#vernon chwe

[haologram]

everything we are ᯓ h.vc [m]

— synopsis: following an abrupt break-up that has lasted a year, you find yourself standing in front of the very apartment where your past lover sleeps, and where you once used to call home. two birthdays, several holidays and one sullen, teary 'could've been' anniversary later — you're ready to face him and ask the unexpected. – genre: exes to ??? ; angst, smut, fluff. — pairing: ex-boyfriend!hansol vernon chwe x fem!reader – word count: 12k. — rating: 18+. minors do not interact! – warnings: seungkwan plot device! lots of tears, breakups, mentions of food/eating, mentions of alcohol. smoking (weed), swearing, kissing, exes being exes that can't let go. smut warnings: unprotected sex (yeah yeah don't do it), pet names (babe, baby, etc.) ; brief oral/fingering (f.rec), dirty talk (sorry), body worship, slight breeding kink, ruined orgasms, clitplay, creampie. that's about it i think. enjoy? — what to listen to: iris - the goo goo dolls ; the only heartbreaker - mitski ; supercut - lorde ; if you leave me - seventeen ; winterbreak - muna ; perdoname - yoskar sarante ; beg for you (remix) - charli xcx, rina sawayama, a.g. cook, vernon. – author's note: [special thank you to @diamonddaze01, @hannieoftheyear + @ikeukiss for beta-reading most of this before i finished it off tonight!] he's bald! he's bald and he's falling in love with people who have hair! as previously stated, i could not finish off 2025 without thee hansol vernon chwe making his debut on my blog, and i'm incredibly excited to dedicate this one to none other than @sailorsoons ! i'm not going to get sappy because i'm not good at it and i know you don't like it, but please know i love you and i hope your birthday was a blast. here's to you, to 2025 and hansollie's debut on haologram! happy birthday, halali! ♡

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” 

You don’t have an answer for him; your hand clenched inside your jacket pocket, the other gripping the handle of your umbrella. You look up at him from under the rim of the pink shade, his eyes boring into your face. He looks upset, but perhaps...not with you. 

Maybe the circumstances. 

“I’m not sure,” you mumble back, your throat burning as you step back slightly. 

He stays silent as he averts his gaze to your boots, muddy from the rain and possibly jumping in every puddle available. You always liked doing that when the rain was light, and it usually ended up with him offering you a pair of sweatpants when you got home. 

Or, to his apartment. It’s not home to you, not anymore. 

He doesn’t say anything as he moves to the side, opening the door wider for you to step inside. You’re seemingly rooted in place until he turns his head to face the inside of his apartment. Slightly messy, with blankets and sweaters strewn everywhere. Candles burning on his coffee table fill the place you once called home with smells of salted caramel, vanilla and a hint of cedarwood. 

You’re quiet as you slip your feet out of your pink rain boots, your mismatched yellow and purple socks doing nothing to keep you warm from the freezing tile of his foyer. You shake off the umbrella, wrapping it closed and leaning it against the brick of his building. 

“No one will take it, right?”  “You know no one will.” 

You shove your hand in your pocket as you duck into his apartment, feeling the sting of tears prick at your eyes as you look around his living room. He’s got his journal open on the coffee table, the list of films you promised you’d watch together displayed in his handwriting. Smudges of blue and splats of ink from what you presume to be tears cover the page. 

The Netflix account you once shared is paused forty minutes into Mary and The Witch’s Flower. 

“I thought we said—”  “We said a lot of things, let’s not go down that rabbit hole.” 

You suck in a breath, nodding as he shuts the door. You hear the lock click, before hearing him skirt into the kitchen. 

“Drink?”  “Any soju?” 

A scoff is heard, before the familiar clinking of the green bottles you know he hasn’t touched and possibly been sitting since you left. Hansol never did like to drink alone. 

Even if it meant drowning in every sinking thought he had about you. 

He comes out of the kitchen with the bottled gripped between his knuckles, and a bottle of juice in his other hand. It’s new, and it’s one of your favorites. One that he hates. 

“Force of habit, huh?”  “I guess.” 

You inch towards the couch, the Persian rug beneath your feet soft and cushiony. You remember buying it with him, browsing a website he’d gotten from Seungkwan and buying three things while stoned out of your mind. The tiger blanket draped across the couch was one of the three, and a personalized cushion with your initials was the other. 

That was nowhere to be found. 

You perch on the edge of the couch, suddenly feeling hot as he sets the drinks on the coffee table. He still smells the same, soft aftershave and cotton deodorant. 

Cotton deodorant you used to buy for him, in bulk at Costco. 

He had half a stick on the vanity before you left. He’s had to have bought more since. 

He’s almost too close as he opens the bottles, flicking the caps onto the table and leaning back into the couch. Your fingers brush the sweating neck of the soju bottle as you grab for it, cold and slippery. He takes it from you abruptly, a bit of it spilling down his hand as he shakes his head. 

“Wrong one.” 

You look at the bottle in his hand, his fingers just barely covering the word Fresh scrawled on the label. Your cheeks heat as you nod, grabbing for the other one. 

Yogurt. 

“Do you need a glass?”  “No, I’m okay.” 

He hums, picking at the label on his bottle with his ringed forefinger. He doesn’t press play on the movie; he doesn’t move to comfort any sort of awkward situation. Hansol knows you’ll speak when you’re ready. 

“What’s the movie about?”  “The kid’s a witch.”  “Oh, cool.”  “Yep.” 

Silence. 

Agonizing, excruciating, debilitating silence. 

“Do you hate me?”  “What?” 

His eyes are wide as he quickly faces you; your eyes glued to the burning flame of the salted caramel candle on his coffee table. You bought that one. You bought it at a home goods store, and you remember scowling at him when he raised an eyebrow at you when you beelined for it – you'd told him you’d just wanted to get new pillows for the bed. 

Pillows you left behind. 

“Do you hate me, Hansol? I’d hate me?”  “I could never hate you.” 

You swallow hard, your fingers tightening around the bottle of soju. He sighs, setting his down on the coffee table before running a hand through his hair. Or lack thereof, he’s buzzed it off since – chocolate brown hair you’d run your fingers through before bed or swipe out of his eyes when he was too concentrated on Mario Kart. 

He looks good. 

He looks...tired. 

“I could never hate you.” He repeats, and suddenly, the air feels thicker around you. Everything feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, your chest tight as you force yourself to look up at him. His eyes are rimmed with unshed tears, your jaw dropping slightly as you inch forward. 

He looks away, wiping his eyes quickly before clearing his throat. 

“You did what you thought was best. I can’t hate you for taking care of yourself, that’s what you’re supposed to do.” He mumbles thickly, shrugging his shoulders as he traces the spout of the bottle. You follow his fingers carefully, your heart sinking at the slight tremble in them. 

“I’m sorry I disturbed you tonight, Hansol.” You murmur back, wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans, still damp from sprinkles of the rain. He shakes his head, sighing. You’re both staring at the condensation dripping on his coffee table. 

His coffee table that you bought together. His bottle of juice that he’s never going to drink. His television, and the remote that you always changed the batteries to because he would forget. 

His apartment. Speckled with you, everywhere. Everywhere you looked, you saw yourself. 

“You didn’t.”  “I did.” 

“Don’t tell me how I feel, Y/N. I’m so tired of everyone telling me how I feel, or how I’m supposed to feel, or whatever. I’m human, too. I can feel whatever I want. And you didn’t disturb me, okay? I wouldn’t have opened the door if I didn’t want to.” 

Your chest aches at the sound of your name from his lips, eyes wide as you look at him; his own still trained on the condensation gathering on his coffee table. You watch him as his eyes follow the drops sliding down the bottles, your tongue darting out slowly to wet your lips. 

“Why...did you?”  “Why did I what?”  “Open the door.” 

“It’s storming. You only like rain when it’s light.” He whispers to himself, before glancing at you. “You still...right? You still don’t like thunder?” 

It’s only been a year, but he acts like it’s been an eternity. 

Maybe it has been. 

Maybe it’s been a millennia for him, as it has been for you. 

“Right,” you nod, picking at your nail polish as your leg starts bouncing. He used to stop you – when he was your boyfriend. He’d splay his hand on your kneecap; his thumb would rub gentle circles into the side before giving it a squeeze. You found solace in the touch. 

Now? He’s more than a cushion and a half away, and the space between you is hot; it’s burning hot. And you so badly want to close the gap, to feel his hand on your knee and feel the comfort of him spread through your body. 

In any way. You’d allow it in any way. 

“It’s been a year. Today.” You clear your throat, and he closes his eyes – folding his hands in his lap as he leans back into the couch. He nods before resting his head on the back of his couch and opening his eyes to look at you. 

“...Is this where we do the whole ‘how have you been’ bullshit?” 

There is a lilt of a smile in his voice, but it doesn’t show on his face. You shake your head, shrugging your shoulders. 

“I don’t know.”  “You don’t know how you’ve been, or you don’t know if—” 

“I miss you, Hansol.” You blurt, wincing inwardly as you shove your hands under your thighs; your fingers cold from the bottle and the rain and the way all the blood in your body rushes to your chest to aid the fire of anxiety in growing. You shift, wondering how long you could stare at the coffee table before your eyes wore holes into it. 

“...Is that why you’re here?” 

You suck in a shaky breath, opting to close your eyes. If you’re going to cry, you don’t want to see his reaction to it. You don’t want to see the flame in his eyes when he tells you to get out, to leave – that you’re too little, too late. 

That he doesn’t want you anymore, and you’ll have to live with the regret of leaving him for the sake of nothing for the rest of your life. 

“I know I don’t get to say that. I know it’s my fault. I left, and I...I’m sorry, Hansol. I’m sorry that I was a coward and I jumped ship when things started getting serious. I was a douche, and you don’t have to miss me. You don’t have to feel anything, I just...” Your tongue darts out to lick your lips, the salty taste of a stray tear coating the tip. 

“I wasn’t even in the neighborhood. I was six blocks away; I’d gotten coffee with Seungkwan. He told me you still lived here, and that you were good. That you were doing well.” 

“And you wanted to...what? Check and make sure for yourself? Ruin it, if I was?” 

There’s no poison in his voice. Hansol has always been diplomatic, respectful. Sometimes you wondered if there was a single bone in his body that ever felt rage. The urge to make everything look like a war zone, the subtle need to want to destroy every relationship he’s ever built from the ground up. 

Sometimes, you feel that kind of rage. 

“I don’t know,” you murmur, tightly squeezing your eyes shut as you feel him shift on the other edge of the couch. A roll of thunder is heard outside, your fingers gripping the fabric of the cushion beneath your thighs as it fades. 

You don’t catch the way he instinctively reaches for you, before sinking back into the cushion. 

“I don’t know what I wanted to do. I don’t know what I’m doing here.” 

He hums, and you sniffle. One of your hands reaches to swipe at your face, wiping the tears on your jeans as you face away from him. You open your eyes, looking at the wall through the blur of tears. All the frames on the wall are still the same, and they hold all of your pictures together. Your face is still cemented in the memories, and you wonder how he felt looking at those pictures every single day. 

“Do you want to talk about everything?” He asks softly, and you glance over your shoulder to see him resting his cheek on his palm. His eyes are just as gentle and understanding as they’ve always been. 

As warm as they’ve always been. 

“It could help you...uh, figure yourself out.” 

Help you figure yourself out. 

“What is there to talk about? I left for no reason.”  “Don’t do that. You left to find yourself. You left to take care of you.” 

“And it was selfish,” you scoff, and he clicks his tongue. 

“You think so?”  “I know so.” 

“I think it would’ve been worse if I kept begging you to stay, knowing you wouldn’t have been happy here. I mean, look around,” he gestures to the apartment. There is so much of you, and so much of him. “Everything in this apartment was a display of what our relationship was. Everything was you and me, me and you and us. It was never just Y/N, and it was never just Hansol. I could not, in good faith, keep you here if it was me that was suffocating you. It was not fair.” 

“You could never suffocate me,” you mumble to yourself, feeling a few tears trickle down your face as you speak.  

It’s silent for a moment. 

“What about you, Sol?” 

The nickname slips from your bitten lips, and he sighs. 

“What about me, Y/N?”  “If the tables were turned. If I had begged the way you did, would you have stayed?” 

It’s not a fair question. You know it’s not, and you can tell he thinks it’s not as his eyes shut, and he silently nods his head. He tongues his cheek, running a hand over his buzzed hair and down his face. 

“That’s not a fair question.”  “I know.” 

You nod, choosing to refocus your gaze on the coffee table. There was a sticker you’d peeled off an apple a few weeks before you left, still stuck to the table leg. It looks glossed over, like it’d come unstuck and somehow been put back. Glue, maybe. Clear nail polish. 

“Why didn’t you change the apartment?”  “In case you ever found your way back.” 

There was a hint of hope in the back of his throat, and you realize that he’s wearing the same hoodie he wore the day you left. Baby blue, over a white t-shirt. You bought it for him, just a few weeks before you decided that things were too overwhelming. That the idea of forever was too similar to the feeling of impending doom, that seeing him so irrevocably in love with you when you couldn’t even understand the ache in your chest when you looked at yourself in the mirror...it felt unfair. It felt unfair to lose yourself in him. 

It felt unfair to have the goodness of Hansol’s heart in the palm of your hand. 

And it was unfair to get to break it into pieces as he knelt in front of you that very day, his forehead pressed against your thighs int he very same jeans you’re wearing now. The way his tears soaked through the material the same way the rain had, and how you bit back your own sobs as you carded your fingers through his hair that night – before untangling his arms from around your knees and walking out of the navy grey door you wish would open so you could bolt out right now. 

“If I beg now—”  “You never have to beg for anything. Not from me.” 

You felt your throat ache as you forced yourself to swallow, holding back a sob as he sighed quietly. 

“Can I...talk about what it was like not having you around?” His voice is tentative, almost like he was talking to a deer he didn’t want to spook. You nod in silence, letting the tears drip onto your pants freely as you continue to stare at the coffee table. 

“I still go by the grocery list you left on the fridge. Eggs, bread, strawberry jam and that gross fucking juice.” 

His words are enough to get a snorted laugh out of you, your hand reaching to dig into your pocket for the napkin you’d taken from the café you’d been at earlier. You wipe the tip of your nose with it, shaking your head. 

“I haven’t used pots or pans. I bought a crappy set from the dollar store to get myself through the days alone. I haven’t used the silverware, but I haven’t polished it either...so it’s just gathering dust in the drawer. I haven’t slept in the bedroom, either. I usually sleep here, on the couch. You left a tube of lipstick on the bathroom counter, and your shampoo is still in the shower caddy.” 

He nods, and you can feel the heat of his gaze leave your face. You peek at him through the corner of your eye, seeing him looking behind you – at the wall of photos. 

“I bought a sample size of your perfume, so the bathroom would still smell like it did in the morning when you would leave for work.” 

You can feel your chest ache; almost like someone had reached into your ribcage and squeezed your heart so tight, it could burst in their hand. 

“I refill the same disposable soap you bought the week you left. The detergent is still the same cotton scent, because you said that the other scents made your head hurt. I bought a new air freshener a few months ago but went back to return it because it was Febreze, and you don’t like Febreze unless it’s the Linen & Sky scent. I replaced the baking soda in the refrigerator, but the only food in there is what I mentioned earlier. Eggs, bread, strawberry jam.” 

“And the juice,” you utter, and you can sense a dull ache start to thump at your temples. You bring your fingers up to your face, rubbing slow circles. Your eyes are low as they flicker up to the wall next to the door – his caps are hung up in the exact order they had been when you left. His navy New York Yankees, blue Texas Rangers, black Chicago White Sox and a pink one he rarely wore unless the two of you were going somewhere together. 

It had your initials embroidered on the bill. 

“I left everything exactly the same. I wanted it to still feel like home to you, if you ever came back.” 

You turn to face him, seeing his eyes brimming with tears as he clears his throat, but interrupt him before he can speak. 

“I carry a Polaroid of us in my wallet,” you start, running a hand over your face as you bring your knees to your chest, leaning back fully into the couch. “I carry a Polaroid of us, and I would show it to guys when they asked me if I was dating anyone. I couldn’t bring myself to delete any of our photos, so I put them all in a locked folder and forced myself to never look at it. I’ve eaten so much peanut butter, and it doesn’t even taste good. I hate it, actually. I hate peanut butter.” 

He covers his mouth with his fingers, pursing his lips so as to not let his laughter out. You feel a smile try to fight its way onto your lips, but you swallow it down as you pick at a loose thread on the couch. You used to snip them when you still lived here. You’re sure if you reach just under the middle cushion, the gold pair of sewing scissors would still be tucked away safely. 

“I left, and I was miserable. I was miserable because I was doing everything to let go of something...of someone I was so sure I didn’t deserve. I was trying to erase you from my life, but you were already missing. I would order too much food and wonder what to do with the leftovers. I would see a poster for a new indie movie I thought you’d like, and I’d go to text you, typing in the message box before I realized I couldn’t just do that. It wasn’t fair.” 

“I saw the bubble pop up a lot,” he confesses softly. You must look confused, because he clears his throat before shrugging, “I once opened the chat while I was in the grocery store. I was going to ask you if we needed anything else. You were typing and then you stopped. I cried in the dry cereal aisle, a little girl called me a wimp, and I left without groceries. It’s kind of funny, now that I think about it.” 

“I’m sorry.”  “That’s the last time you say that to me. I’m sick of hearing it.” 

His eyes are serious, no longer glazed with tears. You nod slowly, before you run your tongue over your lips for a third time. It’s suddenly too dry in his apartment, and you feel your skin start to itch as you clear your throat. 

“I miss you, Sol.” 

You feel your eyes flood, a fat teardrop splatting onto your hand. You wipe it off on your jeans, before sniveling one last time and pushing off the couch. 

“Thank you for listening, and for letting me in.” 

He nods silently, before standing up. He doesn’t move towards the door – instead beelining for what used to be your shared bedroom. You wipe at your eyes haphazardly, drying your hands of what few tears were left on the back of your jeans. You can hear him rooting around, and you opt to move towards the hallway mirror to check your reflection. 

In the corner of the mirror’s frame is a Polaroid of you and him. Your cheeks squished together, with your birthday scrawled in blue marker across the bottom in his handwriting. A lopsided heart follows the date. 

It’s been so many years since that photo. It feels like so long ago. 

He’s wearing the same blue hoodie, and your shoulders brave the same hot pink windbreaker. 

He’d spotted it at a thrift store, the windbreaker. And the jeans you have on. And the t-shirt you wear to bed, still sullied with the scent of his deodorant and his toothpaste stain that doesn’t come out no matter how many times you wash it. 

And you realize – that you are entangled. 

You are everything he is, and he is everything you are. You mirror one another – from the love of cinema to the way you find each other in every universe; whether it’s in a baby blue hoodie and a hot pink windbreaker, in bottles of Fresh and Yogurt soju, or in a pink cap with your initials embroidered on it and the locket he got you with his engraved. 

It burns the skin of your chest under your shirt. 

Your bedroom at your mother’s house is riddled with more of him – from the single love letter you took when you left, to the odd collection of his shirt and hoodies you’d stolen from him over the years. He picked the forest green paint on the walls a few summers ago, and he made you a shitload of tchotchkes to line the floating shelves he’d helped you put up. You’d escaped there when you left him a year ago. 

Only a few miles from him. 

From home. 

You bring your hand to your chest, feeling around for the gold locket and finding it twisted in your cleavage. It held two pictures – one of him as a baby, and one of you together. Close to your heart, close to your soul – you carried him. 

You would beg. God, you would beg. 

You would – if it meant you didn’t have to leave. If it meant you could leave your umbrella outside and know that Mrs. Kim next door would borrow it in the morning to get her newspaper before putting it back. You would beg on your hands and knees if it meant that Hansol wrapped his arms around you in this very moment, and let you breathe in the cotton and salted caramel and vanilla and everything he’s ever been. 

You would beg, plead, pray to whatever God was out there to feel the warmth of his lips against your forehead. To hear that he missed you, he misses you. To stay up well into the night watching Princess Mononoke on his iPad in the kitchen while you bicker about how bad he is at polishing the silverware. 

To lay in bed with him and count his eyelashes. To stuff a towel on the windowsill so you can open the window and breathe in the petrichor but not ruin the paint. To throw the duvet off the bed and run your hands under his shirt, likely stained with splatters of kimchi stew and the juice he fucking hates but drinks because it reminds him of the way you taste. 

But it’s much sweeter when he thinks of it that way, he told you once. It tastes a lot better when it’s on your lips. 

He loves that gross fucking juice when it’s lingering on your tongue. 

You sigh, finally looking at your face in the mirror. Hansol is standing behind you, brows slightly furrowed as he seemingly stares at the back of your head. You jump, your hand splaying on your chest as you suck in a breath too quickly. 

“You jerk, you scared me!” 

“I’ll wear a bell next time,” he rolls his eyes, before holding up something in the mirror. Purple with white flowers, yellow with cats – your socks. 

Ones you lost a year ago. 

“Where did you find those?”  “Mrs. Kim next door found them in her basket after she pulled her clothes from the dryer yesterday. She said she remembered you running in your underwear for the newspaper and you were wearing the purple ones.” 

Your eyes widen, “I’ve never run outside in my underwear! And I had shorts on that day!” 

“My boxers do not count as shorts,” he snorts, before holding them out to you. “Underwear is still underwear, no matter who wears it.” 

“Pft. Whatever.” You mutter before hesitating to take the socks. It could mean the end of whatever this was – you would have to stuff them in your pocket and walk towards his front door. You would have to turn his doorknob and hold onto the threshold of his apartment as you slipped your feet back into your wet rain boots. You would have to stand in his stoop as you shook out and opened your umbrella. 

You would have to look into his eyes and say goodbye. 

And for how long? 

How long will goodbye be this time? 

You reach behind you and carefully take the socks, your thumb brushing him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t react – only watching as you tuck the socks into the pocket of your windbreaker. His eyes return to the mirror, the Polaroid in the corner catching his attention. 

“I haven’t looked at that photo in so long,” he murmurs, stepping forward slightly. You can feel the heat of his body on your back, before nimble fingers pluck the photo from the corner of the frame. He looks like he’s in pain as he takes it, as if it hurts him to move anything that was there when you left. 

His thumb wipes dust off the photo, particularly off your face. You look at the mirror and see the perfect outline of the Polaroid, formed by the dust. You reach over and wipe it off, before wiping your hand on your jeans. 

I’m ready to come home. 

Please. Ask me to come home. 

He glances up at the motion, tonguing his cheek as he manages to place the picture back perfectly. 

“Nice try.” 

You don’t respond, but he doesn't say anything else, either. He simply stares at the photo before sighing softly. He looks hesitant, and you continue to let your eyes linger on the heart-shape of his smile in the photo as you mutter under your breath. 

“It’s still raining.”  “It’s only going to get worse. I’m surprised you agreed to go out with Seungkwan at all.” 

You nod, before your eyes flit back to the mirror. He’s not looking at the photo anymore – but at you. His eyes are full of emotions you can’t place as he scans the entirety of your face, as if he’s taking you in; as if he can’t believe you’re real. 

As if he can’t believe you’re home. 

“You changed your mascara.” 

You blink, opting to clear your throat as you nod, “how’d you know?” 

“The other one was kind of blue, I think. This one is brown.” He shrugs, “I liked the blue one.” 

“I’ll wear it more often,” you reply smoothly, before realizing it was one of the responses you’d give him when he complimented something you donned during your relationship. The hot pink windbreaker, the jeans you have on, OPI polish in Cos-mo Money on your fingernails. 

“I mean, I didn’t...ugh. Sorry.”  “Mhm.” 

He doesn’t say anything else, and you feel your throat dry as his eyes continue their path around your face. Eyes, nose... 

Lips. 

“I miss you,” he murmurs. 

You feel your back stiffen as he shifts away, hearing his footsteps round the edge of the couch. He doesn’t sit down – instead, blowing out his candles as he gathers the bottles of untouched soju and tucks the unopened juice under his arm as he speaks. 

“I miss you, and I don’t want you to leave. I understand if you have to, and I’ll be here when you’re ready to come home.” 

You’re rooted in place as you watch him slink away into the kitchen, hearing him pour the liquor down the drain. The clinking of the bottles is mocking you as he rinses them, before sliding them into the glass-only recycling bin. The sound of the refrigerator opening pains you, hearing the clunk of the heavy juice bottle being slid into the door before it shuts again. 

For what seems like the thousandth time today, you feel your eyes sting with tears. Your nose burns as you wait for him to slip out of the kitchen, your fingers toying with the zipper of your windbreaker before it gets the chance to start feeling too sticky on your skin. You tug it off, bunching it up and tossing it over the back of the couch before running your hands over your face in frustration. 

“Too sticky?” 

He appears next to you; eyes rimmed red as he sidles up. Or at least you wish he would – he's a good foot and a half away. The tip of his nose is pink, and there is a soft sheen on his cheeks – from tears finally spilling, you assume. 

It makes you ache. 

It makes your teeth hurt, the bittersweet pain of watching the man who you were sure put the stars in the sky every night feel like he had to act like you were a stranger while still yearning for you – just to make you comfortable. Why does he do that? 

How can he do that? 

“Hansol?”  “Mmh?” 

You should feel pathetic, selfish, with the way the words crawl up your throat so easily. 

“Can I stay?” 

He doesn’t respond; his eyes glancing at the clock above the television. It was one of the first things you bought together – at yet another thrift store. It had a badly painted version of Shrek and Donkey on the face; the numbers shakily smeared, but the two of you bought it for giggles. It became a statement piece; your friends always commented on how ugly the thing was in comparison to everything else in your home. 

But it was so you, and it was so Hansol. 

So, who cares? 

“Please. Please, let me stay, Sol.” 

“You don’t need to beg. This is your home.” He shakes his head, and you can feel your voice shaking before you can even get the words out. 

“You don’t have to miss me because I miss you. You don’t have to love me, because I love you. It’s not transactional.” 

You almost miss the way he rolls his eyes, before he glances down at you by the slope of his nose. His brow is raised, your skin prickling at the sight. 

“Don’t tell me how to feel.”  “I’m not.” 

He shrugs, perching on the back of the couch. His hands are hidden in the pocket of his hoodie, and the proximity is enough to make your knees grow weak – worsening as a hint of that soft aftershave floats up your nostrils. 

“You are. I’m allowed to miss you, you know. I’m allowed to think about you before I go to bed at three in the morning. I’m allowed to feel the twist in my stomach when I look at the toothbrush you left that I haven’t had the balls to replace, as if you’re still here. I’m allowed to still love you, after all this time.” 

“I was gone for a year. You should hate me.” You lament, absently picking at your cuticles, “an entire year, Hansol. Two birthdays, yours and mine. So many holidays so many special events...all over my own insecurities of not knowing who I was and if I was even worth your time.” 

He scoffs, shaking his head, “a year, ten years, a millennia. My heart has only ever been my own when you’re not the one holding it. Only then, could you have told me how to feel, and I still wouldn’t have listened to you. I will love you even if you do not love me, and even when you feel like you don’t deserve it. Even when you know who you are, and especially when you don’t. Because I know.” 

You feel your lip jut out in a pout as you try to hold back the pathetic sob in your throat, only to see his hand slip out of his pocket and stop you from picking at your skin. He’s warm, like he always is. 

He’s warm, inviting. Comforting. 

You look up cautiously, only to see the same gaze you’d been used to in the mornings just a year ago. Soft, gentle, loving. Unadulterated adoration. 

Glazed over with a hint of uncertainty. Of the present, of the future. 

Of us, and everything we are. Everything we could be, and everything we are. 

You look around the apartment, the weight of his hand on yours seeping into your bones. You take everything in again – the coffee table, the condensation left from the bottles, the remote. The television. The journal, with smudged blue ink. The candles. The hideous Shrek clock. 

Your coffee table that you bought together. Your television, and the remote you always changed the batteries to because he would forget. The journal you bought him at a bookstore while he was preparing to visit his sister in New York City. The candles you bought around the time of that trip, because they reminded you of him – though he smells like cotton and they smell like candy. 

The blanket you knitted yourself when he complained about being cold one evening – it took you four months, but it was well worth it to see the giddy grin on his face when you finally threw it over him before bed. The glass chess set that had been gathering dust in the corner for far longer than you’d been gone – one that you lost three games to him on, and sulked for hours as he peppered kisses all over your face. 

Your bright red coat hung by the window, one that you’d gone frantic looking for as the colder months crept in – right next to his black one. 

Coats you bought together. 

“Can I see the bedroom?” 

He nods silently, pushing off the back of the couch as you nervously intertwine your fingers. He says nothing, only squeezing your hand softly as he leads you down the hall – as if you’d never been there. He twists the doorknob open; the room illuminated only by the gloomy sky outside. 

You reluctantly let go of his hand to step inside, your fingers flexing at your sides as you walk on the soft beige carpet. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and watching you stare at the floating shelves on the walls. Everything is still where you left it – wooden plane models, a few Smiski figurines, a singular LEGO wildflower bouquet. A deck of tarot cards that you used to fool around with him on long nights, stoned and flipping your bar of selenite through your fingers while he actively asked what upright Lovers meant. 

The bed is made – the sage green sheets neatly tucked and folded under the mattress. The pillows are fluffed and stacked exactly the way you left them the day you went out the front door. Your pitcher of water had been refilled, and the glass wasn’t fogged over – it was new water. 

Clean water. 

The window is open, and a familiar pink towel is rolled carefully and stuffed onto the windowsill – the room smells of petrichor and your perfume. You spot the wall still lined with your shared collection of vinyl records, the player still holding Dizzy Up the Girl by The Goo Goo Dolls. 

He bought you that one the day before you left. You remember laying on the floor with him, your head on his stomach while his fingers ran through your hair. You had told yourself you wouldn’t cry that night – but you did anyway, at half past four in the morning as he lay asleep in your arms. 

Your fingers gently run over the needle, before you pick it up carefully and place it on one of the grooves. The first few notes of All Eyes on Me play through the small speakers before you lift the needle and stop it. You let it fall back into its slot in front of the record, before folding your hands behind your back and turning to face him – your eyes immediately dropping to the floor. 

“Are you ready to come home?” 

You look up wearily, feeling your breath catch in your throat. 

“I love you, Hansol.”  “That doesn’t answer my question, Y/N.” 

You move forward abruptly, circling your arms around his waist and tucking yourself into his chest. He reciprocates carefully, almost as if he’s afraid. 

His hands tremble slightly as they ghost over your back, your own fisting the back of his hoodie as you press your face into the fabric. You feel his cheek rest on the top of your head, hearing a sigh slip from his lips as his hand slides up your back. Your voice is muffled as you speak into his chest, but you know he can hear you just fine. 

Hansol has always understood you, deeper than words. 

“I have to pick some stuff up from my mom’s.”  “Y/N. Answer the question.” 

“I’m ready to come home, Sol.” You murmur, before feeling the tips of his fingers move your hair away from your neck. He smooths it down your back with one hand, the other swiping stray tendrils from your forehead. You look up at him, resting your chin on his chest as he pads his thumbs over your cheeks. 

“I hate it when you cry. It makes my stomach hurt.” 

His honesty makes you snort, and you struggle not to roll your eyes as he continues to caress your face. He runs his thumbs over your brows, across your eyelids, down your cheeks... 

On your lips. 

“You cut your hair,” you whisper, and he nods. 

“I was having one of those moments. Like when girls give themselves bangs because they need to feel in control of something,” he shrugs, before his eyes light up slightly. “Didn’t you bleach—” 

“Shut up. You promised me we wouldn’t talk about it after it happened. Plus, you look like Buzz Lightyear. Leave me alone.” 

“I’ll have you know that being called Buzz Lightyear is actually a compliment,” he gloats, making you huff. 

“Yeah, because being compared to a delusional space cowboy is the way to go.”  “You did not just call him a delusional space cowboy, bro.”  “You did not just call me bro, Hansol.” 

He bites back his smile, carding his fingertips through your hair. You close your eyes at the sensation, preening at the way it sends subtle shivers down your spine. 

“Call me babe, or something. Honey. I like doll, too, that was a good one.” You’re murmuring into his sweater, hoping you’ll open your eyes, and he won’t suddenly disappear. Your fingers reflexively tighten around the fabric of his sweater in your fists, and you hear the rickety laughter you’ve missed so much ring through the air. 

“I’m not going anywhere, just relax.” His fingers tug gently at the hair on the nape of your neck, making you scowl. Your lip juts out as you look up at him through damp lashes, eyes full of guilt. 

“Do you forgive me?” The words weigh on your tongue, and you feel the tiniest bit pathetic laying yourself out like this – but it’s Hansol. 

“Nothing to forgive, you know.”  “You don’t resent me at all?”  "Not one bit.” 

Your eyes scan his; narrowing at the hint of mischief in the depth of them as you pull back slightly. Your brows furrow, a scoff leaving your lips as you poke your finger into his chest. 

“You’re lying.” 

“I’m not. If anything...I just missed you.” He admits quietly, pressing his forehead to the top of your head before wrapping his arms around your neck and pulling you close, “I miss seeing you when I come home from work. I miss finding you passed out while folding laundry on the carpet. I miss holding you, like this.” 

He sighs, shaking his head as he tucks strands of your hair behind your ears before thumbing at your pierced earlobes. Small hoops loop through them – gold ones, a gift from him many years ago. 

“I miss sleeping next to you, in our bed. That couch has awful cushions, why did we buy it?” 

“...We didn’t. Seungkwan made us take it when you moved out, remember? Because we...you know. On it.” You glance up at him quizzically, his cheeks tinging pink as the memory settles in the forefront of his mind. He grimaces, baring his teeth slightly as he shudders. 

“I still can’t believe he didn’t knock.”  “It was his apartment, Sol.” 

“...And it was his couch, huh?” He snorts, glancing down at you. You nod, letting a smile paint your lips as your laugh slips out. He smiles at the sound, leaning slightly closer. His fingertips tug on your earrings lightly. 

“You missed me, right?” 

“Is this when you fake me out two or three times before you kiss me?” You raise a brow, palms clammy as he shrugs. 

“I could, or I couldn’t. Depends on your answer, and how much.” His face is ever so slightly closer to yours, and you never really know how to react to this side of him – now, or a year ago – despite being the only receiver of it for over half a decade. Everyone views him as someone so cool, so calm, so collected – no one really understands how easily flustered you get at his subliminally flirtatious comments, or the way he looks at you like he could eat you alive...or the way he eggs you on with his provocative insinuations and those stupid eyes of his until you fold like a house of cards. 

He’s an enigma of a man, a lover, a soul. 

“A lot.”  “A lot.”  “So much. I’ll get a billboard and make it say I love Hansol Chwe.” 

“Oh, you missed me so bad.” He chides, making you scoff as you dig your fingers into his sides lightly. He squeals, his hands grabbing your wrists and holding them away from his body, “don’t do that!” 

His eyes are considerably lighter than when you’d arrived – and you feel your cheeks grow warm as he lets your arms go, once more carding his fingers through your hair. 

“You’re still awful at detangling,” he murmurs, before cradling your face in his hands. “Horrible, awful, no good at detangling your hair.” 

“Yeah, well...” you huff, crossing your arms as you look away. “You kind of get used to someone else doing it for you.” 

He hums, “do you need to go get your stuff tonight?” 

You shake your head, glancing up at him with a small smile, “if I go tonight, the silverware won’t get polished. And we need that, so we can have dinner.” 

“I am not polishing silverware tonight.”  “Oh, yes, you are. I can’t imagine how dusty my forks are.” 

“Our forks, first of all. Second of all, we’re not polishing them tonight. We have other things to do,” he rolls his eyes, pressing a kiss to your hairline. 

You swallow the hitched breath in your throat, feigning nonchalance as you raise a brow at him. 

“Oh, do we? What other things, Hansol?” 

“The usual, you know.” He plants another kiss to your temple, “first order of business is actually ordering takeout.” 

“Takeout, he says. Have you got money for that?” You close your eyes as his lips brush the soft arch of your brows, your eyelids, forehead...the tip of your nose. “Last I checked, we were very frugal. Eggs, bread, strawberry jam.” 

“You made us expand our budget for your nasty ass juice. I think takeout can be an option tonight,” he mumbles against your cheek, and you feel your stomach start to flutter as he brushes his lips against it. “Second order of business is actually a shower. We can listen to that true crime podcast you like while I detangle your hair. This is just unacceptable.” 

“Maybe I should shave my head.”  “I’d hate for you to think that you’re a delusional space cowboy, babe.” 

Your eyes widen slightly at the pet name, but he doesn’t allow you to speak as he presses his lips to yours softly – smooth with the scent of strawberry lip balm. It’s chaste, it’s fast. 

Too chaste, too fast for your taste. 

“Third order—”  “No, no. Kiss me.” 

He raises a brow, but does as you ask. His lips mold against yours, your hands finding home on his chest. He moves to pull back, but you chase after him – pulling him back and deepening the kiss. You feel like you’re on fire as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him; your fingers pawing at his sweater as you slip your tongue into his mouth. 

The groan from his throat still tastes like home. 

He still tastes like home; like strawberry jam and your disgusting juice. Sweet, tart. Loving. 

“I missed you, Sol.” 

He doesn’t reply, his hand gingerly wrapping around your throat as he pulls you back in. The way he kisses you is desperate; holding you against him tightly as he pushes off the doorframe. He starts moving you backward, your hands wrapped around his wrist as the back of your knees hit the foot of the bed. 

“Sol—”  “Shh.” 

His lips never leave yours, his hand moving from your neck to the back of your head, tangling in your hair. He lays you back against the comforter gently, your hand fisting the collar of his hoodie. You tug at it as he licks into your mouth, a soft groan falling from your throat as his fingertips breach the hem of your t-shirt and graze over the skin of your belly. 

You pull back from his lips with a quiet pant, your own swollen as you blink up at him. You feel his fingers squeeze your side carefully, eyes searching your face. 

“Y/N?” 

His voice is soft as he hovers over you lightly, his knee slotted between yours, and you feel your throat burn as your hand strokes his jaw. 

“I’m sorry for leaving.” 

He shakes his head, his hands moving to hold your face, “stop it. Stop being sorry for taking care of yourself. I love you. I know you, and I know that if you felt the need to leave...you had to do it. Please stop being sorry. Just...just let me love you, even if you have to leave again in another year. In ten years, in a month...tomorrow.” 

You breathe out shakily, peering at him through teary eyes. His gaze is still everything it’s ever been. 

Warm, gentle. 

Home. 

“Please, just let me.”  “I love you.”  “I know, babe. I know.” 

You sit up abruptly, your hand moving to pull at the hem of his sweatshirt. He obliges, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the side as you move up the bed. His lips find yours again as your head hits the pillow, slower than before. Like he’s savoring the moment, his fingers toying with the button of your jeans before he pops it free. He breaks the kiss briefly, pulling your jeans down with ease. You kick them off the edge of the bed as his hands slide up your thighs slowly, warm and soft. A finger snaps the waistband of your underwear against your hip, making you scowl as you swat his hand away. 

“Don’t be mean.” 

“M’not being mean, baby.” He bites back a smile, watching as you sit up on your elbows, feeling the bed sink slightly under him as he hovers over you, the tip of his nose brushing yours. You look up at him through your lashes, moving to bridge the gap as he pulls back slightly. 

“Sol?”  “I love you.” 

Your chest heats as he presses his lips against yours, his hand pushing your thighs apart slightly. It slides up your hip; his thumb rubbing circles into your lower belly before he slips it under the hem of your shirt. He deepens the kiss, pushing your shirt up to the bottom of your breasts as the cool air makes your skin prickle with goosebumps. You move to pull it over your head, tossing it somewhere across the bedroom before pulling him back to your mouth, slipping your tongue between his lips.  

His hands wander, softly clawing at your sides and enveloping your hips in the warmth of his fingers as your own pull at the short ends of his hair. His lips trail up your jaw, soft and feathery, before his teeth nip at your earlobe. Your knee digs into his side as he tugs lightly at your earring, and you twist away from him – only to feel the scrape of his teeth against your neck, earning a whine from your throat as your legs tighten around his hips. 

“Take your pants off,” you whisper, a frown tugging at your lips as you feel him shake his head. 

“Not yet,” he speaks against your skin, his lips trailing down your neck and across your clavicle. His hold on your hips loosens as his hands slide down your thighs, parting them further to slot himself between them as he peppers kisses down your chest – flattening his tongue on your nipple before you can speak. A choked sound leaves your mouth as he rolls his tongue over the sensitive bud, his thumb brushing over your neglected nipple with precision. He’s gentle, your thighs trying to close around his hips as he hums against your skin. 

“Missed seeing you like this,” he murmurs, switching sides and pulling your nipple into his mouth with a soft suck. Your breathing is shaky, embarrassingly shaky – and you feel him smile against your skin, “really? Already? I’m flattered.” 

“Shut up,” you bite, earning a chuckle as he trails his lips back up your neck with a tentative roll of his hips against yours. Your cheeks grow hot, feeling the weight of his cock against your clit through your flimsy underwear. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders lightly as you try to grind your hips up against him, only for him to pin you to the mattress. 

“God, I missed you.” His voice is gravelly, rutting his shaft against you harder before his hand suddenly slips between your legs and slide over the damp patch of arousal soaking through your panties. He presses his fingers against it, a gasp catching in your throat – your cheeks burning as you feel him pull away from your neck. Your fingers move to pull at his sweatpants, but he moves your hand away with a quick shake of his head as his hands slide down your legs. He follows their path with his lips, dragging open-mouthed kisses up your thighs and calves, even pulling your socks off to kiss the sides of your feet. 

His fingertips hook around the cotton fabric of your panties, his eyes flickering up to meet yours as he pulls on them gently. You lift your hips to let him pull them down entirely; the fabric flung somewhere across the room as he spreads your thighs, settling between them with a kiss to your hip. You cover your face with shaky hands as his lips trail across your skin, peering up at you through his lashes as he ghosts over your center. You peek out from between your fingers to see him biting back a smile as he shakes his head, “baby, it’s just me.” 

“Yeah, well—” Your sentence is cut short with a choked gasp as he flattens his tongue against your cunt, licking a fat stripe through your folds and gathering your arousal before sucking your clit into his mouth carefully. His eyes flutter shut at the taste, your teeth sinking into your lip to stop the embarrassing whine trying to claw its way out of your throat. He sucks harder, your fingers flying to his hair and tugging the short strands as best as you can before you feel his fingers prodding at your entrance. They slide in easily, your thighs closing around his head with a soft whimper. He forces them apart with his shoulders, pinning your rutting hips to the mattress with his arm as he curls his fingers inside you, his tongue working you over almost painfully slow — and the warmth in your lower just starts to spread as he pulls away.

“Did you touch yourself while you were gone?” His voice is much steadier than you trust your own to be, his fingers expertly working you open as you nodded, feeling his lips trail down your shoulder. “Did you think about me while you did it?” 

“E-Everyday,” you hate the meekness in your tone, your nails digging uselessly into his bicep as he smiles against your skin. His free hand trails up your arm, gently pulling your hand away from his body and kissing your knuckles. 

“Show me.” 

You force yourself to peer at him through your lashes, eyes low as he brings you closer to the edge — only to see him kiss the tips of your fingers, before pulling them into his mouth. Your lips part with a soft groan, rolling your eyes as you feel his tongue slide between them, perfectly coating them with his salvia before pulling them out and snaking your hand between your thighs. His eyes are dark — desperate, even. Needy. 

“Show me.” 

His fingers slow inside you as you swallow hard, dragging your fingertips through your folds, spreading them slightly and circling your swollen clit. His eyes don't leave yours as you cover your mouth with your hand, your thighs twitching at the stimulation. You break eye contact, your body feeling hot as you let your head hit the pillow, squeezing your eyes shut as the mix of your fingers with his bring you closer to the edge. 

“Sol, I’m—” 

He didn’t let you finish your sentence, pulling his fingers out of you just as the taste of your orgasm tried to hit the back of your tongue. You let your lips part, brows furrowing as the feeling died right at his fingertips. His fingers are wet against your thigh, and he has a small smirk toying with the corner of his lip as you pout. 

“Sol…” your voice is whiny as he trails his lips up your body, ghosting over your chest as you huff. “I thought you said you weren’t mad at me.” 

“Oh, I’m not.” He shakes his head quickly, but he’s not looking at you. His hand pulls at the waistband of his sweatpants, low enough to let his leaking cock spring free. It’s hot and heavy against your thigh, your mouth watering slightly as he looks up at you, “I could never be mad at you.” 

“Then why—” 

“Because I can,” he interrupts, wrapping his fingers covered in your juices around himself. He brushes a kiss to your lips, “because I want you to ruin me all over again.” 

Your eyes fluttered as he rolled his hips against yours, his length dragging through your wet folds and his tip bumping your puffy clit with a hiss from his lips. Your hands fist the sheets as he speaks against your jaw, “I thought about you every single day. Just like this.” 

“Sol—” 

“Fucked my hand thinking about you. Every night. Even the smell of your perfume made me want you, I missed you so much.” He’s whispering, and you can hardly hear him over the blood rushing to your ears, “missed seeing your pretty lips all swollen after sucking me off. Will you? Have I earned it?” 

He doesn’t let you respond, his hand gently tilting your chin up to slot your lips with his before snaking down your bodies and wrapping around his cock. He guides himself through your slit, teasing the thick head against your hole as you gasp into the kiss. 

“Please—” 

“Don’t beg.” He mutters against your mouth, “I won’t do anything if you beg.” 

“Sol, please—”  “Y/N.” 

His tone is warning as he circles your entrance, smearing beads of precum on your slick skin before gently easing himself inside you. Your thighs close around his hips instinctively, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as he slowly sheathes himself in your gummy walls — before he stops, not even halfway in as he looks you dead in the eyes. 

“Tell me you missed me." His hands hold your thighs tightly, the rings on his fingers digging into your skin. Your mouth falls open as he gives a tentative roll of his hips, but he pulls right back out before you can savor the feeling. He shakes his head with a click of his tongue, "tell me you missed me, Y/N."

"Missed you," you whisper, tears pricking at your eyes as you tilt your head up to kiss him. He lets you, slotting his lips with yours as you wrap one leg around his hip, "missed feeling you. Haven't stopped thinking about you."

The admission is enough to make him grind his cock against you, the fat head bumping your clit over and over as you slip your tongue in his mouth. The kiss is all teeth and tongue as he rocks against you, a groan falling from your throat as you taste yourself all over him and making you clench around nothing. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you roll your hips with his, only for him to pull away with a chaste kiss to your lips, still ghosting over your face as he peered at you through thick lashes.

"I love you." Your hand cups his jaw gently, his own trailing up your arm to wrap around your wrist. He kisses your palm, leaning into your touch as his eyes close, "I love you, Y/N."

You pull him down to you, brushing your lips to his, "I love you, Sol."

He nods, tapping your hip with his hand and squeezing the flesh, "turn around."

You roll your eyes, a smile trying to fight its way onto your lips as his hands slide up your hips, helping you turn onto your belly, "you never change."

"Man of habit, what can I say?" His voice is low as he presses his lips to the dip of your spine, your skin littering with goosebumps as he moves your hips flush to his. He drags his mouth up your back, his fingers caressing the skin of your sides as he moves them up to your shoulders, gently wrapping his hand around your throat with a soft squeeze, "missed you so much. Missed touching you…kissing you. Having you."

"I'm here." You whisper back as he presses kisses to the side of your face, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips brush your eyebrow. "Have me."

"M'not gonna last very long," he murmurs against your cheek, your hand reaching back and tugging gently at his hair. His hand snakes between you, wrapping around his cock and dragging it up your slit with a hiss. You push your hips back against him, biting down on your lip as he nudges your clit, his lips pressing kisses to the curve of your jaw, "might not last at all, actually."

"Just wanna feel you," you let him tilt your head back, brushing your lips with his as he pulls you up, your back flush to his chest as he finally bottoms out. You clench around him, his nose buried in your neck as he inhales shakily. His hand falls away from your throat, slipping down to cup your tits, squeezing gently as he gives an experimental roll of his hips. You're embarrassed at the tremble in your thighs, the sharp breath you suck in as he mumbles against your skin, "there she is…missed this."

"Have it…use me," you whisper back, your jaw falling slack as he starts moving his hips into you. He keeps you close as he grabs at your soft skin, kissing up the slope of your shoulder, inhaling deeply at the dip of your neck before gently pinning you to the mattress. Your fingers grip the sheets as he kisses down your spine, hiding your face in the pillows as you meet his thrusts halfway. His rings are digging into your skin as he palms at your ass, the sharp sound of the smack registering before the sting of his palm, soothed by his grip as he kisses your shoulder.

You feel yourself growing fuzzy, your limbs melting into the fabric as he sucks the sweet spot just under your ear — his cock dragging perfectly against your walls and making your skin litter with goosebumps, the pillow absorbing your whines as your skin muffles his.

"Just take it, please…" he breathes out, his fingertips digging into the meat of your hips as his movements grow sloppy, "it's yours. I'm yours."

"M-Mine," you mewl weakly, and he only groans as he pulls out abruptly, flipping you onto your back and slotting his lips with yours as he slides back in. Your nails dig into his back, sinking down the expanse of his shoulders as he swallows your whimpers — the kiss is all teeth and tongue as he spreads your thighs with his hands, his lips trailing down your jaw and nipping at your earlobe.

"Should've knocked you up years ago, fuck." He buries his face in your neck, mouthing at the skin there as your breathing grows shaky, your walls clenching around him. He nips at your collarbone, "need to fill you up every day. Make you mine forever…you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Y-Yeah," your voice is full of air as your cunt squeezes around him, earning a spent laugh from his throat. His hand snakes between your bodies, thumb finding your puffy clit and making you jerk as he rubs tight circles into it, the coil in your belly threatening to snap. You let out a shuddered whimper, feeling his lips brushing the column of your throat, "missed this pussy so much, baby. So perfect for me. Made for me."

His lips are frantic, kissing every inch of skin he can reach as your breathless pants fill the room, the air smelling like sex and sweat as you wrap your legs around him. He snakes his slips into your mouth in a sloppy kiss, your thighs tight around his hips as you let go, soaking his cock in your release with a whine pouring into his mouth. He twitches inside you, mumbled reassurance as your thighs tremble, his forehead damp against your shoulder as he spills inside you.

He kisses the dip of it, stamping his lips along the column of your throat as he runs his hands up and down your thighs, squeezing softly as he meets your mouth again.

"I love you," you murmur, cupping his face in your hands as he hovers over you slightly. He nods limply, kissing you smoothly as his hands spread your thighs, holding your knees to your chest as he gives another slow roll of his hips — making you jolt with overstimulation as he lets out a weak laugh.

"Gotta make sure it takes, baby." He speaks into your mouth, kissing you chastely as your legs shake around him, "love of my life. I love you."

He mumbles something else, but it's lost as he kisses you firmly, overstimulating you both as he keeps making a mess between your thighs. You pull away, holding him away from you by the short hair, "what did you say?"

He blinks at you, raising a brow before his cheeks tinge with embarrassment. He shakes his head, trying to brush a kiss to your lips but you move away.

"Don't let me ruin this, Y/N." He sighs, closing his eyes as he presses his forehead to yours. He peels them open again, the swirl of adoration and worry circling the light amber of his irises. You give him a pointed look, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, "what did you say?"

"…Please don't leave me again." He buries his face in your neck, your eyes burning as he whispers against your skin, "please, please, please…don't leave."

You pepper your lips to the side of his face, pulling him away from your neck to connect your lips. Tears wet your lashes as you hold him close, your hands pressing against his cheeks as you pull back.

"Don't beg," you mumble, your voice thick as tears brimmed his eyes, "you never have to beg for anything. Not from me, never again."

"I love you, Y/N." "I love you, Sol."

YOU'RE ANXIOUSLY SCRUBBING PANS THE NEXT MORNING WITH A JOINT HELD BETWEEN YOUR LIPS.

You know he said you could come back, you know he said that you can stay…but something about it makes you nervous. The way his shirt barely covers the curve of your ass but still smells like him, the way you've relit all the candles around the apartment as he sleeps soundly in your shared bedroom. His lips were pouted when you slipped out of his arms early that morning, your body sore in places it hadn't been in months. The bathroom mirror confirmed the tightness of his grip — bruises littering your hips, nips of his teeth along your ass and thighs, even a mark sucked into the dip of your hip.

You foolishly texted Soonyoung if he could drop off something to take the edge off at the apartment — and you realized you'd forgotten to tell him that you would be there. His jaw had dropped as he held out the bag of pre-rolls, expecting to see Hansol in his comfortable sweatpants glory — only to see you, in the shirt that didn't even remotely cover the black fabric of your underwear. You'd paid him in a wad of cash and closed the door before he could say anything, shooting him a text the moment you lit one of the pre-rolls to please keep his mouth shut.

The vibrations of your phone on the counter, messages from your groupchat and Seungkwan — told you that he hadn't been able to do that for very long.

You'd opened the windows, the sky still gloomy but the air fresh and cool — settling the anxiety in your stomach as you dried the last pan. He'd been right — he hadn't touched them since you left, the dust settled on them from sitting in the cabinet for so long. You fumbled around the kitchen, pulling the silver polish from the top shelf of the pantry when you felt hands on your waist. You jumped, your hand settling on your chest when you realized it was him.

"You really need to get a bell," you mutter, feeling his lips curve into a smile against the back of your neck as he takes the silver polish from your hand and tosses it somewhere on the counter. His arms wrap around you, pulling your back to his chest as he squeezes gently.

"Called Soonyoung?" His voice is raspy, the way it always is when he's just woken up. You smell mint on his breath, and you figure you must've not noticed when he started moving around in your anxious state. You nod, holding the joint out to him over your shoulder as he sways you both.

"He already ran his mouth, can't keep a secret to save his fucking life." You mutter as you feel his lips brush your fingers, wrapping around the end of your joint and pulling back. He grimaces, "is this that gross ass strain you like?"

"Everything I like is gross to you. My juice, my weed, my favorite PopTart." "I'm not gross, and Brown Sugar Cinnamon isn't even close to being the best." "I'm gonna ignore that, and good thing I don't like you, Sol."

"I know you think that's a compliment and sick segue to say you love me, but not liking me is embarrassing as fuck," he snorts, gingerly placing the gross thing back between your lips. "Keep that shit to yourself."

"You're so fucking annoying," you mutter, smiling despite yourself. Your skin prickles slightly as you feel his hands slide down your hips and bunch his shirt under his palms. He slips his hands under it, thumbs barely hooking on the waistband of your panties before he presses his lips just under your ear.

"You wanna polish all this shit now?" "We didn't do it last night." "I'd argue we did better things last night—"

"Get off me, you little freak." You huff, trying to wiggle out of his hold but failing miserably as he only turns you around. You tongue your cheek, tapping the joint out on an ashtray you'd fished out from under the double-decked coffee table before letting him pull you close again. "You're not getting out of doing this today, Chwe. I mean it."

"Seungkwan invited us to lunch," he murmurs, caging you between him and the counter. You raise a brow, "Seungkwan invited us?"

"You, my girlfriend, and me, your boyfriend. Me and you. Us. We," he gestures between the two of you, "are cordially invited to lunch at the Boo Seungkwan residence. Expect ridicule, badgering and half a cold pizza slice because Soonyoung is already over there and stoned out of his mind."

You stopped listening after me, your boyfriend.

"You love me, right?" You ask softly, tugging at his shirt gently. Another plain white one, but there's a red stain on the collar that belonged to you. Red lipstick that didn't come out after you washed it twice, leaving a lingering of your presence behind.

Just like the bruises that littered your hips, and the toothpaste stain on your shirt that belonged to him. Just like your initials on his cap, the locket around your neck, the windbreaker, the hoodie. His journal, the stickers from your apples stuck to the leg of your coffee table. The sample bottle of your perfume that you'd seen sitting on the bathroom counter, and every single vinyl in your collection. The gross juice in your fridge that he didn't like but you loved, the Shrek and Donkey clock, the chess set…and everything you are. Everything he is.

You and him.

Him and you.

Together, in everything. Lingering, cohabitating, sharing…

Entangled, enamored, bounded by souls not willing to be apart…

Cosmically meant to exist as lovers.

"I do. I love you, Y/N." "I love you, Sol."

"…Enough to not polish the silverware tonight?"

HAOLOGRAM © 2025 || no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[horahae]

The Wedding Date - Chwe Hansol Vernon

Pairing: neighbor!vernon x f!reader

Summary: when your ex invites you to his wedding, your recluse neighbor, hansol, offers to go with you as your fake boyfriend. what starts as a meaningless weekend trip, turns into something so much more.

W.C: 12.4k

CW: strangers to best friends to lovers, starts kind of angsty but then turns pretty fluffy and stays fluffy the rest of the time, heavy romcom vibes, reader and vernon are frequently smoking, alcohol consumption, swearing, seungcheol is your ex and kind of an ass (sorry cheol), fake dating trope, kissing, reader and vernon have a lot of fun banter and they're just overall v cutesy together hehe hardcore mutual pining as well bc they're down bad for each other i fear

A/N: got the idea for this after a dream i had um so…yeah. do with that what you will LOL the ending is lowkey a little rushed, but i'm still satisifed with it i think. - dividers by @uzmacchiato

to join my taglist, please fill out the form here xx

It was a quiet evening, with nothing but the sound of the cars below the terrace passing by every several minutes. This time of night was your favorite, because it meant the noise of the world was off. Most people hated being alone with their thoughts, but it was the only way you could cope with the insomnia that usually took over your nights. Thinking, processing—working through whatever the day has given to you. 

You are hugging your knees against your chest, feeling the cold metal of the fire escape against your bare neck as you lean your head against the brick of your apartment building. There is a warm breeze passing through. Closing your eyes, you feel it fan your cheeks as you draw in a deep breath. 

Today wasn't much different than any other day, other than the fact that you received an invitation to a wedding you didn't want to attend. 

Which, fine, in hindsight, that made the day pretty shitty. 

It was one thing when your ex broke up with you, but for him to have the audacity to send you that invite just crushed you. You'd known he had moved on for a while, now. Seungcheol was never shy about showing off his significant others online, as you were once familiar with. When he began posting with his new girlfriend (Yuna, you think her name was), it was easy to deal with because he didn't live near you anymore. But then that pretty little envelope was stuffed into your mailbox today, and you weren't even sure why he felt inclined to send the invite. Did he feel bad for you? Was it some kind of pity invite, seeing as life hadn't been as kind to you since the breakup that it was to him?

When you open your eyes again, you hear a slight rattling coming from above you. Turning your head up, you notice your upstairs neighbor, Chwe Hansol, climbing out of his window. You'd never spoken to him much outside of a quick nod in the hallway, or typical "weather" small talk in the elevator. But you did know that he was a fellow insomniac. This had become an unspoken routine between the two of you: you'd climb out first, spend a few minutes alone. Hansol would follow suit, light a cigarette, and offer you one. Then you'd just...sit in silence. You were always the first to leave, the second that dawn started to break. Hansol always stayed a few minutes after you left before retreating to his own apartment. 

Your gaze turns back to the alley below, and you can hear the flicker of Hansol's lighter. When the smell of the smoke invades your senses, you hear him cough slightly. 

"You want a cigarette?" He asks hoarsely. He had either just woken up or been crying before joining you. You don't know him well enough to make a verdict, however. 

You push yourself to your feet and begin climbing up the stairs to the landing by his apartment. He passes you a cigarette, then quietly lights it.  When you press the butt to your lips, you sit. Your legs hang off the landing as you lean forward against the rail. 

"You look rough," Hansol observes aloud. 

You take a slow drag of the cigarette, then look over to him. "What happened to silence?"

"I don't want silence tonight." He answers. "Is that a problem?"

"I guess not." You shrug. The smoke curls out of your nostrils as you exhale and look ahead again. "Yeah, it was a rough day. What about you?"

"Same." Hansol presses his lips into a thin line. 

The silence returns, and in a way, you're thankful for it. It's not that you had anything against Hansol, but this was unfamiliar. Talking wasn't something the two of you ever did, so why now?

You take another drag of the cigarette, letting the breeze take the smoke away with it. After a few moments, Hansol sits next to you. His shoulder bumps yours momentarily before he quickly moves away. 

"What's your name?"

You laugh, flicking the ash off the end of your cigarette. It falls through the fire escape as you look over to him. 

"I know your name."  You comment. "All these months of living next to each other, and you never figured it out?"

"I guess I never paid attention before." He admits. 

Rolling your eyes, you give him your name. Hansol repeats it, like he's engraining it into his memory. 

"Pretty." He mutters. "It suits you."

You choose to ignore the compliment. "Hansol suits you. I guess, as much as I can assume."

"I guess," Hansol repeats as a smile creeps up onto his face. "You want to talk about your shitty day?"

The truth was, talking about it would be really nice. But you didn't know Hansol well enough to feel like you could dump your issues onto him. So you opt to keep things vague. At least for now. 

"I heard from someone today." You spoke slowly. "I, uh, haven't heard from them for a while. It kind of felt like a slap to the face, you know?"

He hums in agreement. "I get it. Did you say anything back?"

"It wasn't like that." You clarify. Sighing, you decide ‘fuck it’. "My ex is getting married. He sent me an invitation, and I don't know why."

That gets Hansol to look at you. His eyes are widened in amusement, and you almost want to wipe the dumb grin off his face. 

"Fuck," he laughs in disbelief. "What an ass. I'm sorry."

You shrug. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Why was your day shitty?" You clarify. "You can't expect me to share and think you'll get away with not sharing as well. You're the one who wanted to talk."

"Right." He mutters. He reaches behind the two of you, grabbing the ashtray. You both put your cigarettes out, then turn your gazes back to the alleyway. "My girlfriend broke up with me. Work sucked, too. I guess the universe has it out for me right now."

"For both of us." You grunt. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about the breakup?"

"Not really." He says casually. It's like he's unaffected by it, which seems odd to you. You push the thought away, though. "It was a matter of time. We weren't good for each other. I guess I was expecting to do it before she did, though."

You scoff at that. "What, you got a bruised ego now?"

"So what if I do?" Hansol retorts. "Besides, it seems like you're not much better off. Your ex invited you to a wedding–one that isn't with you, by the way."

It's quiet for a second, and then you laugh. It catches Hansol by surprise, but you couldn't help it. It bubbles out of you before you have the chance to stop it.

"Fuck." You manage through your laughter. "What a bunch of losers we are, huh?"

That elicits a laugh from Hansol. "Well, she called me a scumbag, but loser works, too."

"They're interchangeable." You fire back as you look over to him. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm sorry you had a shitty day."

"Yeah." Hansol sighs, meeting your gaze. "You too."

The two of you fell back into your normal routine after that night. A week passed without any conversation, but there was a shift in the air: like you both understood each other a little bit more, now. 

Meanwhile, the RSVP on your table remained. It is gradually approaching the date to send it back, and you aren't yet sure which path to take. The idea of asking Hansol his thoughts left as quickly as it came. You weren't sure if the conversation from last week warranted a pass to ask him for life advice–especially when it was about your ex. 

The rattling of a window pulls you from your thoughts. You glance at the clock on your stove.

6:43 pm.

He was early...eight hours early. Your feet begin to move before you can think twice about it. The window sticks a moment before you get it fully pushed up. You're greeted by Hansol walking down to your window, looking flustered and angry.

"Can I rant?" He asks, a bit winded from making the descent to your apartment. 

You blink a few times. "Sure."

Stepping to the side, Hansol hesitates before climbing into your apartment. As you close the window again, you catch him studying the inside of your home. You're suddenly very aware of the fact that you let a stranger into your living room, and begin to pace back to your kitchen table. Back to the invitation.

"Nice place." He comments. 

"Thanks." You mutter. You like to keep things minimal. The place consists mostly of white decor and furniture, with a few pops of color here and there. Everything is always kept clean, and clutter is always tucked away. 

Hansol clears his throat before collapsing onto your couch. "I'm sorry for just showing up. I don't really have any friends in the area anymore, and I just need to get this out of my system."

"Don't worry about it." You wave him off. "Do you want something to drink?"

He thinks for a moment. "What do you have?"

You pad into your kitchen, then open the rickety door on your fridge. It squeaks slightly as you peek inside. 

"I have sparkling water." You announce. "I also have soju and–"

"I'll take the soju." He quickly cuts in. Then adds, "please."

Grabbing two bottles, you kick the door closed again, then meander back towards him. He happily takes the drink from you as you sit on the opposite side of the couch. You both drink in silence, almost as if the two of you were allowing the space to be made before approaching the topic. When Hansol pulls the bottle away from his lips, you see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows.

"My ex called me today." He finally says. "Not for any reason. Just to pick an argument."

"Over what, exactly?" You glance at him. He runs a hand through his hair, then takes another drink. 

"I still have some of her shit at my apartment." He explains, meeting your eyes. "I told her last week to come get it. When she ignored my texts about it, I stuffed it all into a garbage bag. I didn't want to look at it anymore, you know?"

You nod to let him know you're listening. He continues.

"Anyways, she finally came over about three hours ago to get it." His gaze shifts down to his lap. "She called me fifteen minutes ago to accuse me of throwing one of her stupid shirts away. Then, she went on a whole tangent about how I never took care of her things and how careless I am. She told me that my carelessness was what drove her away from me, and some other bullshit after that. She barely let me get a word in, and just hung up before I could say anything."

"Jesus." You grumble, taking a sip of your drink. 

"Yeah." Hansol scoffs. 

The silence returns, and this time, you're not sure if you should offer him anything else. He's sunken lower into your couch, like he's trying to be swallowed whole by the cushions. His expression is blank, and you're not entirely sure what to make of it or him right now. You take another swig of your soju, then set your half-empty bottle on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"Um, I know we don't really know each other," you lean back, looking over to him. His attention is still on his lap. "But I think it's good you're not in that relationship anymore. Not that it's my place to say, but you shouldn't be with someone who talks to you like that."

Hansol lifts his head towards you, then takes another drink as he holds eye contact. When he pulls the bottle away again, he drags his tongue across his bottom lip. You're not sure you like the way he's looking at you. There’s something behind his eyes that you aren’t quite sure how to read. Shifting slightly, you decide to change the topic. 

"If it's any consolation, things aren't much better for me, either," you laugh bitterly. "I have to RSVP by the end of the week for my ex's wedding."

Hansol laughs. "You're considering going?"

"I don't know." You say softly. Your shift in tone causes his laughter to slow, as he realizes that the thought was actually weighing on you. You groan, then lean back against the cushions. "I just feel like he's expecting me not to be there. He knows that I've been dealt a shitty deck of cards since he left, but my pride wants to prove that things aren't as bad as they really are."

"So, what, you want to go pretend like things are okay?" Hansol questions. 

"Maybe?" You roll your head to look at him. He is already staring at you. "I don't know. I don't care if everyone else knows how bad things are, but I just want him to think they're good. Kind of like rubbing it in his face that I'm fine without him."

Hansol pauses. "You're not?" 

"Obviously not." You roll your eyes. 

Your voice catches slightly, so you will yourself to look up at the ceiling. You were not about to cry in front of a man you hardly knew. It's Hansol's turn to be quiet. The gears in his head were practically audible; you could tell he was trying to think of something to say. You didn't necessarily need advice, but talking about it helps. Even if you're not sharing the full story. 

"Would it help if you had someone go with you?" He finally asks. 

You hadn't thought about that. Even if you did, though, you didn't exactly have friends to ask. There was Jun, your cubicle neighbor. You've gotten coffee with him a few times, but never enough to call him a 'friend'. Aside from that, your best friend, Joshua, recently moved back to the States to be with his family. Between the two of them, you were pretty isolated.

"Maybe." You respond. "But, much like you, I don't really have anyone around here. I don't have anyone I could ask."

He shrugs. "I could go with you, if you want?"

It's your turn to laugh. You sit up, then shift your body so you're facing him. He quickly sits up in response. 

"As far as I know, you could be a serial killer." You quip, grabbing your soju again. 

"Please," Hansol scoffs, but there's hardly any bite to it. Instead, a coy smile is painted across his face. "If I were a serial killer, I would've killed you by now."

"Hm," you hum as the soju trickles down your throat. You swallow, then rest the bottle in your lap. "Not a coaxing type, huh?"

"Nah," he shakes his head. "I think I'd be right to the point about it. I mean, why coax if I'm just gonna kill you anyway?"

The smile that creeps its way onto your face is easy. If you'd known Hansol was this fun, maybe you would've taken the chance to talk to him sooner. Then again, maybe that was just the alcohol talking. You were starting to feel the slight buzz as you took another drink. 

"I mean it, though." He adds. "I know it's, ah, weird to go with someone you just met, but, I dunno, we could play it up, I think."

You press your brows together. "What do you mean?"

Hansol clears his throat, then shifts his body to face yours. "Well, you want to make it seem like you've got your shit together. Right?"

You nod. 

"So, if I go with, we could both clean up real nice," he explains. "I could pretend to be your new boyfriend for the weekend. It gets me away from my ex, and paints a pretty little picture for yours."

The words don't form right away. It wasn't exactly a bad idea, but would it even work? You haven't really been secretive about the fact that you've been a sinking ship for the past couple of years, but you've also never been one to post your relationships online–so it could work in that capacity. 

Would Seungcheol even buy it? 

As if Hansol is reading your thoughts, he leans in slightly. Your knees brush. "You're overthinking it. It'll be foolproof. I'm a great actor, you know?"

"In case you’ve forgotten, we just met." You deadpan. "Plus, don't you think it'll be, like, weird traveling with someone you don't know?"

"Only if you make it weird." He shrugs. "It's obviously your call."

You take a moment to absorb Hansol's appearance. Part of you was really questioning if he truly could clean up well–you'd only ever seen him wearing the same pair of ratted, grey sweatpants and matching hoodie. You were also pretty positive the beanie he tends to wear had never been replaced. Did he own any other clothes? Now that you really thought about it, what did he even do for work? Hobbies? Obviously, he's had at least one relationship before. If you decide to take him up on his offer, you guys would really have to get to know each other.

Because right now, you knew nothing. 

Finally, you ask, "What's your favorite color?"

He falters for a moment. "Why?"

"If you're supposed to be my fake boyfriend, I need to know you." You counter. "I don't know you, Hansol."

"Oh, right." He nods. He tosses the last of his soju back, then sets the bottle down on the table. "Um, well, I like all colors, truthfully. I guess I lean towards red and black the most."

You don't even realize you're making a face until he smiles in amusement. 

"What's wrong with those?" He argues. "What’s yours?"

"Pink." You answer quickly. "I like blue, too. But pink has always been my favorite."

"Pink." He repeats. "I could've guessed that."

"Oh yeah?" You quip. "On what grounds?"

Hansol kicks his legs up, making himself at home on your couch. Without hesitation, he stretches his legs across your lap, as if he'd done it a million times prior to this moment. You should be weirded out, but much to your own surprise, you don't mind it too much. You find yourself warming up to Hansol's easy personality as you finish off your own soju and set the bottle beside his. 

"You're always wearing something..." he trails off, folding his arms across his chest, "...pretty."

"Pretty?" You raise your eyebrows at him. 

His eyes widen momentarily. "No, not like that. I just mean, you're always wearing something so girly."

You hum. "I am a girl, you know."

"I know." He groans. "God, I just mean that your wardrobe is so frilly and bright. Do you even know how surprised I was when I found out you smoked?"

That was an argument you couldn't counter. He wasn't wrong: your wardrobe has always consisted primarily of dresses or skirts. God forbid a girl likes to dress nicely. Even your pajamas, which Hansol often found you in, were 'frilly', as he worded it. You like matching sets and very seldom wear mismatched clothes. Nighttime was no exception to that. Even now, sprawled across your couch, you were donning a tank top and pants set you had gotten from a small boutique a few weeks ago. 

"I'm a woman of many surprises." You wink as you kick your own legs up onto the coffee table. "I got into smoking back in high school. I guess I thought I could try a rebellious phase, but it didn't work. The nicotine addiction ended up staying, though. Seungcheol hated it."

"Seungchoel?" Hansol frowns. "Is that your ex?"

"Yeah." You sigh. "But you'll meet him later. You're not missing out on anything exciting, really."

Hansol perks up at that. "Later?" He asks. "So, we're doing this?"

You stare back at him, silently cursing yourself for the slip of tongue. But really, it couldn't be all that bad. Conversation seems to flow easily with him, and this trip could be a good opportunity to get the closure you fully need. Having company would be nice to handle any fallout that might happen afterward, too. 

What's the worst that could happen?

"What the hell?" You sigh. "Sure. You can be my date to this wedding."

Hansol bites back a smile. "Cool."

You were juggling a handful of groceries when you felt your phone vibrate in your back pocket. You curse slightly before dropping everything onto your kitchen table, not even caring that your new bag of apples just fell onto the floor. You push the door shut with your hip, then pull your phone out.

Seungcheol.

He must've gotten the RSVP. Your breath hitches as you hold the device to your ear. "Um, hello?"

"Hey." He exhales, like he wasn't sure if you'd really answer. You couldn't blame him for that, though. You weren't even sure when you last spoke to him. An awkward silence fills the air between the two of you, as you try to debate whether you let him talk himself silly, or if you try to manage a conversation. He beats you to the decision. 

"Uh, Yuna and I got the RSVP!" He exclaims a little too loudly. "A plus one, huh? Is Joshua coming?"

"No, he moved back to California." You answer. "I'm bringing my boyfriend."

There's no response. You smirk in victory as you begin to clean up your groceries and put them away. There's a light tap on your window, where Hansol is waving back at you. You silently wave him in, as Seungcheol draws in a deep breath. 

"You're seeing someone?" He questions. "That's...wow. Nice."

"Yeah, I am." You respond as Hansol walks over to you. He's carrying something under his arm, but you can't tell what it is. It looks like some kind of clothes. He gestures to your phone, and you mouth 'Seungcheol' to him. He chuckles.

"What's his name?" Seungcheol asks. 

You roll your eyes. "It's on the RSVP, Cheol. Hansol. If you don't need anything else, he just got here. I'd like to spend time with him."

"Oh, sure." He almost sounds disappointed, but you don't let yourself dwell on it. "Yeah, uh, we'll see you in a month, then."

"See ya." You hang up before he can try to say anything else, then toss the phone onto your table. 

"No pajamas?" He gestures to you. 

"Hansol, it's only four." You reply. "I just got off work. I see you’re already comfy, though."

He grins at that. "Yeah, I had the day off. I found some old suits, and I didn't know what you were wearing. I figured we needed to match." 

"What do you even do for work?" You question, carrying a handful of bags into your kitchen. Hansol hesitates before grabbing the remaining bags and following behind you.

"I manage a skate shop." He answers. "The one downtown? It's next to that coffee shop that Mrs. Lee owns."

"Oh, I think I know what you're talking about." You nod, picturing it in your head already. The downtown area has always been pretty worn and grungy-looking, but it's also one of the oldest strips in the city. You wouldn't have imagined Hansol owning his own business, but you were pleasantly surprised with that answer. A skate shop suited him, too. 

"What about you?" He asks, setting his bags down on the counter beside him. He begins to unload the groceries as you put them away. You fall into a good rhythm before you look over to him. 

"I don't do anything exciting." You grin. "I'm a secretary for a law firm."

"Gross." Hansol teases. "Have you always wanted to do that?"

You shake your head. "Not necessarily. But it pays well, and I get my weekends off."

He nods as he watches you put the last of the items away. You pat down your dress, then look over to him. He's staring absently, like he isn't sure what to say next. 

"So, uh, your suits?" You remind him. "What do you have?"

"Oh." He looks under his arm, where the clothes were still neatly tucked away. "Right. Yeah, I haven't worn these in forever. I hope they still fit."

"I can alter them if you need." You shrug. "My mom taught me how to sew, you know."

The two of you make your way to the living room again, settling on the same couch you sat in several nights ago. 

"I didn't know that." Hansol comments. "But I guess I could see it. It fits you."

When you were a kid, your mother was a firm believer in teaching you basic life skills. You’d learned everything between cooking, sewing, gardening, baking–whatever she deemed would be necessary to live in case of emergencies. 

"Okay,” Hansol announces as he unfolds and lays out the clothes, “I've got two options. I have this plain black-and-white one, or a tan suit jacket with matching pants. I could wear a white button-up under it?"

You lean in closer, running your hand along the material of each outfit. They both look fine, but you hadn't even taken inventory of your own closet yet to find something to wear. It was almost endearing how eager he was to go on this trip. You push the thought away. As you try to make a decision, you remember a nice cocktail dress you had bought shortly after your breakup with Seungcheol: it fell just above the knees, and was a very nice shade of brown. An elegant color that complemented your skin tone nicely. If you remember correctly, Seungcheol's invite also had a dress code. Earthy tones. 

"Let's go with the tan one." You look up at him to find him watching you intently. You scoot away from him again. "I have a dress that will match."

Hansol clears his throat. "Yeah, cool."

The two of you fall into your usual silence. Hansol glances out the window, where you notice the faintest shimmer of silver dangling from his ear. You gasp, playfully shoving him. 

"An earring?" You ask as he turns to look at you. "I didn't know you had your ears pierced."

"All these months of sitting next to each other, and you're just now noticing?" He smirks. "Yeah, I've had them for a while. Will I need to take them out for the wedding?"

You quickly shake your head. "No, no. They're fine. I was just surprised to see them, I guess."

"I am a man of many surprises." He winks. "What're your plans for the rest of the evening?"

Really, you hadn't thought that far ahead. You figured your usual terrace-time (as Hansol has now dubbed it) would be on the agenda, as it was every night. They were enjoyable now, too. The new conversations are always enjoyable, but now, the company is growing on you, too. It was funny how Hansol already had a slot in your day-to-day life, but somehow managed to fit himself into it even more. Not that you were complaining. You were nowhere near complaining. 

"Not much." You answer. "I mean, probably change and make some dinner. Then, of course, terrace-time."

Hansol laughs. "Uh, how would you feel about skipping terrace-time?"

"What, why?" You frown. 

"I was thinking," he draws in a deep breath, "since we have to play these...roles...what if we just hung out today? Like, a normal hangout. No wallowing on the fire escape and smoking. I'm talking about proper conversation. I can make dinner."

You stare back at him, a little taken aback at the suggestion. If you didn't know any better, that would sound an awful lot like a date. But you knew it wasn't. It was strictly business, of course. It was probably smart, too. You knew the two of you needed to come up with a fake story about how you met and how long you'd been dating... you'd need to flesh out any details now so it didn't bite you in the ass later. 

"Is that too much?"

You blink a few times, realizing you spaced out on him. You quickly shake your head, then push yourself to your feet. 

"No, sorry." You smile at him gently. "I'm just tired. I think that would be a good plan, though. The more we know about each other, the better. Right?"

"Right." He quickly agrees.

You hesitate for a moment when you realize you're still in your work clothes. 

"Um, I'll change, then." You announce awkwardly. "If you want to get the stuff for dinner...?"

Hansol's eyes widen. "Oh, right." He quickly gathers the suits again. You watch as he retreats back out the window and disappears up the fire escape.

By the time the dreaded weekend rolls around, the realization that you’re seeing Seungcheol again settles like an unwelcome guest in the pit of your stomach. You’re sitting on the airplane beside Hansol, who is bobbing his head along to whatever music plays through his headphones. 

The only plus side is that, within the last month, you and Hansol have gotten fairly close. You’ve learned a lot about him, and you guys came up with the perfect cover story for your fake relationship. You’ve both recited it a million times by now: you’d run into each other one day when you were both coming home from work. When you found out you were neighbors, you started spending more time together, and Hansol finally asked you out. 

You were just hoping the story would be enough to get through this weekend. 

As you sink lower into your chair, you feel Hansol tug on the sleeve of your hoodie. You roll your head to look at him, and he takes his headphones off. 

“You okay?” He asks. 

Shrugging, you look back out the window. “I haven’t seen Seungcheol in almost five years. I’m just nervous about what kind of emotions I’ll feel when I see him again. It’s been easy to avoid him since we didn’t live near each other, but now…” You trail off. Below, the sky is clear and blue. 

“You won’t be alone, though.” Hansol nudges you gently. “I’ll be there with you. Besides, we can make fun of how gross the food is and how fancy everything will be compared to our shitholes of apartments.”

You snort at that. “Knowing Seungcheol, the whole place will probably be dripping in his parents’ money.” You sit up to face him again, and his body is already facing yours. 

“God, to have that kind of money.” Hansol clicks his tongue. “You think I’ll ever reach that point selling skateboards?”

“Highly unlikely.” You respond. You don’t remember when the two of you got closer, but you don’t mind. His knee occasionally bumps your leg as you talk. “But it’s okay, because I won’t make that much answering phones, either.”

He laughs, laying his head back against the headrest. “Damn, we won’t have terrace-time this weekend.”

“Hm,” you sigh, “what’re the odds our hotel room has a balcony?”

Hansol crosses his fingers as he turns his attention back to his phone. He doesn’t move away from you, though, as he gently leans against your shoulder with his own. You close your eyes, trying to get comfortable. Having Hansol here may actually be really nice, you think. 

And maybe, hopefully, having him with you means this weekend will be manageable instead of intolerable. 

Good news: the hotel room has a balcony.

Bad news: it only has one bed.

You and Hansol have been standing in the entryway for a few minutes now, unsure of what to say or do. You couldn’t exactly fault Seungcheol for booking it this way, though, because he was under the assumption that you were coming with your boyfriend. You just didn’t account for the fact that hotel rooming would be an issue until now. 

“Okay,” Hansol finally speaks, taking a few steps into the room, “we can be mature about this, right?”

“Right!” You reply, but the way your voice wavers hardly hides the fact that this makes you nervous. Maybe if you just slept really close to the edge of the bed, it wouldn’t be noticeable that your friend was only a few feet away from you.

Hansol tosses his suitcase into the chair in the corner of the room. You watch as he opens up the blinds, then steps onto the balcony. Trailing behind, you set your suitcase on the bed and flop down beside it. 

“Damn, who knew that Hawaii would be so…” Hansol trails off. “Hm. Hot?”

A laugh bubbles out from you as you hear him wander back inside. He flops beside you onto the bed. 

“What were you going to say?” You ask, turning your head to look at him. He shrugs, then brings his hands up behind his head. 

“I was going to say cool, but we’re supposed to hate this trip, right?” He replies. “Or, at least hate the person who booked it and invited you.”

You hum. “I don’t think Hawaii needs to catch our smoke because I’m mad at my ex.”

“True.” Hansol agrees, then shouts, “Sorry, Hawaii!” Out the window. 

You playfully smack his side before sitting up, but Hansol is laughing. When you glance down at him, his laughter slows and something shifts. 

It wasn’t noticeable immediately. It starts with your stomach flipping at the way he is looking up at you. Then, your heart quickens and you can feel your smile falter. It seems like Hansol feels it, too, because you see the corners of his mouth twitch and the tips of his ears turn pink. 

In all the months you’ve known him, you’ve never realized how attractive he is. Sure, you always thought he was decent-looking. But right now, as he stares up at you with his soft eyes and messy, brown hair, it really registers to you that Hansol is beyond cute. Beyond handsome. You’re not sure you have a word to describe it. 

You clear your throat and stand, quickly pushing whatever that feeling is out of the way. It has to just be the change of location, right? Don’t people usually have flings when they go on vacation? You’re nervously tucking your hair behind your ears when you hear him stand from the bed. 

“Um, do we want to shower and go check out the beach?” You ask, not daring yourself to look at him just yet. Your cheeks feel hot, and you’re not even sure why you’re blushing. Nothing happened. He just looked at you, and you feel a bit ridiculous for letting it fluster you so much. “I think I want to freshen up, but then I figure we can explore? There’s supposed to be a bar somewhere in here.”

“Sure.” Hansol says, his voice low. “Uh, you can shower first. I think I need a smoke break after the plane ride.”

God, you’d kill for one, too. But you think you need the distance from Hansol more, as you slide into the bathroom to start the shower. 

Yes, distance will be good. 

You’re finishing off your second margarita as you and Hansol sit in the sand. The waves crash against the shore, bringing a refreshing breeze with it. Beside you, Hansol is pressing the butt of his cigarette to his lips and inhaling slowly. When he pulls it away again, he glances over to you. 

“You know, I think this beats our fire escape by a long shot.” He states. “The air here feels more fresh.” 

You set your empty glass in the sand next to you, then lay back. Your hair fans out behind you. “That’s because the air pollution in Korea is so much worse than here.” You pause. “Plus, we’re on vacation. I think everything feels better on vacation.” 

Hansol sighs, and your usual silence falls between you once again. It’s a clear evening, making the stars totally visible from where you lay. You can make out a few constellations like the big dipper and orion’s belt. As the alcohol settles in your system, you can feel the tequila catching up to you as your head begins to feel light. 

The shower earlier helped, and you think that fleeting moment in the hotel room was just a combination of exhaustion and all the extra time you’ve spent with Hansol. The rest of the night has felt normal, and you were grateful for it. It’s not like you have anything against him, but you’d be lying if you said a portion of you wasn’t nervous to get involved in anything romantic again. 

Assuming that was what Hansol felt too, anyway. 

“Hey,” he says as he stretches out and lays beside you, “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to but…what happened between you and Seungcheol?” 

You shift slightly. “Oh.”

“Sorry if that’s crossing some kind of boundary.” He quickly adds. “I was just curious. It seems to be weighing on you a lot, so—“

“It’s okay,” You reassure him. “I don’t care that you asked. I just haven’t talked about it in a few years.”

Hansol is quiet, as if to give you the space you need to either share more or stop the conversation all together. You draw in a deep breath. As if the margarita has made a decision for you, you begin to feel the words spill out before you can stop them. 

“Seungcheol and I first met at university.” You explain. “He was going for law, and I was going for business. We shared a few classes, and started going out in our second to last year of our undergrad programs.”

Hansol is quiet, so you keep going. 

“Things were fine for a while,” you continue as you fold your hands across your stomach. “We dated for three years. I guess somewhere along the way he decided that he didn’t love me anymore. He just forgot to tell me that before he started seeing someone else.”

You hear Hansol sit up beside you. You turn your head to find him frowning. 

“He cheated on you?” He asks. 

“More or less,” you shrug. “Anyway, the girl he’s marrying is who he did it with. That’s why this whole invitation has felt like some sick joke.”

Hansol’s jaw tightens, as he looks out at the ocean in front of you both. “What a dick.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it.” You scoff. “But, yeah. I’m really appreciative that you offered to come with me, though. It’s only been eight hours, but I’m having fun so far.”

When he turns to look at you again, you feel the same shift as you did back in the hotel room. With the tequila in your system, though, the feeling is a lot more intense. His features seem amplified in the moonlight as the breeze sweeps through his brown hair. 

“I’m having fun, too.” He replies as a smile teases at the corners of his lips. “It’s easy to have fun with you. I haven’t had that for a while.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Oh. Well, good. I’m glad. Me neither.” 

Hansol stays like that for a beat before laying down again beside you. You’re suddenly very aware of how close his arm is, and how it brushes against yours when he moves or shifts in the slightest. You don’t move, though, and neither does he. 

Desperate to break the silence this time, your tipsy mind begins to scramble for a topic change or something else to bring up entirely. You try to swallow down your nerves, but it doesn’t do much. 

“Uh, Hansol?” You turn your head to look at him. “Why do you think it took us so long to finally talk to each other?” 

“Hm,” He muses, stretching his arms out before folding them across his chest. It’s his turn to stare up at the stars, and you wonder if he sees the same constellations you had a few minutes ago. “Well, do you want the truth?”

“Depends on what the truth is.” You mumble nervously. 

Then, completely serious, he says, “I was coaxing.”

You blink, not understanding initially. When Hansol turns his head to face you, it’s obvious he’s trying (and failing) to hold in his laughter. That’s when you remember the serial killer joke you’d made to him when you first met. You gasp, and the laugh practically bursts out of him. 

“I knew you’d be the coaxing type!” You exclaim, quickly scrambling to sit up. “You’re too nice to kill right away. You know? I think you’d need to warm up to the idea first before giving yourself enough courage to do it.”

His laughter slows as his smile falters for a moment. “Yeah,” he says, his tone softer than before, “I’d definitely need the courage, first.” 

“Just, do it in my sleep, okay?” You tease as you push yourself to your feet. “If I need to go out, I’d rather not be awake for the whole suffering part.”

Hansol hums. “Noted.”

The morning sun seeps through the curtains in the hotel room, and you’re unbelievably warm. As you shift to push the blankets off of you, you begin to register the fact that half of Hansol’s body is currently draped over you. Your legs are a tangled mess, and he has his arm strewn over your stomach with his head in the crook of your neck. 

It takes all but sixty seconds to fully process its Hansol before your breath catches in your throat. You freeze, unsure if you should move or not. You definitely did not fall asleep this way–in fact, you were so close to falling off the bed when you first got in last night, that you were wondering if it would actually happen. Not this. Not the exact opposite.

When Hansol shifts slightly, you feel your heart drop completely. He lifts his head enough to look down at you. You watch as he goes through the same motions you just had: letting his eyes adjust, realizing where he is, and registering the position he’s waking up in. His eyes widen as he quickly scrambles back. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” He says, his voice low and groggy from waking up. “I did not mean to–”

“No, it's fine.” You sit up. “Um, it just surprised me is all, you know?”

Hansol nods, running a hand through his messy hair. The silence is awkward as you both sit across from each other, unsure of what to do next. You dare a quick look at him, as he is distracting himself with his phone. He’s got bags under his eyes, and you wonder how long it has been since he got a full night’s rest like that. You knew for yourself it had been a while. More specifically, since Seungcheol left. 

You didn’t even remember falling asleep last night. The last thing you remembered was laying on the edge of your side of the bed, and laughing at some horrible reality show that Hansol had put on the TV in the room. When you laid down, you were out cold. The craziest part is you slept really well. It was a heavy kind of sleep that made you actually feel well-rested and not just more tired. 

Glancing at the digital clock on your bedside table, you realize just how long you guys had slept. 

11:38 am.

You got into bed around nine o’clock last night, which means you slept for fourteen hours. The thought makes you laugh before you fall against the mattress again. Hansol’s attention shifts towards you as he lowers his phone into his lap. 

“What?” He asks, laughing lightly with you. 

“It’s just been forever since I’ve slept.” You reply, looking up at him. “Did you even see what time it was?”

The corners of his mouth twitch. “Yeah, uh, I did.” He says. “We missed breakfast, though.”

“Do you usually eat breakfast?”

He grins at that. “Nope.”

You laugh again as Hansol lays beside you once more. The screen door to the balcony was left open last night, and you can hear the sounds of people talking outside and cars driving past. Something about the laziness and simplicity of the morning makes you feel light–like you were getting everything with Hansol you could’ve had with Seungcheol. 

You’d talked with Seungcheol in the past about moving in together. Sleeping in like this or wasting the day away in bed were the things you used to daydream about with him, but here you were, sharing it with your next door neighbor instead. Truthfully, though, Hansol was now past the point of ‘just your neighbor’. He was more, but the capacity of which wasn’t fully clear to you. If you’d asked the week prior, you’d say platonic in a heartbeat. But now, you weren’t sure. It was muddy. You wondered if Hansol felt the same. 

“You know what I’d love, though?” He blurts.

You look at him, and he’s already staring back at you. “What is that?”

“I’d love some terrace-time.”

After each taking a quick shower, you and Hansol find yourselves comfortable on the loveseat that sits on the balcony. Hansol is leaning back against the wall behind you, while you’re leaning forward, looking at the view of the beach below. Despite the atmosphere being a bit more cozy than the fire escape, you almost miss the rickety stairs and sketchy landing outside of his apartment. 

“What time is Prince Charming’s dinner tonight?” Hansol muses as he finishes off his cigarette. He tosses the butt into the ashtray, then lifts his head to look at you. 

You glance at him over your shoulder. “I think he told guests to be there at five.”

“So, we’ve got some time?” He checks the time on his phone. “They have rental bikes at the beach. I was looking at them last night. How would you feel about a bike ride around the island?”

You smile, pressing your own cigarette into the ashtray. “Is this more coaxing?”

“Oh, well, of course.” Hansol nods. “Gotta get your guard down.”

“I guess a bike ride could be fun,” you hesitate, “but I haven’t rode one in years.”

He laughs, then leans forward with you. His knee bumps yours, and your heart skips a beat. “You gonna crash and burn on me, or do I need to teach you how to ride one all over again?”

This is flirting, right? This has to be flirting. Or maybe you were reading too much into the past twenty four hours. You aren’t even sure anymore. Your thoughts are moving faster than your brain is able to catch up, at this point. Deciding to test the waters, you choose to tease him back. 

“Maybe I’ll need you to teach me.” You say lightly, trying to match his tone. “I think I’ve forgotten all of it.”

Hansol clicks his tongue as a smirk plays on his lips. “Tragic. I guess I’ll have to, then.”

When he leans back again, you feel your face warm. Hansol is flirting. Chewing on your bottom lip, you turn your attention back to the beach. 

You find out very quickly that you definitely did forget how to ride a bike, as your foot is planted firmly on the ground beside you. As embarrassing as it is, you’re terrified to push off and the worst part is Hansol can tell. 

Once his helmet is on, he glances back at you, trying to hold back any laughter that might come out. You groan. “Seriously, I don’t even want to hear it.”

“I didn’t say anything.” He replies, his grin becoming more apparent. 

“You were thinking about it.” You pout, sitting down on the seat. “I mean, I’m almost thirty and I can’t ride a bike. That’s a little pathetic.”

“Nah,” Hansol waves you off as he props the stand, then rests his bike on it. He walks over to you, patting the helmet on your head. “We’ve all got our quirks.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, what’s yours, then?”

He thinks for a moment, then says, “I’m allergic to peanuts.”

“That’s not a quirk, that’s just a fact.” You argue. He laughs as he walks behind your bike, then leans forward. 

“If you’re done, I’m ready to get this show on the road.” He announces. “You wanna put your hands on the handlebars?”

“Not really.” You sheepishly admit. You shift in your seat, feeling how close he is as his black t-shirt gently brushes your back. You swallow nervously, feeling grateful he can’t see the blush creeping up onto your face. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He reassures you. “I won’t let go until you’re ready.”

After a few grueling seconds, you lean forward to grab the handles. At the same time, Hansol leans forward, resting his hands on yours. Your heart skyrockets at the touch, and you wonder if you’ll go into cardiac arrest on the spot. The two of you sit like that momentarily, before he clears his throat. 

“Okay,” he says, “when you push off, I want you to pedal. I’ll keep you upright and help you steer, so don’t worry about that.”

“What if I’m already worrying?” You turn to look at him, when you about bump your head into his from how close he was. It clearly catches you both off guard, as Hansol blinks a few times. Then, he manages to give you a smile. 

“Just trust me, okay?” He replies. “I’m not going to let you get hurt.”

The statement feels like it carries more weight to it than just riding a bike. You feel it settle deep inside of you, like it’s trying to make a home in the parts of your heart that still haven’t healed from Seungcheol. All you’re able to muster is a meek nod, as you look ahead at the sidewalk again. 

“Ready?” Hansol asks. 

“Ready.” 

Drawing in a deep breath, you push off and bring your feet to the pedals. The bike wobbles at first, but Hansol keeps it steady like he said he would. You go slow at first, when slowly the motions start to come back to you. 

As you gain a bit more confidence, Hansol says, “the left handle is your break. You want to try stopping?”

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, which does nothing to calm the nerves that have been brewing since you got here. You do as he says, though, and slowly press down on the break. The bike comes to a stop, prompting you to sigh in relief. 

“You did it!” He exclaims. You look up at him, unable to contain the smile on your face. He returns it, then sticks his hands into the pockets of his joggers. “Told you I’ve got you.”

“Yeah,” you laugh a little breathlessly. “That wasn’t too bad.”

“Want to try it on your own?” He hums. “I’ll stay right by your side for the whole ride.”

This time, it feels easier to believe him. So, you quickly nod, already prepping to push off. 

“Ready when you are.”

You and Hansol sit outside of the restaurant when you arrive as you stall for time before walking in. Just beyond those doors was Seungcheol and the same girl he left you for five years ago. You hadn’t faced either of them since, and you were feeling a bit sick to your stomach. Thankfully, Hansol was in no rush as he stood beside you. 

The two of you cleaned up, and put on some nicer clothes before coming here. Contrary to your initial doubt, Hansol cleans up very well. It was almost weird to not see him in his usual comfy clothes as he wore some nicer jeans and a button-down top. His hair was pushed back slightly, but still had the endearing messier look that you’ve grown fond of. It was true to him, and familiar to you. Kind of like a nice reminder that despite the facade, this is still the same Hansol you’ve sat next to for almost a year and spent all your sleepless nights with. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks as he leans against the wall behind the two of you. 

“Sick.” You laugh. “I don’t really know what to expect when we go in, you know?”

He hums, then holds his hand out. “Good thing you’re not alone, remember?” He reminds you coyly. “Just think about it this way: the faster we get this over with, the faster we can go back to the hotel for some much needed terrace-time. Maybe another reality show–?”

You make a face at that. “God, no more reality TV. But terrace-time sounds nice.”

Tentatively, you put your hand in his. Hansol smiles down at you before giving it a squeeze, then leading you both into the restaurant. It’s a nicer venue, with dim lights and light jazz music playing. The hostess directs you to the back party room, where the rest of the wedding guests are already mingling and drinking. Hansol pulls you closer to him as the two of you navigate towards an empty table to sit. Your eyes begin to wander, when you find Seungcheol at the front of the room. He’s laughing with Minghao, one of your mutual friends. 

“That’s him,” you lean towards Hansol, tugging on his sleeve. He follows your gaze towards Seungcheol, and his jaw tightens. He mutters something under his breath, but you don’t have time to register it before your ex notices you, and begins walking over. 

Your eyes widen, and Hansol is quick to throw his arm around you, pulling you into his side. Seungcheol offers an awkward smile as he looks between the two of you. He looks the same as he did five years ago, only his age is beginning to show on his face a bit. 

“Hey,” he breathes, “you made it!”

“I did RSVP.” You reply, forcing a smile. “Uh, Cheol, this is my boyfriend, Hansol.”

Seungcheol takes one look at Hansol, and his demeanor changes instantly. He straightens his back a bit, then extends a hand towards him. 

“Hey, man, glad you could make it.” He says evenly. You almost laugh. 

Hansol shakes his hand, and is quick to drop it. “Yeah, congrats.”

“Well, we aren’t married yet.” Seungcheol laughs awkwardly. “But, uh, I’ll take the early congrats. Thanks. So..how long have you two known each other?”

Before you have the chance to reply, Hansol cuts in, “almost a year. We live in the same apartment building.”

“Ah,” Seungcheol’s expression twists as he looks over to you, “is it still that shitty place near downtown?”

“Well, not all of us can live off our parents’ wealth.” Hansol retorts. “Besides, it’s not that terrible. You know, if you’re humble enough to acknowledge that it’s a roof over your head.”

Oh god, you want to hide. You’re not sure what kind of stand-off these two were starting, but you did not want to be in the middle of it. You can feel Hansol’s grip on your shoulder tighten slightly. Seungcheol folds his arms across his chest. 

“You’re right.” He nods curtly. “I should be more mindful of the fact that I’ve grown up a bit more privileged than others. Sorry to offend.”

His tone doesn’t quite match the words he’s saying, and Hansol seems to notice. You don’t want to give either of them the opportunity to keep arguing, so you decide to butt in. 

“I’m sure you have a lot of people to catch up with.” You say with a gentle smile. “You know, people you know better than us? I mean, Hansol and I are here all weekend. We can talk more later.”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol sighs, glancing between the two of you again as if to size Hansol up. Then, he returns your smile. “Really, I’m happy you could make it. I’ll just…see you around, then?”

He hesitates before leaving, but once he does, you sink into Hansol’s side and let out a breath you didn’t even realize you had been holding in. Your head rests against his shoulder. Hansol stiffens slightly at the gesture before relaxing. 

“Well,” you announce, “that was fun.”

Hansol laughs, sinking lower into his chair. “He sucks.”

You can’t help but laugh in response as you pull away from him. He looks over to you as the annoyance washes off his face, turning into a lopsided grin instead. 

“I think we need some drinks.” You comment. “I’d definitely like to drink.”

“Awesome.” Hansol quickly nods. “I’m right there with you.”

“Whoooaa,” Hansol steadies you as you both stumble back into the hotel room. 

You’re laughing and everything feels good. Your head has the perfect amount of buzz, and you feel warm and happy and the stress of the weekend is miraculously gone. As you flop onto the bed, you kick your heels off and stretch. 

“They made some good cocktails,” you hum. “Really strong.”

“A little too strong.” Hansol teases as he sits beside you. “You should drink some water.”

“I’m fine.” You slur, rolling your head to the side to look up at him. His focus is on his shoes as he slides them off, but the only place your drunken mind can wander to is how good he looks.

You think about how nice he’s been, and how fun it was riding bikes today, and waking up beside him, and how hot it was when he stood up to Seungcheol. You tug lightly on his sleeve, prompting him to look back at you. 

“What is it?” He asks, leaning back on his hands. “You want me to go grab you some from the front desk? I think they’re selling water bottles. I thought I saw some Gatorade, too–”

“You’re so pretty.” You coo happily, cutting him off from his sentence. “You’re so nice, too. So nice to me.”

His smile falters for a second, like you caught him off guard. He laughs a little breathlessly. “You’re so drunk.” 

“Mmm but I think that when I’m sober, too,” you muse. “I wish we talked sooner.”

“Yeah.” Hansol mumbles. His gaze softens. “At least we are now, right? Better late than never.”

Your eyelids begin to feel heavy as the alcohol threatens to let sleep take you over. Bringing your hands to your eyes, you attempt to rub away the fatigue. It doesn’t work. 

“Can we sleep together again?” You ask as you sit up. 

Hansol blinks. “Like, what, cuddle?” 

You nod as you push yourself to your feet and stumble towards your suitcase for some pajamas. As a yawn slips past your lips, you look back over to him. 

“It was comfy,” you hum. “The only time I've ever slept well was with you.”

Hansol hesitates as he watches you close your bag again. Finally, he clears his throat and says, “Yeah. That’s fine.” 

After clumsily changing in the bathroom, you drag yourself into bed, where Hansol already sat, watching the TV. He changed into his familiar sweatpants and hoodie combo that you usually saw him in, and you felt your heart flutter. The longer you were around him, the more he began to feel like home. 

Though, maybe in a way he always had been. 

The headache you wake up with is violent, and out to seek vengeance on you for the amount you drank the night before. The sunlight in the room is too bright, the soft whirring of the AC is too loud, and you want nothing more than to hide and stay in the room. 

Beside you, Hansol’s presence is warm and grounding. He’s still snoring lightly, with his arms lightly wrapped around your waist. Your face is cozy against his chest, and he smells like a linen closet. No overbearing cologne like Seungcheol would always wear, just fresh and clean and comfortable. 

You softly grab ahold of his hoodie, pulling yourself closer to him. If you could live like this for the day, you’ll be content. But then Hansol stirs, and your heart breaks a little that it’s over already. When you don’t lift your head immediately, you feel Hansol’s grip tighten just the slightest. 

“How hungover are you?” He mumbles, his voice low and gravelly from waking up. 

“Too much.” You groan. “I hope I didn’t do or say anything stupid yesterday.” 

Hansol is quiet. Then, “You don’t remember anything?” 

“I remember leaving the restaurant.” You yawn, accompanied with a shrug. “I don’t really remember coming back here, though. It’s a bit fuzzy.”

“Oh.” Hansol says. 

You frown, then finally lift your head to look at him. “Why did something happen? Did I say something horribly embarrassing?”

The corners of his mouth twitch before he finally smiles. It doesn’t fully reach his eyes, though. But you figure it’s probably because he’s still waking up. “Nah,” he reassures you. “Nothing too crazy.”

Before you can ask what he means, he’s pulling away and it almost hurts when he does. Hansol rolls onto his back, then reaches for his phone on his bedside table. You sigh, then follow suit, grabbing your phone from under your pillow. It’s already almost ten, and the wedding starts in three hours. 

“I’ve been sleeping so well since we got here.” You announce, glancing over to Hansol. He’s scrolling on his phone mindlessly. 

“Yeah, uh,” he looks at you briefly before his attention flicks back to his phone, “me too.”

You discard your phone again, then roll on your side to face him. “What do you think our sleeping habits will be like when we get home?” You ask. “I’m holding out hope they’re going to get better.”

“I don’t think they will,” he admits with a laugh. “Besides, what’ll we do with terrace-time if our sleep schedules get fixed?”

“Damn,” you click your tongue. “Can’t give that up. It’s too precious to me.”

You’re staring at him, hoping for something–anything. A reaction, an agreement…you begin to wonder if maybe the vacation was just getting to you both. You’ve heard countless times of friends falling into weird situationships when they’re away from home, so maybe you’ve clung onto Hansol since he’s here with you and it’s easy. Except, the amount of times you try to tell yourself that, it doesn’t fully feel true. 

“I think I’ll shower and start to get ready.” He states, setting his phone down again. “Unless you want to go first?”

You shake your head, rolling onto your back. “No, you can go. I think I need a little bit longer to wake up.”

He says something else to you, but you don’t register it. Instead, you absentmindedly watch as he gathers his suit, then disappears into the bathroom. Once the water turns on, you bury your face in your hands. 

Maybe you just need to get over it. It’d be embarrassing if you tried to push the matter further only to find out Hansol never reciprocated those feelings. Besides, now that you knew each other beyond terrace-time, you didn’t want to lose him completely over some silly feelings from the adrenaline of vacation. He’s a good person, and good people have been hard for you to come across lately. That’s something you didn’t want to take for granted.

Poking your head around the corner, you see Hansol smoking on the balcony. His suit jacket is draped over his shoulder, as he stares out at the beach below. You can’t get your dress zipped and you feel a little embarrassed by it, but you also can’t exactly show up with your bare back on display and the risk of the dress falling off. 

“Uh, hey Hansol?” You meekly call out. He glances over his shoulder towards you. “I, uh, need help with my dress.”

He tosses the remainder of his cigarette into the ashtray, then meanders over to you. After draping his suit jacket onto the bed, you push the door open slightly. You’re holding the front of your dress up with one hand, giving a lopsided smile. 

“I can’t get it zipped.” You laugh nervously. 

Hansol doesn’t say anything at first. But his eyes drag over your body before meeting your gaze, and you feel your face flush. He swallows. 

“Yeah, okay.” He nods. “Um, you need to turn around, though, so I can zip it.”

“Oh!” You chirp. “Right. Sorry.” 

You spin to face the mirror across from you in the bathroom. Hansol hesitates before grabbing your waist with one hand, and the zipper in the other. His knuckles are cold as they gently brush against your spine while he zips. You hold your breath when he’s done, and neither of you move for what feels like several minutes. His hand is still at your waist, and you wonder if he can hear how loud your heart is beating.

“Hansol–” You stop, not really sure what you were going to even say. He lifts his head, meeting your gaze in the mirror. 

“Yeah?” He whispers, his breath hot behind your ear. 

“I, uh,” you shake your head, like that’ll snap you out of it. You settle on giving him a smile. “Thanks.”

He returns your smile. “All I did was zip your dress.”

“No, I mean,” you turn to face him, “thanks for coming with me. This definitely wouldn’t have been as fun without you.”

“Oh,” he nods. “Yeah, for sure. It’s been great. It’s nice having a new friend gained from all of this, you know?”

Friend. “Yeah.” You agree. “Although, I do miss our own spaces. I think terrace-time at the beach feels a little too luxurious for me, you know?”

“Definitely.” He gives your waist a quick squeeze, before dropping his hand at his side. “What do you think, should we get this wedding over with?”

“Please.” You groan, following him out of the bathroom. “Do not let me drink as much tonight, okay? Unless something horribly awful and dramatic happens, then I’ll probably want to forget it.”

“Heard.” He nods, slipping on his suit jacket. “Only getting plastered in case of an emergency: you got it.”

The venue is about as lavish as you were expecting it to be. There’s a gorgeous, floral archway at the end of the aisle, and elegant green, beige, and white decorations everywhere. The second that Seungcheol is in Hansol’s sight, he grabs your hand and tugs you closer to him. 

You take your seats towards the back, and settle as the last of the crowd trickles in. Despite being out of his line of sight, Hansol keeps your hand in his as he traces lazy circles on the back of yours with his thumb. His hand is larger than yours, but seems to mold perfectly against it. 

“What kind of food do you think will be at the reception?” Hansol asks, leaning close to you. 

You snicker, turning to look at him. “Probably something fancy that I’ve never heard of.” You whisper back. He’s close and your heart is beating at a million times per second, you’re pretty sure. You wonder if he can tell. 

“I just hope it’s something edible.” He grins, his voice low. “I’m a picky eater. What if there’s peanuts?” 

“If there’s peanuts, then I guess I’m killing you first.” You comment. “I’d have the high ground.” 

Hansol’s eyes widen. “I thought I was the one doing the killing here?” 

Instead of saying anything, you give him a wink and face forward again as you hear music begin to fill the venue. Hansol squeezes your hand gently, but doesn’t bother letting go. Not yet, anyway. But you’re really hoping he doesn’t. You like the way it feels in yours—warm and grounding. 

The two of you watch the families shuffle into place along with any remaining guests who have yet to sit. A few minutes pass before the ceremony begins, and everyone stands. The wedding party seems to take their sweet time walking down the aisle, couple by couple, until finally Yuna begins to walk with her father.

She looks beautiful. Even prettier in person, and seeing her eyes light up when she sees Seungcheol makes you feel…at peace, almost. You let your gaze follow hers to where Cheol is standing, with tears threatening the corners of his eyes. They look so happy. And a sudden feeling washes over you that since meeting Hansol, you haven’t spent your nights thinking about Seungcheol anymore. You realize that seeing them commit to each other like this was the exact closure you needed. 

But you also realize that you’re pretty sure you have feelings for Hansol. 

You forget his hand is in yours until he lets go and begins to lightly rub the small of your back. For a moment, you wonder if he thinks you’re hurt by the scene playing out before you. But when you glance back at him, whatever expression you’re wearing seems to clear it up for him. He smiles as everyone sits again, then shifts his arm so it’s wrapped around your shoulders. 

You like Hansol. 

Whatever the officiant is saying quickly becomes background noise, as your mind begins to spiral. This whole time you’ve been trying to write it off by the amount of time you’ve spent together, but you’re truly not sure if that’s the case anymore. He’s kind, and funny, and seems to know how to cheer you up despite you not ever verbally telling him. You glance over to him, but his attention is on the ceremony. As if he can feel your gaze on him, he looks over briefly, then smiles. 

‘What?’ he mouths. 

You grin, shaking your head. ‘Nothing’ you mouth back. 

After some obligatory introductions to some of Seungcheol’s family and friends, you and Hansol wander outside of the venue for a smoke. The butterflies in your stomach have not left since your realization during the ceremony, and part of you really wants to ask Hansol his thoughts about…well, everything. Getting closer to each other, this trip, and every interaction in between–you know in your heart that there had to have been something simmering this whole time. 

“I’m almost sad to go home tomorrow.” Hansol suddenly says as he leans against the wall beside you. “This trip has been a lot of fun. Quick, but fun.”

You hum, flicking some of the ash off your cigarette. “It’s been…” you trail off, not really sure where you were going with your sentence. Finally, you say, “Hansol, are things going to go back to normal when we get home?”

“What do you mean?” He asks, pushing himself off the wall to stand in front of you. “Define ‘normal’.”

You shrug. “Like, not seeing each other or hanging out everyday. Terrace-time being quiet…” you clarify. “I just–I guess I don’t really want to leave here and lose all of that when we get home.”

Hansol studies you for a minute, and you feel your cheeks warm. He presses the butt of the cigarette to his lips, inhaling slowly, before pulling it away again. When he exhales, he offers you a gentle smile. 

“To be quite frank, I don’t think I can even try to force myself to go back to that.” He admits. “Uh, but I would like to ask you something. I just need to know if it’s true or not.”

“Anything.” You reply quickly, suddenly growing nervous. 

He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, clearly nervous as well. “When you were drunk last night, you told me you thought I was pretty.”

“Oh my god–”

“Hey, I’m not done,” he laughs, tossing his cigarette into the ashtray beside the two of you. “You said you would say it sober, too. When you said you didn’t remember anything from last night, I kinda wondered if it was true or not.”

At this point, your face is probably bright red. Hansol seems to notice as he bites back a smile, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks. 

“Jesus,” you laugh nervously, turning your head down towards your heels. “Uh, that’s really embarrassing on my part but…yeah. I do.”

When he doesn’t reply right away, you’re scared he’s going to reject you or tell you he thinks of you only as a friend. You force yourself to look up at him when a few moments pass, and his smile is gone, replaced by a much softer expression. 

“Good.” He finally says, taking a step closer to you. “Because I think the same thing about you.”

“Wait, really?” You straighten your posture, putting the rest of your own cigarette out in the ashtray. “Oh my God, I thought I was imagining things.”

Hansol presses his brows together. “You knew?”

“No!” You quickly say. “Not really. I mean, I thought you might’ve been flirting with me this whole time, but I was kind of worried it was just because of the fact we were on vacation and had spent a lot of time together. I didn’t think you really–”

You barely have time to register the fact that his lips are on yours before he’s cupping your face, and backing you into the wall. Your eyes flutter closed as you melt into his touch almost immediately. His lips are soft as they move against yours, slowly and carefully like he’s savoring every moment of it–like he’ll never get the opportunity again. 

But, really, you’d like to do this every second of every day with him now that you know what kissing him feels like. 

Hansol pulls away momentarily, prompting you to open your eyes. His chest is quickly rising and falling from the adrenaline of suddenly kissing you. His own cheeks are flushed, but the way he’s looking at you makes you weak in the knees. It’s in a way that not even Seungcheol has looked at you: with so much adoration. 

“So,” he sighs, his breath fanning against your face, “do you want to be my real girlfriend or whatever?”

You shrug lazily, trying to be nonchalant with him. But your giddy grin gives you away when you say, “I mean, I guess I will. Or whatever.”

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[17teezers]

💭 riding vernon’s face

warning: smut 18+ MDNI

a/n: i love you @redemptions for beta reading this after i wrote it half asleep on melatonin

vernon is so the type to just lay back on the bed and wave you over. at first, you’ll have absolutely no idea what he’s trying to do, and so you stand there, head cocked to the side, brows furrowed in confusion. he waves you over once more, but you remain in the same expression.

he scoffs with an eye roll before finally speaking, “come sit on my face.”

you’re taken aback by his words — you were completely unaware that this was something he was into. sure, he’s in absolute heaven whenever he eats you out, but sitting on his face is something you’ve never done before.

but you’re into it.

he watches as you hesitate for a moment before pulling your panties down to your ankles, stepping out of the wet garment. your skin feels hot as you crawl onto him, slowly inching your way up before you settle on his chest, the fabric of his plain white tee shirt brushing against your clit.

“are you sure?” you ask, eyes searching for any sign of hesitation. he nods, hands tugging at your hips.

“never been more sure in my life, pretty girl.” and those are the last words that come out of his mouth before he lifts you up and brings your cunt to his face. his breath is hot against your wet folds, and it tickles with stimulation ever so slightly. your hands grip ahold of the headboard — apparently just in time as he slams your hips down so his mouth fully makes contact with your cunt, a surprised moan ripping from your chest.

his tongue swipes and pokes at your desperately wet folds and clit, hips already shaking from his touch. somehow, sitting on his face amplified the feeling so much more than you expected.

“fuck, sol..” you whine, throwing your head back as your hips unintentionally roll against his face. he moans into your pussy, vibrations running up and down your spine.

“taste s’good,” he mumbles from beneath you, even the way he talks sparking pleasure throughout your body. biting your lip, one hand leaves the headboard to become entangled in his hair, something you dearly missed doing while he had a buzz cut. your grip tightens around the strands, and he groans, sucking your clit between his lips.

pathetic whines fall from your lips as his grip around your thighs tightened, hiding you down against his face.

“fuck you’re so good at this, gonna cum soon,” you whimper, using your hand to push his face deeper into your cunt. his tongue works wonders — moving and stroking in ways you didn’t know was possible, leaving your inner thighs to tense and tremble.

“use me,” he grunts, making himself work harder just to get you off. fuck, he’s so hot. you look down, and just the sight of him is almost enough to get you off — his face his slightly pink, glossy brown eyes hidden behind hooded lids of pleasure, his hair caught in between your fingers. in determination, you bring your other hand to entangle in his hair, holding him with both hands as your rock your hips back and forth.

he moans deeply as you begin to ride his face, both the action and the delicious pain of you tugging on his scalp has his poor cock begging for friction and release. your moans and whines fill the room as he lets you use him as you please, clit brushing on the textured muscle of his tongue. he lies there peacefully, slurping up any juices and taking what you give him.

“fuck… fuck m’so close, fuck hansol…” you babble, drool almost escaping through the corner of your mouth. your hips stutter with the pace once, twice, and until you have no control over them.

the room is disgusting, echos of your moans and vernon’s mouth bouncing off of each other as you cum all over his face, just the way he wanted it. your fingertips loosen the grip you had on his hair as your legs shake, turned gelatinous and unable to move.

he moves you off his face, coming up for deep breaths of air, and he fucked out expression on his faces makes you want to go for round two.

“yeah, we’re doing that a lot more often now,” he chuckles, and dumb grin playing on his lips.

[woozisprincess]

SVT with a girlfriend with a really high libido

What is says ⬆️

Svt x Fem!Reader

Smut, masterbation, use of toys, overstim, edging

Seungcheol

He lives to please so he will do his damn best to keep you satisfied. But he is just a man. He's eaten you out, fucked you, and eaten you out again and you're still horny. But he couldn't deny, the way you were grinding against him so desperate to cum again, it was so fucking hot. But he was so fucking tired. Alas, Choi Seungcheol would rather die than leave you to fend for yourself, so the moment he felt himself hardening again, he was forcing you on hands and knees and sliding into your aching cunt. He'd fuck you until you passed out if that's what it took.

Jeonghan

No. Absolutely not. He can only give you a few orgasms before he's ready to tap out. Don't get it twisted, he loves fucking you. He just doesn't have that kind of stamina. He tells you this. You argue that he performs on stage for three hours straight. "I also share the stage with twelve other people. So unless you want me to call one of them to help you out." He rolled his eyes. "Is that an offer?" You huff. What was he going to do with you? That being said, Jeonghan isn't a quitter. So he bought a vibrator to use on you. You shouldn't have to do it alone.

Joshua

He was extremely caught off guard the first time it happened. The way you moved your hand to touch yourself after he had just pulled out of you. And it's not like you'd only cum once, he had fucked you thoroughly with his fingers before he gave you his cock. But you still wanted more. Needed more. He watched you, eyes wide and curious as your fingers slid in and out of you. Your free hand held onto him, keeping him close. You still moaned his name, letting him know that he's done this to you, that this was how much you needed him. Now Joshua knows exactly what you need, pushing past his exhaustion to please you. But when you begin to pleasure yourself, pushing your fingers into your freshly fucked hole, maybe grinding against him or a pillow for stimulation, it's like he was never tired in the first place.

Junhui

As a dancer, his stamina was insane. If you needed more from him, he could give you more. Jun realized that the key to satisfying you was to fuck all your orgasms out before letting himself go. Was he basically edging himself? Yes. But he liked it. Gave him a rush. By the time he cums, he's fucked you up, down, left and right. And if you've got another in you, he sits you on his face and gets to work. "Junnie." You'd shake his arm while he's still catching his breath. He's already pulling you on top of him, mumbling half hearted complaints about how needy you are. He was always happy to help his baby.

Soonyoung

His stamina is higher than your libido. Like a lot higher. And his drive is just as high. You asked him for more, and each time he delivered. Then he's taunting you because you're finally tired. Poking at you and making fun of how needy you are. "Are you sure you're done, baby?" He'd kiss down your body, his lips hovering near your overstimulated heat. He liked the way you whined and whimpered. If you'd let him, he'd lick at you, seeing how far he could push you before it got too much. You enjoyed the sting, the way it hurt so good. Soonyoung would manage to pull another orgasm out of you rather quickly, pushing you to the brink. He always pushed your limits, and you loved every second of it. But don't even think about walking for the next 24 hours.

Wonwoo

He didn't know someone could be this horny. God forbid you're ovulating, you were like a cat in heat. Wonwoo has tried everything to get his stamina to match your drive but damn, you could fuck. But then he found a solution. He just had to edge you like crazy. Every time he saw the signs that you were close, he'd stop what he was doing, kissing your hot skin for a moment before starting again. When he finally gave you his cock is when he'd let you cum. You were too tired to even think about another orgasm. Hole too raw, clit too swole, entirely too fucked out over all.

Jihoon

Jihoon will forever be the type to just let you do anything to him. So if you've just pulled off his dick after fucking cowgirl, and you start grinding on his thigh, he'll help you out. Holding your hips tight as he pressed you against him. Something about how you desperately rutted against him, chasing another release. You were so hot. You could use his body however you wanted. Treat him like a sex toy. Tell him that he can't cum until you've had your fill. Whatever you wanted, he was happy to provide.

Dokyeom

His stamina is good, even better drive. He'll diligently fuck every single orgasm out of you like a good boy. And he fucking loved when you called him your good boy. If he ever got tired, all it took was a few encouraging words from your lips and he was back on 10. He'll lick your hole clean, fuck you stupid, grind his already hardening length against you, and fuck you again. Whatever you needed, whatever you wanted, he'd do it for you no questions asked.

Mingyu

He's making you cum on his tongue at least twice before he's giving you any dick. He was gonna satisfy you completely, eating you out like a starved man before sliding into you. And damn does he love to eat. You'll be sat on his face half moaning in pleasure, half whining bc you want dick, but he just hasn't had his fill yet. Safe to say that by the time he was ready to actually fuck you you were already overstimulated. You'd cum quickly, leaving Mingyu to use your body so he could get off. It was so fucking good.

Minghao

He thought you were like a bunny. That's how much you wanted to fuck. But he believed self pleasure existed for a reason, so surely you could utilize it. Of course he'd still be participating, he's not fucking crazy. Sex is physical, emotional, and spiritual, partners should always experience it together to some extent. So he'd hold you close while you pleasured yourself with practiced ease, taking note of your movements and reactions. He was also quite fond of pushing your limits, he didn't have the most stamina but his drive was good. If he played his cards right, he could end the night with both of you completely satisfied.

Seungkwan

He doesn't even know what to do with you. So horny, all the fucking time. Seungkwan had stamina but his drive was not built like that. He was also very busy. He felt bad having to cut you off, but he was just a man... A man with fingers. Strong, athletic fingers. He thinks that he's managed to train you in a way. He's gotten you to calm down after the first orgasm or two, but of course you're coming back for more later. If you wait till his next break like a good girl, he'll give you his fingers. This pattern continues until you are satisfied, and Seungkwan is full of pride knowing that he's made a plan that gets you there.

Vernon

Vernon didn't know you thought he was sexy enough to need to fuck him four times in a row. Like yeah he's hot, but that hot? Apparently. But he got tired quick, so he'd push you in the shower and try again later. He just needed time to breathe. It was basically a routine. Two orgasms in the morning, two at night. You also liked this routine because it meant you were less sore. Also meant you had something to look forward too. But sometimes the anticipation is too much and you jump his bones halfway through the day. "Babe!?" Vernon yelped as you shoved him into an unoccupied computer room in the hybe building. "I need it, Non." You locked the door behind you, then pushed him against it. Vernon already forgot what he was supposed to be doing. Especially when you looked at him with those big needy eyes. "Fuck." He cursed under his breath.

Chan

Has equal stamina and drive. You don't have to worry about him getting tired, or not wanting to fuck anymore. He was all about it, all the time. You suddenly get an urge while watching a movie? He's already pulling you into his lap. Need to get bent over the kitchen counter asap? Just say the word and he's there. You start ovulating and need dick constantly? You'd think he was ovulating too the way he's constantly on top of you. Even if you're waking up in the middle of the night from a dream that had you drenched, he'll wake up and eat you out like the day just started.

(⁠*⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠/⁠～⁠♡

An: I just... You know- I... You can tell who I was losing my mind about when I wrote this 💀

[quinnhypen]

kim mingyu x f!reader :D

phone a friend - k. mg

you and mingyu spend years trying to outdo each other—spelling bees, grades, valedictorian, all of it—until he leaves for college halfway across the country and you finally get peace… only for him to transfer back home and completely ruin your life again. 

WC: 10.9k TAGS: enemies to lovers, childhood enemies to lovers, childhood acquaintances, mingyu is whipped, mingyu wants reader real bad, college AU, nonidol!mingyu, seungcheol x reader crumbs!, mutual pining, idiots in love CW: fem!reader, mingyu is an asshole at first, reader is blind to how he feels, thats about it WARNINGS: No smut! Heavy making out, heavy tension scenes but no smut :), a teeeeeeny tiny bit of angst! A/N: i made this story in honor of my best friend and roommate who is a huge huge mingyu bias. hey girl i hope u love this story! also huge thank you to everyone who has liked or reposted my last fic! it means a lot that it was recieved so well and i hope you all like this one :)

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun hit your face as you sat on the rock wall, looking out onto the ocean. The sun is hitting the waves as it sets with the salty air breezing through your hair, making it somewhat messy and tangled. 

You had always loved the beach. It cleared your mind in a way nothing else could. It helped that it was only fifteen minutes from your childhood home—and now, just a five-minute walk from your off-campus house.

Your parents thought it was stupid to move out of the house into a rental for the academic year, you urged that it was so you could develop some independence. It took some convincing, but you assured them you would stop home frequently for dinner and to do laundry. 

Growing up in a small college town, you have one of two choices. Move halfway across the country for college or attend school at the exact place you spent your weekends in high school drinking in the commuter student parking lots.

The downside of staying was unavoidable. Unless people chose to leave, you kept running into the same familiar faces—the ones who, like you, had chosen to stay. 

And you had been just lucky enough to be one of them.

A few of your best friends from your hometown chose the ‘move across the country’ option while you were stuck in the same place you have been for 20 years of your life. Luckily you had Jeonghan, your best friend since pre-k, by your side, attending the same college as you. 

Some people you know moved far away, and then transferred back. Claimed they missed the convenience. 

You were known in town.

By fifth grade you were considered the smartest kid in your grade. Perfect scores, perfect spelling, you prided yourself on your hard work at such a young age. That was until Kim Mingyu moved into your neighborhood. 

He had the pudgiest cheeks, big brown curious eyes, he was the cause for many fifth grader’s first crushes.

You first heard his name that way—whispered too loudly across desks, followed by giggles.

The first time you actually saw him was on stage, at the finals of the regional spelling bee. The competition had come down to just two people: you, and Kim Mingyu. Standing across from him, you realized he carried himself with an easy confidence, a quiet charm that was impossible to ignore.

It bothered you. 

You had already used your “phone a friend” pass a week earlier during the semifinals, when you got stuck on the word pneumonia.

“I’d like to use my phone a friend,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. Turning to your teammate, you asked for help, your voice steady despite the pressure. With their guidance, you pushed through the round—and just like that, secured your place in the finals of the regional spelling bee.

Confidence coursed through your veins during the finals—right up until the moment you and Mingyu were tied.

The last word went to him.

Everything seemed to hold its breath. If he spelled it correctly, he would win. If he didn’t, the title would be yours.

Chrysanthemum. The word was chrysanthemum.

The word echoed in your mind, and your eyes lit up. You knew it instantly—every letter, in order, no hesitation.

You glanced at Mingyu. Worry flickered in his eyes, his confidence slipping. He didn’t know it.

You hold back a slight grin, feeling your win already sink in. 

He stumbles on his words. Plays with his fingers nervously.

That is until.

“I’d like to use my phone a friend.” He breaths out shakily. 

And with that, the title was in Kim Mingyu’s hands. 

From that moment on, a rivalry took root between you and Kim Mingyu—one that seemed like it would never end.

You went head-to-head in every spelling bee after that, pushed each other for the highest SAT scores, and spent all of high school locked in a quiet competition for valedictorian. It was always the two of you, always neck and neck. And no matter what, you refused to let him win.

That was, until he left for college halfway across the country.

For the first time in years, he was gone—and you told yourself you’d never have to see him again.

And for a while, that was true.

Until your phone rang yesterday in the middle of a homework assignment, the sound cutting sharply through the quiet.

“Y/n, Mingyu transferred to uni at home. He's in my biochem class. I literally couldn’t believe it was him when I saw him!” Jeonghan exclaimed a little too excited over the phone. 

“Mingy- like… Kim Mingyu?” Your heart fell through your chest. 

“Yeah duh like Kim Mingyu!” Jeonghan giggles over the phone. Jeonghan has been your best friend since you were in pre-school. He gave you a ring on valentines day claiming that he would marry you someday. You politely declined the marriage offer but still took the ring. Since then, you two have been inseparable. He was there through every stage of your life and was on the frontlines of the y/n, Mingyu battle. “Dude like… he got hot.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Of course he did.” You mumble under your breath.

“What was that?” Jeonghan questions.

“Hannie I have to finish up this assignment but by all means, keep Kim Mingyu so insanely far away from me or we are going to have problems, okay?”

“Okay fine, I love you bye.” Jeonghan hangs up the phone shortly after.

Today was the first time you had seen Mingyu since senior year of high school.

You still remembered that day—standing at the podium, delivering your valedictorian speech. Somewhere in the crowd, your eyes had found his. For a brief moment, everything else faded. There was something in his expression—jealousy, maybe—but also something softer, something almost admiring.

You never understood it. 

Yet the same thing happened today. 

You stood at the front of your communications class, notes in hand, ready to present a project you’d spent weeks working on. The lecture hall felt too big, too full, the quiet hum of students settling in pressing against your ears.

Then your eyes drifted—third row.

And everything else disappeared.

A familiar face. Tan skin. Black, wavy, messy hair.

Kim. Fucking. Mingyu.

For a split second, your mind went completely blank.

After the presentation, you didn’t waste a second. You whipped out your phone and fired off a text to Jeonghan:

Y/n: You were fucking right. Mingyu did transfer. I hate my fucking life.

Hannie: I know I was right dipshit did u not believe me the first time?

You spent the rest of your class sulking in your seat instead of watching your peers' presentations.

And that leads you to now. Sitting in somewhat business casual clothing, leftover from your presentation, on the edge of a rock wall looking over the sunset of the beach. 

Kim Mingyu would be the death of you, but you would never let that happen.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Come on y/n, you never go out with me!” Jeonghan sulks, frustrated at your decision.

“Hannie, I don’t want to go to the bar on a Thursday night. I have much better things to do.” You don’t even look up from typing whatever you are typing out on your computer.

“Come on, y/n. One night. What do you have to lose?” He makes puppy eyes your way.

You glance back at your computer. The unfinished work. The comfort of staying in. The very real possibility of regretting whatever chaos he was about to drag you into.

Then again… he wasn’t wrong. What do you have to lose?

You groan, pushing your chair back. “Fine. If this is a disaster, I’m blaming you for the rest of our lives.”

Jeonghan gasps like you just proposed to him. “You won’t regret this.”

“I already do.”

The walk from your house to the nearby bar was a brief eight minutes—eight minutes you spent questioning every life decision that had led you here. Jeonghan was ready for a good hour before you could decide what to wear. You locked in on a basic black shirt and black jeans. 

Beside you on the walk, Jeonghan was practically glowing with excitement, hands tucked into his pockets as he hummed some random tune like this was the highlight of his week.

Jeonghan opens the front door to the bar, letting you walk in first. The noise escalated to a volume a lot louder than you planned on hearing tonight as you were greeted by a sea of people. 

Many you recognized from growing up with, many you probably saw in passing on campus. 

“…Oh no,” you mumble under your breath.

Jeonghan leans closer behind you, hand hovering near your back. “What?”

“I know people here.”

He blinks. “…Okay? That’s how bars work.”

Jeonghan spots an empty table tucked off to the side and steers you toward it like it’s a safe zone.

You both sit down across from each other.

And, almost instinctively, fall into what you do best.

People watching.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Jeonghan immediately picks up on the change in your tone. “No way.”

You don’t answer.

You’re staring.

Because across the room, near the bar, surrounded by a group of people like he owns the place—

Is Mingyu.

Of course he’s here. Why wouldn’t he be?

He’s laughing, relaxed, completely at ease, different from the stuck up academic asshole you were used to.

As if sensing your eyes, Mingyu shifts slightly—laughing at something one of his friends says, then glancing out over the room.

For a moment—

Your eyes almost meet.

You immediately look away, heart beating faster for reasons you refuse to examine.

“…If he sees me, I’m leaving,” you decide.

“You are not,” Jeonghan says, way too calmly.

“I am.”

“You walked eight minutes for this. You’re staying at least thirty.”

“I will walk back alone.”

“No, you won’t.”

You glare at him. He just smiles.

Against your better judgment, your eyes flick back over.

Next to him, you vaguely register Seungcheol—calm, composed, something about him drawing you in. Seungcheol has been friends with Mingyu since diapers and acted like it was the end of the world when Mingyu decided to go to college across the country. 

Seems as if he's happier with his best friend back at his side.

Seungcheol laughs at something Mingyu says– it reminds you of how easy it was to be around him, especially with Mingyu gone. 

Seungcheol was at the same level as Mingyu—athletic, sharp, annoyingly good at everything—but without that constant need to compete.

You shared classes in high school. Again in college. Sat through lectures side by side, worked through presentations, split the workload without tension.

There was never any rivalry.

Just an unspoken understanding—you’d both do well. You’d both pull your weight. And somehow, unknown to both of you, it always worked.

And yeah—there was also the small, inconvenient detail that you’ve found him incredibly attractive since junior year of high school.

Not that it ever mattered.

Not that you ever did anything about it.

Because unlike Mingyu—

Seungcheol never turned everything into a competition.

And maybe that’s exactly why your attention doesn’t stay on him for long.

Because the moment Mingyu moves again—laughing, talking, existing just a little too loudly—

Your focus snaps right back.

Unavoidably.

Like it always does.

“You want a drink?” Jeonghan snaps you out of your overwhelmed thoughts.

“No I am all set, but you go get one.” You wave your hand giving him the go-ahead.

When Jeonghan stands up and beelines for the bar, something you never wished would happen, happened.

Mingyu sees you, really sees you.

He straightens, smirking ever so slightly, like he’s noticed the change in your posture before you even did. And just like that, he starts moving toward your table, weaving through the crowd with that infuriatingly effortless confidence.

He stops just short of your table, leaning one arm on the edge like he was here the entire time.

“Well, well,” he says, voice low. “I never thought I’d see you here.” His eye contact is deadly.

“I guess I could say the same thing about you. Arizona not work out too well?” You look up at him, challenge in your eyes.

“I missed the convenience I guess.” He shrugs, calmer than he used to be. He smirks again, a little softer this time. “Yeah… coming back and finding things as easy as they were before. Familiar faces, familiar annoyances.”

Your lips twitch despite yourself. “Ohhhh.” You drag out. “Annoyances huh?”

He leans in slightly closer. Too close for comfort. “You know I kept track of your ridiculous overachieving ways, right?”

You roll your eyes, but your heart betrays you with an uneven beat. “You mean stalking me years ago like the competitive lunatic you are? Am I gonna have to worry about that again now that you are back?”

He chuckles, low and confident. “Call it observation. And I have to say…” His gaze flickers briefly, subtle but pointed, “From what I have heard from Seungcheol, you’ve grown more… advanced since high school. Still annoyingly good at everything, though I guess that never changes.”

“So why are you here?” You cut in directly at the end of his sentence.

“Am I not allowed to go out with my friends my first week at classes here?” He smirks. 

“Out of all the people I wanted to see tonight, you were never on my list.” 

Mingyu blinks at that, the smirk on his face faltering just slightly—just enough to make you think you’ve landed a hit. Then he recovers, tilting his head, still leaning casually on the table as if he owns the space.

“Wow,” he says slowly, voice amused. “Straight to the point, huh? Always so charming.”

You shrug, meeting his gaze evenly. “I call it efficiency.”

“But look at that, you found me.” He leans a bit closer, voice lower. 

“Lucky me.” You retort back.

Before Mingyu can respond, a calm hand lands lightly on his shoulder. “Hey, we’re heading back home,” Seungcheol says, voice steady but firm, pointing Mingyu toward his friend group across the bar.

Mingyu straightens, putting on his usual confident mask, but something in his eyes flickers—he’s caught mid-thought, caught by you. He gives you one last smirk, the kind that makes your stomach twist, before turning toward Seungcheol.

For a second, Seungcheol freezes. He notices immediately—the direction of Mingyu’s gaze, the way his friend had leaned in, the unspoken tension lingering in the air. He was curious as to why Mingyu of all people was talking to you.

“Hey, y/n” He says curiously.

You decide to jab at him in a friendly manner like you usually do.

“Happy that your boyfriend Mingyu is back in town huh?” You giggle. 

“Yeah… I’d say he’s hard to miss,” he says, voice calm, casual, almost teasing in that composed way of his.

Mingyu snorts beside him, clearly entertained by the jab, leaning just a little closer toward you again. “Boyfriend, huh? Careful, you might start rumors,” he teases, that infuriating grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

You roll your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “Rumors? About you? Never.” You tilt your head, daring him to step closer. “Though… I guess it would explain a lot of your ‘friendly’ stalking over the years.”

Mingyu laughs low and smooth, and Seungcheol clears his throat, tugging subtly at Mingyu’s arm. “Come on, let’s not keep everyone waiting,” he says, trying to sound neutral, though you know Seungcheol was amused by you. 

Mingyu flashes you a smile followed by a, “See you in class, y/n,” as he follows Seungcheol back to where their friends stood before. 

Seungcheol waves a friendly hand goodbye towards you as they disappear into the crowd.

“I was going to come back sooner, but I figured you had a little something on your hands.” You hear Jeonghan speak behind you.

“How kind of you.” 

The rest of the night was spent with Jeonghan getting a little too drunk and him yapping your ear off the entire walk home. You walked Jeonghan into his bedroom across the hall from you while putting a cup of water on his nightstand.

“Drink.” You order, pointing at the glass.

“No.” He always fights back.

“Drink or I won't go out with you again.” His goofy smile falters as he picks up the glass and sips from it. “I’m going to bed.” You turn towards the hallway as you hear Jeonghan’s voice from behind you.

“Mingyu got like… really hot.” He drunkenly stumbles on his words a bit.

“Sorry?” You turn to look at him.

“Like he grew into his baby face, he- he got like… ripped. He looks hot, you should totally bag that.” Jeonghan giggles to himself.

“You should totally put yourself to bed.” You retort crossing your arms over your body. “Goodnightttt.” You dragged the word out, a little teasing, a little tired.

“Bye.” He rolls his eyes and tucks himself under his covers as you close his bedroom door.

After doing your nightly routine you hop in bed, curious as to why Jeonghan would ever encourage you to go for Kim Mingyu of all people? It must have just been his drunken state… right?

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Fridays were your longest class days. 

You and Seungcheol met in the library during your break to work on a duo project, the quiet hum of students typing filling the space around you.

“You must be happy Mingyu is back.” You cut into the silence of both of your typing.

“I am, really. I missed him a lot. I didn’t miss the two of you constantly bickering, though.” He laughs as you reach across the table to hit him on the shoulder. “After we left the bar last night, we kept drinking at our place, and he got ridiculously drunk,” he continued, smirking.

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

“He wouldn’t stop talking about you. For some reason, he was really taken aback seeing you there.”

You paused, fingers hovering over your keyboard. “He probably just doesn’t want to see me again.”

“Maybe you guys can finally put an end to this rivalry. It would make my being friends with both of you a lot easier.” Seungcheol looks you dead in the eyes, sending a familiar flutter through your chest. He really does have beautiful eyes.

Your internal thoughts were interrupted by Seungcheol's voice cutting through. “Speak of the devil.”

You looked up to see the boy you’d just been talking about standing at the edge of the table.

“Y/n. You really need to stop taking quality time away from me and my boyfriend,” Mingyu teased, grinning.

“You fully live with him,” you shot back, locking eyes with him.

“Technically,” he said, smirking. “But I’m saying you steal all the fun parts of studying too.”

“Fun parts of studying?” You raised an eyebrow. “There are no fun parts of studying.”

“Oh, come on. You always make these study sessions way too serious. I think you’re missing the point.”

“The point is to get good grades!” you snapped. “Not to mess around like some… some distraction.”

“Oh, so I am a distraction?” Mingyu smirks your way.

“You are impossible Mingyu.” 

“Admit it, you missed me.” 

Your heart weirdly skips a beat.

“On my dead body would I miss you.” 

Seungcheol coughs awkwardly, cutting the conversation between the both of you. “Y/n, should we get back to work?” 

You nod your head giving a petty wave goodbye to Mingyu. 

“I know you missed me y/n.” He says as he walks away from the table. “See you at home dipshit!” He yells to Seungcheol.

You and Seungcheol get back into the swing of your work, both typing away at the shared document but all you could think about was what Jeonghan said about Mingyu the night prior. Mingyu really did get attractive, but you would never admit that out loud. 

After a while of working you and Seungcheol begin to pack up. Moments after he looks you dead in the eyes.

“Listen, I know you aren’t one to go out but hear me out. Mingyu, Wonwoo and I are having some people over in a week or two. The date is TBD but I'd really like it if you were there. I had Wonwoo ask Jeonghan too so you could have someone there that you know!”

The way his eyes lit up talking about this made your chest ache. He was seriously so cute. How could you say no.

“Who is going to be there?” You ask.

“Wellllll…” He dragged the word out, making you wonder if he was trying to stall. “Just the usual people—me, Mingyu, Wonwoo, Vernon, Jihoon, and some of Jihoon’s friends.”

You gave him a questioning glance.

“Please, Y/n. I really want you there.”

The pleading look in his eyes hit your heart like a sudden pang. You’d been grappling with the idea of spending time with him outside of school, and this… this could be your chance.

“Fine. Just let me know the exact date and time when you figure it out please.”

Seungcheol claps his hands together, proud of the fact that he was able to convince you.

“I am so happy, you will have so much fun I promise.” 

“Yes I am known for having fun.” You say in a monotone voice. 

He gives you a light hug goodbye—something he’s never done before. You step out of the building, feeling it linger in your chest longer than it should. For the rest of the day, a smile refuses to leave your face.

The rest of the week passed like any normal week, with one added complication: Kim Mingyu seemed to be everywhere. He wasn’t just in two of your classes—he popped up at the gym, out with Seungcheol, even in the living room at their place when you went over to work on assignments. It was as if he had infiltrated your life just when you thought you’d finally escaped the chaos of high school.

Slight jabs about your work ethic, snarky remarks about high school. It was seriously never ending with him was it. 

By the end of the week you found yourself in your normal spot. Sitting on the rock wall, looking out at the waves in front of you. After such a long week– this is exactly what you needed.

Kicking your feet back and forth over the ledge and people watching cleared your mind in ways nothing else could. 

You nearly jumped out of your skin by the light touch of a hand on your shoulder. You whip around swiftly to be met with the eyes of none other than, Kim Mingyu. 

What the fuck is my life.

“Hey!” he said cheerfully, leaning slightly forward.

“What do you want?” You turn your head back, facing the ocean.

I could ask you the same thing,” he teased, grinning. Then, without waiting for a response, he plopped down on the wall next to you, careful not to crowd your space. 

“Oh, okay yeah.” You mumble under your breath, annoyed that he just sat down without warning.

“Didn’t expect to see me, huh?” he nudges your shoulder.

You crossed your arms, trying to mask your flustered expression. “Apparently not.”

“You know, for someone who acts like they hate my face, you sure look happy to see me.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth twitched. “I’m not happy, I’m… observant.”

“Ah yes, observant. Like you always say. Very… observant.” He trails on, now looking out towards the ocean. “You act like you are scared of me.” There is a weird sense of sincerity in his voice. “Are you scared of me?”

“I would never be scared of you. Besides, I want to be far away from you at all times.” You turn your head to look back at him. The golden sunlight setting over the ocean casting a yellow hue on his wavy black hair. His tan skin lights up, absorbing the sun.

“And yet,” he added, leaning just slightly closer, “here you are, still sitting next to me.”

He turns his head back to yours, the sunlight beading into his eyes making them glow a beautiful brown. 

Shit, Jeonghan was right.

Finally, you shrugged, keeping your tone neutral. “Well… the company is nice, I guess. Even if it is you.”

He grinned, clearly pleased with your careful choice of words. “I’ll take that as a win.”

After a pause, he glanced back out into the ocean. “So… where’s Jeonghan? I don’t see him anywhere.”

“Home,” you replied, relaxing a little. “Doing work, probably.”

Mingyu laughed softly. “Figures. You both aren’t really known for taking breaks. This is the most relaxed I think I've ever seen you.” Then he leaned back on his hands, glancing out at the waves. “Guess that leaves me to entertain you, huh?”

You tilted your head, unsure how to respond. There was a teasing warmth in his voice that made you simultaneously wary and… oddly comfortable. “Yeah… I suppose so,” you said carefully, letting yourself admit it without fully giving in.

He laughed, a soft, easy sound that made the space between you feel lighter. For a moment, you forgot about your history. Just sitting here, the two of you, it felt simple. 

And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind that it was Mingyu keeping you company after all.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

After a weekend of nothing but rotting in the living room watching movies with Jeonghan, this week's work assignments started to catch up to you. 

By midway through the week you were swamped with assignments barely getting out of the house to do anything but go to class.

Ever since your conversation with Mingyu, he had… changed. Not drastically, but enough that it was noticeable. He started sitting next to you in class, casually dropping into your notes or commenting on lectures as if he had been here the whole time. And the surprising part? He actually made really good points—insightful, thoughtful, occasionally making you wonder if you’d been underestimating his knowledge all along.

Halfway through Wednesday’s lecture, he leaned over with a grin and whispered, “Need help with that assignment, or are you going to struggle through it alone?”

You shot him a sidelong glare, though a small smile threatened to slip through. “I’m perfectly capable, thank you very much,” you said, your voice sharp with just enough sass to let him know he’d been read.

He raised his hands in mock surrender, still smirking. “Alright, alright, no need to bite. But don’t say I didn’t offer.” He giggled to himself returning back to his work.

A slight warmth bloomed in your chest. Even with the teasing, there was something… lighter about him. Easier to be around, less tense than before. You never thought it would be easy to be around Kim Mingyu. 

During study sessions at Seungcheol’s, you caught yourself getting distracted by peeking up from your computer screen to look into the living room where Mingyu was sitting, watching television with an intensity that somehow made him… captivating.

Other study sessions at Seungcheols, Mingyu would even sit silently at the kitchen table with the two of you and get his work done while the two of you worked on your group assignment. 

Seungcheol’s demeanor hadn’t gone unnoticed either. He seemed to be watching the two of you with a mix of curiosity and quiet amusement, clearly trying to figure out how this tentative “liking” had developed between you and Mingyu. He waited until Mingyu excused himself to head to his room before turning his attention to you.

“This is the first time in my entire life you have been in the same room as Mingyu and didn’t rip each other's heads off.” he said, a teasing glint in his eyes.

You couldn’t help but smirk, feeling a little heat rise to your cheeks. “Well… people can change,” you said, though you weren’t entirely sure if you believed it—or if you were just referring to him.

Seungcheol laughed softly, shaking his head. “Huh. That’s… new.”

You laughed to yourself in disbelief of the liking you have taken to Mingyu’s company. Even when he stood up to head to his room you felt a comforting presence missing. 

The most recent time you went over to Seungcheol’s place was to run over your individual case study presentations. This assignment was taking over your entire life, body flooding with nerves as presentation day was slowly creeping. 

“I feel like you aren’t locked in,” you complained, pushing your notes aside and pouting at Seungcheol.

“No! I am locked in!” he shot back, setting down his highlighter and gesturing toward his own work.

You groaned loudly, overwhelmed by the weight of the project. “This is going to kill me,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands.

“You’re going to be just fine,” Seungcheol said, standing and walking behind you. He leaned over your shoulder to read one of the lines you’d written, his body pressing lightly against your back. He grabbed a pencil and made a small mark on your notes.

Normally, a moment like this with Seungcheol would have sent your thoughts racing and your heart pounding, but today… nothing. You weren’t feeling the usual tension, the usual awareness of him that always seemed to linger.

Instead, you caught yourself thinking—more than once—how much nicer it would’ve been if Mingyu were here to give you notes too.

But why were you thinking that?

You turned to Seungcheol giving him a kind smile as he sat back down in his chair across from you.

“So are you going to come to my presentation orrrrrr?” You draw out the end of your sentence, batting your eyes teasingly at Seungcheol.

“Of course I am.” He gives you a small unsure smile. You choose to ignore it, not getting your hopes up.

By the time you got home, fell asleep and woke up, it felt as if no time had passed. You needed to get ready for the presentation. 

You put on your best business casual pants and blazer while dawning a slick back ponytail. The mirror reflected a professional version of yourself—calm, composed… at least on the outside.

Rushing out the door, you grabbed your bag and stopped briefly in the kitchen to say a quick goodbye to Jeonghan, who was perched on a stool, spooning cereal into his mouth while scrolling through some news article on his phone.

“Morning,” you mumbled, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Morning,” he replied without looking up, absorbed in his phone. You offered him a small smile before bolting out the door.

“I love you!” You yelled through the door before shutting it. You hear a muffled “Love you!” In return through the now closed front door.

By the time you got to school, your stomach was tied in knots. The auditorium hall was buzzing with students, family members, and faculty members all prepping to partake in the presentation ceremony. 

You stood in the main corridor, waiting for your turn to present, trying to run through your lines silently in your head. Your heart raced with every announcement over the speakers, waiting for them to call your name.

You hear the main door behind you open and close, snapping you out of your inner dialogue. You turn around to meet eyes with a familiar messy black haired boy, a small bouquet of flowers in his hands.

Chrysanthemums.

“Mingyu?” you breathed, blinking at him. He looked almost… intentionally casual, though the flowers gave him away immediately.

“Hey,” he said, slipping through the hallway making his way to you. “Seungcheol couldn’t make it today, so… he sent me in his place.”

Any other day, Seungcheol missing your big presentation would have thrown you completely off balance. But today… there wasn’t a single part of you that cared. Mingyu was here, flowers in hand, and somehow, that made the nerves in your stomach feel a little lighter.

“Don’t you think chrysanthemums are a little distasteful regarding our history?” You give him a slight smirk as you see his face shift, full of nerves. 

For a moment, his confident expression faltered, and you caught a flicker of panic in his eyes. “Wait… really? You think—?”

You laughed softly, reaching out to tap his arm. “Relax, I’m joking. The gesture is… very nice.” You feel your cheeks burn red at the touch.

He leaned back slightly, glancing at you with a teasing glint. “You’re going to do great, by the way. I’ve heard you do this speech a million times over to Seungcheol—you’ll crush it.”

You smiled faintly, still trying to calm the nerves in your chest.

“But,” he added, smirking again, holding the bouquet a little higher, “you won’t be getting these until after your presentation. Only if I think it’s… good enough.”

Your eyes widened, caught between amusement and fluster. “Good enough, huh?”

“Exactly,” he said, mock-serious, though the warmth in his gaze undercut the teasing. “So… make it count.”

He walks into the auditorium, taking a seat in one of the rows further back. Before you knew it, your name was called and it was your time to present.

The presentation went by in a flash. You barely remembered what you said, hoping that everything was on the mark. When you finished the crowd applauded as you walked off the stage, your mind still spinning.

You pushed through the back doors, panting, trying to stave off the panic rising in your chest. Your knees buckled slightly as you crouched, hands braced against them, heart hammering.

“Hey… hey… hey, breathe,” a soft voice urged. A hand pressed gently to your back, rubbing small circles in slow, steady motions.

“Never would’ve pinned you as the type to freak out after a presentation,” the voice added, teasing, but there was an underlying warmth.

You looked up, meeting Mingyu’s eyes. They were soft, concerned, and kind—a stark contrast to the teasing bravado he usually wore. For a moment, the panic in your chest loosened just enough to let a shaky exhale escape.

“Well, you don’t know what I did after my valedictorian speech,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. He raised a curious brow, waiting. A pause.

“I… threw up.”

Mingyu burst out laughing. “You threw up? Seriously?”

“Not the time, Mingyu,” you scolded lightly. He wiped the smile off his face quickly, shaking his head. “Right, sorry, sorry.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “High school Mingyu would’ve never apologized to me.”

“Well,” he said, still rubbing light circles on your back, his tone softening, “we’re a little past that, don’t you think?”

He helped you regain balance and handed you the bouquet of chrysanthemums. You blinked at the delicate flowers, still catching your breath.

“Pretty good presentation,” he said with a teasing grin, “I think deserving of flowers, don’t you?”

You glanced down at the bouquet, then back at him, a small warmth spreading in your chest. “I… I think I can agree with that.”

He smirked knowingly, holding your gaze just a little longer than necessary, letting the moment linger.

“Thank you for coming, Mingyu.” You gave him a sincere smile.

“I wouldn’t have missed it.” He returns a light smile, not breaking eye contact. Tension bloomed like a cloud above you, something that was hard for both of you to ignore. 

He walked with you out of the auditorium, concluding with you thanking him for coming once again. The walk to both of your cars was completely silent. You didn’t know if the tension had gotten to both of you, or if something had shifted in him. You decided not to loom on it.

You sat in the car for a few moments staring at the bouquet of flowers he had given you. 

“Chrysanthemums. Wow.” You spoke out loud, laughing to yourself. 

The drive home was completely silent. No music, no chatter, just you—and your thoughts, spiraling. Mingyu kept invading every corner of your brain, but this time… not in the usual, competitive way. There was no snark, no teasing challenge, no need to prove anything.

Instead, it was him—the way he had looked at you after your presentation, the soft smirk, the bouquet in his hands, the warmth behind his words, the gentle circles on your back. Every detail replayed in your mind like a loop you didn’t want to break.

By the time you pulled into your driveway, your chest still fluttered, your mind still racing, but there was something else there too—a strange, quiet happiness, the kind that comes from knowing someone unexpectedly made your day a little brighter.

You walk through the front door, greeted by Jeonghan who just so happened to have opened the front door right as you unlocked it, like he was waiting for you to return home.

He had the biggest smile plastered on his face that grew when he saw the flowers in your hands.

“Oh my god, did Seungcheol bring you flowers?!” he exclaimed, practically bouncing with excitement.

“It was actually…” You hesitated, blinking down at the chrysanthemums. “…Mingyu.”Jeonghan’s jaw dropped so visibly it was almost comical. “What the fuck.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------

You went to class the next day feeling lighter, brighter than you had in weeks—at least, until you slid into your usual spot. You set your bag down and pulled out your phone, scrolling absentmindedly, expecting Mingyu to appear beside you as usual.

But when you finally looked up, your chest sank.

Mingyu was already walking past the row you normally sat in. He didn’t glance in your direction, instead moving toward two other guys in the class—faces you didn’t recognize—before plopping down between them with an easy grin as if he had been sitting there for the past few weeks. 

For a moment, you froze, unsure if you’d imagined it, confused as to why. Your mind ran through every possible reason: maybe he didn’t see you yet, maybe he just felt like sitting somewhere else today…

Still, the pace beside you felt heavier than usual, and you couldn’t help but feel a little empty. 

You forced yourself to look back at your phone, pretending to be absorbed, but every so often your eyes flicked back to him, noticing the way he laughed at something one of the guys said, the way he leaned casually in the chair… the way he wasn’t sitting beside you.

This wasn’t the only time he had done it this week. Classes passed in a blur, but Mingyu never once acknowledged you. Not a glance, not a smile, nothing. You tried to brush it off at first, telling yourself he was probably just distracted or focused on something else.

After a few days of no acknowledgement whatsoever you decided to send him a text.

Y/n: Hey, want to study together later?

An hour went by.

Y/n: I’m going to the library, if you want to meet me there, i’ll be there.

Still nothing.

Y/n: Are you seriously ignoring me? What’s your deal?

Finally, a reply came.

Mingyu: I’m busy

Dry fucking text.

Y/n: Dude busy with what? I have seen you in class every day and you have avoided me.

 You typed, the irritation seeping into your words.

Mingyu: Stuff

Y/n: That’s not an answer, Mingyu.

 Why are you ignoring me?

Mingyu: I’m not ignoring you

he replied so casually, the nonchalance only fueling your confusion.

Y/n: Then why won’t you go anywhere near me?

Mingyu: I said I'm busy. 

The back-and-forth went on like this, each message more frustrating than the last. You couldn’t figure out why he was brushing you off, and his dismissive responses only made you more anxious and annoyed.

It didn’t make sense. Mingyu had been here before, right by your side, supportive, teasing… and now? Now he was distant, frustratingly so, and you didn’t know what had changed.

Another text comes in, from Seungcheol this time.

Seungcheol: Hey! Remember that gathering I told you about a few weeks ago that you promised you would go to? Yeah it’s tomorrow, totally spaced telling you. You are coming though I don’t care.

You drop your phone in your lap putting your head in your hands. 

The last thing you wanted to do was to go out, let alone to Mingyu’s house. 

But a deal is a deal.

Y/n: Wouldn’t miss it.

There is a burn in your chest. You feel tears start to well up in your eyes. Who knew missing being around someone so much would kill you inside and out?

You knock softly on Jeonghan’s bedroom door, trying to steady your breathing, but the tears already prickling at the corners of your eyes give you away.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice immediately alert, as he opens the door to see you standing there, phone clutched in your hand, eyes shiny and red.

“I…” you begin, voice shaking, “it’s… Mingyu. He’s… he’s been… he’s just… distant. Ever since the presentation, he won’t… he won’t even talk to me properly. I don’t know what I did wrong…”

Jeonghan steps closer, his brow furrowed as he studies your face. “You mean the Mingyu who was teasing you and handing you flowers and making your heart race? That Mingyu?”

You nod, biting your lip to keep from crying outright. “Yes… that Mingyu. And now he’s… ignoring me. Every time I try to reach out, he just—he blows me off. And I don’t understand it.”

Jeonghan sits down on the edge of his bed, patting the spot next to him. “Okay… slow down. Let me ask a few questions. Did you say anything that could have… upset him?”

“No! I don’t think so,” you sob, shaking your head. “I mean, maybe I annoyed him? Or overwhelmed him? But I don’t—he hasn’t said anything. Nothing!”

“Hmm,” Jeonghan hums, thoughtful. “And… how does it make you feel?”

“I… it hurts, Jeonghan. I miss him. I can’t… I can’t stop thinking about him,” you admit, the tears now spilling freely down your cheeks.

He leans closer, voice gentle but pointed. “Do you… think you like him?”

You break. The dam holding back your feelings collapses, and you shake your head against his shoulder, crying openly. “Of course I fucking like him! Why else would I be acting like this if I didn’t!”

Jeonghan pulls you into a comforting hug, rubbing your back softly. “Hey, hey… it’s okay. Listen, maybe… maybe this is exactly why you need to talk to him. Tomorrow night, at the party… you’ll have the chance. You just need to… tell him. Don’t let this fester, okay?”

“But he clearly doesn’t want to be around me.”

Jeonghan urges, “Y/n. I promise, just talk to him please.”

The idea of facing him still makes your chest tighten—but now, instead of dread, it carries the tiniest hint of anticipation.

You spent the rest of the night cuddled with Jeonghan in his room watching movies as you normally do to take your mind off the events of the week. 

You also needed to emotionally prepare for the night that was about to occur.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

The whole day had been spent rotting in your bed, scrolling endlessly on your phone, accomplishing nothing. No work. No focus. Just the constant, gnawing anticipation of the night ahead.

An hour or so before you had to leave, Jeonghan barreled into your room, grabbing your hands and yanking you upright.

“You need to get ready,” he said, a note of irritation in his voice.

“I don’t. I’m ready,” you mumbled, voice thick with sleep, trying to pull your hands free.

“You are not going over in pajamas,” he countered firmly, moving to your closet. “Get dressed.”

Before you could protest, he flipped on the closet light, illuminating the rows of neatly hung clothes. “Come on, pick something decent. You’re not going to Mingyu’s place looking like this.”

“He doesn’t want to see me anyway.” You feel tears start to form again, except you will not let yourself cry over him again.

Jeonghan riffled through your wardrobe like a tornado. “Here, wear this. Trust me, you’ll look good.”

He throws down an off the shoulder black oversized shirt and your go to jeans.

“Just put it on. Hair, makeup, everything. I will not let you sabotage your own night out.”

Sighing, you grabbed the clothes, resigning yourself to the ordeal. Jeonghan’s grin widened, triumphant. “Good. You’ll thank me later. Maybe even Mingyu will, too.”

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach did a little flip anyway.

After getting ready, you and Jeonghan made your way to the front door of the house. 

Before you could even land a knock, the door swung open, revealing a tall boy with black-framed glasses and messy black hair. A calm smile rested on his face.

“Oh! I’m sorry, did I scare you?” he asked, his voice deep and quietly measured.

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown off. Wonwoo.

You had always known him as the quiet one growing up, the reserved friend who somehow fit perfectly with Mingyu and Seungcheol’s more extroverted energy. You never really knew how he got along with them so well—whenever you went over to study, he was either holed up in his room playing video games or out at his night classes.

You flashed him a small smile. 

“N-no, it’s fine,” you stammered, trying to smooth your nerves. “We… uh… we were just—”

“Coming to the party,” Jeonghan finished for you, elbowing you lightly with a grin.

Wonwoo nodded, stepping aside to let you in. “Right. Come on in!” His voice louder now, trying to be audible over the loud music blaring behind him.

As you and Jeonghan stepped into the house, the vibe hit you immediately—it was completely different from what you were used to. The living room was buzzing with conversation, laughter spilling into the corners of the house. Some faces were familiar, classmates or friends you’d grown up with, while others were strangers, blending seamlessly into the energy of the night.

Soonyoung was impossible to miss. He was home from school for the weekend, apparently on a mission to see everyone he knew, and his presence was loud and impossible to ignore. You locked eyes with him giving him a kind wave that he returned shortly after with a big smile.

You let Jeonghan pull you gently past the crowd, trying not to get swept up in the whirlwind of noise. Somewhere near the kitchen, you caught sight of Mingyu, leaning casually against the counter, a drink in hand, talking to a small group. His dark hair fell just right over his forehead, his usual smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He looked so beautiful. 

He caught your eye, and for a brief moment, his usual smirk faltered, replaced by something unreadable. His face dropped, just slightly, but enough to make your stomach twist.

For a second, you weren’t sure if it was disappointment, guilt, or something else entirely. Mingyu straightened slightly, brushing it off as if nothing had happened.

You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. You couldn’t tell if he was upset with you or… upset with himself.

You turn to Jeonghan after breaking eye contact with Mingyu. 

“I need a drink.” You say to him stern enough for him to know you mean it.

“Oh I will be right back.” A big smile plastered on Jeonghan’s face as he made his way into the kitchen to pour you something definitely way too strong. 

You turn to face the sea of people but instead end up colliding one on one with Soongyoung. 

“Y/n! Long time no see! How are you?” He yells loudly and excitedly over the music. 

A genuine smile spreads across your face. “Soonyoung! I’m… good, really. It’s been forever!”

He laughs, clapping you lightly on the shoulder. “I can tell! You’re looking… good, as always. Still working hard, I hope?”

You nod, a little warmth spreading through your chest at his words. “Yeah… I’ve been keeping busy, trying to get everything done. You know how it is.”

“Of course, of course,” he says, leaning in slightly so he can be heard. “And you know what? I’m proud of the work you’ve done. Seriously. I’ve heard you’ve been killing it.”

You blink at him, touched. “Wait… what work have you even heard about?”

“I got here early, helped Seungcheol and Mingyu set some things up for the party. And, uh… when Seungcheol asked Mingyu about your presentation, he said it was amazing. Like, seriously impressive.”

Your stomach flips a little, both from relief and from the familiar pang of excitement at hearing Mingyu praise you, even if indirectly. “He… said that?”

Soonyoung nods enthusiastically. “Yep! You did good, Y/n. Really good.”

“Thank’s Soonyoung, that means a lot.” You give a light smile towards the blonde boy. 

“Will I see you around?” He questions loudly.

“Probably!” You respond, both laughing at the conversation.

Soonyoung returns to the crowd of people as you turn around to face the kitchen. Jeonghan had gotten lost in conversation with a few people you went to high school with and Mingyu was nowhere to be found. 

You let out a long, frustrated sigh. The crowd, the noise, the anticipation—it was almost too much. You needed a moment to think, to breathe, to pull yourself together.

Spotting an empty hallway off to the side, you decide to make your way there, hoping for a quieter spot where you could at least collect your thoughts.

Just as you round the corner, trying to stay focused on your footing rather than the pounding in your chest, you feel your body collide with someone solid.

“Oh! Sorry—” you start, stepping back quickly, but your words die in your throat as you look up

Mingyu.

He freezes for a moment, caught off guard just as much as you are. His usual smirk is there, but it’s uneven, and his eyes flick nervously down the empty hallway before meeting yours.

“I’m sorry, I- I wasn’t expecting to-” You stumble on your words nervously.

He holds up a hand, cutting you off, but his usual teasing tone wavers slightly. “Relax. I wasn’t expecting to run into you either.” A pause. “Yeah, I needed… some space,” he says finally, his voice quieter.

You take a deep breath, heart hammering. There’s no more tiptoeing around it. “Mingyu… why have you been ignoring me?” The words come out sharper than you expected, the tension in your chest finally spilling out.

His eyes snap to yours, wide and defensive. “Ignoring you? I’m not ignoring you!” His voice waivers, he knows he's in the wrong.

“Yes, you are!” you fire back, voice trembling with frustration. “For the past week, you’ve avoided me in class, blown me off when I asked to study with you, and you haven’t even acknowledged me at this fucking party until now!”

His jaw tightens, and he runs a hand through his hair. “I… I don’t know, alright? I’ve just been—” He stops, taking a shaky breath. “I’ve been trying to figure stuff out!”

You blink at him, disbelief mixing with hurt. “Figure out fucking what? Mingyu, you don’t get to just… not explain anything!”

Mingyu runs a hand through his messy hair, sarcasm creeping into his tone, but it’s brittle, strained. “Wow, I’m so evil, aren’t I? Just ignoring the one person I can’t stop thinking about, no big deal.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Wait… what?”

“I think you aren’t as ‘observant’ as you let out to be y/n because I feel like i’ve been pretty straight fucking forward.” His voice raises over the music. He steps closer to you closing a previous gap.

Your chest stutters, mind racing as his words sink in

“You… you’ve—” you start, voice shaking, “what do you mean, Mingyu.”

He throws up his hands in exasperation, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t just switch off the way I feel! Every time I see you, every time I talk to you, I—” He cuts himself off, jaw tightening. “I’m not even explaining this right. God, I’m an idiot.”

“You were doing so fucking good Kim Mingyu, you got my hopes up just to pretend like I didn’t exist for an entire week.” You feel tears prick at your eyes.

His expression shifts at your words, something guilty flashing across his face before frustration takes over again. “I wasn’t pretending you didn’t exist,” he shoots back, voice tight. “I was trying to not screw it up even more than I already had!”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head. “By ignoring me? That’s your solution? God, Mingyu, do you even hear yourself?”

“I hear myself just fine!” he snaps, stepping even closer, his voice dropping but somehow more intense. “I liked how things were going and then suddenly it wasn’t just… us being annoying to each other anymore. It was different. And I didn’t know if you felt it too, so yeah—I backed off. I panicked.”

Your breath catches, but you push through it, anger still bubbling over. “So instead of asking me what was going on, you just decided for both of us? You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to make me feel like I imagined everything!”

You felt as if it was high school again, you weren’t going to let Mingyu get away without knowing how you felt.

“I didn’t want you to feel like that!” he argues, his voice cracking slightly. “I just—every time I looked at you I couldn’t think straight anymore, okay? And I hate that. I hate not being in control of it.”

“Well maybe that’s not the fucking point is it?” You look him dead in the eyes, your back hitting the wall behind you. 

The words hang between you, sharp and heavy.

Mingyu stares at you, chest rising and falling, something unraveling in his expression. The frustration, the guilt, the restraint he’s been clinging to—it all slips at once.

“Then what is the point?” he mutters, almost breathless, stepping closer until there’s barely any space left between you.

Your heart pounds violently in your chest. “The point is that you don’t get to feel something and then shut me out like I don’t—”

You don’t get to finish.

His hand comes up to your jaw, firm but not rough, and he pulls you into him, crashing his lips against yours, your back still pressed against the wall behind you.

You gasp against him, hands instinctively pushing at his chest for half a second—more from shock than rejection—but he doesn’t pull away. And neither do you.

Instead, your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, grounding yourself as the kiss deepens, messy and desperate. Weeks of tension, frustration, longing—it all spills out at once.

He kisses you like he had been holding back for months, years even.

When he finally pulls back, it’s only just enough for you both to breathe, his forehead resting against yours, his hand still cradling your face.

“I- I’m sorry.” He backs up.

You grab the neckline of his shirt before he can fully pull away, yanking him back toward you.

His breath hitches, eyes widening slightly, but there’s no hesitation this time as his hand finds your waist, his arm bracing beside your head, trapping you gently against the wall.

“Don’t,” you murmur, your voice shaky but firm. “Don’t apologize like that.”

His gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips, conflicted, searching. “I should’ve told you,” he says quietly, though he doesn’t move away.

“Yeah you should’ve.” You practically speak into his mouth between kisses. “But I should’ve said that to you a while ago too.”

He exhales softly, tension still written all over him. “Then tell me,” he says, voice low, almost pleading.

“That’s a conversation for another day.” You tease, continuing to close the gap between the two of you. Your hands tangle up in his hair as his hands find the hem of your shirt slowly dragging them on the skin underneath. 

You break the kiss before things escalate further.

“I’m still mad at you,” you whisper, your voice softer now, forehead pressed against his.

A small, breathless laugh escapes him. “Yeah… I figured.”

“But…” you add, your fingers still curled into his shirt, refusing to let go, “I am so glad I didn’t imagine this.”

His eyes soften at that, something warm and relieved breaking through all the tension.

“Good,” he murmurs, leaning in just slightly again, like he can’t quite help himself. “Because I really didn’t want to be the only one losing my mind over you.”

-----------------------------------------------------------

The day following the party you had made plans to go over to the house to study with Seungcheol, as normal. 

“Jeonghan said he saw you kissing my roommate.” He quirks an eyebrow the second the door swings open.

You freeze mid-step, blinking at him. “Wow. No hello? How are you? Just straight to that?”

Seungcheol crosses his arms, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “Answer the question.”

You let out a small sigh, brushing past him into the house. “Jeonghan sees a lot of things. Most of them are exaggerated.”

“Oh, so you didn’t kiss Mingyu?” he presses, following you inside.

You turn to face him, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t say that.”

His jaw drops slightly, a grin breaking across his face. “No way.”

“Relax,” you mutter, dropping your bag onto the table. “It’s not… a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” he repeats, laughing. “You and Mingyu have been at each other’s throats since high school and now you’re kissing him in my hallway, and it’s ‘not a big deal’?”

“You’re so dramatic,” you shoot back, though a small smile slips through. You walk into their kitchen setting down your things.

Seungcheol nudges your shoulder lightly. “Well… for what it’s worth, he’s been acting weird all morning. So whatever happened, you definitely got to him.”

Your stomach flips at that, but you play it off, grabbing your notes. “Good. He deserves it.”

Seungcheol smirks, watching you carefully. “Mhm. Keep telling yourself that.”

You shoot him a look, but the small smile on your face gives you away.

After an hour or so being knee deep in notes on the kitchen table with Seungcheol you get a text message on your phone.

Mingyu: Come to my room, I have a surprise for you.

Y/n: Seungcheol is going to get suspicious.

Mingyu: The bathroom is down this hallway too, just say you are going there.

Y/n: Whatever.

You lock your phone and clear your throat, trying to act casual as you stand up. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick.”

Seungcheol doesn’t even look up at first. “Mhm.”

You take two steps away before he suddenly glances up, narrowing his eyes at you. “Bathroom?”

You freeze slightly. “Yes… bathroom.”

He leans back in his chair, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Interesting.”

You cross your arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” he says innocently, though the amusement in his voice says otherwise. “Just wondering if the bathroom you’re going to happens to be located… inside Mingyu’s bedroom.”

Your jaw drops. “Oh my god, shut up.”

He laughs, holding his hands up. “Hey, I’m just asking questions! As a concerned friend.”

“You’re not concerned, you’re nosy,” you shoot back, already walking away.

“Hey!” he calls after you. “Door better stay open!”

Your heart pounds louder with every step you take. The hallway feels longer than usual, quieter, like everything is building up to something.

You barely make it past his doorway before a hand suddenly grabs your arm.

You gasp softly as you’re pulled inside.

The door shuts quickly behind you.

Before you can even process what’s happening, Mingyu’s hands are on you—one on your waist, the other at your jaw—as he crashes his lips against yours, rough and immediate.

It's intense, almost overwhelming, like he’s been waiting all morning for this exact moment.

Your back hits the door with a soft thud, breath catching as your hands instinctively grip his shirt.

There’s no hesitation this time. No argument. No space to think.

Just him.

And the way he’s kissing you like he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

You pull away quickly.

“What is with you guys today and not even saying a ‘hello’ before pulling me into things!” You roll your eyes, hands still tangled in Mingyu’s hair.

He lets out a quiet laugh, resting his forehead against yours, clearly unbothered. “Hello,” he says softly, lips brushing dangerously close to yours again. “Better?”

You narrow your eyes at him, though your resolve is already slipping. “Barely.”

He grins, thumb tracing lightly along your jaw. “You needed a break.”

“I did not—”

“Yes, you did,” he cuts you off, smug. “You’ve been sitting out there pretending to focus for over an hour.”

“I was focusing,” you argue weakly.

“Mhm,” he hums, unconvinced. “And also, new rule.”

You raise a brow. “Oh god.”

“You don’t get to come over here anymore,” he says, leaning in slightly, voice low and teasing, “unless you spend at least five minutes with me first.”

You scoff, though a smile tugs at your lips. “That is not a rule.”

“It is now,” he replies simply, like it’s obvious.

“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter—right before he kisses you again.

This time it’s slower, but just as consuming. His hand slides to your waist, pulling you closer as if he’s trying to make up for every second he didn’t get to see you.

Your fingers slightly slide under his shirt, your body leaning into him despite yourself, completely forgetting why you even came over in the first place.

After a moment, you force yourself to pull back, slightly breathless. “Okay—okay, I really need to go back and study.”

He groans softly, dropping his head back for a second. “You’re so boring.”

“And you’re distracting,” you shoot back, straightening your clothes a little.

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point,” he smirks.

You shake your head, trying to compose yourself as he reaches for the door.

“Come on,” he says, opening it and letting you step out first.

The two of you walk back toward the kitchen, both just a little too quiet, a little too aware of how obvious this probably looks.

The moment you step into view, Seungcheol looks up from the table. His eyes flick between the two of you—your slightly flushed face, Mingyu’s messy hair, the general… disheveled state.

A slow grin spreads across his face.

“Wow,” he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Bathroom trip must’ve been really productive.”

You groan immediately. “Seungcheol, don’t start.”

Mingyu just shrugs, completely unbothered, dropping into a chair like nothing happened. “We were taking a break.” A grin forms on his face.

“Yeah,” Seungcheol snorts. “A very academic one, I’m sure.”

You shoot Mingyu a look, but he only smirks, clearly enjoying every second of this.

And somehow, despite everything—you can’t help but smile too.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“You need to understand, I have been coming here since I was a kid.” You explain to Mingyu, dangling your feet over the rock wall looking out at the sunset.

This has become a frequently visited place since you and Mingyu started going out.

“I came here all the time when I moved here. How did I never see you?” He smiles his cute goofy grin at you, so happy to be in your company.

“Not sure!” You giggle to yourself, looking down at the bouquet of chrysanthemums in your hands that Mingyu had brought to you. 

Mingyu glances at you, softer this time. “Kinda feels like we were always supposed to end up here though. Just… took us a while to get it right.”

Your heart flutters at that, and you quickly look away, pretending to focus on the horizon. “You’re getting sentimental.”

“Don’t expose me,” he mutters, bumping your knee with his. “I have a reputation to maintain.”

You laugh quietly, shaking your head. “Your reputation disappeared the second you started showing up to my presentations with flowers.”

He groans. “Okay, first of all—that was a good move.”

“It was,” you admit, smiling.

He turns toward you slightly, resting one hand behind you on the rock, closer now. “Second of all…” his voice drops just a bit, playful but sincere, “you liked it.”

You meet his eyes, hesitating for a second before giving in. “Yeah,” you say softly. “I did.”

He puts his head on your shoulder, his hair slightly tickling your neck as it blows in the wind.

“My eyes have always been on you, y/n,” he says softly.

You hum in response, still looking out at the sun as it dips behind the waves, the sky melting into shades of gold and orange. You’re in your usual spot—but this time, it doesn’t feel quiet in the same way.

Not empty. Not lonely.

Just… full.

“You have a funny way of showing it,” you murmur after a moment, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He lets out a quiet breath beside you, almost like a laugh. “Yeah… I know.”

There’s no defensiveness in it this time. Just honesty.

You finally turn your head to look at him, really look at him—the way the sunset hits his features, the way his expression has softened into something you’re still getting used to.

“I think my eyes have been on you for a while too, Mingyu.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

[imhalfplastic]

very curious to know what you think texting boyfriend vernon would be like? sooo… i would like to request a boyfriend vernon smau if you don’t mind!

hiiii i dont mind at all hehehehe <3

bf!vernon x gf!reader

genre: humor · fake texts themes: slice of life ig? cw: none

[idubiloveu]

vernon for allure korea (clean ver.)

[straylightdream]

sleepless in the studio

˙⋆✮ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: radio host! vernon chwe x night nurse!f.reader

you two share a lot in common. you’re next door neighbors, you’re both night owls, you both have nonexistent romantic lives, and you both also have a crush on each other without the other knowing. you spend your nights in the emergency room, and he spends his nights hosting a radio show. you find comfort in the chaos of your job by listening to your neighbors radio show. things between you start to change after another long night at work.

˙⋆✮ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): romance, neighbors to lover, smut

˙⋆✮ 𝐚𝐮(𝐬): non-idol

˙⋆✮ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k

˙⋆✮ 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cussing, smut, lover boy vernon, they’re both a little awkward

˙⋆✮ 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: protected p in v, big dick vernon, couch sex, riding, fingering, oral (fem rec), face riding, they’re both kinda desperate, lots of making out, nipple play, hair pulling (him rec) Nicknames: baby (hers)

˙⋆✮ 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ nsfw

˙⋆✮ 𝐚𝐧: this was written for First Time Caller ☎️ collab, hosted by @studiosvt. thank you @haologram for helping me with so many things from naming this, to figuring out the plot and giving me tips on working on my banner. Thank you @thestraybunny and @supi-wupi for beta reading.

🎧: 12:34 - the band camino | headlights - in color | DOA - armors | see you later - the band camino | fronting - seventeen

FROM AN EARLY BIRD TO A NIGHT OWL

There used to be a time when you weren't a night owl. You used to love waking up early and enjoying a cup of coffee while the morning air was still fresh. You probably would still be an early bird if the hospital didn't switch you to the night shift in the emergency room.

Your once peaceful nights have turned into chaos filled nights in the ER. There is one thing you've found that helps relax you. Anytime you’re in the nurses station, you listen quietly to 171.3 SVT fm. The middle of the night DJ is your fave. There is something about his voice you've grown fond of.

LATE NIGHT NEIGHBORS

Sitting in the nurse's station taking a break, there is finally a lull. It's four in the morning and you only have two hours left. You're munching on some chips. You have your headphones in one ear. You're listening to your favorite radio station.

Luckily it's a segment where the DJ is talking. You could listen to Vernon ramble on about anything. His voice is so smooth, anything he talks about sounds interesting.

"Tonight on 171.3 the after midnight hours were playing some of my favorite songs." Closing your eyes you listen to his voice. You're well aware your favorite dj lives next door to you. Many of your friends know about your unrequited crush on your neighbor. "This song is called Fronting."

Someone grabs your shoulder, startling you. Whipping your head to the side you see Minghao standing next to you, trying not to laugh.

"Are you that distracted by radio boy, that you didn't hear me?"

Putting your headphones away quickly, you stand up and smooth out your scrubs. "I was just zoning out. It's calm at the moment so I decided to take a break."

Minghao lets out a little laugh, leaning against the wall. "You can just admit you have a crush. I promise I won't tell your neighbor."

Minghao is one of your closest friends. You met back in nursing school, and immediately became friends. He knows all about your infatuation with your neighbor. Since becoming a nurse, your dating life has been basically nonexistent. Hell you don't ever really mention having interest in anyone. The second you showed signs of having a crush on the Vernon, the boy Minghao lovingly calls "Radio Boy", he immediately started teasing you.

"We have two hours left and we're home free." Minghao says before taking a sip of his coffee.

"You two are needed in room twenty two." The charge nurse says.

"Aye aye capitan." Minghao salutes.

-

As soon as your shift ends you're sitting at your locker. Minghao is searching through his bag. You've put in your headphone in one ear so you can listen to the last few minutes of Vernon's radio show.

Heading out of the hospital Minghao heads with you to the train station. You both live near the same station. You keep your air bud firmly in your ear listening to Vernon talk about the last artist he played for the final song.

Luckily the train arrives as soon as you get to the platform. Your train ride is maybe thirty minutes. The hospital is only a handful of stops from the station near you.

Vernon's show is over and you're now just listening to a playlist that you like. You and Minghao are sitting next to each other. He's busy scrolling through his phone. It looks like he's reading messages from a girl he's been casually seeing.

"Did you hear about Dr. Choi?" He asks.

You take your air bud out and put it back in the container. "Is this about him and the new front desk girl?" Dr. Choi is extremely good looking and lots of the nurses always talk about him.

"Yes. Mingyu was telling me that Dr. Choi asked her out." Minghao somehow always knows all the latest gossip going on in the. hospital.

"Of course Mingyu was gossiping with you."

The train is about to arrive at your stop. You both stand up, and move towards the door. Walking out of the station, you're greeted to the sun starting to rise. It's six in the morning and the sky is a shades of orange and pink.

"I can't wait to nap." Minghao stretches his arms above his head a little.

"I just want to eat something before I even think about sleeping."

"I'll see you at six." Minghao waves and then heads in the other direction.

The walk to your apartment is only a couple minutes. Walking into your building you head for the elevator. You press the button and wait.

You hear footsteps behind you. Glancing over you see your crush (and favorite radio host) walk up. Vernon is standing there looking good. He's wearing in a pair of jeans, and a baggy shirt. Glancing down you see his red converse.

"Morning neighbor." He says.

"Morning."

"I see you're a fellow night owl." The doors open, and you both set inside he elevator. Vernon quickly hits the thirteenth floor. Vernon leans against the railing. You notice he's holding a take out bag from breakfast spot that's below your apartment building.

"The night shift at the hospital is the reason I'm a night owl."

"Your job is more thrilling than mine." He tilts his head looking at you.

"I think being a radio host sounds fun."

"I don't know, being an er nurse is way cooler." You lean back against the wall next to him. "I think it's pretty funny that two next door neighbors both work the night shifts." Maybe it's because you haven't dated in forever, but you can't tell if he's flirting with you.

"It's nice that the man that shares a bedroom wall with me also sleeps the day away."

He bits his bottom lip, holding back a smile. "You won't find me complaining."

The bell rings and the elevator doors slide open. You follow Vernon as he heads down the hallway towards your apartments.

"So are you going straight to bed?" He asks.

"No, I'm going to eat something. After these shifts, I'm always hungry."

He raises up the take out bag. "Well I have an extra breakfast burrito, if you don't mind having breakfast with me." This is a first. You and Vernon haven't ever hung out. Your normal interactions are elevator rides you share a handful of times a week.

"That would be amazing."

"Did you want to come over to my place?" You've never hung out with Vernon before. You've just shared elevator rides with him.

"Yeah."

You follow him to his apartment that’s next to yours. He pulls his keys from his pocket. He pushes open the door, and you follow him inside.

His apartment feels very him. There is a tv sitting on top of a shelf that is clearly made to hold vinyls. There is a table in the corner with a record player.

Vernon slips off his shoes, and drops his bag by the door. You follow his lead and slip off your own shoes. You continue to look around the room. You notice his grey couch, that looks like something a lot of men have in their homes. In front of the couch is a glass top table. On top there is a book on famous bands, and another about the guitars. His rug has a nice pop of color, its subtle pattern with different shades of blue.

"The kitchen is this way." He says catching your attention.

Following him towards the side of the house that doesn't share a wall with your place. His kitchen looks exactly like yours, just with less decorations. He places the bag of food on the table. You take this as your sign to sit down. Taking a seat you watch as he looks around the fridge.

"What would you like to drink?" He asks.

"Water is fine."

Grabbing two bottles, he joins you at the table.

You both sit there silently eating for a few minutes. "How long have you been a nurse?" Vernon asks between bites.

"This is my third year."

He takes another bite of his burrito.

"How long have you been working at the radio station?" You found his station a year and half ago. You're curious if he's worked there for longer.

"A little under two years."

"Your radio show is something I listen to every night at work." The moment you say it, you instantly feel embarrassed.

"You listen to my show?" He raises his brow and gives you a smile.

"Yeah." Your cheeks flush bright red.

You take another bite of your burrito. Vernon can't help but watch you. He's always thought you were cute, and now as you sit across from him blushing he's reminded of just how strong his crush is.

"I like that you listen to my show ."

"Your voice is soothing." Now it's his turn to blush. Who knew the cute nurse that lived next door likes his late night radio show.

"Do you have any songs that you recommend I play?"

"I could give you a few."

You both finish your breakfast and you give Vernon a list of your favorite songs. He gives you his own list, suggesting that they make a good playlist.

Standing at Vernon's door he's standing in front of you. His hands are shoved in his pockets as he watches you carefully.

"This was really nice. Maybe we could hang out more and get to know each other." Suddenly butterflies are fluttering in your stomach. It sounds like Vernon is asking you out. That's maybe because he is, he's trying his hardest to be nonchalant, and not be awkward.

"I would like that." You're trying to play it coy.

"Maybe I'll see you again soon Ms. night owl."

"Maybe you will, Mr. radio host."

Walking out the door, you can't help but smile. The butterflies are still fluttering, and your cheeks feel as warm as the sun. Walking into your apartment, you lean against the door.

You let out a sigh and close your eyes. You feel like a giddy school girl, whose crush finally noticed them.

LATE NIGHTS THINKING ABOUT YOU.

Sitting in the break room your headphone is snuggly placed in one ear. You're scrolling through your phone while listening to Vernon's radio show. You're finally getting a proper lunch. Your last few patients have left you absolutely exhausted.

Vernon hasn't spoken in a few songs, he's been playing some songs he's mentioned being his favorite. You can't help but smile, realizing that almost all of them have been songs that you mentioned to him that you love. It feels as if he's dedicated his show tonight to you.

Minghao sits down across from you. Raising his eyebrow he slides you a cup of coffee. You take out headphone.

"Do you mind taking your break with me, or do you prefer listening to your radio boyfriend?" There isn't a single day Minghao doesn't tease you about your crush on Vernon.

"Feel free to join me." You take your other earphones out.

He opens a cup of fruit. He carefully takes a piece of pineapple before taking a bite. You silently watch him, knowing that he's definitely going to have something to say to you.

"Were you listening to your radio boy?" And there it is. He's not going to miss an opportunity to bring up Vernon.

"Yes. He was playing songs I told him about." You try not to blush thinking about this.

Minghao raises his brows. "Oh, radio boy took song recommendations from you?"

"Yea." You reach across the table and steal a slice of strawberry from his fruit cup.

"That's interesting." He knits his brows at you. He stabs another piece of pineapple.

"What do you mean?"

"It sounds like radio boy is flirting with you." Minghao says smoothly as he pushes the cup of fruit towards you.

"It kinda felt like he was when we hung out yesterday after work."

Minghao's eyes immediately go wide. "You hung out with him?"

"Yeah after our last shift. We bumped into each other in the elevator and he asked if I wanted to come over to his place for breakfast."

"My sweet beloved oblivious friend, Vernon is flirting with you."

You hope he's right and that Vernon is actually flirting with you. It felt like he was last night, but you weren't sure if you're reading too much into it.

-

Being at the radio station feels like home to Vernon. Since he’s started working here. He absolutely loves hosting his own radio show. Vernon had one idea for his show tonight, and that was he was going to play the bands you mentioned to him. This is his not so subtle way of dedicating his show to you. It's been so long since Vernon has been interested in someone. Most of his relationships in the last couple of years have just been sexual, but there is something about you that makes him want more. In his eyes you're the perfect girl.

You're sweet, beautiful and funny. He loves the fact that you’re a nurse, and you clearly care about people. He likes the fact that you seem to be a little awkward, he thinks it's charming.

He started playing a song he remembers you mentioning. He takes off his headphones and looks across the studio to see Seungkwan watching him.

"These aren't the usual bands you play." Seungkwan says walking closer to desk.

Vernon shrugs, and leans back. "I had a friend recommend these bands." He can't help but smile.

Seungkwan sits down at the guest host chair across from Vernon. "A friend?" He raises his brow.

"Yeah a friend."

"Is this supposed friend your neighbor, the one you have a crush on?" Seungkwan knows all about you. After hearing Vernon talk about his cute night nurse neighbor for months, he's well aware his coworker/best friend is down bad.

"Possibly." Vernon doesn't even bother denying he's got a crush. He has no problem with anyone knowing that he likes you. He's just oddly nervous you'll find out.

"Is she listening?"

Vernon takes a slow deep breath. He knows you listen while you're at work on your break, and when you get a few moments to yourself, but he doesn't know when you're actually able to listen.

"I hope so."

Seungkwan grabs a set of headphones and puts them on. He gives Vernon a cheesy smile. "Your song is ending, maybe mention when you talk that a special someone recommended this band."

Vernon puts his headphone back over his ear. The song wraps up and he turns his mic back on.

"That was 12:34 by The Band Camino. A special someone recommended this band, and it's safe to say they are officially on my playlist. Night owls were in the final half out of our late night hang out. To end the night, here are some other songs recommended by that special someone."

Seungkwan is trying his hardest not to smile. Vernon rolls his eyes and lifts his headphone off his ear again. He clicks his mic off quickly.

"You can tease me all you want. I'm aware I'm down bad for my neighbor."

EARLY MORNING CONVERSATIONS

Walking into the lobby you see the man you were hoping to see. Vernon is standing in front of the elevator. You immediately notice he pressed the button. You walk towards and nudge him the moment you stand next to him.

"Hi there, neighbor."

"Howdy, miss night nurse." He reaches out pressing the button on the elevator.

"Fancy meeting you here."

The doors open and Vernon holds out his hand. You walk in first and he follows right behind you. He quickly press your floor.

"How was your night?" He leans up against the railing.

"Long, how about yours?"

"It was pretty good. Did you listen to my show?"

You take a step towards him, leaning against the railing next to him. You want to play it cool. You don't need him to know that you were practically giddy at work, about the fact he basically only played songs and bands you mentioned.

You shrug your shoulders and smile. "I listened to it."

"Did you hear the songs played, were just for you?" He gives you a grin.

"I did. I heard you say a special someone recommended those bands."

He lets out a soft laugh. "You have good taste in music."

Looking down your cheeks burn. This once again feels like you're both flirting. It's time to be confident and just fully flirt back.

"That's a massive compliment coming from you." You look back up at him, and smile.

"Is that because I'm a radio host?"

"No, it's because you have good taste."

"I have good taste?"

"I think so. So you think I'm a special someone?"

The elevator doors slide open. You step away from him, as he follows right behind you.

"I like to think so."

Suddenly the hallway feels so small. Part of you wishes it was smaller so you could be closer to him.

Silently you both walk down the hallway together. Vernon is walking close by you. Every couple of steps, your hands brush against each other. You don't want to just go into your apartment and go to bed. You want to spend time with him.

You stop in front of both of your apartments. "You know I just worked a full shift, and I'm not tired."

He leans against his door. He gives you a crooked smile. "Me neither. I don't know, did you maybe want to hang out?"

"Sure."

Vernon pushes himself off the door. Reaching into his pocket he fishes out his key. Opening the door he steps inside, and holds it open. You both kick off your shoes.

Heading over to the couch you sit down, and he sits down right next to you. Your thighs are touching. Vernon turns on the tv, that's sitting on a stand under the window. He has the curtains open, so you can see the sun starting to rise. The sky is painted beautiful cotton candy shades of orange and pink.

Picking up the remote he turns on a random drama that's playing. "Do you mind if we watch this?" He's crazy if he thinks you can actually focus on anything playing.

"Sure."

You get about twenty minutes in before he rests his hand on your thigh. Trying to play it cool you glance down at his hand.

"I like spending time with you." He says glancing over at you.

"I like you." For some reason your brain decides not to use its filter and you just blurt out you like him.

He moves on the couch so he's facing you. Reaching out he pushes some stray hair away from your face. Everything moves in slow motion as he rests his hand on your cheek. Slowly he drags his thumb across your cheek.

"I like you too." He says softly. Slowly he starts moving in closer to you. The idea of kissing Vernon would make you weak in the knees if you weren't already sitting. "I think I have had a crush on you since the first time I saw you struggling to carry in your groceries." He drags his thumb across your bottom lip.

"I had a crush on your voice and then I realized you're my neighbor." You lean in closer. You rest your nose against his. "Vernon?"

"Yes?" His lips are so close to yours.

"Please kiss me." You don't care if you sound desperate, you need to kiss him.

The moment your lips touch for the first time you feel those sparks everyone has always mention in the romance novels. Your lips move together in perfect sync. He's like fresh air in your oxygen deprived lungs.

Pulling away slightly he grabs your hips, helping guide you on to his lap. Neither of you can seem to keep your hands to yourself. His hands are anywhere they can touch. He moved from kissing your lips, to leaving a wet trail of kisses across your jaw, and down your neck. Occasionally he nips at your skin, definitely leaving marks across your delicate skin. Minghao is going to have a heyday when he sees you sporting hickies from your neighbor.

Closing your eyes, you lean your head back. Biting your lip can't stop the moans passing your lips. Instinctually you roll your hips against his crotch. One of his hands focuses on squeezing your breast. The other is plastered to your side. You're dressed in a pair of leggings and with each roll of your hips, you feel his jean cover erection giving you the perfect amount of friction.

Tangling your finger in his hair, you tilt his head back slightly. "Vernon—" his name is nothing more than a broken moan.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Please—"

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me." You're desperate and you just want to feel him inside you.

"God, you're incredible."

Pulling away you scramble off of him. You make quick work of stumbling out of your clothes. The quicker you get naked the better. Vernon stands up and strips down to his boxers. You're standing in front of him completely naked, while he's standing there in just boxers, and erection straining against them.

"Are you going to get naked?"

"After I eat you out." He tilts his head at you. That's definitely not what you thought he was going to say. Most men you've been with have never openly offered to go down on you.

"Oh."

"Lay down on the couch, baby and spread your legs."

You don't need to be told twice. You make quick work of laying down and spreading your legs. Vernon sits on his knees between your spread legs. He starts kissing the top of your breast, taking his time toying with each nipple. He starts his descent down, leaving a trial of wet kisses from the valley of your breast, down to your mound. He leaves one last kiss there before looking at you with almost pleading eyes.

"Can I?" That might be the stupidest question he could ask right now. You push yourself up on your elbows so you can watch him.

"God, yes." He moves so he's laying on his stomach with his face pressed up against your needy core. You're already drenched and you know he's going to make you cum easily.

With two fingers he parts your folds. He starts off by licking your sensitive clit a few times. Pulling back, he runs his index finger through your folds. He looks at his finger that's already wet.

"Is this all, just from us making out and dry humping?"

"Yea." Your cheeks burn bright. God it's hard not to be embarrassed at how easily turned on he makes you.

"Baby don't be embarrassed, I think that's so hot." He slips his finger into his mouth, licking it clean. "God, you taste incredible."

He leans back in and starts sucking on your sensitive clit. He slides one finger into you, and starts thrusting it in and out of you testing the waters. He can tell by your whimpers and moans that you're enjoying this. He adds another finger, slowly stretching you out. He's a little bigger than average, and he knows that he needs to make you cum at least once.

Without thinking you tangle your fingers in his hair. You rut your hips against his face. He's focused on making you cum. He loves how desperate you are as you chase your high. He moves his fingers in a come hither motion, touching that spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

"Vernon—" you moan his name like a sinful prayer.

Your sweet sinful moans egg him on. He keeps up his good work, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Without thinking he ruts his hips against the couch, for some sort of friction.

"Right there." You release his hair. Dropping back on the couch, you squeeze your eyes shut. Your orgasm hits you hard and fast. The air feels like it's been knocked out of your lungs. Your gummy walls flutter against his fingers. He slowly pumps them in and out of you, helping you ride out your high. He pulls his face away from your needy pussy. He lost in a haze of lust watching you unfold.

"That was the hottest thing I have ever seen."

Your eyes slowly flutter open. Staring up at the ceiling you're trying to calm down. "I need you to fuck me."

He pushes himself up on his knees. "You're so cute when you're needy."

"Do you need me to beg?" You push yourself back up on your elbows.

"Absolutely not. How do you feel about riding me?" He hops off the couch. He kicks off his boxers leaving him just as naked as you. He looks absolutely beautiful, and you normally don't think guys have pretty cocks, but that might be because you've never seen his. It's a little longer than average, but thick and a pretty rosey pink.

"Sounds perfect."

"Let me grab a condom." He sprints off naked to his bedroom to fetch a condom.

He gives you just enough time to stand up. Walking back into the living room he tears the foil package open with his teeth. He wastes no time rolling the rubber down his straining length.

Sitting back down on the couch he taps his thighs. Crawling onto his lap you waste no time grabbing his cock. You pump your hand up and down a few times.

"I need to be inside of you, so fucking bad."

Lifting your hips you guide his length to your needy entrance. Ever so slowly you sink down his thick cock, giving yourself time to adjust. It's been quite a long time since you last had sex.

The moment he's fully inside, you let out a sigh. Your butt is flush against his thighs. You don't bother trying to move. For a long moment you just want to enjoy the feeling of him stretching you out.

Leaning towards he starts kissing your collar bone. He starts kissing the side of your neck before he moans against your skin. "You feel so good."

"I just need a minute." You moan.

"I could stay like this forever."

"You're big, my body just needs a second."

He helps to distract you by playing with your breast. He suddenly has a fondness for playing with your tender nipples.

Slowly you lift yourself up, until everything but his mushroom tip is out. Dropping back down he brushes that special place inside of you.

"Fuck—" he moans.

You keep a steady pace, sliding up and down his length over and over. Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close to you. With each brush of his rosey tip against your g spot, he's pushing you closer to the edge.

His hand moves to your hips, helping to guide you up and down. Your pace changes when you stop bouncing and start grinding against him. This angle feels completely different for both of you. With each rut of your hips your clit brushes against the well trimmed pubic hair at the base of his cock.

Smashing your lips into his, you desperately try to muffle your whiney moans. Reaching between you he starts rubbing your clit.

"Fuck—" Your body feels like a live wire on the brink of exploding. "Please. Harder."

He focuses on making quick hard circles against your clit. Breathless gasps pass your lips, and you rut your hips at a quick, desperate pace.

"Cum for me, baby."

The ice cold wave that hits your body is like nothing of this world. Your gummy walls flutter like a rapid beating heart. You still for a moment, your head tossed back and you moan. Vernon's hands grip your sides a little tighter, helping to guide you against him. His own release is so close.

With each thrust of his cock against your fluttering walls you moan. Your fingers tangle in his hair again, desperate for something to hold on to.

He lifts his hips up over and over again, helping you both. His own orgasm breaks hard and fast. He slams you down against his thighs, grinding himself against your slowly. He lets out a mix of low moans and groans.

The aftermath of both your orgasms, leave you both exhausted.

Slowly you crawl off of him. He takes a moment to dispose of the condom before dragging you off to the bathroom. You both step into his shower, tub combo for a quick shower to clean yourself up. He takes this time to gently clean you up, before dragging you off to his bed.

His bedroom looks just how you thought it would. He's got a bookshelf near the window with more vinyls and some fun figurines, and a few vintage looking video game consoles. His bed is one of those lower to ground bed frames, with led lights built into the headboard. His comforter is a light blue and grey plaid one. His room feels very like him.

Laying in the bed you stare at him, not sure what to say. He rolls over so he's facing you. Reaching out he laces his fingers with hours.

"What's on your mind?" He asks.

"What happens now?" You aren't sure you could handle this becoming an awkward one nightstand.

"Well I was thinking, I'm off today and if you're off maybe we could spend the day together."

You knit your brows together. "Like a date?"

He lets out a little laugh and smiles. "Yes, I'm asking you out on a proper date. I maybe should have asked you out before we had sex on my living room couch. I just couldn't help myself."

"I would really love to go on a date with you."

He leans in and presses his lips to your for another kiss. "Are you still going to listen to my radio show all the time, even though we're dating?"

"Absolutely."

"That's good. I can't wait to start dedicating all the love songs to you."

Turns out working the night shift and becoming a night owl is one of the best decisions you've ever made.