The thoughts weren't so bad, they get stronger when I get home alone. I want to talk to someone and be there but I feel like a nuisance to all my friends. And I am always the one inititating things. Thought at 29 things would get better. They haven't so far, but I am going to keep going
pairing: vernon x reader
word count: 1.6k
warnings: none really. lots of kissing
author’s note: um… happy 2025? 🥲 i haven’t posted in forever, but here she is: part three! i would recommend reading both part one and part two for it to make sense :)
The knock on your door sounds. You’d been expecting it, but that doesn’t mean you’re ready for it.
You pad over to the door, opening it just enough to peek through, and when your eyes meet, Vernon absolutely lights up. It makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, the way his smile widens just at the sight of you. He’s thrown on a hoodie, his hair is tousled from the wind, and he looks so cute that you suddenly panic. He’s in front of you, he came. You suddenly can’t seem to open the door any further.
He stares at you, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly as you watch each other. “Are you going to let me in?” He finally asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Maybe.”
Vernon huffs out a laugh, which makes you smile a bit, too.
“Y/N,” he says slowly, “I need you to let me in.” He’s grinning now as he adds, “How can we be romantic if you don’t let me in?”
Your heart stutters against your chest. You open the door wider, enough for him to slip through. You avoid his eyes as you shut the door, before you’re pressing yourself against it. He laughs again as he slips out of his shoes — ever polite — and the sound makes you look up.
“Y/N,” he says your name again when your eyes meet. “It’s just me.”
“Yeah,” you say softly, and he takes a step towards you. He’s beaming at you in the softest, most confident, most Vernon-esque of ways. You could only ever dream of being so confident.
“Hi,” he breathes, and you can’t help but smile at that, letting out a soft huff of laughter. At the sound, his fingers find yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.
“Hi.” Your voice is shy, timid even, as you return the greeting, but you don’t avert your eyes. You’re nervous, but this is Vernon. He wants this, too, you remind yourself. He’s all soft brown eyes and dark, long lashes, and you suddenly remember the last time you were this close to him. Your eyes fall to his lips at the memory, and he seems to be thinking the exact same thing, because it only takes him half a second to close the gap.
The kiss is chaste but it’s long and slow, his lips pressed to yours in a way that makes your toes curl. And when he pulls away and whispers, “Hi, baby,” you can’t help the way your knees buckle, just a little, before you recover and surge forward to kiss him again.
It’s you who tries to pull away first this time, but Vernon’s hand lifts to slide into the hair at the nape of your neck to keep you there just a little bit longer, earning him a soft gasp from you. You’re lost for breath when he breaks away. Neither of you speak for a minute, and you watch as his eyes trace lazily across your face. You know your face is flushed red, but somehow you can’t find it in you to care when he’s looking at you like this.
“Did you put on makeup?” He finally speaks, breaking the silence, and it takes you a second to register what he’s said.
You blink at him, your eyebrows furrowed as you say, “Huh?”
He repeats himself, smile growing. “Did you put on makeup since we called a half hour ago?”
Oh.
If you weren't embarrassed before, you are now. The smirk on his face lets you know that he already knows the answer to his question — and that it pleases him a great deal. You let out a whine, falling forward to rest your head against the front of his sweater in embarrassment.
“Cute,” he says against your hair. You whine again, pulling away from him and pouting. He laughs, squeezing your arms before heading into your living room as if he hadn’t just kissed you senseless in your front hall. You stare at him as he calls back over his shoulder, “You’re cute. With or without makeup.”
You follow him, embarrassed that he’d called you out but now reeling at him calling you cute. First, he’d called you baby with ease, and now he’s paying you flirty compliments without a second thought. You are not going to survive this.
You don’t know what you expected, but Vernon doesn’t kiss you again for what feels like forever. In fact, everything is relatively normal for a hangout with the two of you, except that he’s got you pulled into his side while you try to pick a movie. Or, rather — while he tries to pick a movie. All you can do is think about how close he is to you, about how much you want to be kissing him again. About how calm he seems about all of this.
Vernon seems to realize you’re not fully with him when he repeats his question for the third time. “Y/N?” He tries, a hand moving to squeeze your knee, and you jump a little. “You good?” When your eyes meet his, you know it’s over for you. He furrows his brows again, removes his hand from your leg and shifts away from you as he opens his mouth to say, “If you’re uncomfortable, we don’t have to —“
“Can you kiss me again?”
You’ve caught him off guard, you can tell, because his mouth hangs open for a moment, blinking down at you. Your cheeks are flaming red, you’re certain of it.
“Sorry! If you don’t want to we can just—“
“Baby,” he breathes out, voice low and breathless, before his hand is on your face and his mouth is on yours again. It surprises you, the fierceness of it, and your hand flies to grasp his wrist as he kisses you. He kisses you, slow and deep, pulling away after what both feels like forever and absolutely not long enough just to say, “You don’t even have to ask.”
It’s you that pulls him back in this time.
You don’t know how long you spend making out with Vernon on your couch — you don’t care to check. You think it’s hours, maybe, and you only stop when it’s physically impossible for either of you to breathe. When he pulls away, hair a mess from where you’d gotten bold enough to run your fingers through it, he simply looks you over, dazed smile wide on his lips as he does.
“Pretty,” he says easily, pressing another kiss against your mouth before settling back to take a breather. Somehow, that’s what gets you.
You settle back against him, much more at ease this time, but when you feel Vernon’s eyes on you, you know he can tell something is still up with you.
“Hey.” You look up at him, and he pokes you gently in the middle of your forehead. “What’s going on in there?”
You flush. You hate that he knows you so well. “I’m just…”
“Yeah?”
You’re silent for a moment or two. Your eyes fly to his when you feel his thumb gently pull your lip free from where you’ve been chewing at it.
“We just made out on your couch for a substantial amount of time,” he says nonchalantly. “I’d hope you can tell me what you’re thinking about.”
“See,” you protest, “that. How is it so… easy for you?”
Vernon’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”
You gesture between the two of you. “This.”
“Well,” he says after a moment, “you're easy to be with.”
“Vernon,” you whine. “That’s not what I meant.”
He shrugs. “I mean it. Being with you like this,” he emphasizes, “is easy.”
“Okay, but how?”
You watch as he thinks before he answers, eyebrows knit together in that Vernon way of his. It’s one thing you love about him — he’s always been a bit of an enigma, but so, so patient with you when you need help figuring him out. “I don’t really know how to explain it any other way,” he starts after a moment. “I just… want to kiss you, so I do. I want to tell you that you’re pretty, so I do. I’ve been thinking about these things for so long that it just feels normal, I guess.”
You ponder his words, your tummy fluttering at his simple explanation. “How long?”
“Hmm?”
“How long have you felt this way?”
Vernon hums, fingers lifting to run through his hair. “I’m not sure exactly when it started, honestly, but… it’s been a while.’
”I had no idea,” you admit quietly, and Vernon’s mouth quirks up.
”Clearly.”
“Hey,” you protest with a pout, and he laughs, but reaches out to grasp your fingers. “I guess I’m just unsure,” you say softly. “About what this all means.”
Vernon nods. “It means that I’ve liked you for a very long time,” he says, straight and to the point. Your cheeks flush, and he says his next words quietly. “It means that you need to tell me now if you don’t want to be more than friends.”
“I do,” you say quickly, and Vernon’s mouth quirks up at the side. “I just… want to keep you as my friend, too.”
“A friend you kiss and hold hands with and go out on dates with sounds pretty great to me.”
You smile at that. “Yeah, it does.”
He watches you for a moment, his face growing a bit more serious. “I’m still your friend,” he reassures you quietly, and you nod.
“A special kind of friend.” You’re smiling even more now, and his expression shifts to mirror yours again as you wiggle your eyebrows.
Vernon leans back against the couch. “If only there was a word for that.”
“If only.”
You beam at him from across the couch, and his eyebrows raise in a teasing challenge. You don’t mind letting him win this one as you break, as you close the distance and cuddle back into his side, the smile on your face so wide it hurts as you say your next words.
“Great. Now pick a movie, boyfriend.”
A/N: it’s been so long, so sorry if you don’t want to be tagged! just shoot me a message if you wanna be removed :)
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