinho. Alucinada, usou a boquinha dele como bem quis. O nó no estômago apertava a cada estalinho, a entradinha apertava, babava o pau dele inteirinho... precisou soltá-lo ou iria acabar gozando por causa desse inferno de beijo delicioso. Era duro assumir, mas Hansol era mais gostosinho que o normal e talvez você estivesse sendo mole demais com ele por isso. Porra... não se lembra da última vez que ficou tão dengosinha com outro homem, precisava voltar a si — escolheria um tiro à admitir ter química com qualquer pessoa, culparia a bebida quando tudo acabasse.

Voltou a encará-lo de perto, Hansol estava vermelhinho, as orbes castanhas brilhavam, te admirava com devoção, era o cachorrinho perfeito. A cabecinha martelou um pensamento tão gostoso, queria fazer — ele 'tava merecendo tanto... não se segurou. Agarrou o pescoço dele outra vez, mas agora o intuito era diferente. Os dedinhos da outra mão se enfiaram na boca dele, puxando para baixo, forçando a abertura. Vernon só aceitou, até pôs a linguinha para fora — parecia saber o que estava por vir.

Você não fez cerimônia, cuspindo no músculo rosinha. Pareceu tirá-lo do eixo, Hansol revirou os olhinhos, apertando-os logo em seguida. Engoliu sem hesitar, gemendo contido. Enfiou a cabeça no seu pescoço, gozando numa risadinha adorável. A cena te deixou mole de tesão, não foi surpresa nenhuma o chorinho patético que saiu da sua boca quando ele passou a brincar com o seu pontinho. Se esforçou para socar o pau todo burrinho com a superestimulação, mas não parou até te fazer gozar.

Trouxe o homem até sua boca pelos cabelos pela enésima vez — a essa altura já havia virado hábito. Se sentia carente e precisava da boquinha gostosa, beijou-o com tanta necessidade quanto no início. Riam cúmplices toda vez que ele se movia dentro de você 'sem querer'. Renderam-se aos estalinhos molhados e aos suspiros manhosos por mais tempo que deveriam. Porém você o afastou quando o beijo passou a ter gosto de "quero foder de novo". Ele saiu sem jeito, se livrando do preservativo e arrumando o pau dentro da calça.

"Quer ajuda 'pra descer?", estendeu a mão.

"Me viro sozinha. Você já pode ir.", sorriu atrevida, expulsando-o de um jeito carinhoso. Ganhou mais um beijinho quente antes que ele se afastasse.

"Você que sabe então..."

"Hansol.", chamou, ele se virou assustado. "Sua carteira.", estendeu o objeto. Sentia as perninhas tremendo e não daria a Vernon o prazer de tentar se levantar na frente dele — queria manter seu orgulho intacto.

"Ah! Caralho... tô lerdo.", bateu as mãos nos bolsos como se ela fosse magicamente se teletransportar para dentro deles. Voltou com um risinho envergonhado no rosto, pegando-a da sua mão sem perder a oportunidade de te roubar mais um selinho carente. Sorriu sem querer te largar outra vez e sua mente deu um curto... sério, precisava beber alguma coisa.

[...]

Você só se arriscou a descer da bancada quando Vernon sumiu pela porta. Riu de si mesma ao que sentiu as pernas molinhas. Buscou um espelho na própria bolsa, precisaria dar uma jeito em si mesma. Arrumou o vestidinho como pôde, colocando a calcinha no lugar. A sensibilidade misturada a sensação meladinha no meio das pernas seria um lembrete gostoso que te acompanharia pelo resto da noite.

Voltou em passos despreocupados quando finalmente sentiu-se satisfeita com a própria aparência. A festa parecia intacta e sua amiga não havia deixado a mesa na qual vocês estavam desde o início. Seu primeiro ato inclusive foi tomar o copo da mão dela, dando um gole generoso em seja lá o que estivesse dentro do recipiente. Forçou uma careta ao engolir o líquido, era forte, parecia vodka. Só então reparou no olhar incrédulo da mulher a sua frente.

"Hm?", se fez de sonsa.

"Achei que 'cê fosse morar lá."

"Que drama, não demorei nada...", desconversou. Ela se aproximou sorrateira, os olhos alternavam entre seu rosto e algo atrás de você. Parou de chegar perto assim que finalmente sentiu-se discreta o suficiente.

"O quê porra você fez com ele?", ela sussurrou, parecia abismada. Você forçou um semblante confuso — sabe-se lá o que ganhava sendo tão dissimulada. Sua amiga indicou uma direção específica com a cabeça e você se virou de soslaio, sabia o quê — ou melhor, quem — iria encontrar.

Hansol estava praticamente jogado num sofázinho velho que ficava no canto do cômodo. A cabeça apoiada no encosto quase não te deixava ver o rostinho apático. Olhava para cima, exausto — talvez esperando a própria alma voltar para o corpo. Um cigarro adornava os dedos, mas ele claramente não se lembrava mais de tragá-lo. Era hilário, o primeiro reflexo de qualquer pessoa seria descaralhar de tanto dar risada.

Porém você não era qualquer pessoa...

Virou-se tão sorrateira como sempre era, a expressão neutra. Deu de ombros.

"Só dei uns beijinhos, ué..."

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