ೃ⁀➷ SUMMARY; in which , vernon texts his ex while drunk. | FEAT. Vernon x fem!reader | TROPE childhood friends to lovers, now exes? rekindling?? | FORMAT oneshot | GENRE angst, fluff | WARNINGS cursing, suggestive (if you squint) | WC 3.6k | NOTES my first svt fic ! eee !
Picture this, your childhood best friend, now ex boyfriend, texts you a cryptic message after a late night out with his friends. In a drunken state, he types a simple ‘I miss you,” which struck your curiosity. Not because you’re interested, but because he’s the one who broke things off with you. He wakes up the next morning and checks his phone, having completely forgotten that he sent you a message, only to see a text message from you. ‘What?’ Only one thought ran through his now sober mind. ‘Shit.’
VOL. | 001 — THE ONE WITH THE MISTAKE
12:10 PM
Hansol’s fingers hovered, then vigorously tapped the screen of his phone as he drunkenly typed out a message. He sat slouched in a booth, lost in the blur of bodies and booming bass, the smell of alcohol strongly scenting the air. His friends were all off in conversation, mumbling and talking over each other about an attractive woman that just passed. But Hansol wasn’t listening, he sat staring at his phone, the words blinking back him, waiting to be sent.
“I miss you.”
It seemed like a good idea five shots ago, with a half-empty beer sweating on the tabletop in front of him. He was never the type of person to become loud when he drank, but rather a person who thought — too much. And right now, all he could think about was you.
His best friend, his first love.
The words on his phone started to blur from the amount of alcohol he consumed. So without another thought, he sent the message, and joined his friends in whatever they were chatting about.
He thought that maybe you had gone to sleep by now, and hadn’t thought twice about the message he sent. Little did he know that you had been up working on a project for one of your classes.
The ring from your phone was too loud in the silent room to ignore. You’d been working on a research paper for your Cognitive Psychology class, hot tea sitting on the corner of your desk, waiting to be consumed. The room smelled faintly of vanilla, curtesy of the new scent plugs your roommate bought. Thankfully, your roommate was off at a party tonight, giving you just the right amount of quiet to finish your paper as quiet lo-fi music hummed in your ears. Absentmindedly, you picked up your phone, expecting a text from one of your classmates who told you they’d be working on the project tonight as well. Finally looking away from your laptop, your face dropped when you saw the contact name pop up on the bright screen.
Vernon — “I miss you.” 12:18 PM
Thoughts uncontrollably started to race through your mind;
“Why did he text me this?”,
“Is he okay?”,
“Did he mean to text this?”,
“Why now?”
Why now, after he stood in your dorm two months ago, breaking your heart, as he claimed that he “needed space”, that he wasn’t “ready” to jump into anything serious? After you finally started to piece yourself together, after you sobbed in your best friend’s arms, pleading and wishing that the pain would go away, trying to unlove him. Things finally felt normal, and of course he had to come and mess it all up again, for all of his selfish intent and purposes which came at your expense.
Your hand hadn’t moved since you picked up the phone, it started to warm up in your hands, and the screen had long since faded back to the pitch dark screen it was, before Hansol disrupted the peaceful atmosphere you enjoyed, up until five minutes ago. Trying to push back the storm of emotions brewing inside you, you picked up the phone, unlocked it and clicked on the message.
You couldn’t find the right words to respond;
“I miss you too,” Delete.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” Delete.
“I love you?” Definitely delete.
Your frustration grew as you stared at the ceiling, trying to form a response. By this time, the soft lo-fi sounds playing in the background were working overtime to calm you down. Maybe he sent it on accident? Meant to send it to someone else? Eugh. The thought of him even having a new girlfriend made your stomach twist. But it didn’t matter anymore. He wasn’t yours to be jealous over. He wasn’t yours to love, and he definitely wasn’t yours to be stressing over right now. With all of that in mind, you hesitated to type a simple, “What?”clicking the send button. You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding, and tried to return to your project, even though you were failing miserably.
VOL. | 002 — THE ONE WITH THE REALIZATION
8:00 AM THE NEXT MORNING
Hansol laid sprawled out on the mattress in his dorm, covers halfway off of his body, still wearing last night’s clothes. He reeked of alcohol, and the sound of his roommate throwing up in their bathroom woke him up. His head was booming, and the faint light coming through the curtains draped over his window didn’t help much either. He was hungover. An audible groan left his lips before he sat up in bed. Reaching for his phone, he ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a sigh. The bright light emitting from his phone only increased the massive, God-awful headache he woke up with. That’s when he saw it;
My Love — “What?” 12:30 PM
“Shit,” an audible sound of disgust escaped his lips as he dropped his phone dramatically and facepalmed, rubbing his hands on his face as if stressed. All of the memories from last night came rushing back. The most important one being when he texted you on a whim, saying that he missed you. Technically it wasn’t a lie. He did miss you. He just knew there was no possible chance of getting you back after the stunt he pulled two months ago that left you heartbroken in your dorm. The sound of your broken sobs and soft mutters of the question “why” over and over — it still hurts him to know he was the one that inflicted that pain. Before the breakup, he was dealing with a lot of pressure, freshman year of college, his parents were on him, setting unrealistic expectations for him, he hadn’t made any friends, and to make it all better, you were busy all of the time. He was alone. And being alone forced him to sit with his thoughts. He was still trying to figure out who he was. And he didn’t want to be the one to get in your way or waste your time. He thought that you deserved someone who could communicate clearly, who knew what they wanted and went for it. He told himself that he was doing the “mature” thing, letting you go. But now? He sees that he was the man you deserved. Hearing your sobs as he explained his reasoning for going his separate way, he realized that you didn’t want a better man. You wanted him to be a better man. And he hates that he couldn’t realize that until it was too late. Still, after the breakup, he couldn’t bring himself to change your contact name, it was his one constant, his one anchor to you, even if it meant that he’d never have the chance to tell you he loved you again.
Vernon wasn’t exactly the typical, college frat boy, party all night and cram assignments at the last minute. He drank on occasion, completed his assignments on time, and hardly went to parties, especially at night. Last night though, was an exception. His friends begged him to get out of the dorm, to party, to live a little, and now, having to deal with the repercussions of his drunk texting last night, he wished that he hadn’t listened to his friends.
Heaving a sigh, he picked up the phone on his mattress, his roommate exiting the bathroom, hands on his stomach, as he got back into his bed, clothes from last night still on his body. He couldn’t be bothered to take it all off. Hansol unlocked his phone, navigating to your contact. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he thought of some excuse that’d be good enough to explain himself. He looked away from the phone for a second, looking at the ceiling and sighing once more as he moved a hand to rub his face and looked back down to the keyboard. Hesitantly, he typed;
“Sorry. Drunk texted.” 8:17 AM
He contemplated for a minute, before deciding to just send the message. His heart skipped a beat, before he hesitated to type something else out;
“It’s true though, I do miss you” 8:18 AM
After all, they say that drunk words are sober thoughts. His heart pounded in his chest as he saw the message deliver. He contemplated unsending it, but if he was already this deep, he might as well tell the truth, right? God. You drove him insane. And it was moments like these where he wished that he never let his conscience take over and convince him to break up with you. His thoughts were interrupted by a lump in his throat, followed by a rush of food coming up his throat,
Oh God.
VOL. | 003 — THE ONE WITH HER RESPONSE
It was well past 4 PM at this point. You saw Hansol’s message this morning. When you saw his response, a little part of you was… excited? It sounded so wrong, especially after the way he ended things, but you couldn’t help how you felt. He was your childhood best friend after all, he knew you better than anyone else on this planet, and you knew him better than he knew himself.
He was your first love, your first everything.
First kiss, first dance, first ‘I love you.’
Your first time being in such a vulnerable position.
You’d been too nervous to reply. To open this part of you again, stepping out on a whim, and only hoping to not be hurt again. But when you arrived to your dorm after a long day of classes, a sudden spark of confidence hit you. You said hello to your roommate before sitting on top of your comforter, and unlocking your phone. Immediately clicking his contact, your heart skipped again seeing his response from early this morning. Taking a deep breath, you typed;
“You broke up with me, Hansol.” 6:14 PM
You barely had any time to process what you just sent, before three grey dots showed up, indicating that he was typing back. Had he been waiting all day for you to respond?
“I’m sorry,” 6:15 PM
“I can’t begin to explain to you how sorry I am.” 6:15 PM
Your breath hitched. Your eyes beginning to water.
No, not now. He didn’t get to do this. Not when you’re finally okay. Not after you cried over him for weeks, because he wasn’t just your boyfriend. He was your best friend. You lost two things that day. Your relationship, and your best friend. And now what? He’s here, claiming that he’s sorry? Sorry for what? The countless nights your best friend stayed with you because you couldn’t sleep? The tears you cried? The feelings you felt? A tear fell from your eye, because for a second, you couldn’t believe that he was actually apologizing. And what hurt even more is that you knew he meant his words. He wasn’t the type of man to just mumble pointless apologies. He meant every single word.
You tried to type back, but everything you typed just wasn’t right. Your fingers pressed backspace more than the actual letters on the keyboard. Hansol saw every second of it.
The dots would pop up, then disappear.
They’d stay for a minute, then disappear.
They’d stay there, staring at him, before disappearing again.
When it happened for a fourth time, he typed a message with weary hands.
“Let me make it up to you. Please” 6:21 PM
“I swear I’ll amount to the man you’ve always deserved.” 6:22 PM
Through your teary eyes, you immediately typed a response, your emotions getting the better of you.
“Hansol” 6:22 PM
It came across as a warning. That he had a chance to stop what he was doing before he said something he didn’t mean. You couldn’t go through this again. Not with him. Wiping your few tears, you sniffled a little before looking back at the screen and seeing three grey dots already on the screen. You sighed and looked around, anywhere but the phone screen. Your eyes landed outside of the dorm window. Watching a bird on a tree. You didn’t want to see what he said, and hoped that this could all go away. That tiny part inside of you, still hoped that he meant what he said. Because as messed up as it seems, you still loved him. You never stopped. You never wanted the breakup, that was all him. So weeks later, after all the crying, you pretended like you were over him, knowing that a piece of your heart would always belong to him, that a part of you always wanted something like this to happen. For him to realize what he lost.
The phone vibrated in your hand.
“Let me take you out. That cafe you like?” 6:24 PM
“I promise I will make it worth your time.” 6:24 PM
This man wasn’t letting up. He wanted you back. He wanted to fight for you. You might just let him.
VOL. | 004 — THE ONE WITH THE COFFEE DATE
Your heart pounded in your chest as you walked on the sidewalk leading up to the cafe where you and Hansol had your first date. ‘Of course he’d choose this cafe,’ you thought to yourself, before taking a deep breath, and walking through the cafe door.
You saw him.
For the first time.
In months.
The memory of the last time you saw him, rambling on about how he wasn’t the right man for you, was quickly replaced by the warm smile on his face, as he raised his hand a little, waving hello. Your emotions took control, causing you to smile back at him. Walking over, an awkwardness sat in the air as you sat across from him. Your favorite strawberry pastry, and decaf coffee with extra sugars, waiting for you.
“I remembered how much you love that pastry” He hummed.
“Hope you don’t mind,” His words were soft. As though he was afraid that you’d walk out of this cafe at any given moment, prohibiting him of any chance to talk to you again. Even if you wouldn’t accept him, all he wanted was to talk to you again. To see that gorgeous face he once had the luxury of seeing every night, and waking up to each time you’d sleep at his dorm.
As you sat down and adjusted yourself, you spoke.
“Hi,” You smiled. Just glad that you could talk to your best friend again. There were a lot of things you wanted to catch him up on, but you wanted to let him speak. Let him explain himself. And maybe get back to where you two were, before the weight of the world came threatening to destroy it.
“Hi,” He spoke, smiling warmly at you again. Taking in all of your features and appreciating each tiny detail of the woman he loved so much.
Trying to lighten the mood, he rambled on;
“Do you remember when we were kids, and we were playing baseball?” he began, smiling, and thinking about how simple things used to be.
“You looked so cute in that little helmet your mom got you, and I swung the ball, hoping you’d hit it.” He chuckled before continuing,
“And you hit it perfectly-” He was cut off by the sound of your laughter.
“Perfectly into your mom’s living room window,” You chuckled, remembering the story.
“And you took the blame for me, even though your mom wouldn’t let your play outside for weeks,” you hummed, looking down at the table, playing with your hands.
“You could’ve ratted me out, but you didn’t.”
You mumbled, looking back up at him.
He missed this, and to be fair, you did too. Being able to just talk to each other, no strings attached, no awkwardness, no lingering feelings. Hansol took your hand, which you were previously playing with nervously, and held it across the table. He knew that when you got nervous, you fidgeted.
“Because I loved you.” He hummed softly.
His words lingered. He meant it.
“I miss you.”
Again. He said it again. As his hand held yours, his thumb brushed over the backside of your hand trying to soothe your nerves. This time, it felt real. Not real because his hand was holding yours, but because you could sense the sympathy in his tone.
Your best friend.
You got your best friend back.
“I missed you too,” You hum, letting his thumb continue to run across the back of your hand.
All awkwardness aside, the rest of the “date” went well. The two of you chatted about college, about your friends, and about how life has treated the both of you as of recent. After the nerves, everything slid back into how it used to be. Hansol talking, and you laughing. The way he looked at you with so much love when you spoke, just letting you talk. The way he would absentmindedly touch your hands, as a constant reminder that he was there and he wasn’t leaving. Not this time.
VOL. | 005 — THE ONE WITH THE QUESTION
Things had been going great. Hansol would drop you off to your classes, walk with you on late nights, and he’d visit your dorm a lot more often. The two of you started going on dates again, and little by little, Hansol would prove to you that he is a better man than he once was.
He’d buy you flowers and send them to your dorm.
He’d leave little notes for you to find after he’d visit your dorm.
He’d even buy your lunch when you persisted that he didn’t have to.
He wasn’t letting up. And he wouldn’t let you slip away. Not for a second time. The day he left your dorm, after breaking up with you, he realized two harsh realities at once; he’d just lost the love of his life, and if he ever got the chance again, he wouldn’t fuck it up.
It was a late night, Hansol took you out for dinner around 9:00 PM, and now the two of you were walking on a beach near the restaurant.
“You okay?” He spoke, voice low but gentle, as he held your hand, your head resting on the side of his arm, as the two of you continued to walk.
“Mhm,” you hummed, “Just thinking.” You clarify, feeling the sand between your toes, and the cool water reaching your feet every once in a while.
“I missed this,” You hummed, looking up at him, as he looked down at you, his attention soon turning to something in front of them.
Looking back in front of you, your head still resting on his arm, you saw the faint glow of candles and a blanket in the sand.
“Well, I’m glad you said that,” He hummed, before letting go of your hand and walking in front of you to grab a poster-board that sat on top of the blanket on the sand.
“Hansol,” You giggled, “What is this?” You questioned, hand over your mouth as you still chuckled, in disbelief that he took the time to set this up before he picked you up and drove you two to the restaurant.
As he held up the poster, your mouth dropped and you erupted in giggles, covering your mouth with your hand as he stood there proud. The poster looked like it had been written in his own penmanship, and had photos of you and him on it, that the two of you had taken on your digital camera weeks ago. He bent down slightly to grab a bouquet of roses, and held them up with the poster. His gorgeous features were highlighted by the gentle glow of the candles around the blanket, the scene alone making you fall deeper in love with the man he was. No part of you ever stopped loving the man he was before, but the man he became now, for you? It was a sight that you could never get tired of. The poster read;
“Will you be miss chwe again?”
He stood with the biggest, stupidest, smug smile on his face as you laughed at him and walked towards him, kissing him and murmuring a soft yes against his lips. As your lips met his, an electric feeling coursed through your body, he paused for a minute, pulling away so he could set the poster and flowers down on the blanket. He wasted no time in swooping you up, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist as you giggled and looked down at him, pressing your lips to his once again. The kiss lasted for what felt like forever, Hansol murmuring countless ‘I love yous’ against your lips. As the two of you pulled away, and he placed you back onto the sand, you spoke up, walking to the blanket to sit down properly and enjoy the moment, Hansol right behind you, his hands resting on your waist, making sure you don’t fall.
“This is so beautiful baby, I love it.” You smiled as you spoke, siting down.
He sat down beside you, resting his gentle hands on your thigh, leaning in for a quick peck,
“I love you.” He hummed, pulling away from you, but keeping his face close to yours. His eyes roamed your face, as you smiled at him, and he moved a hand to caress your face, pulling you in for another long, slow kiss. A kiss he had been yearning for ever since he made that mistake standing in your dorm, six months ago.
ೃ⁀➷ SUMMARY; in which , you and armando get into an argument. | FEAT. Armando Aretas x POC!fem!reader | TROPE established relationship | FORMAT oneshot | GENRE angst | WARNINGS none | NOTES id be scared to get into it w him nolie
12:01 AM
Pissed was an understatement for how you felt. Tonight was the night of a big event that was important to you. You and Armando had been planning outfits for weeks prior to this event, but at the last minute he texted you saying, “Lo siento mamá, can’t make it tonight.” No explanation or anything. To which you very angrily responded, “Are you serious, Armando? I’m literally already at the event.” No response. He left you to fend for yourself in a room full of high-class people that you don’t even know, for several hours. So here you were, driving to Armando’s apartment at midnight with no cares in the world.
As you stormed to his apartment door, you knocked angrily, part of you still pissed off, and the other, worried if he’s okay. As soon as he opened the door he sighed, he could tell that you were upset. You walked inside and he closed and locked the door behind you, situating your purse and things on the counter as you stood there staring at him in disbelief. “So you’re sighing cause you know you fucked up right? Big time.” You finally spoke up, your voice cutting through the dead silent room.
“Bebé-“
“No, don’t ‘babe’ me Armando! You knew that this event was important to me and you blew it. For what?” Your voice cracked, signaling to Armando that he really did fuck up. He hates seeing you cry, and being the one causing your emotion was a whole different ballpark. He walked towards you, trying to hold you, but you rejected his advances. “Don’t touch me please.” Your eyes welled with tears threatening to fall. You looked up at him, “Why?”
“They needed me at the station, it took longer than expected-“ He saw you scoff and roll your eyes as you tried to keep your composure.
“I’m so sorry mamá, I know this event was important to you.” He tried to caress your arms again, in some sort of attempt to comfort you before you started to cry, but it didn’t work, because tears were already falling. “mamá no llores,” He took the sleeve of the hoodie he was wearing and wiped some of the tears off of your face.
“You knew this was important, and you blew it off to go hang out with Marcus and your dad at the station? Are you kidding?” Your voice was scarily calm now, and he had no idea of what to say to you.
“I need air,” you shrugged his arms off of you and grabbed your things, he tried to hold your arm as you walked away, but you snatched it back and kept it pushing. Unlocking the front door and opening it before stepping out. “Bebé-“ Armando watched as you walked out of the door, not turning back. Wondering how on earth he was going to fix this. He walked out of the door behind you, knowing that he could catch up easily, you were much shorter than him, so one step for you was like ten steps for him. “Bebé, c’mere,” he spoke, still walking behind you in the hallway of his apartment complex. You stopped and turned around looking defeated, your makeup was ruined, mascara smudged all over the place, your eyes tinted a little red. He couldn’t stand the sight of seeing you this way. Especially when he’s the one who hurt your feelings. As your partner it’s his job to protect you from being hurt, and instead, he caused it, which didn’t sit well with him. “C’mere,” he motioned for you to come toward him, and you did, because despite how you felt, you still loved him. You walked right into his arms, crying into his chest as he rubbed your back, letting you know that he was there. In a world full of uncertainty, he was your constant. “I deeply apologize, princesa. Work got in the way and it won’t happen again. You always show up for me, and I’m promising you now, that I will do the same. Te amo mucho, eres mi todo y duele verte llorar por mi culpa.” He spoke gently, placing a soft kiss on your head, still rubbing your back.
“I forgive you, and I love you too.“ You mumbled into his chest.
“I think I got makeup on your shirt.” You sniffled, looking up at him as he chuckled lightly.
“It’s all good baby.” He placed a peck on your lips and pulled you into his arms once again.
GLOSSARY !
Lo siento mamá — I’m sorry mama.
Bebé — Babe.
Princesa — Princess.
Te amo mucho, eres mi todo y duele verte llorar por mi culpa. — I love you so much, you’re my everything. It hurts to see you crying because of me.
hello my queens i am so sorry , i’ve been so busy with work and other things that needed my attention but im back !!! & im gonna start writing again !!! i have a few requests i want to write & i may start to write for kpop idols , im thinking we start off w svt ? 🤔
sorry yallll i been hanging out w my fam , they’ve been visiting all week so ive had no time to write , but nobody has been forgotten & i will work my way through requests soon ! love u xoxo
ೃ⁀➷ SUMMARY; in which , armando gets a tattoo of your name on his chest. | FEAT. Armando Aretas x POC!fem!reader | TROPE established relationship| FORMAT oneshot | GENRE fluff | WARNINGS none | NOTES sb told me to turn my idea into a oneshot , so here it is !
🎧 for an enhanced experience , listen to Best Part — H.E.R
Armando had been gone most of the day. His excuse was saying that he was busy doing work at the station, when in reality, he was at the tattoo shop. Getting a tattoo of your name above his heart, because you always told him that your heart would forever and always belong to him. He wanted to get the tattoo as a sign of commitment to you and as a promise that he wears your heart on his chest, and would never intentionally cause you any harm. You are the love of his life, and he might not be as good at showing it or expressing his feelings in an articulate way, but this he knew he could do.
Arriving home, he found you in the bedroom all cuddled up in bed, watching some movie you’d put on.
“Hi baby,” You paused your movie, sitting up in bed, opening your arms signaling to him that you wanted a hug. He smiled at you as soon as he saw you, walking over to where you were and giving you a hug. He then picked you up from the bed and held you up, his hands just under your ass.
“I have a surprise for you beautiful,” He started, putting you down, holding your hand as he walked towards the bathroom. He began to take off his shirt, and you looked at him sideways.
“This is your big surprise…?” You questioned him, he laughed at your confused expression in the mirror. Once his shirt was off you saw his chest wrapped in cling film, wondering what it was. “Ven a quitarlo.” His face filled with excitement, knowing that you would love what he’d done. You walked over as he made room for you to stand in front of him by the counter. Your left hand rested on his bare chest, while your right gently peeled back the film on his chest.
Pulling back the film, your mouth dropped. Seeing your name on his chest placed above his heart. With a tiny crown above the last letter of your name. “Baby,” your eyes welled with tears, and Armando immediately comforted you knowing how much this meant to both you and him. “Shh, don’t cry babe,” He laughed a bit, loving the fact that you loved his new tattoo. “You always say your heart belongs to me, ahora lo mio te pertenece.” He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, whispering, “I love you.”
GLOSSARY !
Ven a quitarlo — Come pull it off.
Ahora lo mio te pertenece — Now mine belongs to you.
armando is definitely the type with nothing to hide as well and it’s sooooooo attractive
like he’ll give you the passwords to everything in his phone even though you told him you don’t really care too much about what’s in his phone and you trust him
but once in a while you’ll ask to use his phone for something random and because he has nothing to hide he’ll literally just hand it to you no problem
“Babe, hand me your phone right quick I think my edges are lifting.”
“Here,” He handed his phone over to you with no cares in the world, continuing what he was doing before you’d asked him to use it.
“This damn gel, not buying this shit no more.” You frustratingly stated fixing your edges in the phone camera, Armando looking over at you from where he was sitting.
“Mama you look gorgeous, as always.” He admired you, staring at your face, making you flustered on the inside.
