⭐ ——— in which a night walk with your best friend goes wrong in all the right ways.
[ contents! ] fluff, best friends to lovers, confession, (seemingly) nonchalant vernon x shy reader, skinship, kissing, vernon gets jealous!!, pet names: vern (vernon's)
[ from lyric! ] in a bit of a burnout period rn so here's a little fic i tried to write for you guys!!! psa: if you have any suggestions for my 1k special (WOW that number is still crazy to see 😭) please let me know! anyways song for this fic is wait a minute by willow!
( little side note: kstrucknet has officially been closed! i've had such an awesome time writing for that network and have met some awesome people on there so, thank you soph (@loserlvrss) for making it happen <3 from now on, i will only be writing for krecords. thank you! )
[ extra notes! ] for @k-records. word count is 962.
vernon and you don't speak for most of the walk.
it's not like you guys don't have anything to talk about, you just...don't feel the need to speak. the two of you stroll through downtown korea, night sky and distant sounds of the city your only companion as you stroll through the backroads.
vernon walks close to you, not invading your space, but close enough to where you can feel his presence. he's clad in his black leather jacket and matching beanie, the outfit that you tease him about making him look like a "clueless robber" of sorts. he has a calm, quiet expression on his face, seemingly glued to the scenery that passes by you two as you walk.
neither of you have to say anything as you walk, but you do anyway, gently yet playfully nudging him in the arm as you look up in the night sky. "look at how clear it is. you can see some of the stars if you squint hard enough."
vernon hums in acknowledgement, head turning to the sky in response. his sharp jawline seems to cut against the harshness of his leather jacket, and he smiles slightly, nodding. "it's awesome, seeing all the stars out there. there's like...millions of those things."
you chuckle, nodding as you glance at your best friend of two years. vernon stares back, eyebrows raised slightly as he tilts his head. "what?"
"nothing," you answer back softly, attention returning to the path ahead of you. "just looking at you."
"right..." vernon trails off, and the two of you lapse back into a comfortable silence. the cool night breeze is a welcome feeling, and vernon isn't subtle in the way he inhales and exhales the fresh air.
"he texted me again last night," you blurt out, and vernon's attention is suddenly drawn to your words, eyebrows furrowing as he nods. vernon knows it's a friend of yours from middle school whose relationship you and him were trying to rekindle. "he did?" it sounds less of an acknowledgement and more of a question.
"yeah! he's usually the one starting conversations, which makes talking to him better for me." you laugh nervously, and you swear you see a muscle in vernon's cheek twitch.
he's looking at you with sharpness to his eyes, and you giggle, slightly confused. "what, vern?"
vernon softens slightly at the nickname, not allowing his mask to slip any further before he speaks again. "nothing. i just...i just think it's really weird that he's trying to get close to you all of a sudden. it's as if he's trying to take my place or something."
you laugh aloud at that statement, but vernon does not return the favor. in fact, he's nearly glaring at you now. "w-what?"
"you're not jealous, are you?" you pause, heart starting to speed up in your chest. you've stopped a few feet behind vernon now, turned to face him as your voice shakes with the repeated question. "you're not jealous of him...right?"
"no, i'm just saying—" vernon pauses, brown eyes so intense you think you might melt. his fair skin starts to heat with blush, and he glances at the concrete before gaining his strength to speak again.
"i'm just saying that i don't like he's trying to slide into my place, that's all." vernon eases blandly, and you raise an eyebrow, stepping closer to him for a reason you can't truly explain without sounding crazy.
"your place as..." you trail off, and vernon closes the gap between you quickly, hands going to a place they never have before—your waist. it shocks you in the best way possible, and your cheeks flush in surprise as he answers.
"the one who likes you a little too much to call you just a friend."
vernon's eerily silent after the confession, dark eyes holding your gaze with such an intensity it startles you. then, before you know it, vernon's palm is pressed against your cheek, cupping your face as he pulls you even closer to him.
"may i?" his voice is so soft you don't even think twice about it, nodding frantically before your brain can even attempt to get the words out.
the kiss itself is slow, as if vernon's trying to freeze this moment in time. he's careful yet practiced in the way he kisses you, lips sweet with a lip balm flavor you can't name. once he pulls away, you stumble a little bit, causing vernon's thin lips to crack into a small smile.
"did i do alright?" he asks innocently, as if the man didn't just rock your whole world. you nod, sheepishly grinning as your hands slightly shake from the adrenaline rush vernon's confession just gave.
"you did more than alright, vern." you use the nickname, if only to slow down your racing heart and bring back familiarity between you and vernon.
it does its job for a few seconds before vernon swallows nervously, jaw ticking with the movement before he speaks.
"so...where do you want to go from here?"
you don't take long to answer the question, and the two of you are walking hand in hand seconds later. you've walked with vernon before, sure, but this time feels different. his touch is firmer than you think it's ever been, and his eyes glaze over you with more intention than before.
vernon's presence holds a different weight now, too. it went from a normal night walk with a close friend, to the night that relationship grew into something a little bigger.
vernon and you don't speak for the rest of the walk, but you feel too good to even want to say a word. and vernon? well, vernon feels just as good as you do.
To all who are posting about the latter episodes of Young Sherlock with the greatest and most fascinating takes known to man, understand that I am extraordinarily grateful to you for your efforts and am dying inside that I cannot reblog it, because I have a duty of loyalty to the people who have not yet seen this show to shield them from spoilers.
I finally understood why I find the Lady and the Maw so interesting and maybe why everything about her is so, idk how to describe it? Staged? Ritualistic?
Everything about it , the way it’s framed is like the role was forced onto her even if she didn’t wanted, intended nor liked what she had become.
Right? It's a never ending performance. All of it is performative. I think the added layer of our beloved head of the Maw not being originally a Nowhere-born child makes it even more interesting, because it suggests that the performativity of it is a shield. Something she uses to protect herself from a population who, for all intents and purposes, was hellbent on hunting her down before she got into the position.
(Not that Nowhere children are treated any less harshly than their Visitor counterparts, if Mono and even the Pretender are of any indication... but digressing.)
The Lady herself is maintaining an image she cannot afford to let slip. Because, if it does... then what happens? They'll tear her apart. This world that doesn't make any sense will twist her up into something she won't understand... except that's what it did anyway, didn't it? And it was by her own hand. She got lost in the performance. And the worst part is that it didn't have to be this way.
When I think of the Lady and understanding her, I always come back to this particular quote in this interview:
A prisoner of her own ways.
And, look, I get that it doesn't seem like much of a choice. Because it kind of isn't, when the alternative is the dangerous unknown. But the environment itself is predatory. That's the nature of capitalism. It thrives on predation of the weak.
Like the Lady.
So it seems that she found a home in the performance. Didn't she?
oliver bearman, natural son of charles leclerc, deliberately ignoring 55’s orders in their toy car race is actually just part of his scheme to help his father win the games even at the cost of undermining his own game-partner. in this essay—
