#chwe vernon fic
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— divorce child ⟢
you like to think that your most recent breakup with vernon ended on relatively good terms. there’s only one issue left to sort out: who’s getting custody of the cat you got together?
★ FEATURING; vernon x producer!reader
★ WORD COUNT; 9.2k words
★ TAGS; exes to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, smut (MINORS DNI!)
★ NOTES; 3/4 stories in the series are now up <3 i hope you like this bc i really just wanted an excuse to write something fluffy and adorable with vernon.... he's got me in my feels these past few days fr. small heads up that this fic also features a bunch of characters from again and again, the mingyu installment of the series. this story takes place a couple years after that fic, but you don't necessarily have to read that part to get the events in this one :3c
★ P.S.; this was not proofread as usual lol if you spot any mistakes, do me a favor and pretend they don't exist !
this is part of the doting on you! series.
★ SMUT TAGS; vanilla, clothed sex, wearing ur bf's clothes kink(?), unprotected sex, body worship, praise kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, the smut is just so sweet okay
★ SVT TAGLIST; @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @cheolhub - @Idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jeonghancvunt - @jyiiscool - @jinniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @emmmui - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @jkbabiey - @featmia
★ SERIES TAGLIST; @exactlygreatcoffee - @gyusbabydoll - @jeonwonhi - @ti--red
“You sure you don’t need me to pitch in for this month’s check-up? I can always wire you some cash, you know.”
As you zip the pet carrier shut, you roll your eyes despite the fact that Vernon can’t exactly see your expression. Your phone’s sitting all the way on the coffee table but you were so preoccupied with wrestling your cat, Milana into the bag that you couldn’t exactly hold it like a normal person would.
“I’m good. You already covered for me last time, remember?” You remind him before taking the call off loudspeaker before pressing your phone to your ear. “I just got her inside the carrier. Might have to patch up a few scratches before we leave though.”
Vernon laughs. “She always hates going to the vet. It’s nothing too bad, right?”
“I’ve handled worse,” you snort before grabbing a couple of band-aids you keep around various corners of the house for this scenario specifically. “How about you? I thought I remembered Jihoon mentioning that today’s gonna be shut-in day. You know, that time of the month when you guys lock yourselves inside the studio to brainstorm lyrics together. Didn’t think you’d have the time for a phone call.”
“I always have time for a phone call when Milana’s going to the vet,” he says a-matter-of-factly and you can almost picture the warm smile on his face. The thought is enough to make your chest flutter, but you push the feeling down before it can completely come to the surface. “But you are right about shut-in day though. I might have to go in a few, so if there’s anything you need, you better tell me right now or forever hold your peace.”
“Nah. I told you, we’re good,” you insist with an eyeroll before placing band-aids on the scratches that your cat affectionately left all over your arms. “I’ll drop by the company later to drop off a mix that Jihoon asked me to mess around with. But if it’s shut-in day, I doubt we’ll get to see you.”
“Hmm. I can hide his Coke Zero stash outside so he’ll be forced to go out and get it?”
“Now that’s just downright evil.”
“It is. Anyway, aren’t you going to be late?”
“I already am, but Milana’s vet adores her, remember?”
“Nari adores everyone’s pets. Mingyu-hyung told me so.”
“Shush. You talk like our baby isn’t special,” you huff as you sling the strap of the pet carrier across your shoulder. “We’ll head out now. Thanks for checking in, Vernon.”
“...Yeah. Yeah, take care on the way.”
You end the call with your heart racing inside your chest. It’s not the phone call with your ex-boyfriend that flusters you, per-se. You work in the same agency, for god’s sake. Meaning, you’d be in deep shit if talking to him throws you off just because your relationship has already come to an end.
But whenever you jokingly refer to Milana as ‘our’ baby whenever you talk to him, it feels like you’re encroaching on something you’ve already lost a long time ago.
Your listlessness lasts until you pull up by the parking lot. Whether Milana’s staying at yours or at Vernon’s, this pet clinic at the heart of Seoul has always been your go-to. The fact that the attending veterinarian is Mingyu’s girlfriend does wonders to your final bills—she loves giving discounts to regulars and acquaintances—and you like to think you’ve found a friend in her ever since.
The automatic doors slide open when you walk in—Milana’s bag still slung over your shoulder. Chae, the receptionist, flashes you a bright smile before you notice the familiar golden retriever lying in front of the front desk. Old eyes flicker up to you for a moment before his tail twitches once or twice to signal his excitement.
“Good morning, Chae. Good morning, Namja,” you coo before crouching down to pet his head. “Is Nari waiting for me? Sorry for the hold up. It was a bit tough getting this one inside her bag.”
Chae lets out a soft laugh as she types away behind her computer. “Really? Vernon always gushes about how much of a sweetheart she is whenever it’s his turn to bring her in.”
You don’t know whether you should be surprised or embarrassed that Chae knows—or at least has an inkling—of your little arrangement with Vernon. When the two of you were still together, you always brought Milana in at the same time, but now you’re taking turns in bringing your little divorce child to the vet.
But hey, at least you’re still upholding your parental responsibilities, right?
“Of course he does,” you scoff with a shake of your head. “He knows better than anyone that getting Lana inside the bag is a nightmare. This one’s already her third this year. I was thinking of investing in a cage-type carrier instead but Vernon said it was like we’re sending her to prison.”
Chae sighs. “Men. Always so dramatic. Oh, but Doctor Nari’s waiting for you inside.” The receptionist glances at you curiously before you start taking Milana out of the bag so Chae could measure her weight.
It’s a bit of a challenge, handing your full-grown Maine Coon over to Chae, but despite the fact that she thrashes all around before vet visits, Milana has always been tame whenever she’s at the clinic. You manage to settle inside Nari’s office once your cat’s vitals have been measured and her vet is more than happy to see a familiar face.
“Well, if it isn’t Milana and her single mother,” she chuckles. “You here for routine check-ups? Where’s the father, though?”
You roll your eyes—fully aware that she’s only teasing. “Do you ask Vernon where’s the mother when he’s the one who brings her here?”
“Maybe.” Nari smiles before getting up from her desk and receiving your big cat into her arms. “Oh. She’s gotten heavier since the last time she came in.”
“Yeah, her father has been spoiling her with too much catnip. I only found out last week,” you sigh as you settle into one of the seats adjacent to the one across Nari’s desk. “But she’s been hairballing a lot recently. She doesn’t usually groom as much as she does now. Should I be concerned?”
She hums for a moment as she puts on her stethoscope—checking Milana’s heartbeat while her free hand examines your cat’s light brown coat. “Doesn’t look like she has any fleas or mites hanging around, but I can always do a scrape for you if you want the definitive results on paper. Though the excessive grooming could also be caused by stress.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Stress?”
Nari nods before hanging her steth around her neck once more, stroking Milana’s fur with calm affection. “Cats are more easily agitated than dogs. Lots of things can stress them out. Loud music, vacuum cleaners, thunderstorms… Actually, even a switch-up in their pet parent’s schedules is grounds for stress.”
You can only watch in silence as Nari scratches behind Milana’s ears, making your cat purr like a kitten despite the fact that her long limbs are spilling out of her vet’s arms. But regardless of how adorable she looks, Nari’s words got you thinking.
In the tail-end of the breakup, it was a topic that was brought up over and over: who gets to keep Milana? You both split half and half with expenses after the two of you adopted her at a nearby shelter. Not to mention, you both loved her in equal measure, so it was difficult to come to a decision that the two of you could soundlessly agree on. In the end, you settled with the compromise of taking turns watching over Milana because neither of you could stand not being able to see her for too long.
It’s been about three months since you and Vernon call it quits and three months since you’ve agreed on ‘splitting custody’. She stays with you on weekdays and with him on weekends—along with some exceptions for when one party isn’t available. It was also agreed that you’ll take turns bringing her to the vet every month to make sure nothing is amiss with her health.
But when you planned on paying Nari a visit today, you didn’t expect to find out that the fluctuating schedule you and Vernon made a deal out of could be a possible stressor for your cat.
“I think you should just keep her.” Nari suggests, a hint of concern creeping on her face. “You could always tell Vernon to visit Milana whenever he wants to, right? The back-and-forth travel is definitely going to take a toll on this one. Also, cats are smarter than you think. I’m sure she’s already sensed something’s off with her parents a long time ago.”
Milana heaves a deep sigh as if she understood every single word her vet just said and you can’t help the guilt that gnaws at your gut. You thought that this was the best decision you could make for both yours and Vernon’s sanity, but you completely forgot to take Milana’s well-being into account. You can almost hear Nari silently judging you, but you shake your head to rid yourself of the thought.
“We’ll… We’ll talk about it,” you reassure, swallowing the lump in your throat. “But…she’s okay, right? No serious health complications or anything?”
She rolls her eyes. “Sweetie, you’re literally the most responsible cat owner I’ve ever met. No one ever bothers to bring their pets in unless the situation’s already too severe to handle. So you’re good. Milana’s perfectly healthy. Just a little…sad, maybe.”
“Why would she be sad?”
Nari stares at you like you just asked something ridiculous, but thankfully she doesn’t dish out any half-assed remarks about it—opting to settle Milana back onto a nearby examination table to do a couple more physical exams.
“Have I ever told you that me and Gyu used to be in a similar situation in the past?”
You stare at Nari with a bewildered look while her gaze never strays too far from her patient. She even coos out little remarks of praise whenever Milana behaves. How can someone who’s this focused drop such a question in the middle of work?
“Vernon told me you guys split up and got back together after almost a year,” you tell her dryly, not liking the fact that you admitted your ex-boyfriend is a big gossip, but you don’t see any point in hiding the fact that you knew. “What brought it up?”
Nari’s lips twitch into a firm smile before she lifts her gaze to meet yours. “I just think that…you and Vernon? You’re kind of on the same boat we were in before we reconciled. It’s either the two of you are too stubborn or too afraid to see it for what it is.”
Too afraid to…?
“What do you mean?” you ask. “It’s best that we split up, you know? Relationships between co-workers can get ugly really quickly if we forget to be professional. I don’t want us to stop doing the things we love just because of some work-related spat.”
“Then the two of you should just learn how to segregate work from play,” Nari insists before smoothing her gloved hands across Milana’s long torso. “I’m not trying to meddle or anything, okay? It’s just that there’s virtually no reason for you to not get back together. You’re still taking care of Milana together, still checking up on each other, still working together—”
“There it is. That’s the reason why we can’t be together, Nari,” you groan at her stubbornness. “We’re still working together.”
She huffs. “Is there a clause in your company’s contract that prohibits romantic relationships among talents and staff?”
“I’ve never read the fine print, but I’m pretty sure there’s something along those lines somewhere in there.”
“Oh. Well, who cares? Milana needs a loving home where her parents can take care of her at the same time.” Nari then leans down to cup her face in her hands. “Isn’t that right? You need both of them to look after you, hm?”
“So you’re suggesting that Vernon and I should just get back together for Milana’s sake?” you ask half-jokingly and to your surprise, Nari nods like it’s the easiest question in the world.
“Well, I won’t make any assumptions by saying that you’re still in love with him, since you’re the only one who can say that for sure. But come on, do it for the not-so-little baby. You can just learn to love each other again in the process!”
You can hardly believe your ears. In the quick stories that Vernon shared about Mingyu’s girlfriend, you never expected her to be this carefree about the matters of the heart. It must’ve been her six-foot boyfriend’s bubbly personality rubbing off on her.
“Right,” you say with a shallow sigh. “Pray tell, why’d you and Mingyu split up in the first place?”
Nari’s eyes dart to the ceiling as if deep in thought as Milana nibbles playfully at one of her latex-covered fingers. The silence presses on for a few more seconds before she turns to you with a mellowed out expression.
“I thought we weren’t going to work because of how different our jobs are,” she admonishes quietly, lips spread into a thin smile. “But after being an idiot for almost six months, I realized that our jobs don’t matter. I love him. I don’t think I really stopped. Don’t think I’ll ever stop, actually.
“That’s why I was so surprised when I found out you and Vernon broke up three months ago!” Nari continues with a disgruntled look on her face. “The two of you spend so much time in the studio and at your apartment. You even have a child together!” She then gestures dramatically over to Milana. “So forgive me if it doesn’t make sense to me, why the two of you broke up. But won’t you reconsider it? For Milana?”
You shake your head. “Nari, some relationships just aren’t meant to work out. Just because you and Mingyu managed to make good on that second chance, doesn’t mean it’ll be the same with us. We’ve already…settled with what we have right now.”
“What, the endless pining and using the poor cat as an excuse to see each other?” She huffs again and, god, she reminds you so much of Mingyu now it’s actually funny. “Come on, sweetie. I’ve been in your place before, so I know perfectly well. Gosh, this must be how Seungkwan felt when I was still getting my shit together.”
Unsolicited mention of Seungkwan aside, you just don’t see any reason to pursue what Nari is convincing you to do. Nothing really changed after you and Vernon broke up. That’s one of the things you like about him—how easy it is to fall back into a comfortable friendship despite the history you shared.
But you aren’t going to deny the fact that it kind of sucks that you can’t kiss him anymore. Can’t lean into his chair in the studio to pull him into a hug. Can’t tell him you still love him even if…
Oh.
Oh.
Fuck. You still love him?!
“Fine, fine. Since I have a couple more patients on the waitlist, I’m gonna let you off the hook. For now,” Nari grumbles before handing Milana back to you and taking a seat behind her desk. “Just stick to her usual vitamins and diet and she should be fine until the next visit. But if you want the stress problem to go away…”
“Nari,” you groan. “I’m not getting back together with him.”
“Hey, that is not what I was saying,” Nari rebuts with her hands up in surrender. “I was gonna suggest that you just lessen her traveling! Maine Coons are usually really active, but Milana’s a bit of a…homebody, isn’t she? Might not like all that moving around between yours and Vernon’s apartments.”
“But she’s literally with me five days a week. Won’t she have plenty of rest time then?”
“Oh, who am I kidding? Just get back together soon, pretty please?”
Yep. Mingyu’s definitely rubbed off on her.
When you get home later in the afternoon, Milana is quick to slink off to her usual spot behind the sofa to take a nap while you make a beeline for the kitchen.
It’s always been a post vet visit ritual to get take out to eat at home—even when you and Vernon were still together. However, you opted against the practice for now because not only does it remind you of your ex, but eating all alone in your apartment will only give you more leeway to think about the things Nari told you earlier today.
If you make your own food like you are now, your mind is at least preoccupied enough that you don’t have enough thinking room to even wonder if Vernon even wants you back.
By the time the sun sets, Milana is still dozing behind the couch and you have a potful of pasta noodles and enough red sauce to last you five days. Another thing that you overlooked whenever you cook inside the house is that you almost always cook enough servings to feed two people. Whether subconsciously or not, you can’t bring yourself to hate how your habits are still attuned to the lifestyle you had three months ago.
Before you and Vernon broke up.
“Work,” you mutter to yourself as you dump some pasta and sauce into a bowl. “If I work, I won’t think about him anymore.”
Not-so wise words from a not-so wise person because newsflash: the time that you and your ex spent in your studio is leagues more than the time you spent together in the bedroom. Vernon has already cleared out his leftover gear from your home office, but memories aren’t something he can pack up and leave with so easily.
You recall quiet afternoons where you’d bounce ideas about their group’s next song off each other—sometimes with Jihoon and Seungcheol connected to a Discord call, but more often in the privacy of each other’s company.
There were also gloomy days where it rained all day long. Milana would curl up on Vernon’s lap while he played around with the software on your computer—sometimes using the weird sounds she makes as samples to add into the mix along with the soft drizzle pattering against the windowpane.
But it’s even harder to just forget about all the times the two of you came together intimately within the soundproof walls. You can’t even count how many times Vernon has eaten you out while you’re perched on top of your work desk—one hand muffling your moans despite the fact that no one outside the studio can ever hope to hear you. The world is none the wiser when Vernon pulls you onto his lap, bouncing you on his length until he’s spilling into you with gratuitous release.
In the present, there you are in the ear-splitting silence of your studio—the music software your ex bought for you ages ago seemingly glaring at you for spacing out again. You know you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself since it’s easier to come up with the perfect beats when you’ve got a rough draft of the lyrics in front of you—something that Jihoon and Vernon are busy getting done today.
But still. You can’t help the frustration because you’ve been functioning normally since the breakup. Sitting in the studio didn’t usually lead to you reminiscing about the countless hours you and Vernon spent here together. Making dinner never made you miss having someone to eat across from you at the dining table.
If only Nari didn’t breathe a word about your ex-boyfriend and all the reasons why you should just get back together. Maybe you would’ve remained rational. Maybe you wouldn’t have started considering things that are beyond your control.
Maybe you wouldn’t be hoping so badly for something to happen.
You try to distract yourself by listening to and reviewing the mix you’re supposed to hand over to Jihoon today. The visit you planned on making to the company was canceled since neither he nor Vernon were answering their phones, which usually means they’re taking shut-in day seriously for once.
The track continues to stream through the speakers as you munch on your dinner, filling the room with a quiet melody that would make a great ballad once the lyrics are in place. But no matter how good Jihoon’s music is, no matter how delicious your cooking can be, it isn’t enough to quell the thoughts that have been suffocating you all day.
You still…love Vernon.
If you didn’t, your apartment wouldn’t feel as lonely as it does. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have to feel so awkward whenever you bring Milana to the vet all alone.
But part of you insists that you’re just being carried away by the ideas that Nari planted in your head. You’ve been doing fine on your own for the past three months. How is today any different?
Your senseless overthinking gets worse before it gets better.
The next thing you know, you’re scrolling through your gallery, unearthing pictures whose existence you’ve long forgotten about. You’ve spent almost three years with Vernon—two years officially before getting Milana on your second anniversary. Tons of photos were snapped, countless memories created.
You could’ve snapped more photos, could’ve made more memories if only you hadn’t split up. The fact that (what should’ve been) your third anniversary passed a few weeks ago, stings more than it’s supposed to. That day, Vernon jokingly asked if you wanted to celebrate by your usual spot in the park a few neighborhoods away and you jokingly rejected his offer by saying you had a sitcom to catch up on.
Part of you wishes you accepted the invitation. Maybe the joke could’ve been subverted into something real, and maybe you could’ve been back in his arms by now.
That night, you go to bed with a mild headache and a million thoughts racing through your mind. It isn’t Jihoon’s sad, mellow mix that drones on and on in your head, but a single question that you aren’t sure if you’ll ever get a proper answer to.
How can you still love someone you were so sure that you didn’t anymore?
Come morning, you wake up with a heart that’s heavier than last night and the glaring realization that Milana is missing.
Panicking isn’t usually your first instinct when it comes to your cat. Milana is fairly easy to spot because she’s built more massive than your regular neighborhood felines. But when you’ve already scoured the vicinity for your beloved Maine Coon, it becomes clearer and clearer that she’s nowhere to be found.
You ask around with your neighbors—fairly certain that they know what Milana looks like since she slinks out of the house every now and again. What makes this particular situation worrisome is that she hasn’t come bolting back inside your apartment when you brought out the goddamn catnip. So, when your neighbors begrudgingly tell you that, no, they haven’t seen an oversized house cat prancing around the area, you don’t know what to do.
“Wait, come again?”
“She’s missing, Nari,” you whine into your cell as you nervously bite down on your nails. “I… I was so sure that I locked everything last night, but when I woke up, the front door was wide open and Milana’s just gone.”
Your friend curses at the other end of the line and from the concerned voices in the background, you figure that you must’ve called at a busy time in the clinic.
“Sorry for bothering you,” you tell her while choking down a sob. “Just…give me a ring if ever you or Chae see her around the clinic.”
“It’s not a bother at all! I’m sorry I can’t be of more help,” Nari sighs. “I’ll keep in touch. Oh, but it’s also worth considering that cats like familiar places. If you’re going to look for her, you can start with that.”
“Alright, thank you, Nari.”
After hanging up on her, you bury your face in the palms of your hands—sticky tears matting your skin as you breathe in sharply. You’ve never had to deal with a lost pet before. How the hell are you supposed to find Milana in a city that’s as big as Seoul?
You consider calling the police to file a report, but you’re not sure if pet cats even count for a missing person’s case. They wouldn’t be of any help if it didn’t. The only thing you can do right now is go outside and look for her yourself.
You’re quick to pull on an old sweatshirt you once nabbed from Jihoon before heading out—simultaneously texting every one of your friends about the situation as you scout further out of your neighborhood. Hell, you even contacted the animal shelter you and Vernon adopted Milana from out of sheer desperation.
Thankfully, a handful of them responded right away with a promise that they’ll keep a close eye out for any Maine Coons that surely don’t belong in their areas.
But no matter where you look, you always end up back to square one. It doesn’t help that Milana doesn’t usually wander too far from your apartment, which means that you have no clue where she could’ve possibly gone.
Nari mentioned that cats like familiar places, but the only places that are remotely familiar to Milana are yours and Vernon’s apartments.
Yours and Vernon’s…
You quickly bolt back to your place—scrambling to your car before fumbling to get the keys into the ignition. A few failed attempts and very loud cursing later, you manage to rev the engine to life. The next thing you know, you’re pulling into the street with an urgency that’s barely beating the speed limit.
Given that it’s still a weekend, you don’t have to come into work, which means that you have no idea what the boys’ schedule looks like right now. You’re not even sure if Vernon is in the same city, but you’d rather risk the off-chance that he isn’t in Seoul than do nothing.
You try your best to keep an eye on the road all while dialing up your ex-boyfriend as well as doing your best to obey every Korean traffic law there is. The first call goes straight to voicemail and you would’ve crashed into an SUV that’s idling by a red light if you hadn’t angrily brought down your foot on the brakes. Why the hell isn’t he answering?!
By the time you’ve made it to the street that led to his apartment complex, you’re already shaking with anxiousness. Dozens of uncertainties flit into your mind a million miles per minute. What if he doesn’t know where she is? What if he gets mad at you for losing Milana? Hell, what if he isn’t even here?
Shoving down all these biting questions, you park haphazardly across the street, locking your car behind you as you jog up to the steps that lead to the entrance. You don’t know how to feel about the fact that the receptionist at the counter still recognizes you—even going as far as flashing you a kind smile and informing you that Vernon is just upstairs. You wordlessly thank her for the tip before jamming a thumb on the elevator buttons.
You tap your foot impatiently across the marble tiles. Why the hell did Vernon choose to live in a place where you have to use elevators just to get home? Your apartment’s much more accessible especially in times like this when you feel like you’re going to explode with how fucking nervous you are—
The elevator dings when it arrives at the ground floor, making your nerves jump back into focus. You’re completely ready to brush past whoever’s getting out so you can come up to your ex-boyfriend’s apartment faster, but when you meet said ex-boyfriend’s surprised gaze at the mouth of the elevator, your prior urgency comes into a screeching halt.
He’s dressed like he usually is on lazy days—ugly checkered pajama pants, a tour shirt from some Western band that he probably hasn’t listened to a day in his life, and that perpetual bedhead he always sports whenever he just rolled out of bed.
God, he looks so good. It’s so fucking unfair.
“Hey,” he greets awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “I was just about to head out and grab breakfast… Uh, make that brunch. Did you need something?”
You don’t even dare to dawdle. “Is Milana with you?”
Vernon cranes his head in confusion and the look makes your heart sink like a stone. “Last I recall, you’re the one who brought her to and from the vet yesterday. Aren’t we missing a couple of chapters here or…?”
You meant to explain the situation as concisely as you possibly can to him. Vernon’s always been an easy going guy. You’re sure that he won’t resent you for it when he finds out that you lost the daughter you’ve been sharing custody over. Even if some irrational part of your brain insists that he will.
But instead of coherent words, all that comes out of your mouth is a choked up sob.
The curve between Vernon’s neck and shoulder is as comfortable as you recall as you press your face against the crook of it—letting the tears run from your eyes and across his pale skin. You vaguely feel him wrap a protective arm around your frame while his free hand smooths down your hair and it makes you wonder why he’s patient enough to let you cry in his arms despite not having explained what the hell even happened yet.
He’s thoughtful enough to bring you to a more secluded corner of the lobby, calming you down by rubbing soothing shapes on your back with his hand and never letting you stray too far from his embrace. It helps that his low voice is there to keep you grounded—telling you that everything’s going to be fine and you just have to breathe, love.
It works after a few minutes and Vernon only lets you let go when he’s sure you’re not in danger of suffocating on your own tears anymore.
“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” he murmurs, taking your hand in his. A small gesture that you’re too selfish to resist. “Is it about Lana?”
You nod weakly. “She’s…gone, Vernon. I have no idea where she went, but she’s gone.”
He hums in understanding and surprisingly enough, the understanding glint in his eyes never wavers. It’s a bit off-putting since you expected him to at least be shocked by the news, but it’s almost like he’s used to hearing that your pet cat just ran away.
“Right. I forgot to tell you about this new habit of hers.” He chuckles with an apologetic smile before one of his hands reaches up to wipe the tears off your cheeks. The close proximity has heat rising to your face, but you’re too stunned to react.
“I read somewhere that it’s good for Maine Coons to wander around to stretch out their limbs. Nari also told me last month that Lana could use the exercise, so whenever she comes over to mine, I let her out without supervision. She eventually finds her way to the lobby and just waits for me to come back if I’m ever running a little late.”
You listen to every word of Vernon’s explanation with a look of disbelief. All this time, you were worried sick about how he’ll react to the news that you lost your cat, but he’s been letting her go out and about when it’s his turn to look after her?
“Then where is she now?” you ask—not bothering to pick a fight with him now of all times.
Vernon hums for a moment as if considering the options and you don’t miss how his fingers tighten around yours when he gives you an answer.
“I might have a good idea.”
When Vernon suggested for you to head to the park just a few minutes away from your apartment as he climbed into the passenger seat, you merely scowled at him. “Milana is afraid of all the dogs that go for walks there. The only dog she isn’t scared of is Namja.”
“Just trust me,” he insists as you start the car. “Better we look there and find nothing than not look when there turns out to be something.”
His logic isn’t so flawed after all when he briskly leads you down a familiar walkway to an even more familiar location. It’s a small hill that’s got a perfect view of the river nearby. The upslope is lined with plum blossom trees that bloom even more vibrantly in spring and it just so happens that one of those trees is dubbed as yours and Vernon’s usual spot.
It’s where you and him usually hang out when the air in the studio has gotten a bit too stale to bring forth any sort of output. The outdoors can offer all sorts of inspiration when it comes to writing and producing songs and it’s common practice to make the trip to the usual spot when either of you are suffering from a nasty bout of creativity block.
And under the shade of the tree in the said usual spot is none other than Milana—curled up in deep slumber as plum blossom petals drift onto her pale brown fur.
You don’t even feel bad for rudely disturbing her from her comfortable nap, immediately pulling her into an abrupt embrace as you feel the tears welling in your eyes again. Milana lets out a strangled meow—claws straining against your skin with a threat of attack if you don’t knock it off. But you can’t bring yourself to care. You’d gladly use up all the band-aids in the world after she scratches you up if it means you can get to hug her for a few seconds more.
“There she is. All cozy at that.”
Vernon’s smooth voice startles you out of your relief—so overwhelmed to see your cat again that you almost forgot that you had company.
“I told you she’d be here,” he laughs before reaching out to pet her head. “You got us worried though. Don’t go wandering too far, okay, Lana? You scared your mom shitless, you know?”
Milana responds with a disgruntled noise but you can feel her claws retract nonetheless. Damn Vernon and the fact that he’s obviously the favorite parent…
She seems considerably happier when you deposit her into her father’s arms—nuzzling his chest with a satisfied purr as you and Vernon start to descend the hill.
But as he showers her with affection, you can’t help but sneak brief glances in your ex-boyfriend’s direction. Vernon has always been easy on the eyes. That’s one of the reasons you were drawn to him in the first place. But whenever you see him like this—laughing goofily as he teases Milana, the high of his cheekbones dusted red with a shower of plum blossoms gliding all over…
The gods are cruel to think you could ever put up a fight.
When Vernon comes over to bring Milana back to your apartment, you don’t expect him to stay for too long. He mentioned on the way that yesterday’s shut-in session was a complete success and that they’ve got all their work cut out for them. All they need is a green light from the higher-ups before Jihoon can start handing the song samples to the company’s usual team of producers—a team that just happens to include you.
So yeah, you don’t expect Vernon to linger because he’s obviously got a lot on his plate. The man hasn’t even had breakfast or brunch or whatever. So when he surprisingly decides to stay and rummages through your fridge for the pasta noodles and red sauce you’ve been saving for tonight, it’s like you never broke up with him at all.
The sight is almost too familiar for you to bear.
Vernon sitting on the kitchen counter, helping himself to some day-old pasta as his long legs dangled over the edge. Milana watching his feet sway around with keen eyes as she attempts to swipe at them with her claws. Not to mention you, who’s staring at the two of them like they’re the most precious things in the world.
“Hey, this is really good,” Vernon compliments with half his mouth stuffed with noodles. “You’re using that one Italian tomato sauce that I like, right? Man, I missed this a lot.”
You will yourself to snap out of whatever trance his presence has got you in before walking closer to him with a soft laugh. You lean across the counter, grabbing a fork from the drawer where you keep your silverware to help yourself to some of the pasta that he haphazardly tossed into the microwave.
“It could’ve been better if you heated the noodles properly in boiling water.” You shake your head. “Then again, you’ve always been impatient when it comes to food.”
“Not as impatient as Seokmin-hyung,” he snickers. “One time when we were still staying back in the dorms, Mingyu-hyung just put the lasagna in the oven but Seokmin-hyung was already yelling about when it’ll be ready to eat. Actually, he always does that even if one of us just pops something in the microwave.”
You shake your head, recalling the words of Nari’s receptionist, Chae. “Men. Always so dramatic.”
Vernon snickers in agreement. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”
You fall into conversation with him so easily, it’s almost unreal. When Vernon finishes his food, the two of you eventually migrate to the living room—catching up with each other in a way that you don’t really have the time to whenever he comes over to pick up Milana from your apartment in the past.
Speaking of Milana, your cat acts as a barrier of sorts between you and Vernon, lying comfortably in the space that the two of you left unfilled. Cuddling up to him on the couch used to be so easy, it’s almost second nature, but now that you’re nothing but co-workers that are friends at best, you’ve got a lot more reservations than you used to have.
“By the way, I’ve been looking everywhere for that sweatshirt,” he muses before pointing at the graphic crewneck you’re wearing. “I thought I lost it in the laundry or that Seungkwan might’ve nabbed it when he came over to my place.”
“Why is he your first suspect?” you snort. “Also, what are you talking about? This is Jihoon’s.”
Vernon blinks at you, a little confused. “No, that’s mine. Jihoon-hyung must’ve borrowed it from me and let you borrow it after. When did you even get it from him?”
“Um. About a month ago?”
“That explains it then.”
You roll your eyes. “Look, if you want your sweatshirt back, I can just give it to you.”
“No, it’s okay. You can keep it,” he insists, one hand drifting onto Milana’s head so he can scratch her ears. “You’ve always looked good in my clothes anyway.”
Silence fills the room almost uncomfortably at how easy it is for him to admit that. The sudden shift in the atmosphere occurs to Vernon a little late and the smile on his face falls when he realizes what he just said.
“Oh, I didn’t… I mean—”
“It’s— It’s okay,” you interject meekly, managing a shy smile as you tug on the sleeves of your—his—sweatshirt. “I always liked wearing your clothes too.”
You’re perfectly aware that you should know how to hold yourself accountable for the things you say. That goes the same for Vernon. So when the two of you willingly let the other hear such controversial things that co-workers-slash-friends probably shouldn’t be saying to each other, you’re not sure what to make of the situation.
Are you reading him wrong? Or is he actually reciprocating your misplaced longing, no matter how subtle? It’s always been hard to tell with Vernon, who’s never straightforward with what he wants to communicate. Always trusting that you would understand the nuance of his every action, his every word, when all they do is make your head spin.
The sight is perfectly domestic—lounging comfortably on the sofa after a good meal, both of your feet kicked up on the coffee table, and your big baby daughter purring quietly from where she lies between the two of you.
But even if three months doesn’t seem like a whole lot, it’s enough time for some…due changes to eventually set.
“You know…” Vernon starts, sucking in a deep breath almost like he’s nervous.
“Do I know what?”
His eyes flicker over to the ceiling as if praying for some sort of deliverance before forcing himself to meet your gaze again. There’s a look in his eyes that you can’t parse right away, and you wonder if you can ever understand what it is.
“I… I still listen to that old mixtape you gave me. Do you remember? The one you gave to me when we first met?” he murmurs quietly, bringing his hands onto his lap so he can twiddle with his thumbs. “Before we have to come up on stage and I start feeling nervous, I just listen to a softcopy of that mixtape on my phone. I still do now.”
That mixtape… He still has that? Moreover, he managed to save a softcopy and downloaded it onto his phone? You would’ve asked him how on earth he managed to do that, if you weren’t so startled about his sudden revelation.
“Your voice always gives me strength. Even when we weren’t together yet—even if we’re not together anymore.” Vernon purses his lips, a sad look eclipsing the sincerity in his eyes as he strokes Milana’s fur thoughtfully. “So I’m really sorry if you think I’m overstaying my welcome today. I definitely am. But I just— I just wanted to be selfish for once.I wanted to spend a little more time with you because I know you’ll go back to distancing yourself from me once I leave.”
When he turns to face you, you know it’s the real deal. There’s a spark of determination in his eyes that scares you a little—like he’s about to say something you’re not ready to hear yet regardless of how badly you want to.
But before he can get a chance to utter the words, your phone starts ringing on the coffee table. You’ve never swooped in to answer a call so quickly in your life.
“Hello, what’s up?” You nearly cringe at how bubbly your voice sounds as you get up from the couch.
“Hey, have you found Milana?” Nari’s voice flows into your ear, genuine concern lacing each word. “I asked Mingyu to look around with Namja, but no dice. I could contact some other friends if you—”
“It’s okay, Nari,” you interject, fingers drumming across your thigh. “We already found her.”
Your friend makes a curious noise. “Who’s we?”
You nearly balk when Vernon plucks the phone out of your hands, pressing it to his ear with a smug grin that you don’t usually see him wear.
“Who else?” he says. “Thanks for checking in, Nari. But we’re kind of…busy.”
The call isn’t even on loudspeaker but you can obviously hear the way Nari gasps like Vernon just unveiled some scandalous secret. “Oh my god. Are you—”
Vernon ends the call before tossing your phone back onto the couch, startling Milana out of her nap. Your cat flashes Vernon something similar to a dirty look before hopping off the cushions and sauntering off elsewhere. You just hope she doesn’t retaliate by wandering outside again.
But your cat’s newest penchant for wandering around is the last thing on your mind because even if you’re not facing him, you can sense Vernon’s towering presence directly behind you.
You don��t resist when he hugs you from behind—resting his forehead against your shoulder as he breathes out a shuddering sigh. His arms still feel like home despite being months into the breakup and you don’t know how to fucking deal with it.
“I still love you. Never stopped,” he whispers. “It was…completely stupid of me to think we’re better off as friends just because we’re coworkers. You’re too important to me. I don’t want to be your friend. I want to—”
You don’t even give him leeway to finish that sentence, whirling around in his embrace as you meet his lips in a quiet kiss.
In a split second, several things happen at once. Dying stars collide. Black holes collapse. Eternities unspool.
And you start to realize that you can’t live without Vernon Chwe.
“Shit, Hansol, please.”
Vernon loves how his other name falls so gracefully from your lips—loves how you frame the words in such an…interesting way. You only ever call him that when you’re feeling particularly strong emotions—happiness, anger, disappointment…
Pleasure.
He heaves a long sigh as he peels himself away from the home he’s made between your thighs. You’re not sure how long Vernon has been eating you out, but your brain is close to melting and you can’t process any other coherent thoughts aside from how your cunt still tingles from the orgasm he just gave you.
Your panties have long been discarded on the bedroom floor. All you’re donned with now is the old sweatshirt that you thought belonged to Jihoon but turns out was Vernon’s property all along. He insisted that you keep it on—emphasizing just how much he likes seeing you in his clothes before promptly robbing you of your capacity to think by eating pussy like it was his life’s purpose.
It doesn’t help that he looks so fucking delectable between your legs—big hands splayed across the sensitive flesh of your thighs as he looks up at you with a dazed expression. His lips are parted, still glossy from the aftermath of your release and the look in his eyes almost makes it seem like he’s the one who’s just been eaten out to completion.
“Fuck, ‘Sol,” you whimper, head falling back onto the pillows as you shield your eyes with your arm. You can’t even look at him without feeling like you’re about to combust. “Stop staring at me like that…”
Vernon leans down to pry your arm off your face—forcing you to meet his loving gaze before pressing your arm down onto the mattress.
“Like what?” he whispers, the blunt of his nail scraping against your bottom lip.
“Like you want to swallow me whole.”
His eyes almost crinkle with how wide he smiles at you and you nearly writhe with anticipation when you feel his drenched fingers prodding your slicked entrance again.
“What if I tell you that’s exactly what I want?”
Vernon’s mouth is on yours before you can even breathe, tongue bullying its way past your lips as he licks into your mouth. He slips the digits he used to tease you back into your wet channel and you delight in how he swallows your moans as he pumps them inside at a languid pace. Vernon has always been good at building your release from the ground up—never one to rush any orgasms he’s willing to give. As long as you feel good, he’ll exercise as much patience as he can.
“V-Vernon,” you gasp when he curls his fingers and thumbs at your clit at the same time, flicking your sensitive bud with just the right amount of pleasure that has your toes curling with pleasure. “Fuck, please, please—”
“Sounds so good for me,” he sighs, taking your bottom lip between his teeth before giving a delicious tug. “Wanna record all your pretty noises and use it in a song. D’you want that too, love? Want everyone to hear how nice you sound?”
The idea of him using your voice in the throes of pleasure for such a mundane thing sends a rush of heat straight to your core. You moan in reply, rubbing your needy cunt against his hand in a desperate attempt to get yourself off. Vernon chuckles against your lips and his teasing almost makes you pout, if only he isn’t so fucking good at finding your g-spot.
The first time he makes you come, it’s with his mouth and the second is after he expertly picks you apart with his fingers. But no matter how well Vernon knows your body, you still think it’s fucking unfair for him to coax orgasm after orgasm from you like it’s as easy as breathing.
“Hansol,” you whisper—brain too fucked out to segreget his two names properly. “Want you inside me. Want all of you.”
He shakes his head with an audible tut, slipping his fingers out of your pulsing hole. The action makes you mewl in protest, but Vernon brings those same fingers to your lips to silence you.
“You have to work on your patience, love,” he murmurs, angling his face a little before his lips descend onto your neck. “It’s been a while since I’ve had you like this… I want to savor you. You’ll let me do that, right?”
All you can do is answer him with a helpless nod.
His sweatshirt is off in a split second, revealing your body to him in a way that makes you want to hide underneath the covers. He gazes at you so intensely, it makes you wonder how someone you broke up with three months ago still looks at you like it's the first time.
Vernon writes poetry onto your skin with each caress of his lips, making sure you feel everything he’s doing to you as he leaves no inch of your body untouched. Sex with him has always been intense, not because he likes to fuck hard and fast but because he likes to take his time—to sink himself into your skin deep enough that you can’t ever hope to flush him out of your system.
That’s probably one of the reasons why you just couldn’t bring yourself to stop loving him. He’s become such a fundamental part of your life that living without him is the same as breathing without oxygen.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs as his lips latch onto your breasts. “So fucking beautiful.”
Vernon isn’t a man of many words. You’ve come to know this for a fact, so whenever he spills all these compliments for you to hear, it makes your heart swell inside your chest. A handful of other people have called you that in the past, but when the words come from Vernon’s mouth, it feels like the gospel truth.
Fortunately, your lover was never too cruel to you. Sure, he likes to instill the value of patience, but Vernon never found the appeal of bringing your partner to tears because of their unquenchable need for release.
He doesn’t even make you beg for his cock. Vernon simply lines up the tip with your swollen entrance before slowly pushing inside—dark eyes cognizant of every shift in your expression to make sure he isn’t hurting you. When all he sees is you whimpering from how good it feels to be split open by his cock, he knows he’s doing it right.
“I love you,” he whispers breathlessly—hoping the words won’t be lost in the midst of the mind-numbing pleasure. “I’m so in love with you.”
He ploughs you into the mattress slowly, deeply, wanting you to feel every inch of his cock as he fucks into you. Vernon is rarely vocal with his words when it comes to sex, but he makes up for it with the pleasurable sounds that escape his lips. And with how long it’s been since the two of you lied together like this, you wouldn’t blame him for feeling more unhinged than usual.
“I love you, too, ‘Sol,” you sigh but the words are eclipsed with a high-pitched keen when he amps up the pace of his thrusts.
“I love hearing you say that,” Vernon groans, biting his lip until he can taste iron on his tongue.
“Then I’ll keep saying it.” It’s a miracle how you manage to get the words out when he’s quite literally punching the breath out of your lungs with each stroke. “I’ll say I love you while you’re fucking me. I’ll say I love you even when you’re not.”
“I’ll say it all the time if it means you’ll come back to me.”
For a moment, the intense pace he’s set falters—eyes wide and mouth agape. You worry that you must’ve said something out of turn, but Vernon proves you wrong by pulling you forward into a tight embrace, fucking up into your tight cunt with a kind of vigor that you never would’ve associated with someone as easy going as he is.
“I’m yours, love.” he rasps against your neck, teeth grazing the skin just above the thrum of your pulse. “I’ll always be yours.”
The sudden switch in positions and the sincerity of his words is what pushes you over the edge a third time—making you cling onto Vernon like a lifeline as he continues fucking you through your orgasm. You can tell that he’s close. His strokes are more erratic, more frantic. Now that he’s brought you to the pinnacle, he doesn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t make it to that same paradise too.
When he comes, it’s a burst of white hot pleasure that singes through every single nerve ending in Vernon’s brain. You let out such an adorable little whimper as his cum coats your insides in generous spurts, filling you to the brim with his emission with the full intention of keeping it inside you for days.
But as much as he loves entertaining the idea of defiling you until everyone in the world knows you belong to him…
He’s always put great importance in the art of aftercare.
Both of you try very hard to ignore Milana’s judgemental stare as Vernon carries you to the bathroom—propping you up on the toilet cover first as he draws a warm bath. But from the way she dismissively leaves the two of you to your own devices after a few minutes, you like to think that you’ve gotten her seal of approval.
Your no-longer-ex-boyfriend gently lays you into the tub with him, reaching out for the soap on one of your toiletry holders as he massages you everywhere you’re sore. You let out a satisfied sigh before resting the back of your head against his firm shoulder.
“How’re you going to explain to the higher-ups that you’re dating one of their producers again?” you chuckle, placing your hand on top of his as he continues to clean you up. “Maybe I should just find a job somewhere else. A place where it isn’t illegal to have an idol as a boyfriend.”
“Maybe,” he muses before placing a firm kiss on your temple. “But whatever happens, I know I’ll always stick by you no matter what.”
You turn around, arching an eyebrow at him. “Even if it’ll cost you your job?”
You completely expect him to backtrack a little. Vernon is obsessed with you—you get that. But probably not to a point where he’s willing to breach the company’s contract just to keep being with you, right?
But for some reason, it sounds so fucking easy for him to say it when he whispers:
“Even if it’ll cost me my job.”
⟢ end notes: this is probably the sweetest thing i've ever written bc i personally headcanon vernon as someone who loves his s/o so deeply, it consumes him (like in a good way yk). i had so much fun writing this (esp since i got to sneak in vet!reader from again and again under the name nari hehe) so i rly hope you enjoyed it! do look forward to the last part of this series, which will feature resident catboy jeon wonwoo <3
this is part of the doting on you! series.
#svthub#seventeen smut#vernon smut#hansol smut#seventeen fanfic#chwe vernon fic#lovelyhan#full length fic 📚
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High school football player!vernon railing you in the lockers room after his opponent tries to hit on you👀 vernon making you moan so loud so that guy would know you were his
tbh, i wanted to be a soft vernon stan but he proves it difficult every damn time. BUT YES! I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH 😭
he wanted you to watch his game, as we all know, you're his lucky charm. in every game of his where you can attend, he genuinely does well and becomes the mvp (he's good already, it's just that he wants to show you he's the best so he puts his best foot forward. he wants you to see him as the best among the rest)
and as usual, you, supporting him in his game made him the happiest man alive. his energy is at the top, especially when they won and he was crowned as the best player for that day.
though, he wasn't exactly keen on that one certain player with the jersey #8.
seungcheol was it?
now, he's not one to get jealous. vernon is usually poised and can keep his temper in check. but man, were the gods testing him today?
during the game, he noticed how Seungcheol kept on looking in your direction. which should not be unusual since you were so loud, cheering vernon and his team. what irked him is that the other man kept on checking for your reactions whenever he did something great in the field.
what really set him off was when the guy had the audacity to come to you after the game.
the fuck is going on?
you were supposed to run up to him, and he'll hug you, lift you, spun you around then give you a big kiss on the lips.
looks like a kiss won't suffice tho, his blood boiling when he saw you interact with the male with a big smile.
oh, you are so gonna regret it.
"ah! vernon, please be more gentle!" you whined quietly, trying to keep your voice in check but really, it doesn't even help since the loud clacking of the lockers is a dead giveaway of what is happening inside the room?
"gentle?" vernon stopped his movements and leaned down to your ear, whispering in a dangerous tone, "you were basically asking for this when you decided to talk to that guy."
what guy? seungcheol?
then it came down to you, your boyfriend was jealous. and now, he's pouring that frustration on you.
and you love every single moment of it.
"but- but-" you tried to explain yourself, to no avail as his free hand wrapped themselves on your neck and the other snaked down to viciously rub your bundle of nerves.
a pathetic squeak came out of your lips, "no more buts. now be a good girl moan for me, yeah?"
his hips started moving again at a relentless pace, the hand on your neck stimulating you even more.
you gasped for air, your voice getting louder every second making vernon smirk, "now that's my baby girl. keep going."
his encouragement is like a gift, and if you're going to be honest, it spurred you on. not caring anymore if someone hears you.
"yell my name if you can, baby." vernon murmured, "let everyone know who you belong to."
you bet you did shout his name as you milked around his length. giving you a well earned kiss from your lovely boyfriend.
#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#seventeen smut#vernon#vernon imagines#vernon scenarios#vernon smut#vernon chwe#chwe vernon x reader#chwe vernon fic#seventeen fanfic#seventeen x reader
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[3:55]
dating vernon is really like dating ur bsf
he'd definitely treat you like a bro
but we all know how he doesn't take super good care of himself and how he eats (according to the8)
so ofc his s/o would take care of him
i imagine he'd come home from schedules, and you'd already have a dinner ready for him
whether it be something you cooked or something you bought and took out
and he'd be so happy
like that video of him and woozi being roommates one time
and he was like, "oh my god~ hyung prepared dinner for me!"
yeah, that'd be him, no matter how many times you do that for him
"is this for me?"
"yeah, i bought/cooked it just for you."
"wow, thanks, babe!"
and he'd want to sit on the couch with you and watch something as he eats
he'd put on something funny
and every time he'd laugh, he'd smack your thigh or lean on you a bit with his head on your shoulder
(like how he does with svt)
other honorable mentions i'd have picturing hansol as your bf would include:
calling you his cat's mom
always having his arm around your shoulders if you're watching a movie together
sharing his clothes (esp his hats and jackets) / he'd love styling you in his fashion sense
he'd love listening to you whenever you have to vent or need advice
if you get insecure about your looks, he'd reassure you and then remind you that your heart and personality are to die for and that's the main reason why he loves you anyway
sharing airpods/earbuds whenever listening to music (he'd def send you lots of music or make you playlists; i see him sending you daily checkins with a song that he's currently listening to or makes him think of you)
playing videogames together (bonus: him sitting with his legs apart and you sitting between them, resting your head and back against his chest, his arms around your body to play using his controller)
lots of comfortable silence (he values your company)
he'd be your #1 hype man (type to watch you do literally anything with a big smile on his face and big heart eyes)
and he'd def call you "babe" or another super casual pet name cuz i feel like that's such his vibe
#pledis seventeen#seventeen#seventeentumblr#svtcreations#hybe#vernon#seventeen hansol#seventeen vernon#chwe vernon x reader#vernon chwe#chwe vernon fic#chwe hansol#hybe family#hybe labels#hybe entertainment#vernon drabble#vernon fluff#seventeen drabbles#seventeen fluff#vernon x you#vernon x y/n#svt drabbles#svt fluff#svt#svt x reader#svt x you#svt x y/n#vernon seventeen#hansol fanfic
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riding Vernon's thigh while he whispers all the DIRTY things he'll do to y/n if she cums 😩 his deep voice ahh
Pairing: Vernon x Fem Reader (est relationship)
Category : SMUT, Minors DNI
Warnings: Thigh riding, degradation (reader is called a slut), a little bit rough and dom-esque Vernon
Taglist: @junhui-recs @drunk-on-dk @enhacolor @wonuhour
Long distance relationships suck. You would know better than anyone because you and your boyfriend Vernon lived in two different cities. But when you were together, it was well worth it. Phone or zoom sex was nothing compared to Vernon’s addictive touches, his alluring perfume, warm breath and low voice on you as he would whisper, frankly, purely filthy things in your ear.
Like in present instance, for example. You had flown in a couple of hours ago and surprised him out of the blue. Since then, he’d already made you cum four times, once with his fingers, twice with his mouth and that fucking tongue and once with his cock. He was currently coming off of his orgasm, recharging for another round. But you were being a needy brat, your thirst for his body was honestly (and understandably) insatiable. So, while he was laying down on the bed, catching his breath, you straddled his left thigh and started moving back and forth to get some friction, much to his surprise.
Now listen, Vernon wasn’t a greedy individual who only wanted orgasms for himself …but he’d asked you to wait and you didn’t. Not that it wasn’t hot as fuck, your hands holding his waist for support as your gorgeous boobs bounced up and down rhythmically as you ground on his thigh, his muscle flexing automatically to give you some edge. But he’d asked you to wait and that sort of pissed him off that you didn’t. So he got up to a sitting position, held a fistful of your hair and guided your ear to his mouth, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he whispered huskily, his low voice making you even wetter (if that was even possible),
“I asked you to wait, you needy little slut. But you couldn’t even hold on for a few minutes, hmm? Like what my thigh is doing to that pretty pussy of yours?”
You whimpered an almost silent yes, the friction of his thigh and the vulgarity of his words were driving you insane.
“My pretty little slut, okay, you can ride my thigh, but if you cum without my permission , I’m going to make sure that you won’t be able to walk straight for the rest of this trip.”
#svthub#svt smut#svt fic#Vernon#seventeen#Vernon smut#vernon x y/n#chwe vernon x reader#vernon x you#vernon x reader#seventeen smut#seventeen fic#seventeen drabbles#chwe hansol#chwe vernon fic#hard hours!#Sam writes svt
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The Trees Know
Pairing: non-idol!Vernon x gn!Reader
Genre: Fluff (calm fluff, if that’s a thing)
WC: 714
Warnings: Reader is able-bodied enough to go for a walk. Otherwise, none! Y'all are just on a lil contemplative walk.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
You and Vernon drove to an older neighborhood nearby – one where the houses were all different styles, and the trees were thick, sturdy, and tall. Parking the car, you got out and grabbed your headphones. “Ready?” Vernon asked you, adjusting his own headphones for the best fit. You nodded, choosing what felt like the perfect playlist for this early evening walk.
Neither of you could remember who had the idea for these walks first. Vernon claimed it was you, urging him to pull over next to a park one day during golden hour, but you maintained it was him, getting lost in his own thoughts on a regular walk and discovering how nice it was. Either way, it’s become a ritual you both enjoy. A few times a week you take walks together with no pressure to talk, just enjoying the fresh air, the scenery, and your own thoughts. The only goal you both agreed on was to notice something new, even in neighborhoods you knew like the back of your hand.
Today, you found yourself looking up at the treetops.
Some days you focused on your feet, noticing the ways nature tried to overtake the sidewalk or the way it was kept in line. Other times, your attention was on the buildings you passed by – every home, apartment building, and business telling a story with its architecture and wear and tear. Here, though, the trees were bigger and older than most places in the city. The blue of the sky was a stark contrast to the limbs and leaves, which were fresh and green with spring life. Some rose straight and tall, their trunks bare until halfway up or higher, while others were broad and leafy. A few, you could see, had fought with power lines, and their branches were gnarled and twisting to avoid the lines as best they could.
You were walking with your head almost entirely tipped back, taking in the entire canopy as best you could. The light was changing, dancing across leaves and branches in the breeze and dappling the trunks and ground. It felt special, and ephemeral, and you were struck with the thought that these trees had seen people like you and Vernon before. They had seen people in quiet love walk these streets before, and they’d see them long after you both were gone. Did the couples before you think about you the way you were thinking about them? Did your love feel the same as theirs did?
Vernon’s knuckles brushed against yours, and you turned to look at him. He was already staring at you, a soft grin on his lips. He intertwined his hand with your own, lifting them to press a kiss to your fingers. “Just checking in,” he said. “How’s your walk going?”
You weren’t sure how to put it into words, so instead of answering, you asked a question of your own. “Does it ever make you sad that you can never really know what someone’s thinking? Like, not fully, because there’s always going to be something that gets lost in the translation of thought to word, you know?”
Vernon paused, considering. “Yes, and no? I guess it makes me a little sad that I’ll never get to experience your thoughts the way you do, especially when I see how deep in thought you can be. Just now, for example. I wondered what you could have been thinking, looking up at the trees like that.” He grinned, and you returned the smile, ignoring the heat rushing to your cheeks. “But also no. I love that I get to discover you bit by bit. It makes me feel like I could never be bored, because there’s words you haven't put together yet to help me know you.”
He let go of your hand, wrapping his arm around you as you did the same. You hummed at his words, nodding thoughtfully. “I think the trees know, though,” you mused. He looked over at you, grinning wide. “You think?”
You nodded again, decisively. “Definitely. They’ve seen it all before, so they know.”
He chuckled and leaned over, kissing your cheek. “If you say so.”
You smiled and looked up at the treetops again. They waved in the breeze, and it felt like confirmation.
#seventeen imagine#seventeen x reader#vernon fic#vernon fluff#vernon x reader#svt x reader#svt fic#svt fluff#chwe vernon fic#chwe vernon x reader#chwe hansol fic#chwe hansol x reader#chwe hansol fluff#fic by me#first fic! I finally did it
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secret wishes ◦ h.v.c.
💞 🄿🄰🄸🅁🄸🄽🄶: Hansol Vernon Chwe x gn!reader
📚 🄶🄴🄽🅁🄴: Fluff, Humor/Comedy/Crack, PLATONIC!au, Besties!au
💬 ⓌⒸ: 3.4k
⚠️ 🅆🄰🅁🄽🄸🄽🄶🅂: Food, One mention of alcoholic beverages, Reader gets a tattoo, Cheesy corny stuff, Everyone is a menace imho, lmk if i missed smth!
📝 🄰/🄽: what better way to make a fic debut on this blog than a (very belated) birthday vernon fic to my beloved @aceofvernons. Basically it's a love letter from one bestie to another but it got kinda out of hand sjjskakak I still hope you enjoy it 🎉 (also ty Nova for color correcting and giving me confidence 💖)
It's like waking up disoriented from a dream.
Vernon is suddenly snapped out of the daze Seungwkan had left him in moments ago. The man responsible for it is now standing next to him, barking orders out to at least five other people who are running around their tiny, shared apartment.
"Geez, you didn't need to make such a big deal outta things."
"Should've stopped me instead of pouting in silence in your abysmally dark room like always."
"It's not that dark," Vernon protests and scratches the back of his head, "and I don't pout."
Lilac strands flutter as he tilts his head and does the very thing he said he doesn't do: pout. Seungkwan spares him a look only to roll his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah Mr. Vamp. Maybe when a certain person isn't mentioned, sure." He jerks his head to the right. "Now get your lazy butt moving so I'm not tempted to take a hundred percent of the credit, love, and appreciation in your stead."
Vernon reluctantly peers into the kitchen. Mingyu is waving a spatula in a threatening manner at Wonwoo and their partner for eating and playing with the batter he's been working hard on. Peeking into the living room causes his entire body to cringe at Seokmin and his fiance who are supposed to be blowing up balloons. Instead, they're taking a break to giggle and kiss at one another's necks.
Ugh.
Seeking reprieve, he finally finds comfort stumbling next to Joshua, the seemingly only calm one among the other chaotic scatterbrains. With a kind smile, the maroon-haired man hands a loose end of the various paper chains he's looping together to Vernon, who readily takes it.
"You're pouting."
"I don't pout, Josh."
"Sure, sure. Unless it's about you know who."
"Seungkwan said the same sort of nonsense."
"He's not wrong. Otherwise he wouldn't be putting in all this effort for the both of you."
Vernon frowns. "He didn't have to."
"He did 'cause you were pouting. We all had to."
"I don't… ugh, whatever. All I wanted was something small but different."
"It's different that's for sure." Red bangs fly up when Joshua snorts at a sweaty Seungcheol stumbling through the front door, flanked by additional friends, to bring in an unnecessarily large table. "I know it's not what you normally do but I think it'll be nice."
"We like to do quiet things. Just the two of us. But everything's been screwed up this year."
Joshua's laughter is soft and melodic despite the underlying mockery Vernon suspects it disguises. "So, this surprise party and the commotion that came with it isn't bothering you. You're sulky because quality bestie time has been sacrificed since they went away."
Just because he's right doesn't mean he has to say it.
"I'm not sulking and I'm not sure what's so funny either."
"You are, my dear buddy!" He clasps his friend's shoulder reassuringly whose lilac hair cutely lessens the intensity of his perpetual frown. "After we celebrate, you'll get them all to yourself."
Vernon's nose crinkles. "Why is everyone being so insufferable?"
Not bothering to reply, the other man simply hums and stands to hang the completed portion of the chain. He can manage his grumpy younger friend who's now stapling the remaining rectangular pieces of paper a little bit too aggressively. The knowledge that Vernon will settle back into his easy-going nature once you return is inevitable.
It's just a question of how long all of them will be able to hold out until then.
By the time the sun sets, the fast-paced energy of the afternoon has dwindled down and the party preparations are finally finished.
"Are you sure it will be fine?"
"Honestly, Chwe! Do you not trust my baking skills?"
"More like I don't trust my fridge."
Seungkwan looks up at the exchange between a whiny Mingyu and indifferent Vernon. "Just don't open the fridge overnight and everything should be fine." He huffs, handing a stack of empty pizza boxes to Seokmin. "There's nothing but the cake in there anyways."
That must be enough to satisfy the dessert maker who obnoxiously puffs out his chest in pride. Wonwoo secures the last pack of untouched beer he'd brought in one hand and his partner's wrist tenderly in the other. Bidding everyone a good evening, he leaves with Mingyu following behind them like an elated puppy heading back home after a tiring walk.
"We'll take these and head out too," Seokmin supplies helpfully as he and his fiance finish gathering the final pieces of trash laying around. "See you tomorrow!"
Joshua is the last to go and jingles his car keys loudly before shutting the door with an exclamation of, "Enjoy the surprise!"
He disappears with a cheeky grin and swift departure before the opportunity to be questioned arises and Vernon turns to his unphased roommate.
"What did he mean by that?"
"Oh, you know him. Sometimes he's normal, more often he's not. Probably just wanted to re-remind you of that fact."
Seungkwan's statement is one that anyone can agree with. Figuring Joshua meant nothing as usual, it's already forgotten by the time Vernon's made his way up the steps.
Much later into the night, he's on a desperate search for something when you call but picks up nonetheless. No matter what he's doing, one thing for sure is that he'll always answer the phone when it displays your name. Because it's you.
But maybe that wasn't the smartest decision.
"Hello 'sol!"
"Hey bestie," the phone is cradled between his shoulder and ear as he rummages between the couch cushions. "What's up?"
"Nothing much, guess I just wanted to hear your voice."
A silly smirk halts him in his tracks. "Miss me?"
"Oh, how I long for you so!" The sarcasm lacing your words can't fully hide the smile he hears. "I've talked to you every day as always, it's like I never even left."
"Wish you didn't."
"You and I both. It's nice to be home but still…"
"We've always spent your birthdays together."
"Which is exactly why you should've come back with me!"
"Couldn't intrude on the fam like that."
You sigh. "No one would've minded, you're so dear to them." Mimicking your mother's voice, you continue, "Where's that lil Hansolie of yours? We enjoy his company so much, it's as if he's our son. In fact — we might love him more than our own child!"
Vernon laughs brightly. Bold and loud like he always does in your presence. You draw that part out of him like no one else can, setting him at ease to simply be himself. Comfortable. There are no appearances to uphold with you, no worries either. Everything melts away and it's easy to forget what he was all stressed about before you called. Until hurried feet pounding on the floor signify that someone is about to rush into the living room.
"I found them! I found the — " Seungkwan's happy skip halts upon seeing his friend on the phone and attempts to catch his breath after scrambling down the steps. But the keywords to the unfinished sentence roll right off Vernon's tongue out of relief without thinking.
"The rings?"
Even if he can't see, you perk up from your slouched position in the car and repeat eagerly, "Rings?"
Vernon shares a wide-eyed look with the other man in the room who hesitantly places the box on the coffee table. So much for being relaxed — he got too relaxed and ended up spilling the secret. Exposing himself like an idiot. He normally doesn't care that you are privy to everything there is to know about him but now…
Licking his lips nervously, he chuckles awkwardly. "Uh… yeah?"
"Did you get married or something in the week that I was gone?" you tease. "What's all this ring business about?"
"N-nothing. It's nothing big… y'know how Kwannie was… contemplating… um, engagement."
The man in question gapes and starts waving theatrically while mouthing silent charades full of utter disbelief and betrayal that are readily ignored.
Meanwhile, you snort. "Oh yeah, because that's definitely not a big deal at all. About time! But how did you end up with his rings then?"
Vernon turns his back on a dramatic Seungkwan in order to focus on organizing a believable white lie. "We… invited some of the guys over to talk it out and uh, he didn't want to lose them in the chaos because… he's still deciding and all that, you know… "
"Incredible," you mutter, "yet it seems like you lost them."
Panic, his brain screams. And maybe some shame added as well.
"But whatever, at least you found them." Somehow you seem to miraculously buy his pathetic excuse. Leaving the matter alone because you're distracted by a hearty yawn, he lets out a quiet exhale of relief while you stretch your neck out. "I'm tired."
Your best friend collapses onto the couch, feeling exhausted himself. "You should get some rest."
"And miss when the clock strikes twelve?"
"You've got a long day ahead, flying out after your celebration. You know you can stay longer if it's too much."
He's a little nervous saying that after everyone excitedly spent time to set up a surprise party but your well-being will always be more important to them over anything else.
Mingyu and his cake would survive.
"Puh-lease," you grumble and Vernon knows your eyes just have to be rolling, though you're actually glancing at your watch. "Don't you worry your handsome little head, I'll be right on time."
His eyebrows furrow. "On time for what?"
But you've already put the speaker away from your face, giggling like a gremlin in the background before you loudly cackle, "You're a horrible liar, Hansol!"
He breaks out into a cold sweat, even more perturbed when you simply hang up without even a farewell. "What is up with people today?"
"I dunno, what's up with you?" Phone held dazedly in one hand, Vernon turns to face Seungkwan's wrath. "Because suddenly, I'm engaged — according to your standards!"
"Sorry 'bout that. I'll explain everything when I give them their gift, okay? I think… I don't think they believed me anyway."
"Even Bookkeu wouldn't be fooled by that awful acting. Gosh, now I'm gonna feel bad about not proposing."
"Aw, c'mon Kwan. You know that's not what this meant."
Seungkwan's not really upset and Vernon knows that. Still. It's a subtle sting of a reminder that neither in the ten-year relationship have made a move for sealing that lifelong commitment. It would be a lie to say that it didn't occasionally eat away at the gentle-hearted man. Not that marriage was needed in every romantic relationship.
"I should've said Seokmin but that wouldn't have made sense either… "
"Those two? They're so attached to the hip they would've never handed over their rings to anyone. As a matter of fact though, I wouldn't give you mine either seeing as how you treated yours."
Vernon is quick to jump at his roommate and put him in a light headlock as faux retaliation, knuckles rubbing on the top of his hair while the latter yells in protest. They roughhouse as usual (this time staying clear of any lamp posts), nearly pulling off one another's clothes in the friendly tussle.
That's the position they freeze in when there's two heavy bangs on the door — Vernon with his hand fisted in Seungkwan's collar who has the former's shirt halfway up his torso. Inching closer to one another, they hold their breath. Peeking warily at the front door before meeting each other's terrified eyes that continue to widen in alarm when the beeping sounds of the code being entered starts after two seconds of silence.
They scream (very manly screams if anyone asks them about it afterwards) when the lock clicks open because who on earth knows their code and would break into their apartment at 11:56 PM?
"It's me!" You announce with a flourish — arms raised in exhilaration — only to lower them in confusion. "Oh. Am I interrupting something?"
Joshua glances around you to laugh at the two men entangled in what now looks like a hug. "Is that how you guys plan to defend yourselves? With a lover's embrace? You knew we were coming, Kwannie."
"I didn't know you'd show up at midnight!"
They step away from one another with disgruntled expressions and Vernon side-eyes everyone dubiously.
"You knew?"
Seungkwan's stuttered excuse is cut short when your (and everyone else's) phone buzzes and you excitedly cheer, "Happy gremlin birth hour to me!," and turn to a gobsmacked Vernon. "Aren't I gonna get my welcome back squish and squeeze?"
Of course, he could never deny you a hug. Especially on your birthday. Even if you scared the crap out of him by 'breaking in' when you're supposed to be far away with your family still, he opens his arms with an upward lift of his lips.
"Happy birthday, bestie. Now tell me, what in the world are you doing here?"
He takes in your appearance. Despite the off-and-on nap in Joshua's car on the way back from the airport somewhat helping, there's no way your animated behavior can hide all the obvious tiredness and jet lag.
You back away with a pat to his left bicep that has various rows of little black tattoo symbols encircling it, rocking back and forth on your heels.
"Wanted to celebrate my birthday with you!"
"You should have rested."
"I'm not a child, I wanted to surprise you!"
"But — " Vernon gestures helplessly to you, then the decorations he's sure you haven't noticed, and expects some support from his other friends but they have seemingly disappeared to give the two of you privacy. Plus, likely to escape him asking about the bizarre circumstances.
Gee, what wonderful pals.
"I know, I know… all of you put in a lot of effort. Especially Kwannie."
"I helped too!"
"But it was his original idea and organization, no? You'd never plan something like this."
"Why do you know everything, it's your birthday?" He groans in exasperation at your laughter. "It's supposed to be a secret and you're supposed to be surprised!"
"Ah, speaking of which," you eagerly roll up your right sleeve, "look at what I got!"
His eyebrows raise at the reveal of the ink that now circles over your skin. "Oh? You got tatted?"
"Yes! When I called after you got yours last year, the waitlist was so long I ended up just scheduling it as a birthday gift."
From afar, one might think they're the same as the ones dotting his arm. But upon closer inspection, he's more than pleased to see how you chose to have your own unique personality shine through. Miniscule versions of symbols that mean something precious and objects that seem to represent you best are outlined or filled-in with your favorite color.
"Beautiful."
You smile broadly at how awestruck your best friend is. "No, you."
"No, you."
"No, you."
"Fine, we're both pretty!" Vernon relents, well aware that this could go back and forth forever.
"That we are." You urge him to sit down on the couch and situate yourself next to him, right shoulder to his left, and grab his wrist. "Look!"
Extending your joined arms, you show him how your tattoos align almost perfectly. Then securing his other free hand in yours with the traditional pinky promise the two of you have done since childhood. He chuckles as you nudge him cajolingly with an elbow.
"I see."
"What do you see?"
"You just want me to say something cheesy 'cause you're in your affectionate era."
"It's the least you could do on my birthday."
A deep, weary sigh. "We're… each other's… better… half?"
The hands you have placed on his body tighten their hold as you squeeze hard in your excitement. He grunts as appropriate between your rambling, focusing mainly on when he'll be able to get circulation back where you're gripping, until you suddenly deflate.
"I messed it up. Stupid, sleep-deprived brain."
"You're not stupid."
"You're right, it's your fault."
"Mine?"
"I took the brain cell but now you have it back because we're together." Finally freeing the poor man, you stand in front of him and point. "Okay, let me try again so you'd better wipe your mind clear."
"Yeah, yeah." Vernon crosses his arms and pretends to look annoyed as if there isn't a goofy grin on his face.
"It was supposed to go something like this. We mirror each other, right?" You gesture to your tattoos again. "We're very similar, maybe even too similar at times. But," you flop down where you were originally seated, "we're also different! Different enough that we can compensate for each other's weaknesses and complement each other's strengths… you know, like you said — all that corny stuff."
"Cute."
"Like you."
"And you."
You lean in so close to Vernon that your noses almost touch. "Yeah, because we're besties and we look cute together. Okay, since I ruined the surprise and told you all my secrets, isn't it your turn now?"
"My turn?"
"Yeah, Mr. Rings."
"Ah… so that was your goal all along."
"Of course, I'm waiting with bated breath."
He raises his chin in the direction of the coffee table. "It's right there."
Despite teasing him about not wrapping it, you quickly snatch the velvet box before he can grab it himself. "Couple rings?" You put a hand over your heart dramatically. "Aw, you shouldn't have, Hansol."
"They're bestie rings, you dolt."
"Did you just call me an idiot?!"
"Yeah. With affection though."
You make a sound of disgust but return to the precious gift, lips curling upwards. "They're beautiful."
"Copycat."
"Stop it, you love me."
"I do."
"Then put it on me," you demand, handing him the ring box and wiggling your fingers in anticipation.
Vernon mumbles something about how impatient you are and to chillax. But he does as asked and gently takes the hand always used to pinky promise and bro-slap him. Sliding the ring on your middle finger, pleased when it's a perfect fit. Then, he does the same on his own and scrunches his nose in satisfaction.
"Perfect."
"I know."
He takes your hand back in his like before, and brings you into the kitchen. Identical rings brush against each other and the tattoos on your arms act like magical sigils to shield from anything that threatens to break through the personal bubble created by your joined hands.
"How did you figure out my ring size?"
"There are lots of opportunities because you don't fall asleep until some ungodly hour and happen to still be passed out when normal people awaken. So thanks for that."
You stick your tongue out at his snarkiness and receive a dollop of icing on it in return. "Mingyu makes amazing cakes!"
"So you knew about that too."
"Duh. And I know he'll be mad if you cut a piece."
"Two," Vernon deviously points out and places a plate down for himself.
It would be an absolute crime to not devour such a delicious treat, figuring it a waste to let it sit out instead. Making a gross noise of appreciation at the first bite, you couldn't wait to thank Mingyu later.
You get that opportunity the next morning as more and more friends from the day before tiptoe in one after the other per Seungkwan and Joshua's request. Quiet giggles and definite blackmail material when they sneak a peek into the kitchen to see you and Vernon fast asleep with your heads laying on the counter, limbs splayed all over the place and each other.
The two of you had chattered about everything, anything, and nothing at all. No words needed to be said even when a comfortable silence settled as the sun started to rise before both of your eyelids closed.
You were his best friend and he was yours. That was all that mattered. The strength of your bond meant that you were content just being in each other's thoughts, even at times you were far apart. Physical reminders like tattoos or rings were just the cherry on top of the cake that you had worked hard and spent years together on creating.
Speaking of cakes…
"My precious darling," Mingyu whisper-screeched from afar, "I knew you would be destroyed!"
He sighs, distraught, and Wonwoo pats him on the back. Their partner begins snickering when the tall man gingerly lifts up the new one he brought with shaking hands. "Good thing I made two!"
userseokmins 2023 ©
#elv writes#svt fanfic#seventeen fic#svt fic#seventeen fanfic#seventeen fluff#svt fluff#vernon fanfic#vernon fluff#chwe vernon fic#kpop fic#kpop fluff
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hot? yeah, you are.
chwe hansol/vernon chwe
you and vernon have been friends since highschool, and your friendship literally lasted this long by teasing and annoying each other, especially acting like you two are so full of themselves. like narcissists in short.
but things get utterly confusing when vernon tries to shoot his shot.
"is it just me or the weather is so hot today?" you said with a smirk as you fan yourself while you act arrogantly in front of vernon to piss him off.
"you."
"what?"
"you. you're hot." vernon said with the most straight face you've ever seen your whole life.
"what." you looked at him confused, not once he said you're hot, he always tells you that you're a trash in a human form.
"what? you're hot."
this is nothing this is what i always imagine vernon would do if he starts shooting his shot to his long time friend who he had feelings for lol. (wish that was me)
#seventeen#seventeen x reader#svt#seventeen fanfic#svt fanfic#svt drabbles#svtdaily#seventeen drabbles#vernon#chwe hansol#vernon chwe#chwe vernon x reader#chwe vernon fic#seventeen hansol#hansol x reader
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SHE’S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU | VNC
cw - manipulation, toxic behaviors, possessiveness, masturbation (m), voyeurism, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming
— for the anon who requested it!
∘₊✧─── 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓭𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽 ───✧₊∘
bestie!vernon is always chill. you’ve seen him lose his composure a total of five times, but even then you can’t really say he lost lost it. it’s one of the reasons he’s become your safe space. and because that’s what he means to you, you always put him first.
it’s the same for him. bestie!vernon never hesitates to let you — and everyone else — know that you’re his top priority. he loves the feeling that comes along with being your number one. not only because he knows he can never do any wrong in your eyes, but because he can see the amount of affection you have for him every time he looks at you.
this all is horribly derailed when you mention that you’re going to start dating again. you’re excited when you tell him about the guy who happens to be a friend of one of his friends. bestie!vernon feels a bile rising up his throat when you go on and on about how he’s a sweet guy who gives you butterflies. it’s hard for him to put on a smile and act like he’s happy for you.
on the night of your date, you get a message from bestie!vernon asking if you can drop off the book he let you borrow. in spite of him never asking for anything back in the course of your entire friendship (he always let you use his things until you were done without any pressure), you don’t think it’s strange. so an hour before you’re meant to meet your date, you stop by his apartment.
you let yourself in with your spare key after he doesn’t answer your call. the apartment is quiet as you head for bestie!vernon’s room. his door is cracked open and you can vaguely make out his body laying on his bed.
just as you’re about to call out to him, you hear the prettiest moan ever. like a deer caught in headlights you stop just outside the door. now you have a clear view of bestie!vernon jerking off on his bed. your pussy gets wet instantly at the sight of his big, pretty cock. his eyes are screwed shut as he slowly fucks his hand.
it’s disgusting how long you stand there and watch. everything about what you’re doing is wrong, but you can’t look away. bestie!vernon is just so hot, and he sounds so cute as he pleasures himself. you can feel your panties start to stick to your cunt the longer you watch him. eventually, you decide that you have to leave because what you’re doing is sick.
you stop mid-step when you hear your name. it doesn’t sound like an i caught you call, but a fucking moan. bestie!vernon keeps whimpering and moaning your name, bucking his naked hips into his hand. you can’t believe it, and the turn of events has you so out of your mind that you act without thinking.
“vernon.”
your best friend lets out a surprised yelp when he hears your voice. his eyes get wide as he sits up and scrambles to cover himself. you’re incredibly turned on as bestie!vernon turns red, unable to meet your eyes. it’s silent for a moment. the air is thick and heavy with tension that feels like it might snap at any moment.
“i thought you were stopping by later.” bestie!vernon sounds so embarrassed, but you think it’s the cutest thing ever.
“your text said six.” you say, not taking your eyes off his poorly covered cock which is still oozing with precum.
“i-i swore i typed seven—” vernon stutters, finally looking at you.
something inside you snaps when you meet his embarrassed yet needy gaze. bestie!vernon lets out a deep groan when you pounce on him, lips messily colliding with his. you snatch his hands away from his crotch as you two fall back on his bed and bring them up to cup your tits. he moans into your mouth, gently squeezing as his tongue plays with yours.
when bestie!vernon is easing his cock into your dripping cunt, you’re already delirious. he starts fucking you with a rough precision you didn’t expect from him. he slaps your ass as it bounces back on his cock, already obsessed with the hot sight. his leaking tip is curving deliciously against your walls, leaving you a moaning mess.
“fuck. you have the prettiest ass ever.” vernon grunts as he kneads the two globes. he grips them tightly and starts to drag you back and forth on his cock until you’re screaming out his name.
you’re dripping all over his sheets, but you can’t feel embarrassed because he’s fucking you so good. no one’s ever gone as deep as him, and all you can do is moan like a pornstar. vernon doesn’t mind at all, though. in fact, he loves it.
“should’ve fucked you sooner, babe.” bestie!vernon says as he keeps slamming his cock into your tight little hole. “can’t believe i almost let him have you.”
you’re so close to cumming that you’ve completely forgotten about your date. somewhere in your hazy mind, you know you have to let him know you’re no longer coming. luckily, bestie!vernon knows you better than you do. he has your phone in his hands and is typing in your password before you can realize what he’s doing. for a fleeting second, he contemplates on sending a video showing exactly why you were going to miss the date, but the thinks better of it.
the squeal you let out when you see he’s called your date after he tosses your phone by your head is so cute and makes bestie!vernon fuck you harder. “tell him you’re not coming.”
your best friend’s voice is so dominant and rough that you gush all over his cock. he moans out your name as your cream completely coats his dick. your pussy is so sloppy that you can hear it all throughout the room, and when your would-be date picks up the phone, you wonder if he can hear it too.
“hey, i’m about to leave—”
“i can’t come.” you say, voice trembling as feel yourself on the brink of an orgasm.
“what? is everything okay?” he sounds so concerned, but all you care about is how vernon’s thick cock is splitting you open.
“y-yeah!” you cry out when bestie!vernon turns you until your laying on your side and hooks one of your legs over his shoulder. “just can’t make it.”
there’s no way he doesn’t hear vernon’s moans and the wet sound of skin slapping, but you don’t care. all you want is to get filled up. so you abruptly hang up and start to meet the harsh thrusts making you see stars.
“fuck, vernon!” you toss your head back when he finds your sweet spot, abruptly cumming all over his dick. “cum inside me!”
that’s exactly what bestie!vernon does, stuffing you to the brim. he slowly fucks it back into you for a minute before collapsing next to you. he keeps his cock inside you as he pulls you against his body with a satisfied hum. you cuddle into him, sleepily telling him you want to fuck again when you wake up. he smirks when you hook a leg over his hip — a clear indication that you want him to stay inside you.
and he does. it’s what he deserves after all that he did to get to this place. bestie!vernon plans fell into place after telling you the wrong time on purpose and masturbating when he knew you were watching. the cherry on top was his performance of a lifetime; acting embarrassed when he was really turned on beyond belief. it was all worth it because now he’s the one with his cock and cum inside you.
#kumawaii.exe#vernon smut#vernon chwe smut#svt smut#seventeen smut#vernon x reader#svt x reader#vernon chwe fic#vernon chwe x reader#svt fic#seventeen fic#vernon imagine#vernon chwe imagine#svt imagine
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tidal.
but vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “i don’t need a sales pitch. you will never — ever — have to convince me to fuck you.”
pairing: vernon x afab!reader
type: one-shot (fluff n’ smut)
au: est. relationship
wc: 4.8k
rating: 18+
a/n: i didn’t plan this whatsoever, but i felt so weirdly compelled to write it that i avoided eye-contact with all of my wips, and now… here we are, lol.
cw: pov switch, reader is afab + on their period, gender identity + pronouns aren’t designated, blood mention (obvi), unprotected p in v penetration (ill-advised!!), wee bit of dry-humping (ig?), a lil massage, pet names (baby, sweetheart), self-indulgent ref to a favorite docu of mine, and lastly — vernon (yes, this is a warning 🧍🏻)
🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.
Vernon isn’t blind.
He can see you out of the corner of his eye, laying flat on your back, several unexplained centimeters away from his side. With the duvet clenched in your fists, you stare intently up at the ceiling, like you’re waiting for it to move — or trying to move it yourself, telekinetically. You keep your bottom lip pinched between your teeth, as if you expect it to make a run for it.
So, yes, Vernon can see you.
He just can’t figure out what’s wrong with you.
For a few minutes, he attempts to pay attention to the documentary lighting up the screen on the wall ahead. You were the one that picked it — some wild tale about mother-daughter recluses in New York — and he finds it hard to give a shit about it without your usual commentary. Your hot takes are his favorite part of any movie night, after all.
He’ll be the first to admit that he’s never been good at keeping his eyes off you. Try as he might, he can’t glue his gaze to the television; each glance in your direction sticks longer than the one before it, testing the waters. Minutes slip away just like this until he completely caves, turns his head fully, and stares at you outright.
You still don’t seem to notice.
His brow scrunches up as he watches you, caught in the middle between concerned, confused, and amused by how absolutely ridiculous you look right now. When he speaks, he tries to sound stern, like he isn’t fighting the urge to laugh.
“Baby?”
“Hmm?” is all he gets in response.
You don’t even look his way. If anything, you tense harder now that his attention is on you.
None of it makes sense. Not the weird gap you’ve left between your body and his, your total refusal to look him in the eye, or the fact that there wasn’t an argument to precipitate any of this distance. It’s a symptom with no apparent cause, and it’s totally baffling. Brain-breaking, even.
Frowning, Vernon scoots himself across the bed to get closer to you.
You don’t reciprocate.
He tugs gently at the hem of your sweatshirt in a silent plea for your attention and receives radio silence in response; unless he counts the way you swallow thickly.
Which, for the record, he does not.
This close, Vernon can feel the anxious energy pulsing out of your tensed-up body in waves, so he leans away and props himself up on his elbow. Desperate to know what broke you and how to fix it, he mutters, “What is happening right now?”
Ope.
It comes out harsher than it was supposed to, reading more like annoyance than worry, so he immediately clears his throat. Gently and with a brush of his knuckles against your hip bone, he tries again: “Are you okay? Did I do something to make you mad at me?”
A fly on the wall might get the wrong impression and think he stroked you with a live wire instead.
“Oh, my god. No!” You sputter with a jolt, shifting gears quickly from vaguely on-edge to horrified. You shake your head so frantically that Vernon fears you’ll detach it. “No, you haven’t done anything. I’m fine, I just —”
He interjects with a laugh, “— I don’t necessarily believe that —”
Visibly cringing with every muscle in your body, you cover your face with your hands. Not long after you take a deep breath does a meek voice slip out through your fingers, sounding beyond embarrassed.
“I’m so incomprehensibly horny right now that I can’t even look at you.”
For a second, it’s dead silent because he can’t quite process how much of a weirdo you are, or how completely and hopelessly enamored he is with you. But then the dam breaks. His laugh comes out so forcefully that you pull your hands away from your face, eyes wide.
“Is that so?” He smirks, nodding his head towards the television. “Grey Gardens really gets your motor running, huh?”
Absolutely aghast, you swat at his bicep. Then, you sling your arm over your eyes and groan, “I got my period. It has turned me into a sex-crazed monster, I fear.”
Vernon nods in understanding, even though you can’t see it, and hums, “Ahh.”
And he leaves it at that, only because you seem to have more that you want to say. Something you want to ask, maybe, or a reason you may want to give for not jumping his bones at the first opportunity. He’s down, he thinks without hesitation, so long as you are.
But you don’t say anything.
Maybe you aren’t actually down after all, and that’s why you won’t look at him. Shit, are you embarrassed? Should I say something? Silence falls overtop like a weighted blanket, smothering the two idiots who can’t tell whose turn it is to talk.
Do you or do you not want this right now?
You mumble something that he can’t catch, so he nudges your side gently with his knuckles to encourage you. Just as nervous, you repeat yourself without looking at him, “Period sex is supposed to help with cramps, I think.”
He thinks he’s read the exact same article you have. More than that, he wishes you’d look over at him and see for yourself how completely unbothered he is by this concept.
“If you think about it, it’s kind of like a natural lubricant,” you add in a voice that’s even smaller than before.
Your shyness really might kill him, so he reaches over to grab your hand and gently pull your arm away from your eyes. It’s the first time you’ve looked at him since you laid down — since you put your self-imposed no-contact order in place — and he feels his stupid heart swell.
For what it’s worth, he feels his dick twitch, too.
You open your mouth to speak again, likely to continue your unnecessary campaigning; Vernon is having none of it. He tugs your wrist just enough to tilt you inward, then he kisses you hard enough to shut you up. A tiny whimper slips out of your lips when he pulls away, and it almost makes him regret his decision to do so.
But Vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “I don’t need a sales pitch. You will never — ever — have to convince me to fuck you.”
Your eyes crinkle at the corners, like this is somehow news to you. It shouldn’t be. He’s told you a thousand times in as many different ways how thoroughly crazy you drive him just by existing so closely to him, but maybe you didn’t take him seriously then.
To emphasize his point, he slips his hand under the hem of your sweatshirt and finds your bare waist with the pad of his thumb. It spirals slowly against your warm skin, making both of you dizzy. Then, sick of the distance, Vernon dips his head down to press a kiss to your temple.
“Like, ever,” he murmurs, lips following the curve of your jaw.
Soft, slow kisses trail behind him as he travels down to your lips. Your head tilts further backwards with every single one, providing him with more and more access.
He states it matter-of-factly because, to him, it is. “I’m down so bad for you that it might be terminal.”
“Oh?”
You try to laugh but turn to putty when his palm rests fully on the curve of your waist and pulls you flush against him. The surprised gasp you let loose confirms his suspicion: You can feel how serious he is, affirmation throbbing against your abdomen in time with his heartbeat.
Vernon smirks to himself, relishing your reaction, and bypasses your mouth entirely. A moan escapes from you, soft like an exhale, as his lips move slowly down the length of your neck. Every so often — just to feel you shiver — he flicks the tip of his tongue along the delicate skin he finds there.
“It might be messy…”
The rest of your needless warning gets lost in a dreamy sigh as he suckles at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. Shifting even closer, your desperate fingers reach out and cling to his t-shirt.
Vernon licks a stripe over the galaxy blooming on your skin. He hums, hand traveling upwards from your waist, “Don’t care about a mess.”
And he means it.
Mindful of any soreness, he smooths his hand over your left breast and massages it tenderly, swearing to himself that he’ll throw the whole fucking mattress out if that’s what it comes down to. For you, he’ll race across town on foot to buy another one, and — fuck it — if the store is closed, he might just break in.
You’re growing impatient; your fingers let go of his shirt and tangle themselves in his hair.
“So needy,” he chuckles low in his chest, teasing. “You know, I think you’re lying. I think it is this bat-shit insane documentary that’s driving you wild, and you’re too embarrassed to admit it.”
“Stop,” you whine, dragging out the vowel sound.
You don’t, though; you throw your left leg over his right thigh and shimmy forward until your cunt grazes his dick. Involuntarily, he groans at the warmth radiating off your core. Every part of you drives him just the slightest bit insane. You seem to know it, he thinks as he watches your pupils dilate in real time.
But he can play games, too, so he rolls his hips forward and grinds against you. He pushes you further, “Don’t get me wrong, baby. I’m not kink-shaming you —”
“Hansol Vernon Chwe!”
Oh, shit. Government name?
“— I’m just a little surprised, I guess.” He sighs with a shrug. “Think you know somebody…”
Your impatience is scribbled all across your scrunched up face. It seeps into your voice when you crash back against the pillows and huff, “Can you please stop fucking with me and start fucking me?”
“Sex-crazed monster, huh?” Leaning over, Vernon punctuates his question with a quick press of his lips to yours.
You whimper, “I’m so serious. I might explode.”
“Then go take care of whatever you need to take care of.” He kisses you again, smiling so fondly that his eyes may even be twinkling. “And I’ll go get a towel.”
You wait until Vernon clears the threshold before launching yourself out of bed at breakneck speed. Stumbling all the while, you race off to the adjoining bathroom and shut the door forcefully behind you. When it clatters against the frame, you finally admit to yourself that you might be a little bit eager.
Maybe.
Opting to keep your baggy, bleach-stained sweatshirt on, you wiggle out of your shorts and — what he refers to as — your crisis diaper. The high-waisted, frumpy, beige panties are utilized exclusively during your period, and to your surprise, they’ve remained spotless. It’s only ever the pretty and expensive pairs that wind up as collateral damage, isn’t it?
As they pool around your ankles, you can’t help but think that Vernon’s nickname for them is pretty spot on. That’s partly why you figured he might need to be talked into this. Unsated arousal aside, you feel as far from sexy as you can possibly get.
You shake your head to clear your thoughts, kick what you’ve discarded into a pile near the hamper, and let your sweatshirt shift down to cover as much of your ass as it’s capable of managing. You grab a square of toilet paper; then, you go to work excavating the wad of cotton that separates you from everything you want in this life.
It is within the realm of possibility that you’re a little bit eager and a little bit dramatic.
Perhaps.
After discarding the evidence in the small trash can under the sink, you wash your hands as if you’re about to step into an operating theater and not the bedroom you spend half your life in. When you finally feel sterile, you lift your head and catch your reflection in the mirror. Instantly, you make eye contact with the painful, hormonal pimple on your chin — the one you’ve been waging a retinoid war against for days.
“Bitch,” you mutter, like calling it names will be the one thing that finally gets it to shrink. Of course, your plan doesn’t work, but you feel a little less powerless. That’s good enough, you think. At least, as good as it’s going to get.
Now half-naked and certifiably unobstructed, you tiptoe back to your bedroom much more carefully than you left it. Vernon enters from the opposite doorway at the same time, jumping slightly the second he notices you. You ignore his frightened eyes and glance down at the crisp, white towel he’s clutching.
You open your mouth to suggest anything otherwise, but he beats you to it. His eyebrows shoot up his forehead as his mouth widens outwards, a self-aware rectangle. Otherwise expressionless, he lets go of an atonal, “Aaaaaaah”, that tells you he’s caught on.
He says nothing else before turning around and walking back the way he came. You have to bite down on your lips to keep from cackling.
That one’s mine, you think, still as infatuated as you were at the start. I chose that one.
While he’s gone, you try not to move, not to breathe too heavily. Vernon said he didn’t care about a mess, but when he said it, he was speaking theoretically with his hand on your tit. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d spoken recklessly with your body melting under his touch.
As far as you know, he hasn’t had any experience with this mess in practice. He could wind up finding you about as sexy as you currently feel — to wit: not at all. So, erring on the side of caution, you turn yourself into a statue and wait for the boy and his towel to find you again.
When he comes back, he plants a drive-by kiss on your unsuspecting mouth before skirting right around you. With shocking finesse, he grabs the corners of the — thankfully — black towel, which unfurls in the seconds before he flicks it upwards. It lands perfectly in the center of the bed, flat without needing to be fussed with.
“Wow,” he mutters to himself, taking in his clean work with raised eyebrows.
The impressed look is still on his face when he turns around, but you don’t have time to comment on his feat because he laughs as soon as he sees you.
“Kinda look like Donald Duck with the whole top-on, bottom-off situation.”
I chose this one?
You pout with an indignant gasp, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not wearing a sailor hat, so…. bad analogy. Rude, even.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you in close. You stumble a little on your way into him; the jury’s still out about whether it’s his hushed tone or the sudden movement that trips you up.
Between his thumb and index finger, he gently captures your chin. You follow along with his unspoken direction, tilt your face up to meet his. This close, you can see your own reflection in his pupils, black dilating against the warmest shade of brown you’ve ever seen.
Vernon takes a moment of silence as he takes in your features, and he studies them so intently that his eyebrows crinkle on their own. He sighs, sounding so completely serious. “You might get prettier every time I look at you.”
It’s unclear if you’re melting, or gushing; and if it’s the latter, you can’t say which biological process is at fault. Thankfully, the hand at the small of your back keeps your weak knees from buckling when his lips brush over yours.
“Even if you’re dressed like Winnie the Pooh.”
You feel him smirk even before you hear him laugh at his own joke. Then, you feel his hand slide down to cup your bare cheek, squeezing affectionately. You want to tell him that this analogy is still inaccurate because you’re not wearing a crop-top; but he gently instructs you to ditch the sweatshirt and get on the bed, and your body moves automatically. No questions asked.
Carefully, you crawl up onto the mattress, then you center yourself on the towel. Still on your knees, you tilt your head curiously and ask, “Where do you want me?”
“Anywhere,” he breezes, pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto the dresser nearby. He amends, “Everywhere. All the time, and then some.”
“Better be careful,” you tease. “Talking like that might have consequences. You may never be able to get rid of me.”
His joggers are the next to go. Your sanity follows shortly thereafter, hungry eyes lingering on the imprint of his cock underneath his boxer briefs. You have to clamp your mouth shut to keep from drooling.
Brown eyes sparkling, he steps closer to you, kicking his pants aside as he goes. “Be careful,” he echoes, not a hint of cockiness to be found — just softness. “Saying it like a threat doesn’t make me wish it’s not a promise.”
I choose this one.
Crossing all the way to you, Vernon reaches the bed and climbs up with significantly more grace than you did. The mattress dips under his weight as he kneels right in front of you, mirroring your posture and causing your stomach to flip with anticipation.
You can’t help yourself; you lick your lips and look up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Naked, please. Like, right now.”
“Damn, I gotta do this myself?” Incredulous, he holds his hands up while glancing pointedly down at his underwear, then back at you.
You arch an eyebrow, unfazed.
“Depends.” You shrug. “Do you want to keep them? Because I really will rip them off of you.”
He concedes quickly; he always does. Sighing, he shakes his head and tuts, “Sex-crazed monster,” before pushing his briefs down his thighs. His length hangs heavy between you, but you swear you can feel its perfect ache inside you already.
You have a one-track mind, so you don’t hesitate to reach out and wrap your hand around him. A groan crawls up from the bottom of your chest when you feel the weighted warmth of his cock in your palm. You don’t hold that back, either.
“Fuck,” he sighs, head tilting as far backwards as it’ll go. Unexpectedly, he laughs. He doesn’t catch the quizzical look you shoot him, though he explains himself anyway, “Your hands are so fucking cold, but it feels so good.”
Swiping your thumb over his tip, you spread the pre-cum you find there down his shaft and stroke him slowly. He grows harder with every gentle squeeze, every pass of your fist.
“We’re learning a lot of new shit about each other today.” You lean forward to pepper kisses across his collarbones. The hum of your mouth against his skin when you talk makes his cock twitch in your hand. “You might have a temperature kink and a thing for Winnie the Pooh.”
He snorts, nowhere near serious, “Shut the fuck up.”
“Make me,” you counter smugly, and you do mean it.
Vernon tilts his head forward to stare back at you. You’re already turning into a puddle, but if the look he gives you says anything, it’s that your melting isn’t enough for him. His voice is low and velvet-lined when he responds, “How about I just make you cum instead?”
“That could work, yeah.” You shrug.
He runs the pads of his fingers down each side of your waist to your hips, then back again; and each time he does it, you shiver. Reflexively, your back arches, chest pressing against his.
At this, he smirks, “It could? Maybe?”
“We can workshop it.”
“Or,” Vernon so generously offers, “You can turn around and lay down on your stomach. You know, if that’s sufficient.”
It’s not until you whip around and flop down onto the towel that you realize you never responded with words. Oh well. You figure he gets the point, judging by the quiet laughter you hear as he settles with his knees on either side of your upper thighs.
You don’t know what his next move will be — you don’t care, either, as long as he moves in your direction — so you don’t anticipate his palms flattening against your bare back, applying perfect pressure with his thumbs while he rubs away the soreness at the very base of your torso.
“Oh, shit,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut as the heels of his hands work out the tension in your muscles. “Have you always been good at this?”
You feel his chest brush against your shoulder blades when he hovers over you. Against the nape of your neck, he murmurs, “Nope.”
He kisses down your spine, mouth trailing after his hands as they work their way back down your body.
“Lemme guess — you read an article? Studied up?”
You get a snicker, then an affirmative hum, then another kiss. This time, it’s at the curve of your spine, just above your ass. Seconds later, he’s kneading the doughy flesh of your cheeks until your whole fucking body tingles.
That’s when it hits you:
Under normal circumstances, Vernon would be face-first in your pussy by now. Devouring you in earnest, like he’s starving. He can’t do that now — and you don’t blame him — so he’s making up for what you both view as a loss.
God, you want him.
One hand disappears from you, but you don’t have to guess where it went. You can hear the barely-there hiss of breath through his teeth when he takes his cock in that hand; as well as the very faint shift of his palm while he pumps himself.
“You’re gonna have to navigate, baby. I dunno how sensitive you are like this, what’s too much — any of that, so you need to tell me how you want me to move.”
Suddenly dizzy over how badly you need him, all you can muster is a nod. Vernon must want a verbal acknowledgment, though, because he leans back over you with one hand bearing his weight beside your head.
He kisses your shoulder and urges you, “Please say so if you need to stop or switch it up. Don’t wanna hurt you, sweetheart.”
“I will,” you breathe. “But I can’t even articulate how much I need you inside of me right now, so please — pretty please — fuck me.”
The tip of his nose bumps your temple affectionately. Right beside your ear, he teases, “With a cherry on top?” And it vibrates down your whole goddamn spine.
“Vernon!” You whine, burying your face in the comforter. It’s muffled, but you warn him nonetheless, “Don’t make me come back there.”
“Aish. Calm down, sex monster.”
The instinct to twist around and glare at him over your shoulder is strong, but every feral urge you feel is stronger. So, when he tells you to spread yourself open for him and tilt your hips back, you do so without even a hint of complaining.
With the crown of his cock slipping through your folds, inching towards your entrance, you hear him curse under his breath. Suddenly self-conscious, you finally crane your neck to the side and glance back at him.
“We don’t have to,” you whisper. “If it’s gross and you don’t want to anymore, I get it —”
He balks at your suggestion without letting so much as a beat pass. “None of that, sweetheart; no spiraling. I’m just trying to figure out the logistics of, like… how to survive how good this already feels.”
Struck dumb, all you can muster is a peep, “Oh?”
“Shit, yeah.” His response comes in a low groan. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”
It’s a good call on his part, a suggestion you’re glad to have taken, because the pressure of him entering you is intense enough to knock the wind out of you. Empty lungs likely would’ve led to your untimely demise.
You whimper, already overwhelmed with the combination of pain and pleasure; the best kind of ache. The little, breathy moans must freak him out, however, because his fingertips caress your waist as he checks in: “This okay?”
Your limp arm lifts off the mattress, which you’ve melted fully into, and you form a circle with your index finger and thumb to indicate that you’re okay. The light is bright fucking green; you’ve just maxed out your capacity for speech.
Vernon continues his slow thrust forward, giving you ample time to adjust to his size.
“Oh my god,” he grunts, “This is — shit, I can’t believe we haven’t done this before. If I knew how good you’d feel like this, I wouldn’t have waited around for you to ask me.”
That hits like a truck.
He was waiting on you.
You spent months convincing yourself that he’d need to be convinced, and chickening out before you could raise the idea. Months, and months, and months, of craving him during your werewolf transformation; wasting away over a shitty assumption that Vernon is anything like the people you’ve been with before.
Christ.
His credit for putting up with you is long overdue.
Too tongue-tied to speak any of that out loud, you settle for a summary that you hope conveys the message: “I love you so fucking much.”
Mindful of how deep it will push him into your cunt, he leans down over you carefully. Weight balanced on his knees and forearms, he envelopes you in his body heat, trails kisses across your shoulder, and echoes your words back at you between each one.
“Is this too much?” He whispers, rolling his hips slowly.
You feel him everywhere, with every drag of his cock along your walls; and you can’t tell where that throbbing sensation is coming from, him or you.
You shake your head and sigh, “‘s perfect. You’re perfect.”
Like he knows it’ll unravel you, his large hand comes to rest over the back of yours. His fingers slip through the spaces between and squeeze you much more gently than the vice grip you hold on the bedding below you. He keeps holding you — just like this — through every movement.
The sensation of being this surrounded, this loved, this whole crashes over you like a wave and knocks you off balance.
“I’m so close,” you pant, voice as ragged as your breathing. There’s nothing that he isn’t already giving you with every deep, deliberate thrust into your heat; but you beg nonetheless, “Please, please, please —”
His speed doesn’t increase, but the intensity does. The smack of his hips colliding with your ass does, too, and you feel it reverberating in your bones. Buried as far inside of you as he can be, cock tip kissing your cervix with every high tide, length rolling across your g-spot with every low.
You cum so hard — so completely, invoking every single muscle you have — that you forget how to breathe. With a choked-out gasp, you squeeze your eyes shut and let your orgasm devastate you.
“Fuck!”
Vernon gets caught up in the current, too, grinding desperately against you until he’s swept up in your wake. You feel him twitch inside you as his release floods, leaving you so lost in his warmth that you feel boneless underneath him.
His face winds up hidden in the crook of your neck, somewhere amidst the baby hairs that cling to the sheen of your sweat. You feel his lips fluttering against your skin when he laughs, “Oh…my god.”
“Mmphf.” You nod weakly in agreement. Beyond blissed, your body still tingles too much to move.
Slurring, you add, “‘s good. ‘s really…”
The rest of that thought dissolves into something between a moan and a yawn.
Just as tired, Vernon pats your ass cheek affectionately and mumbles, “Well said. No notes.”
You tilt your head far enough to free your face from the sheets. When you do, you find your boyfriend fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open. In the rare seconds he can, he looks back at you in a daze that seems even more adoring than it does fuck-drunk.
“I think I need to hibernate now,” you announce. “Think you just fucked me so well that I need to take a sabbatical.”
He counter-offers, “Shower first, then sabbatical?”
You wiggle so that you can pull your joint hands to your mouth. You can’t kiss him properly while he’s laid out on top of you, but you can press your lips to the back of his hand and hope he feels how much of you that you pour into it.
“Okay, but, like…. who’s carrying who?”
#svt#vernon#vernon chwe#hansol vernon chwe#vernon smut#svt smut#vernon fic#svt fic#vernon x reader#vernon fluff#vernon x you#vernon x y/n#vernon imagines#vernon scenarios#seventeen#svt fluff#svt imagines#svt scenarios#kvanity#jade writes#re: tidal.
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[13:16 PM] — hansol .
hbd @weird-bookworm ! 500 words, est. rs, fluff
“I wanna make you a flower crown,” you say abruptly, a simple passing comment whilst the two of you are laying on the couch in your apartment.
Hansol blinks, and tilts his head. “A flower crown?” he repeats. “For me?”
“Yeah. Look, aren't they so cute?” you sit up a little, showing Hansol the Instagram reel you were watching of some couple making flower crowns in a field.
He observes the video silently, and then nods. “Huh. Cute.”
You pout at the lukewarm response, settling back down so you're lying in his lap once more. “I think you'd look cute with a flower crown. With you and your… face.”
Without looking up from your phone, you gesture vaguely up at him, and Hansol chuckles a little, shifting so that you're resting comfortably on his thigh. He pats your hair lightly.
“My face, hm?” he says, the teasing clear in his tone, and you groan.
“I take it back. You don't have a face.”
“Uh, what?”
You don't talk about the flower crowns again, the conversation blending seamlessly into a different, random topic, but Hansol still thinks about it.
Of course he does, because it's you who brought it up, and he's always thinking about you. He doesn't know why he's so fixated on the flower crowns, though, because you're always proposing cute things to do with him that never end up happening, but for some reason, he really wants to make the flower crown thing come true.
Mostly because he thinks you'd look rather pretty with a halo of flowers, but also because he knows it would make you happy.
“Hey,” he says, after a few moments where your bright voice doesn't fill the space between you two. “Do you still want to do the flower crowns?”
“Hm?” you glance up at him, thinking for a short second because you'd honestly forgotten that you'd proposed the idea. “Oh! Yeah, I do."
Hansol grins down at you, a lopsided quirk of the lips as he gently adjusts you so that you're sitting up properly. “Yeah?”
He gets up from the sofa, and you watch bewilderedly as he grabs his keys.
“W—Hansol, where are you going?” you ask, rising from the couch as he makes his way to the front door.
“To get you flowers to make flower crowns,” Hansol says, like it's obvious, his eyes so round and sweet that it makes you want to laugh, endeared.
“Really?” you say, smiling. “Wait, are you really?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “It's no biggie. I'll find the nearest flower shop and buy flowers for you. Then you can make all the flower crowns you want.”
That makes you laugh properly, the light, rosy pink feeling welling up inside you and you pad over to peck him quickly on the lips.
“Well, hurry up then,” you say, teasing. “I need to see how good my boyfriend looks in a flower crown.”
Hansol smiles, and leans over to kiss you properly, soft and full of love.
#fairyhaos.works#k-labels#svt#seventeen#vernon#hansol#seventeen fic#vernon fic#svt fic#svt vernon#svt x reader#vernon x reader#hansol x reader#vernon chwe#chwe hansol#vernon x you#hansol x you#seventeen x you#vernon x y/n#seventeen x y/n#seventeen x reader#seventeen vernon#seventeen hansol#svt hansol#svt fluff#seventeen fluff#vernon fluff#hansol fluff#vernon imagines#seventeen imagines
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laundry day | hansol vernon chwe
SYNOPSIS. in which it's laundry day and you're in a bit of an embarrassing predicament.
PAIRING. hansol vernon chwe x gn!reader (however, sorta implied that reader is more leaning toward fem)
GENRE. fluff, humour?, best friends/roommates to lovers
WARNINGS. cursing, vernon is checking reader out lowkey, reader embarrassingly wears hello kitty underwear i don't make the rules, ik vernon is mainly chill but in this they bicker <3, this was very stupid n silly lmfao
WORD COUNT. 1.6k
requested from @weird-bookworm: lemme be annoying already— noni + #16 and #59 from list 1!!
- #16: "You hugged me like your personal pillow."
- #59: "Laundry day doesn’t mean walking around in your underwear, but for you, I’ll make an exception."
notes: i'm never good with writing humour but i thought of this stupid scenario and idk how i feel BYEE (cuz ur girl lowkey struggled on figuring out how to put #59 in the story lmao) tysm for submitting this in sky <3 and ty @bananabubble for reading it over for me!
join the 2k celebration!
You are so stupid.
So fucking stupid.
How could you let yourself get carried away in loading all your laundry that you forgot to save a pair of pants to wear in the meantime?
You replay everything in your head: your overflowing, neglected laundry basket, the utter satisfaction you felt after loading it... right up until the moment you realised every single pair of pants you own was now basically swimming around in a goddamn whirlpool, and now you're left sporting nothing but your underwear and a shirt that didn't offer much coverage than expected.
You let out an annoyed groan, burying your face into your hands and mentally slapping yourself in the face. The chill of your room sends a trail of goosebumps running up the exposed skin of your legs. There really was nothing you could do but wait for your laundry to finish.
Then your head shoots back up, and maybe your bedroom lights up a bit brighter at your metaphorical lightbulb moment, because you think of Vernon. He's the only other option you have.
Tip-toeing up to your closed door, a bit of hesitancy gnaws at you for being so dumb, before you yell out, "Vernon!"
He's probably in the living room right now𑁋you can overhear the faint music of the record player the two of you snagged at this vintage thrift store the other week. A very good and lucky find, nonetheless.
Taking another (and maybe regrettable) deep breath, you call out again, a little louder this time. "Vernon! Can you hear me?"
The music seems to dip down slightly, and after a moment, the record stops spinning, replaced by the sound of footsteps approaching the door. You brace yourself for the door to swing open to reveal the embarrassing state you're in right now, but it doesn't.
Instead, you hear Vernon's voice respond to you through the door, "Yeah?"
"Uh..." You bite your lip because you can't believe you're about to ask this. "Do you have, um... a pair of pants or shorts I can borrow? I'll give it back to you tomorrow."
For a moment you think he didn't hear you because it's completely silent on the other side of the door, and it does absolutely nothing at calming down your racing heart. You see, you probably should be fine with walking around in your underwear with Vernon because he's your best friend and roommate and he definitely would not judge at all, but it's simply not that simple𑁋
"Did you, like, spill Monster on yourself again?" Vernon asks casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world that you would do (it's happened one too many times).
"Yes, I mean, no, I mean𑁋look, just fetch me a pair and I'll bring it back to you later?"
"Uh, yeah, about that..." He pauses. "I'm wearing my only pair right now since you loaded yours first."
You really should've considered that being best friends with Vernon meant collectively sharing the brain cell of procrastinating when it comes to doing your laundry. Great, just absolutely fantastic. This was very much how you wanted your day to go. Perhaps this is why you're best friends, after all.
"Well, shit," You murmur, more to yourself but Vernon hears it anyway.
"Look, I'm sure it's not that bad, right?" Does he seriously still think you spilled Monster on yourself? "You could probably just𑁋"
You can hardly act by the time the doorknob twists and Vernon peeks his head around the door. But the second he catches sight of you, his eyes flicker over you, before he quickly averts his gaze to the Radiohead poster on your wall. Was it the lighting in your room that's making his face look pink?
You stand there awkwardly, suddenly feeling so exposed in front of him as if some sort of gigantic spotlight was shining down on you. It's not like you haven't been half-naked around each other before, but this feels different... somehow. You don't know why, or maybe you don't want to know.
A cough erupts from Vernon, breaking the sudden silence.
"Oh, wow, um..." He toys with the black hoodie around his head. "I didn't look. I swear."
His eyes dart everywhere except back to you, lingering on the Radiohead poster, the slightly askew picture frame on your desk, just anywhere but you. You don’t know whether to feel relieved or embarrassed.
"Ugh, I'm so stupid." You run a frustrated hand through your hair. "And I have this meeting for work in an hour and I know the laundry won't be done by then. I'm actually screwed."
Vernon thinks for a minute. "You can't like... virtually attend the meeting?
"No."
"Or it can't be postponed?"
"Nope."
"What if I file you as a missing person to the police?"
"You're seriously no help, dude," You say, giving him a light shove to the shoulder, but it's hard to suppress the curve to your lips and the small chuckle that leaves your mouth when you see him fall back dramatically.
Vernon snorts lightly. "Well, it's probably better than showing up to work in your Hello Kitty underwear𑁋"
"You said you didn't look, you idiot!" You exclaim furiously, and Vernon literally does not see the way a pillow practically spawns in your grasp and flinging toward him before he can even react. The pillow hits him square in the chest, causing him to stumble backward with a surprised yelp. "Oh my god, just report me missing at this point."
Vernon just laughs as he catches his breath to stand back up, grabbing the pillow up the floor and lifting it up like a shield as if to defend himself from you. Your face is burning brighter than the lava lamp glowing on your bedside table.
"This is so embarrassing," You mutter sheepishly, wanting to unleash another defeated groan again. "I can't believe I'm this stupid to forget to..."
"You're cute."
"...and then I'm probably going to get fired𑁋what?"
Vernon tosses the pillow back onto your bed and clears his throat.
"I said you're really dumb."
That is not what he said.
For a second, the disastrous situation seems to lighten up just a little bit, and your heart is doing some intense, unrhythmic tap dance against your ribs. You heard exactly what he said𑁋that he called you cute in this ungodly predicament𑁋and now he's trying to brush it off?
Vernon cracks a teasing, boyish smile. "And stupid, yeah. You're not wrong about that."
You open your mouth to retort, but the words get caught in your throat, almost like a choked sound coming out instead. So you point an interrogative finger and step closer to him (and yes, still in your underwear), eyebrows furrowing together.
"You called me cute," You state, all firm and serious now.
Vernon's playful look falters slightly, expression shifting to something a bit more guarded now. He rubs a hand at the back of his neck, that nervous habit you've always found sort of endearing throughout time. Perhaps there's a bit more meaning to it now.
The few moments of silence that follow is absolutely suffocating. You can't even tell if time is passing by quicker or slower as the two of you stand there, shifting this uncomfortable weight between both of your feet.
"Yeah," Vernon says simply, quietly. "I did."
You nearly want to laugh for some reason, but you can feel the nerves tickle up your spine. "I'm standing here in fucking Hello Kitty underwear and you think I'm cute?"
You can visibly see the way the lump in his throat tightens as he swallows, his eyes flickering uncertainly between you and the floor.
"Look you just... You caught me off-guard. Like... laundry day doesn't mean walking around in your underwear and all that," Vernon explains, in a tone like he's trying to reason with you. "but for you, I'll make an exception because𑁋"
"𑁋because I'm cute?"
"Because you're so stupidly cute from freaking out when I could just go to the store right now and buy you a pair of pants to wear." Then he sucks in a breath. "And yeah, the Hello Kitty underwear is cute, I guess."
You feign a shocked, traitorous look to your face. "You guess?! It's Hello Kitty, man."
"Dude, do you want me to snatch you some pants to wear or not? Because I'm deadass about the missing persons report," Vernon asks, half-annoyed yet somewhat half-amused. The twitch to his lips doesn't go unnoticed. And the voice of him calling you cute just minutes earlier also doesn't go unheard of too.
You wear a cringy, exaggerated pout to your lips. "Please."
Vernon's face contorts in slight disgust at that. "Please don't do that eve𑁋I'm leaving." And before you can say anything, he's turning around and leaving your room.
You hear the clinking of keys, assuming that Vernon is getting ready to leave to presumably retrieve you a pair of pants to wear for the day. You step up to your doorway to peek into the living room.
"Hey, I owe you!" You holler out to him. "Let me know how much it costs and I'll pay you back."
"No need," Vernon calls back over his shoulder.
"Come on, I'll feel bad," You insist, leaning against the doorframe. "I'll do anything, I swear."
Now that seems to intrigue him, and you watch the way Vernon slowly turns back to you, and maybe you're starting to regret ever saying that to him.
"Okay," he says lightly. "We're watching a movie tonight."
"A movie? What are we..." Then your eyes widen in realisation. "We are not watching Shrek again. I'll end up falling asleep on you because we've rewatched too much."
Vernon just shrugs. "Yeah, like last time. You hugged me like your personal pillow, remember?"
"I..." You stop yourself from responding immediately, feeling a flush creeping up your cheeks at the memory. "Fine, whatever. If I fall asleep again, you can just wake me up this time."
A low, thoughtful hum runs out of Vernon's mouth. "I mean, I really don't mind if you fall asleep, you know. If you're tired and stuff."
You blink up at him dazedly. "Really?"
"Yeah," he answers, and the corners of his lips lift up ever so slightly. "You're cute when you fall asleep on me, anyway."
another note: guys idk what i just wrote lol its like 90% dialogue n rushed HAHSADSA
taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9 @roziesmei @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit @bewoyewo @honglynights @bananabubble @treehouse-mouse @tanya596carat @starshuas @totomoshi
#wheeboo's 2k event!#k-labels#caratsland#caratlibrary#seventeen imagines#seventeen fluff#seventeen x reader#seventeen fic#vernon imagines#vernon fluff#vernon x reader#vernon fic#chwe hansol imagines#chwe hansol fluff#chwe hansol x reader#hansol vernon chwe imagines#hansol vernon chwe fluff#hansol vernon chwe x reader#svt imagines#svt fluff#svt x reader#svt fic#seventeen#svt
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RED STRING THEORY // Hansol x Reader Oneshot
DESCRIPTION: Soulmates weren't real. This wasn't a fantasy world... But somehow, the world wanted them together. Giving them one too many chances to be together. Almost as if there was a little string that connected them to one another
PAIRING: Idol!Hansol x Reader
GENRE: A very LONG fluff.
There is a popular belief that there is one person you are destined to be with regardless of time, place, and circumstances.
A person is born in to this world connected to their other half by this invisible red string. No matter how knotted and jumbled this string got, it was never broken – because in the end, it will always be them that would be destined for each other.
Y/n had grown up with her grandmother telling her and her older sister this folklore; standing firm on her belief that her and their grandfather were destined lovers and had proclaimed that one day, the two girls would find their way to theirs.
The two had taken their grandmother's words a with a grain of salt. More now that their father and mother had a very messy divorce, leaving the two to be solely under their mother's care.
But the older woman didn't care if the two girls huffed and puffed about her tales that she told each summer they paid a visit. A regular occurrence of their mother shipping them out to her home country; claiming it was good for them to be in touch with their roots instead of rotting away in their rooms during summer break.
Plus, it was far better than making the journey to Chicago where their father had relocated with his new girlfriend.
It was just like old times.
Except, now they were no longer required to have their grandparents accompany them as they explored the large city. They had the freedom to run about the streets, spending hours on end at the computer shop, biking along the river, and spending all their allowance at the local convenience stores.
"I don't think we have enough money." Y/n looked down at the basket of snacks her and her older sister have filled.
Her sister agreed with a nod. "Put back some chips."
Y/n pouted, reaching down to grab three bags of honey butter chips she had carelessly thrown in; trudging to the next aisle where they had been placed.
"Are you going to buy all that?" A young boy no older than fifteen asked, pointing at the bags in her arms. Unlike the boys from the neighborhood, he had looked like someone from back home. She took in his disheveled appearance, his hair was almost like a helmet on his head; the sweat on his forehead causing some of the strands to stick together.
Yuck.
Blinking slowly, y/n tilted her head to the side trying to comprehend what he had asked. She knew the language, just not well enough to understand when someone was speaking fast.
He must have grown up here.
"Hello?" He waved his hand to gain her attention.
"Sorry." She mumbled, rushing to place the chips back on the shelf.
"Weirdo." He said underneath his breath, grabbing a bag.
"Excuse me?!"
Eyes growing wide, the boy turned to face her – ears and cheeks red. "Heh?" He flashed a shy grin and peace sign before running away to the front of the store.
Y/n dismissed the small interaction with the young boy – not before ranting to her older sister about how rude he was to someone who was clearly from not the area.
Teens were rude and arrogant at that age anyways.
It was her last day before heading back west when she had another run in with the teen. She was reaching for a can of grape drink when another hand brushed against hers; causing her to quickly retract her hand – mumbling a soft apology and motioning for the person to go ahead.
"Here." He extended his arm to offer the girl the can, recognizing her from weeks ago.
Their first small interaction that had left him flustered as he made his way back to the practice room. He was told specifically by the staff to be careful of how they portrayed themselves during their time outside the green room, in case they were to debut.
No future idol wants negative stories from strangers as a new comer. One story can easily cause a snowball effect and become not only the downfall of one member but the group as a whole.
He knew their conversation wasn't much of a headline, but he also knew how easily the public villainized a celebrity for something so miniscule.
He did not want to risk it.
The young teen had gone back nearly every day before practice in hopes to run into the girl, wanting to change whatever impression he had originally made.
"Thanks." Y/n pulled a tight lipped smile before turning her heel to head for the register.
"Sorry about the other time!" He called out.
"I don't care." She called back, handing the cashier the change she had fished out from her pocket – not bothering to look back at the dumb struck boy stood at the refrigerated drinks aisle.
Crisis averted.
・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．
It had been years since he had been back in the city where his parents had met. Not to mention years since he had given a proper break.
Thanks to their group's success over the past two years since debuting, they were granted a month and half of down time. No practices, no variety show guesting, no filming.
Just quiet time.
The first in a very long time.
Each and every member agreed that they would use the first half of this break to work in their team and the latter half with their own families.
Vernon could not be anymore grateful that his mom had decided this meant flying back New York for a change of scenery and pace.
For once since his debut, he felt like a normal teen; waking up at noon, exploring the city by himself with no set schedules, and eating whatever his heart desired.
"You're staring." His sister nudged him, breaking his gaze from the girl behind the counter who was far too busy taking everyone else's order to notice that he was practically burning a hole into her skin.
"She looks familiar, doesn't she?" He nodded to the girl.
His sister follower his eyes before giving him a look. "No she doesn't."
"I swear, I've seen her before."
Sofia snorted, rolling her eyes at her brother.
He could be a dits at times.
"You wish." She took a step towards the counter, placing her order.
"And for you?" The girl smiled, using her customer service voice that she had gotten down to T since applying for the cafe.
"Oh uh–" He glanced up at the menu, scratching the back of his neck. He had become too preoccupied trying to figure out why the girl in front of him had looked like someone he had seen before that he had completely forgotten the reason why he and his sister decided to drop by in the first place.
Coffee.
"He'll have an iced mocha." His little sister interjected, seeing that her brother seemed still be buffering by her side.
"$10.78 please."
"Vernon." Sofia nudged him yet again, this time a little harder, signaling for him to pay.
"Right." He cleared his throat, digging into his back pocket to pull out the plastic card from his wallet. "Here you go."
"Is he okay?" The girl joked, taking the card from his had.
"He's allergic to girls."
"Am not!" He cried, now fully present.
"Okay well then don't be a freak."
Y/n awkwardly laughed at the two's sudden bickering, handing the form of payment back. "Drinks will be ready at the side."
"Thanks– wait, do I know you?"
"Oh my god." Sofia grumbled, slapping her hand on her forehead in embarrassment.
"Um.... No." Y/n replied, coming out as more of a question. "Are you trying to hit on me?"
"Wha– No! Oh my god no!" His eyes wide, shaking his head quickly.
He was never good with girls.
Or strangers.
Unless they were his fans; all thanks to their media training and fan service lessons.
She raised her brows. "Should I be offended by how quickly you said that?"
"Oh my god oh my god, let's go please you're embarrassing me." Sofia cried, pushing her brother towards the direction where the rest of the cafe customers were stood, waiting for their drinks. "I'm really sorry about him!"
・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．
Curiosity had gotten the best of him and he was set on figuring out why the girl at the coffee shop looked familiar – dropping by another time.
"Hi familiar stranger." She greeted as he walked into the semi-empty shop, a glaring difference from the other day.
Granted, he stopped by during hours where most would be busy at work or school.
"What can I get you today?"
"Iced mocha please." He said confidently this time.
"Anything else?"
"That's it." Vernon pulled a tight lipped smile, handing her his card.
He was so sure he would have been able to figure it out by now; unable to help himself from staring at her.
Not in a creepy way of course.
No. He was not a creep.
Just annoyed that his brain can't seem to put a finger on why her features looked like someone he has seen before.
He hadn't been in the states in years. Let alone has he been to this particular coffee shop.
But why was she so familiar?
Before he could walk away, he found himself asking the question aloud. Again.
"Are you sure I don't know you?"
"Are you sure you're not hitting on me?" She countered.
He shook his head. "No, I– you just look like someone I know."
Maybe she was a fan.
From a fan sign.
What if she was playing a sick prank, wanting to have her own little cliche moment of bumping into their celebrity crush so that they could organically fall in love with each other.
Not that he was in love.
Nor did he like the girl.
He didn't even know her.
She's pretty. Very pretty– but– oh my god he's staring at her. Shake it off.
"Do you go to fan signs?"
Oh he is about to blow his cover.
"Yeah, totally. I just went to one in Brooklyn– are you stupid?" She replied sarcastically.
She didn't live under a rock. She knew what fan signs were, having heard of them from her cousins when she would visit her grandparents for the summer.
"Taking that as a no." He said slowly.
"Is this some sort of pick up line. You're going to say I look like one of those idols you see when you go to fan signs? It's a really dum–"
He let out a laugh.
If she had only known.
"I told you I'm not hitting on you."
"Says the guy that keeps asking why I look familiar, in a really weird way, I may add."
This was hopeless.
Why did he think he would be able to figure it out this time around?
It was as if there was an itch in his his brain he couldn't seem to scratch. But considering there was no progress in getting any clues as to why the girl looked like some one he had previous encounter with, he'd just have to learn to ignore it.
"I just– it's bugging me– It's whatever." He mumbled, walking over to his drink that was waiting at the counter.
"If it helps, my mom said I have an average face!" She called out.
Little did he know she would later find out who he was, all thanks to her mom's need to watch any and all content that was happening back east.
She had nearly choked on her water that night when his face appeared on screen as her mom watched the latest episode of Happy Together; earning strange looks from both her mom and sister.
Y/n wanted to so badly let the two know that she had not only one but two encounters with the boy on the screen a few months back – for street creds of course.
But she knew they wouldn't believe her.
No one would have.
・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．
Moving was one thing.
Y/n didn't mind moving.
Moving to different country.
That was another story.
Due to her grandfather's recent passing, y/n's mother thought it was best to relocate back to their home country to accompany her now widowed grandmother.
Y/n wanted to be selfish.
She wished she had enough guts to fight to say behind, just as her sister had, and complete her masters with her friends. She wished her mom hadn't been fully educated about the transfer program her university had.
If she had only been born two years earlier like her sister, maybe she could have used the "I have a job here that I can't leave behind." excuse.
Don't get her wrong.
She loved her grandmother, and she would do anything for her.
But asking to up root her whole life, to move all the way across the world to leave behind her friends and her boyfriend, was a lot.
Y/n wanted to complain. She wanted to pout. She wanted to throw a fit, like any other toddler who was told they were not allowed the toy they have been asking for but she knew better.
Y/n sucked it up, hiding her disappointment behind a smile each time she came home from yet another day of classes at the university.
A lifestyle she had yet to adjust to.
Pushing past the mess of people, y/n ran down the stairs of the subway station – afraid of missing the train that was set to arrive in just a minute. She had gotten a little too distracted with the shops along the way and lost track of time, forgetting to account for the endless corridors and staircases she had to travel before reaching her set subway line.
She had nearly reached the last step when she felt someone step on the heel of her sneakers, sending her forward in an instant.
Y/n was fully prepared to make contact with the floor, bracing for impact.
But the pain never came.
Instead, a tight grip on her upper arm held her up just enough for her to regain balance.
"Thank you." Y/n turned to the stranger, reaching up to rub where their hand had once been – in attempts to soothe it.
Thanks to their quick thinking, she had been able to save herself from embarrassment and a possible concussion; but that didn't mean it didn't come with a cost.
She could practically feel the bruise forming on her arm where their fingers once was, wincing at the thought of having to explain to her mom and grandmother why she had a perfect hand print bruise on her upper arm.
"Sorry." He apologized sheepishly, coming out as almost a mumble due to the mask that covered half of his face.
"It's fine."
"I uh– let me give you money for uh– cream?"
She raised her brows. She knew there would be a cultural difference once she had moved to the country, but never had she heard of someone being a little too friendly and offering to buy.... bruise relief cream.
It's just a bruise, anyways.
"No need, oh my god." She shook her head, subconsciously reaching over to stop him from grabbing his wallet from his back pocket; instantly retracting her hand when she noticed him flinching at her touch.
Right, this wasn't the west.
They don't do that here.
"Sorry, I– am not."
"From here?" He finished with a chuckle.
"Yeah..."
"I know. I mean– you sound like my sister from back in the states– That's information I didn't need to share."
"Line 6 is arriving." A perky voice blared through the speakers, interrupting the two.
"Shit. Gotta go, don't worry about the bruise!" She spoke quickly, hurrying over to her platform.
To her surprise, the stranger had hopped on to the same cart as her – instantly spotting his all black outfit paired with black fitted hat from a few seats down.
Sh had tried her best to keep herself pre-occupied, looking down at her phone as she pretended to be interested in her instagram feed – not wanting to look like a stalker. It wasn't that she was interested in him.
She had a boyfriend.
No, she was just.... curious.
Something about his voice seemed... familiar.
・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．
He was in the same cart as her the following day — easily spotting him as he was dressed in the same ensemble. Just different colors.
This time, he wore light washed jeans and a plain white tee. As opposed to yesterday's all black attire. Not to forget the cap that rested low on his head and mask covering the remainder of his features.
He really did not want to be seen.
"How's the arm?" He asked, taking a seat at the now vacant spot next to her.
Y/n lifted the sleeve of her oversized graphic tee to show him the mark he had left behind. "Purple."
"Sorry again." He winced.
"Saved me from cracking my head open." She shrugged. "You been to New York?"
"Huh?"
Y/n gestured to the embroidered team cap he was sporting.
"Oh uh— kinda?"
"Kinda?" She raised her brows.
"I was born out there." Vernon answered hesitantly.
He wasn't sure if his disguise was, if it could even be considered as one, had been good enough to hide who he really was. He wanted to be careful of any and every information he gave out to her, just in case she was a fan of him and his group.
Not that she seemed to hint that she had any sort of idea of who he was... or seemed to care to figure out who she was speaking to under the mask and hat.
Besides, who's ever heard of an idol taking a subway.
In Vernon's defense, he didn't have a license and didn't feel the need to. It was very rare that he needed to be behind the wheel on his own anyways.
"Cool." She nodded. "Me too."
He let out a soft chuckle, finding her poor attempt to make small talk.... humorous...ly cute.
"What brings you out here?"
"My mom."
"Well yeah–"
"No I'm serious," She laughed, realizing he had probably thought she was making a joke about reproduction. xi. "My mom wanted to relocate."
"Oh my god." He groaned putting his head in his hands out of embarrassment before sitting back up and joining her in her fits of laughter.
"What about you?"
"Also my mom.... and dad."
"Cool."
"Cool."
The sound of the train humming along the tracks filled the silence between the two.
She had yet to figure out how to properly interact with strangers, afraid to come off too strong.
"I'm y/n by the way." She hesitantly brought her hand up, unsure if it was appropriate to shake his hand or not.
"Hansol." He took her warm hands in his cold ones, giving it a quick shake — just in case there had been wandering eyes.
"This is me," Y/n allowed for the train to a complete stop before standing from her seat, turning to give the boy one last smile and wave. "I'll see you around I guess"
She never did.
A part of her wished that he was on the same train again the following day, catching herself craning her neck to see if she could spot him in the mess of crowd that had piled in.
She had done this for three days.
Giving up on the fourth.
Why was she so curious? Who makes a friend on a train?
・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．
Y/n had grown to love the place.
Contrary to what she had made herself believe.
Maybe it was that she had finally adjusted to the culture and the lifestyle of the country, or maybe it was that there was no other reason for her to go back – her boyfriend of three years dumping her on a random Tuesday in May, just days before she was set to fly out to visit him.
So much for the stupid red string theory.
Swearing off relationships, y/n chose to focus on her new job; as a Media Marketing Associate at the new leading entertainment company.
She wanted to make her mother proud – just as her older sister has, who was now a Creative Director for Capitol Records.
Y/n wanted to follow her older sister's footsteps.
At least, if it fate allowed it.
Just before clocking out the night before, her team had received word that one person will be removed – claiming that the workflow needed restructuring.
Y/n wasn't stupid. She knew it meant someone was getting fired.
And judging by seniority, and her being a new hire of two months, she knew she would be the one to be let go.
"Morning." She greeted her coworkers with a sigh.
"Don't look too sad, y/n." Soooyun frowned, knowing that she had nothing but words to offer.
"So much for being a marketing director." Y/n pulled a tight lipped smile, reaching over to turn on her computer.
As if it was any use, considering she may have already had her employee access revoked.
She had been fully prepared to pack up her desk by the end of the day, giving her mother a heads up that she may need to cry in her arms once she got home from work.
But fate was on her side.
"No way." She gasped, scanning the email she had opened. "I'm not fired!"
"What?" Sooyun jumped from her seat, walking over to her desk to read over her shoulders. "We are pleased to tell you that you have been selected to join our subsidiary label's marketing tea– this is good news!"
"Oh my god. I thought I was going to be unemployed!" Y/n cried, continuing to scan through the email. "Wait, what floor is PLEDIS?"
"Eight. Good luck. They're a mess." She snickered, walking back to her desk.
"Oh so I might as well have been fired."
"I'm kidding. They're .... working on it."
"I'm drafting my two week notice."
She never drafter her two week notice.
Instead, the department she had been suddenly thrusted into had welcomed her with open arms — despite half of the team having been around since before the label acquisition.
They were all learning the new groove of workflow that HYBE had standardized for a good portion of their subsidiaries' PR and Marketing department, leaning on one another for support during their onboarding.
She had quickly grown to be comfortable with her new team just as she had with the temporary one from two floors above.
"Y/n, it's your time to shine." Her lead grinned, leaning against her desk. "Sales and PR approved of your tour pitch."
"No way." Y/n gasped, her grin matching his.
"I want you to pitch it to the boys."
The grin quickly fell from her face. "No way."
Yn had known each and every boy by name; especially the boy that she had interacted with years back when she was working at the cafe near her home. But she still couldn't help but feel nervous.
She had done minor research on the men she now worked for, but interactions with them in person was different.
Especially now that she was a grown adult with an almost fully developed frontal lobe.
Y/n had yet to meet the group as a whole, having only met Seungcheol and Woozi in passing on the way to the office — tucked far behind the practice room used by the team.
She knew she wanted to move up in the company, meaning that she would be heading meetings regularly. But she had also yet to assimilate to the workplace — let alone the talents she had worked for.
Almost everyone on the team were comfortable with the boys, each having their own stories about how kind and attentive they were to their staff members.
She wanted to ease into it slowly.
Not thrown into the deep end.
Which seemed to have been occurring far more often than she would like.
"Can't I just be the person that clicks the arrow button for the next slide?"
"It's your presentation. You have it memorized."
"I'll teach you."
"I think that will be tough because meeting is in," He glanced down at the silver watch on his arm. "Ten minutes."
Oh she's definitely drafting her two weeks now.
・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．
Nervously standing at the end of the very long conference table, y/n fiddled with the hem of her cardigan — waiting for the group of thirteen boys to file in and take a seat.
The growing sound of booming voices grew louder and louder as each seconds passed; signaling their arrival. It was only a matter of milliseconds before they appeared one by one through the doorway — greeting her and Seongho, her team lead who stood beside her.
Of course, he earned chirpier hi's and hello's — being a part of the team for five years now.
Y/n nearly had to fight her eyes from lingering at the him. He had matured entirely, his shoulders now broad, maybe even gotten taller.... and god that jaw.
He looked good.
She quickly averted her eyes down to the device in front of her before anyone caught her stare – which was quite easy as they all seemed quite busy in their own worlds.
Y/n waited until they were situated in their seats, each small conversation finishing as she tapped away on her laptop that was connected to the projector behind her — instantly catching their attention with the bright colors of the mood board she had put together.
She felt like a teacher standing in front of a group of kindergarteners and she felt their gaze on her — some with hands folded in-front and on the table.
Just like kindergarten.
"Hi everyone, name is y/n." She bowed, using her best customer service voice. "I'll be heading today's marketing pitch."
Y/n was about to open her mouth, ready to start with her first slide when a sudden cough attack caught everyone's attention.
It was him.
"You okay?" Mingyu turned to Vernon, letting out a laugh as he patted his back in attempts to soothe him.
"Yeah, swallowed my water wrong." He croaked, earning laughters from everyone.
"Slow down, yeah?" Minghao chuckled.
Vernon nodded, clearing his throat as he adjusted in his seat. "Sorry, uh, y/n please continue."
・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．
She didn't know which she liked more about her job. The pay.... or the free food.
Not a day had gone by where she did not passed up taking trip to the company cafe on the third floor to get her daily caffeine fix and sweet little treat from the pastry selection that was baked fresh every day.
Yeah.... it was definitely the free food.
Especially now that she had been appointed to lead the marketing for the group's Japan leg of the tour.
It was her fourth day in a row that she had made her way down to the cafe for the second time since clocking in – deeming that one iced coffee was not enough.
Unfortunately for her, there was a line of at least eight people ahead of her and only two barista's working the counter.
This was going to take longer than the ten minutes she had told her team.
Unbeknownst to her, he was stood second in line – his eyes immediately spotting her when she had entered the room.
Not that he was looking for her.
She was just very easy to spot.
She dressed differently than the rest of the staff.
Her style still very much influenced by western fashion.
"Y/n." Vernon called from his spot.
His voice was very easy to recognize.
Once she locked eyes with him, he motioned for her to stand next to him – cutting the rest of those who stood behind.
Not that they would complain.
"Thank you." She bowed hesitantly.
Y/n had yet to be comfortable around him and the rest of the boys, despite having had frequent interactions since the meeting she had delivered months ago.
She was his age and he had specified that it was completely fine to address him like a friend.
They all preferred their staff seeing them as coworkers, people that they could be friends with, instead of land mines that they had to carefully tiptoe around.
"We'll be seeing each other a lot and we hope you'll be around as long as we are... So please, don't think you have to treat us like kings." The leader said after the meeting, formally introducing the team as a whole to y/n.
"How's planning going?" He asked, making small talk.
In all the times he had a run in with the girl, he hadn't been able to properly converse with her. Mostly because it was either he had a other members with him, who were far more outgoing and vocal – leading the conversations. Or he just didn't quite have time.
He would see her in the halls, giving her a nod as a form of greeting and a quick smile before rushing to the practice room.
The last time he had a proper one on one with her was a year ago... at the subway station near his parent's home.
Though, it was just him that knew of that interaction.
He planned to tell her one day. Thinking it would be a fun fact to bring up one day.
He just needed to find the right time.
"Really good, actually. Stressful. But good." She beamed, wanting to spill all that she had managed to accomplish since being assigned the project.
"I'm excited to see all that you worked on– you and the team."
Pulling out her phone from her phone pocket, she quickly swiped through her emails – double checking to see if anyone had been peering over their shoulders before showing him the screen.
It was rough draft of the train decal she had managed to secure with the subway system in Japan – promoting their multiple shows.
"Are we gong to be on a train?" He gasped, zooming into the file.
"Yeah, just got it approved this morning." She smiled.
"Whoa." Vernon was shocked.
He knew their group had been successful, his bank account being the biggest indicator, but he didn't think it had gotten this far.
Vernon was fully aware that they had gotten quiet big; bigger than what they had imagined during their trainee days. But a train.... with all their faces... set to be traveling throughout the country....? That blew his mind.
"Thank you." He handed her phone back.
"Working on gettin it on a plane too." Y/n replied, stepping up to the counter once the person in front of them had stepped away. "Iced hazelnut coffee please."
"Plane?" He gasped, still standing in his spot, mouth agape.
Y/n didn't think it was much of a big deal, remembering that she had briefly mentioned it during her presentation. Along with the VERY generous budget HYBE and PLEDIS had given the marketing team.
She remembered clearly because Minghao compared it to the Hello Kitty plane he had taken once on the way back to China; unable to help herself from laughing.
"Uh.... he'll have an iced mocha." She turned back to the barista, letting out a soft laugh as she stepped away from the front of the line – Vernon following suit.
She had perfectly remembered his order from that day.
Unable to shake it off. Especially not after she realized who he was.
"A plane?"
"It's not for sure yet."
"A plane." He repeated, coming back down to earth. "Wait I didn't order!"
"Oh I got it."
"Did you get me an iced americano?" He deadpanned, knowing that it had been a stereotypical drink that was a crowd favorite. And considering he was lost in his own world, he figured it would have been the safe choice for her to say.
He hated that watered down tar drink.
"Did you want an iced americano?" Y/n asked slowly, scolding herself for ordering the same drink he had picked out when he was a teen.
How was she going to explain this to him?
Without being an absolute creep...
"No but it's fine, I'll give it to Seungkwan."
"I got you an iced mocha."
Welp.
There goes the bomb.
She began planning her escape route.
"Oh." He was left dumbfounded for a second time.
"Uh.... you seem like an iced mocha guy."
That was convincing.... right?
"Should I be offended?"
"Maybe." She shrugged, letting out a small sigh of relief as she walked over to get their drinks from the counter.
Crisis averted.
・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．
Y/n didn't intend to stay past her usual work hours. She wasn't one to work a full twelve hour day, not when she can help it.
The first day of the Follow to Seoul was fast approaching, and though she was on the Japan team, she had grown restless as the big day approached. Each and every single marketing deliverables had to be cohesive through out all the stops, regardless of country or city. And considering it was her that had pitched this overall theme, she couldn't help but take extra hours to ensure any and all loose ends had been perfectly tied off.
Y/n was a perfectionist.
She had taken one last glance at the email she had scheduled to be sent to all the staff members the following morning, containing all information relating to the tour; including posting schedules on social media, announcement of later dates, and merch recap.
Content with herself, she closed out of her browser and collected her belongings – heading for the door.
At least she wasn't the last one on their floor, getting accustomed to the group's late night practices. She had one too many run ins with a few members in the past week, each scolding her for staying past the usual 6pm clock out time.
"Didn't you already get an earful from Seungkwan the other day?" Vernon called out from the end of the hall.
He had stepped out of the elevator and instantly recognized her; a smile appearing on his face.
Because he wanted to tease her.
Nothing else.
Looking up from her phone, she let out a laugh. She was caught.
"Shouldn't you be at practice? You're late." She teased right back.
They had met halfway, both with stupid grins on their faces.
Because of the joke.
"I had schedule before this." He defended.
"I was finishing up the last few details." Y/n countered.
His bottom lip jutted out, nodding in understandment. A habit she had noticed he seemed to have done quite often.
"The last train was 30 minutes ago."
"My mom's picking me up."
"That's cute."
She reached over to give his arm a smack, knowing that he was holding himself back from making another joke.
They had finally crossed the weird line that rested between coworkers that made small talk with one another in the work place and coworkers that you'd consider to maybe... just maybe be okay with hanging out with outside of the workplace.
Not that they have ever.
That was still untouchable territory.
Being an idol and all.
The only time they have spent time outside of the office building was during company dinners. A neutral setting.
Sure, they've spent some lunches at the cafeteria together – Vernon unable to pass up free food when he was far too lazy to go off and find other meals outside of the company.
"Ow! That'll bruise." Vernon cried, grabbing the spot where her hand had landed.
"Oh please. I barely grazed it. I would have to grab you really hard to even leave a mark."
"Like when you fell in the subway?" He snorted.
Y/n brows furrowed in confusion, her head tilting to the side. She had never told him about that day in the subway.
She had never told anyone about it.
It was of no significance.
A minor interaction with a stranger.
"How do you know about that?"
Vernon's eyes grew wide at the sudden slip up. "Huh?"
"I never told anyone about that."
"No– no you definitely told me about it. You were falling and this guy saved you from falling."
Or maybe she had.
... Had she?
・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．
He was screwed.
Not only was he screwed but he owed Mingyu and Dokyeom ₩100,00 ... each.
Vernon had a crush.
A big fat crush that had him grinning like a stupid little kid every time he was near her. Hell, he had caught himself grinning while looking at her instagram.
Which took a lot of convincing and a few specially delivered coffees at her desk for him to even pry out of her.
He would spend hours on end that day carefully swiping through to make sure that he did not accidentally like any of her posts.
His fans were smart. Detectives even.
He knew any movement on any social media did not go unnoticed.
All hell would break loose the second they caught wind of him interacting with anyone but his members or fans.
He had managed to deny all claims that he may be attracted to the newest addition to their staff team, and everyone seemed to have bought it.
All except Mingyu and Dokyeom, who had caught the two one too many times in their own world during her lunch breaks.
Vernon had confidently challenged the two to a ₩100,00 bet to prove that they were wrong.
He didn't think they would win.
It was silly little crush.
But she had texted him earlier that day, wanting to talk after work – claiming that she had to confess something.
Since receiving that text, he had been restless; unable to find a comfortable position on his couch and opted to plan out his outfit instead.
He wanted to look good.
Because she's confessing her feelings right?
And if the feelings were mutual.... then why not? Right?
He's allowed to date.
Everyone else around him had significant others.
Why can't he?
Vernon decided being home was not an option, not while his everyone else was home and able to pick up on his behavior.
Coming up with some lame excuse about wanting to practice one last time before they headed off to Japan for their first show, he made his way to their company's designated floor – waiting in the practice room.
He was grateful that she had asked to meet on the one particular day their day off landed on – their managers agreeing they needed rest more now that the non-stop schedules were kicking off.
Vernon was laying on the couch when he heard the door creak open, his head shooting up – eyes immediately locking with hers. He jumped up and off of the couch; adjusting his shirt.
He could hear his heart pounding in his ears as she grew closer to him.
It began to beat louder once she was a foot from him, his nose instantly filled with her signature scent.
Burberry HER.
He wasn't weird.
He had complimented her months before and she happily advertised the small roll on version of the product she carried with her at all times.
"I hate not smelling good." She reasoned when he had teased her about it.
"How was work?" He asked.
She shrugged. "We finally announced the Follow train and plane. Your fans made a few jokes about how they hope it was you guys flying it too."
He let out a chuckle, aware of the jokes that their fanbase were capable of making – some even making it into the groupchat whenever either one of them found one good enough to send them to tears in laughter.
"Anyways, I have a confession." She wasted no time getting right to the point. "And I already know you're probably going to distance yourself after, but I don't care. It's been literally bugging me for months now."
"It's okay, I– I think I have something to say too." He wiped his hands on his jeans, feeling them grow moist from the anticipation.
"You do?" Y/n was puzzled.
"Yeah but uh... you go first."
"No, now I'm curious." She laughed, picking up on his nervous demeanor.
She was nervous as well, but his.... was little more off putting; the color on his lips draining.
Vernon was glad they were standing, knowing that his legs would have been bouncing enough to shake the whole room from the anxiety he had been feeling.
He had confessed his feelings to someone before. Why was he so nervous?
She was going to do it as well.
Right?
"I– fine." He sucked in a deep breath, locking his eyes with her. "I um, may have a slight, crush– No actually, no I have feelings for you. Positive ones. You know the one that makes me want to kick your feet and giggle when you text the person you like.... That kind."
Y/n's lips formed into an "o".
That wasn't what she was expecting, though.... she should have guessed the minute she picked up on his strange behavior – mentally comparing it to a high schooler when they were around their crush.
Vernon watched as the girl slowly walked over to the couch, taking a seat. His eyes remaining on her as she sat in silence.
"I'm guessing that you were not going to say the same thing."
She slowly shook her head, still in shock.
Welp.
Time to go on a year long hiatus.
He allowed her for a minute of silence, taking a seat on the far opposite end of the couch; silently drumming his fingers on his legs as he tried his best to keep the voices in his head from jumping into further conclusions.
"So I'm uh– going to head out." He clicked his tongue, standing from his seat.
God this was so awkward.
"Wait!" Y/n her voice cracked, finally blinking away the blank stare she had.
Vernon was halfway to the door when she had called out for him, turning his heel to face her.
"Sorry I was... processing." She ran her fingers through her hair. Y/n had many things to consider.
The thing was, she too had positive feelings for him.
But that was the thing.
She was perfectly fine pining for him in silence. She was okay with the one sided admiration. Y/n was completely okay with having him as her work crush, the reason as to why she was that much more motivated to come in when the days felt like a call in sick type of day.
Because just a minute ago, she didn't know he had felt the same.
But now that he had exposed how he felt, it complicated her false reality.
Not only did she realize she might just have a chance with him... she had a chance with an idol.
Someone who was meant to remain unattainable. Only for fans.
Someone who cannot be seen with anyone of the opposite gender.
Someone who she was definitely not supposed to be dating.
Not that he asked her out.... he just told her how he felt.
"I came here to tell you that we met before." Y/n swallowed, walking over to where he stood. "I– we were teenagers. I was working at a cafe and you and your sister came in. I– I didn't know who you were at the time but a few months later I saw you on TV and– I didn't think I would see you again. Let alone work for you. It's been eating me alive since I saw you in the conference room. More now that we're friends. Or... possible ... crushes? I–"
Now it was his turn to be in shock.
"Do you believe in the red string theory?" He blurted.
That damn red string.
Y/n couldn't help but laugh, nodding in response to his question.
Vernon had heard about the red string theory from his mother, she had always entertained all sorts of ideas as such and happily shared it to him and his sister.
He rarely believed in these ideas, such as zodiac signs being able to properly describe someone's personality down to what makes them tick. Listening to his mother ramble on and on out of respect.
"You don't know this but– that day, that you fell at the station... That was me. I was the one that stopped you from falling. That bruise, I– I'm Hansol."
Vernon remembered that day so clearly.
His sister was in town for a quick break from her school back west and he had been paying her a visit at his parent's home – opting to take the public transportation instead of bothering his band of brothers or managers.
He was far too busy trying to keep his profile low as he headed back to his shared apartment when he stepped on the back of her sneakers.
Thanks to his quick reflexes, he had been able to catch her.
He was left in awe of her beauty that day, cursing himself for not approaching her when he had caught her staring from a few feet away.
The second time was purely coincidence.
He was sending his sister off.
He didn't think y/n would be taking the same scheduled train as him.
Vernon wasn't one to take things a sign. But he did just this on time – taking a seat next to the girl.
He didn't think he would see her again.... again.
Especially not as someone heading their marketing meeting.
"I choked on my water that day you were presenting because– I mean, I was surprised that you were there." He continued.
Maybe both her grandmother and his mom were right.
Maybe they did have an invisible string that tied them together.
That must be the only explanation.
"Wait— you— hold up." She reached over, using one hand to hold onto his upper arm; trying to stabilize her now weak knees. "Is this okay? I'm allowed to hold onto— I—"
Vernon felt his ears grow hot, unable to bite back the smile fighting its way to appear on his face. "Yeah this is okay." He nodded.
"Before we circle back to the whole destiny thing," Y/n withdrew her arm back to her side. "I— can't believe I'm saying this out loud, but I... uh— kinda like you too?"
"Kinda ... with a question mark?"
"Okay, I do. I have positive feelings for you."
He felt his heart take a leap.
"Can you give me a second?" Vernon held up a finger before walking over to a corner, letting out a dramatic 'yes!'.
She watched him in awe.... and pure adoration. A larger grin on his face as he made his way back to where he stood.
He was cold and stoic on camera, rarely showing any emotions but she quickly realized that the facade he seemed to put on wasn't who he really was.
Vernon was a dork, an animated and very funny guy who enjoyed teasing her any chance he got. Just like any other boy who had a crush.
There had been countless of times when she found herself wiping away the moisture from her eyes from the stupid corny jokes he told.
"Back to the whole destiny thing."
"It can't possibly be real but... I'll take it. I'll allow it." She laughed.
"You think that little red string is tied to yours?" Bringing his pinky up to their eye line.
"I would hope so."
"Want to test the theory?" He wiggled his finger, earning a giggle from her. "Dinner on me?"
"Let's start with dinner on a plate first."
Vernon's smile fell, using his other hand to fiddle with his pinky.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"I'm trying to untie the string." He chuckled, breaking character.
"You're a loser." Y/n rolled her eyes.
tag list: @leah-rose03 @yoonzinuhh @musingsofananxiouspotato @woofie-nctzen-fanarts @hanniebanggi
#something different for now lol#vernon x y/n#vernon x reader#vernon x you#vernon fluff#vernon fic#seventeen imagines#seventeen fic#red string au#hansol vernon chwe#chwe hansol x reader#vernon x oc
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Bloodhound Pt. I | chs x reader
Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~4.5k | Pairing: chs x reader | Genre: romance, supernatural au
Life as a vampire isn't the easiest for Vernon, friend-wise or feeding-wise. He's ready to find a solution, and he thinks it just might be you.
Warnings: blood mentions (i mean it's a vampire fic like ...), non explicit sexual advances from strangers online, suggestive thoughts, involuntary thoughts of violence/murder, the briefest angst (it's me lbr), food mention, mention of being unable to eat
Reader Notes: human, has 2 brothers (i don't name or describe them so they can be other members if u want), currently ungendered (will have breasts and vagina in future smut)
It took a while for Vernon to figure out what happened to him. He still doesn’t know all the details, just that he woke up in an alley with blood all over his clothes and a burning in his throat that wouldn’t cease, and even now, he doesn’t know who did this. Who made him like this.
This being a vampire, of course.
He knew they existed, but in his short twenty five years walking the earth as a human, he doesn’t think he ever met one. He supposes now he has, considering the fact that he didn’t just wake up like this out of nowhere. He wonders if they meant to change him, or if he bit back and managed to get some of their blood in his system before they left him for dead.
Either way, he’s a vampire now, and it fucking sucks. Literally and metaphorically.
There are many cons, and only a few pros, he’s discovered in the six months since he was turned. He can’t go out in the sun anymore, and he’s so strong, he’s broken three phones. Worse than that, he likes the taste of blood now, likes feeling the coppery liquid fill his mouth before he swallows it down, likes the way it soothes his throat and sates his hunger. His brain still screams at him that it’s not normal or right or cool of him to be drinking fucking blood, and the cognitive dissonance gives him a headache every time he feeds.
That’s another con, the feeding. He doesn’t want to just snatch innocent people and drain them dry like his maker did, but he can’t afford blood bags like the rich vampires, and he also hates the synthetic options available on the market. They all have an awful taste, like too sour grapes, and the weirdest consistency, just a bit too thin to alleviate the burning he still feels.
That leaves him to find willing donors, which is surprisingly difficult when you don’t want to fuck them too. He doesn’t have anything against fetishists, but he also doesn’t have a lot of experience, and gaining it with people who only like him because he’s a vampire isn’t what he wants.
He’s tried the apps, tried the matching services, but they all lead to people who just want him for his venom, and he’s grown tired of it. So, he does the next logical thing.
He puts an ad out on Craigslist.
Vernon wakes from his daily rest to find his inbox completely full, his phone buzzing on a near constant vibration with every email received. He props himself up on an elbow in bed (no, he doesn’t sleep in a coffin), and scrolls through, cringing at all of the sexual subject lines and wondering if maybe he shouldn’t have included pictures.
He felt like it was the normal thing to do, share part of himself in hopes someone will share back, but it seems all he’s done is made them feel bolder, made them feel more comfortable being open about what they want from him, even though he clearly put NOT DTF in the listing. But maybe that’s a good thing?
He can easily weed out the people who don’t actually want to help him out, and he doesn’t even have to open every single message to find out who they are. His thumb blurs as he deletes email after email, the amount in his inbox dwindling the longer he swipes, until finally, he’s left with one unread.
The subject line is innocuous enough, [interested in becoming friends with “benefits”], and he opens it to find a picture of you, with your arms extended on either side and seemingly wrapped around something, though nothing appears in the picture. You begin by saying that your two vampire brothers took the photo with you, which explains the empty spaces, and continue to tell him that they were changed against their will, attacked on their way home from seeing Spiderman in the movies a few years ago.
That tugs the corners of his lips down, makes him feel sorry that there are other vamps out there like him, other vamps who didn’t choose this life. He knew he wasn’t the only one, but seeing, or he supposes not seeing proof drives the idea home.
Apparently, they struggled with finding a source of sustenance too, never wanting to turn to you for your blood or your help, and when you saw his post, it made you think maybe you could help someone, in some way.
He’s curious what solution your brothers found, and curious if you’re really offering to be fwbb (friends with blood benefits), but reminds himself to be cautious - this could all be a lie to lure him in, to get his defenses down so you can go after what you really want. He maintains that thought as he types out a reply to you, trying to play it cool and not get his hopes up.
Vernon | hey! im sorry to hear what happened to your brothers, my turning was under similar circumstances. ive been looking for someone for a while, someone who i could feed from without hurting, but maybe also a friend too? Idk i lost most of mine when i was changed, even though i didn’t ask for it, and it would be nice to have someone who understands like it seems you could
Okay, so that didn’t come out cautious at all. He practically laid his soul bare and sent it off to you with a smile (literally he ended the email with his name and a smiling emoji). But it’s already in the void, in the cloud, out of his hands, and now all he can do is wait.
Vernon doesn’t have to wait for long, he finds. You reply within minutes, the buzz making him jump and glance away from the space he was staring into. He does that a lot now, just finds some point in the room and sets his eyes on it, thoughts running through his mind in circles and zig zags and parallel lines.
His phone is still lit up with the email icon, and when he brings it up to his face, it unlocks to reveal a new message from you.
You | Oh no, I hate to hear it happened to you too! Is it still fresh? I know you said you were only turned a few months ago. My brothers wouldn’t even see me for a year after, too concerned that they’d snap and hurt me. I never had that fear, but I never blamed them for it either.
Funny, that’s the fear that drove his friends away in the first place. It’s nice to hear you don’t have it, that you accepted your brothers’ new forms immediately and also accepted their worries, didn’t get upset or hold it against them when they felt they couldn’t be near you for your own safety.
You | I think we could definitely make this work! I have blood and friendship to spare, and you’re in need of both. My only restriction is that I can’t offer too much of the first on weekdays, I teach third grade and I need all my energy to wrangle those kids :-)
So you’re a teacher too? Are you just entirely altruistic or…?
If you are, he thinks this might really be good, maybe even great. His heart would be racing if it could still move, and he can’t stop himself from scrolling back up to find your picture. He didn’t pay much mind to it before, didn’t study your face like he’s doing now, and he really should have before responding to you.
Because you’re beautiful, and he’s in danger.
In danger of what, he doesn’t know, but he can feel it stirring in his belly, burning like hunger and brewing like need, and before he knows it, his fangs are poking at his bottom lip and his dick is throbbing.
But he won’t give in, won’t ruin this with his base desires, won’t become something to fear.
He needs a blood source and a friend, and if he wants you to be both, he can’t be lusting after you like the monster he worries he really is.
Vernon exchanges emails with you for days after that, going over logistics and preferences and possibilities. You decide together that you’ll meet next month, after some time spent getting to know and trust each other, and he decides not to feed from you that first meeting, wanting you to feel comfortable and safe with him before he sinks his teeth into you.
It makes him feel giddy almost, the anticipation of having a friend, of having someone to drink from who doesn’t carry ulterior motives, of having you. Emails become texts which become calls, and soon enough, he’s got the tone and cadence of your voice memorized. He learns how you take your coffee in the morning, knows that you’d both die and kill for your kids, hears the love in your voice when you’re talking about your brothers.
You’re a real, genuine person, and Vernon can’t wait to meet you.
The days and nights fly by now that he has someone to talk to, and it only hits him the week before your meetup that not only will he be meeting you, you’ll be meeting him.
You’ll be seeing and hearing and perceiving him, and suddenly, he’s nervous out of his mind. He hasn’t met anyone that stuck around since he was changed, and he’s all too aware that you could slip out of his life just as easily as you slipped in.
In the days before, he tries to remind himself that you’ve already heard his voice, already seen his face, that you know he’s a vampire and haven’t shown any sign of running.
It doesn’t occur to him to worry about his own reaction to you, which is mistake number one.
Mistake number two is going to your meeting hungry.
You settle into the booth, latte in hand and heart beating out of your chest, and keep your eyes locked on the door. Vernon should be arriving soon, and with so many conflicting emotions razing your thoughts, you don’t know how you feel exactly.
You’re nervous, of course, as you should be when it comes to meeting online people in real life. You’re scared a little, because what if he’s not as harmless as he seems? He is still a vampire, and he could still easily kill you. But you’re also a bit… excited? He’s cute and sweet and in dire need of a confidante, and you think you could be that for him.
Over the weeks spent getting to know Vernon, you’ve grown fond of him, fond of his dry jokes and his media recommendations and his fascinating opinions, and you’re interested to see if your easy back and forth will remain in person.
This should be a good environment to test it out, you think.
You chose this cafe because it’s open twenty four hours, but also because it’s welcoming to vamps, serving a few synthetic options and even carrying donated blood for those with a bigger budget.
What will Vernon get, you wonder? Will he go for synthetic even though he’s admitted to you that he hates it, or will he spring for a blood bag, drink it in front of you with a straw like it’s expensive cherry cola?
Will he buy nothing, deny his hunger and his state of being?
It’s a shame you don’t get to find out.
Vernon takes in a no longer necessary deep breath to steady his nerves and places his hand on the door of the cafe, primed to pull it open. There’s a growl in his stomach, an emptiness that reminds him he didn’t have a chance to feed before, and he pushes it down, drowns it out, ignoring it for all he’s worth.
There’ll be time later, after he finally meets you.
His hand is steady as he pulls the door open but his ice cold heart is in his throat, lodged there like something he can’t swallow down.
“Come on in!” The barista calls out, allowing him to cross the threshold and enter the cafe. He nods in thanks and starts to scan the tables for someone familiar, someone whose picture he definitely doesn’t look at before he lays himself to rest every morning. His eyes catch on a hand raised, one that leads down a soft arm to a gently sloped shoulder and up a tantalizing neck to a sweet, kind, open face. Your sweet, kind, open face.
He grins, beams really, and races over, stirring napkins and shifting chairs with his sudden movement. He’s about to slide into the booth across from you when it hits him.
Your scent.
It’s like a brick wall smashing into him, every sane, rational thought in his head scattering like rubble in the wake of your natural perfume, unmarred by synthetic smells and caustic chemicals like so many others out there.
Instantly, the burning in his throat starts, except this time, it’s an inferno, a supernova of pain and need and desire and hunger screaming at him to take take take. His fangs shoot out, bursting through his bottom lip and making him cover his mouth, frantically backing away from you with his eyes wide and his other hand held out to keep you in the booth when it looks like you might follow him.
He bumps into tables and chairs as he flees, his blazing red eyes still locked with yours, part feral, part apologetic. The door slams behind him but he doesn’t hear it as he runs, his ears full of a roaring voice telling him that he’s going the wrong way, that he needs to go back to you and steal you and keep you and sip drink devour until you’re his, all his, until you’re glassy eyed and your heart is slow and your breaths are even slower.
Which is fucking terrifying, the thought of ever hurting you like that, of wanting to hurt you like that, making him shake with rage at himself and despair over likely blowing it with you.
He’s miles out of the city before he stops running.
When he finally does, he turns in a slow circle, taking in his surroundings and attempting to find his humanity again even with his mind still screaming at him to find you and fucking kidnap you. His clothes are torn and his bones are aching and his stomach is empty, so very, very empty, but nothing is worse than the shame.
He wasn’t strong enough for you. He wasn’t in control, wasn’t even capable of sitting across from you without wanting to drag you over the table and either kiss you breathless or suck you dry.
Numbly, he sinks to the ground, laying himself out on the forest floor and staring up at the moon peeking through the trees.
He feels like it’s taunting him.
The moon used to be his friend, back when he was human. He was a perpetual night owl, always staying up late with his curtains open and music blaring and the light of the moon filtering in through the window. His roommates didn’t mind the noise because they were all making their own, and it wasn’t often any one of them would be sleeping before the sun came up.
He lived most of his life at night and slept during the day, wasting the sunshine and warmth and normal waking hours like the ungrateful bastard he was.
He can remember the moon that night. The night he was bitten.
It was a blood moon, foreshadowing trouble around the bend, and it’s about the only thing he does remember before the agony blinded him and his memories started to flicker through his brain, going too fast for him to make sense of much.
Some stood out, like when his baby sister came home for the first time, screaming and crying until she set those big eyes on him and fell silent, transfixed. Or when he was thirteen and broke his arm sledding in Prospect Park, pretending after that it didn’t hurt because all his friends were watching, waiting for tears. Or when he got a full ride at Berklee for music production, every exhausting day sped up and reduced to a flash before he saw himself walking across the stage and shaking the Dean’s hand.
He succumbed to the encroaching darkness soon after, the red moon growing nearer and nearer in his mind’s eye. He awoke hours later, just minutes before the sunrise, with his throat on fire and his body feeling like someone else’s.
This moon is full and silver, friendlier looking than the last one he remembers, but no less foreboding.
This moon is the one he ruined everything under.
He’s sure any chance he had with you is gone. Any chance to be your friend or maybe even more, as he’s realizing only now that he did want more. Does want more.
How could he not, when you matched his energy, met him quip for quip, made him a playlist and a hypothetical skincare routine? When you devoted so much of your time to helping others and still made some for him? When you’re so beautiful inside and out, that it would take his breath away if he needed to breathe?
How could he ever not want more with you?
You stare down at your undoubtedly cold latte and furrow your brows, scrunching your mouth to the side as you remember how Vernon ran from you.
The barista has already been by to check on you, and you can still feel their eyes every so often, concern and pity rolling off of them in waves. You appreciate their empathy, but you feel a bit raw, a bit on edge, and you wish you could just burrow into the booth and go unseen. You’d leave but too many people who witnessed it remain, and you don’t have it in you to walk past them just yet.
That leaves you to wrap your trembling hands around the mug and bring it up to your lips, attempting to act like nothing is wrong. Like it’s normal for your possible friend and perhaps crush to dash away at one whiff of you.
You have to assume that’s what happened. He seemed so happy to see you, his mouth stretching wide in a smile and his hand coming up to mirror yours as he zoomed over in a blur. The wind he created made you laugh but it also rustled your hair, blew it away from your neck and probably wafted the scent of your rushing blood toward him.
You don’t wear perfume or use fragranced products, your brothers’ noses are too sensitive for that, and you bite your lip, considering that perhaps you should have just this once. Your brothers are old enough to be able to control themselves but Vernon isn’t.
He may be twenty five in human years but in the vampire world, he’s still a baby, and you didn’t approach him as such.
Fuck, this is all your fault.
You sip down the latte slowly, the rich bittersweetness heavy on your tongue, and take a small bite of the cake the barista brought over while you were stewing in your thoughts. It settles like a stone in your belly and you push it away, unable to eat with the idea that you may never see or hear from Vernon again blaring in your mind.
It’s only been a few weeks since you started talking to him but he feels… special. Important. Like someone who’s meant to be in your life. You’d hate to go back to not having him in it, especially now that you know what it’s like with him around.
Everything is brighter, happier, more vibrant. You wake with a smile on your face knowing you’ll have a goodnight text from him, countdown the minutes from sunrise to sunset knowing he’ll call you as soon as he opens his eyes, go about your day wishing you were sleeping next to him instead.
You don’t want to be a vampire, but by God you really think you could love this one.
So you’re not going to let him go that easily. You’re not going to let him fade into the night, never to be seen again. And you’re definitely not going to let him be alone anymore, not like he has been since he was turned.
With determination alight in your veins, you unlock your phone and find Vernon’s contact, pressing call and assuming he’ll send you to voicemail. You have a lot to say, and you’ll be glad to get it off your chest. You’re surprised when a ragged voice greets you, sounding, for all intents and purposes, dead inside.
“Hello?”
“Vernon?” You gasp desperately, any thought of a speech gone from your head as soon as you hear his voice.
“Y/n?” He gasps back, suddenly full of wonder and light and life. “I didn’t check before I answered, I can’t believe it’s you.”
“Why can’t you believe it’s me? We talk every day,” you joke halfheartedly, not even trying to suppress the frown at his response.
“I thought you’d never want to speak to me again after I went feral like that,” he confesses, shame and dejection obvious in both his words and his voice.
“Vernon, you didn’t go feral. Feral would have been killing me. You ran instead, hell, you protected me!”
“Yeah, from myself,” he laughs acerbically, making you roll your eyes at his self-deprecating tone.
“Listen, you’re still new. My brothers had run-ins like this too, it’s not a sign of your character or your control. It’s just a byproduct of your nature, you can’t help it,” you insist, pleading with him to understand and stop blaming himself.
“That almost makes it worse! The fact that there’s nothing I can do, nothing I can change. I don’t think I can see you until I figure this out,” he sighs regretfully, and somehow you can picture him shaking his head, his brow furrowed and his mouth tight.
“What are you going to do until then? How are you going to feed?” You ask in concern, knowing it’s already been a few days and selfishly wanting him to change his mind.
“I don’t know, I’ll spring for the blood bags and try some synthetic too,” you can tell he’s shrugging, and his nonchalance at being able to fucking eat has you lighting up with anger. You tamp it down, try to temper it, but your anger isn’t just at him.
You’re upset with the world, with the greedy overlords who decide the price of life, with the asshole who took Vernon’s away from him, with the fact that he may never be able to control himself around you. Talking has been enough for the last month but that’s just with you in the crush phase.
What happens when you finally fall in actual facts love with him?
“Vernon…,” you start, not knowing where you’re going but knowing where you want to finish (with his teeth in your neck and your body on top of his).
“Y/n, I’m not risking you.”
He sounds as firm as you’ve ever heard him, and you feel the anger ramp up and then wash away as you realize you’re simply not going to win. There is still a way you could help him though. It might be tedious and painful, but you’re willing to endure it for Vernon.
“What if I go to a donation center and have them reserve it for you? You’d just have to tell them your name and show your ID and you could drink my blood instead of paying for bags. You may still need to supplement with synthetic but together they could tide you over until we can meet again.”
There’s silence on the other end for a few minutes, minutes you spend picking at your nails and going over tomorrow’s lesson plan in your head. You doubt he realizes how long he’s been thinking about it, but you’re not going to rush him when it’s likely that his hasty answer would be no.
“I don’t know… I could still- You’d have to be so far away from me, I couldn’t even smell you,” he sounds unsure, apprehensive, and you don’t want to force him into it but you know this is the best solution.
“You could wait a day or two before going to pick it up? It’ll be less fresh but maybe by then my scent will have faded,” you offer, nearly ready to beg him to say yes.
A few more beats follow, your breathing steady and calm though your heart is racing, galloping in your chest as you wait for his response. You just want to know Vernon is happy and healthy and fed, you just want to take care of him. It seems like no one has done that in a long time, maybe since even before he was turned.
“Okay, we can try,” he still sounds reluctant, but there’s an edge too, a determination that wasn’t there before.
You bite back the squeal, vibrating in your seat as you look up centers nearby. There’s one just down the street and it’s open twenty four hours, so realistically, you could go right now.
“I’ll donate tonight, just don’t change your mind in the next couple days, okay?” You rush to say, grinning and relaxing in the booth when you hear him let out an easy laugh.
“I’ll do my best,” he chuckles, and though you know you should hang up and get going, you can’t help but linger.
“Did you make it back to your apartment alright?” You ask, realizing you don’t hear any music or TV in the background like you normally do.
“Ummm, I think I might be in Connecticut actually.”
He’s not nearly as bothered by this as you are, he even sounds almost carefree compared to how he first picked up the phone.
As if he can anticipate your responses, he says, “I’m not coming back until you’re home safe, okay? With the door locked.”
“You don’t even know where I live,” you remind him, jest in your voice and fondness in your heart.
“That doesn’t matter. I could find you anywhere with how good you smell,” his admission sounds apologetic almost, like he’s sorry for wanting your blood so bad he could find you by fragrance.
Honestly, you preen a bit, flattered that you seem to affect him so.
“Let me go to the blood bank and get you squared away first, then I’ll go straight home and lock all my locks,” you can hear the smile in your voice, hear the affection, and you wonder if Vernon hears them too. You hope he does.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
AN: i was super excited to kickstart baby vamp vernon so i figured i'd post on his (and dk's) birthday!! this was inspired by a series of asks, but mainly this one. it got a bit more plot heavy than i expected but i'm having a good time so far!! i have the second part written already and i'm hoping to write part three before i release part two just so i can stay ahead of it and yall don't have to wait too long!
pls pls pls reblog and lmk how you liked it! you don't know how happy it makes me to see your thoughts and feelings on my work, they're my fuel to keep sharing my writing 🥰
*warnings for this were a bit tricky so if you think i missed anything, lmk and i'll be happy to add it!
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Part II
#svt hub#k vanity#vernon fanfic#vernon imagines#vernon x reader#vernon x you#vernon x y/n#chwe hansol x reader#seventeen series#seventeen fic#seventeen fluff#seventeen x reader#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#svt x reader#svt fluff#svt imagines#svt fanfic#svt x you#svt x y/n#seventeen x you#seventeen x y/n#kpop imagine#kpop oneshots#kpop scenarios#kpop fanfic#✨emily writes✨#supernatural svt
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jealous
✿ chwe hansol x reader
❀ summary: hansol wants to fuck you until you can't remember anything but his name and when the man who inspires jealousy in him just so happens to call you, hansol can't help but take advantage.
✿ word count is approx 2k
❀ tags: jealousy and possessiveness, rough sex. biting and spitting, cursing and praise.
✿ warnings: possessive vernon, jealous vernon. spit kink, bruises. pet names (baby, sweetheart). over stimulation, crying kink (mentioned). vernon has a dirty mouth!!
❀ request: Dude dirty talk with vernon is driving me crazy, his deep voice ahhhh bruh just imagine he got jealous of y/n's guyfriend (I don't think he's a type who gets jealous but just IMAGINE) and during your SEGZY time, y/n's friend called her and vernon made her take the call. He had one goal, to make that guy know y/n belonged to vernon(not in a toxic way, ofc) so he slowly fucks her and whispers all the dirty things he'd do to her later, which makes y/n so weak and just moan into the call. He just smirks and cuts the call 😩
Hansol wasn't usually rough with you.
So when he grabbed your hips and shoved you onto the bed, mouth attaching to your neck and biting, you were surprised. Not a bad surprised, of course -- his hands elected moans from you as they shoved into your pants, nails digging into your ass, soft little whimpers escaped your mouth as his teeth sunk into your neck, marking you, claiming you.
Hansol worked quickly, shoving your pants and underwear to your ankles, forcing your hoodie up and above your head, phone tumbling out onto the bed beside you. Urgency roughened his touch, hands constantly moving against you, touching and claiming you.
"Sol," you breathed, arching into him. He shoved his knee between your thighs, mouth trailing to your breasts. You were powerless against him, grinding your cunt down onto his knee, wetting it and smearing your juices along his skin. "Hansol --"
"Don't worry, baby," he murmured. His tongue laved over your pebbled nipple. His breath was hot against your skin, the contrast between the cold of his spit against your skin drawing a shiver from you. "Gonna take care of you. Gonna treat you good, yeah?"
Two of his fingers went to your cunt. He slid his fingers along your pussy, collecting the juices. "Fuck -- so wet for me, baby. You're fucking soaked."
His fingers massaged against your hole, rubbing and taunting. Your arousal gushed out of you, hips twisting up into his hands in a futile attempt to guide his fingers in.
"God -- can smell your cunt all the way up here," he hissed, pulling back from your chest. Bruises and bite marks littered your skin, marks of him. "Your fucking cunt's eager, yeah? So eager for me."
You nodded, whining loudly in your throat as his thumb brushed over your cunt. It wasn't enough to do anything, just mindless contact. But it was enough to drive you insane, for your mind to clear of all thoughts other than Hansol, other than the desire, the yearning, for relief.
"Want you," you agreed weakly, hands sinking into his hair. You pulled at the locks, tugging and twisting, sweet pants and moans escaping Hansol's mouth at your efforts. "Fucking want you, Hansol, want you so fucking bad."
He swore, pulling away. Hansol hooked his arms around your legs, lifting and baring your cunt to the room. He ducked his head, and you tensed in anticipation.
A wad of spit shot from his lips, landing on your cunt. You groaned, eyes screwing shut. You could hear as he spat again, imagined his saliva mixing with your arousal on your cunt.
Hansol released your legs, withdrawing from you. Your eyes flew open, protests immediately leaving your mouth.
"God you're so desperate, aren't you?" Hansol crawled up the bed, reaching to the bed table on his side. He grabbed the lube bottle, popping off the clear cap and letting it fall to the floor.
Ignoring the mess already between your thighs, how the inner skin of your thighs was already soaked with the combination of your own arousal and his saliva, Hansol pumped liberal amount over your cunt.
"You're a fucking mess," he moaned, lips twisting into a mean little smirk. "So fucking messy, baby."
He threw the lube to the side of the bed, the both of you ignoring it as it rolled off and onto the floor. Hansol stuck his hands into his pants, shoving them down to his knees.
His hands settled on the back of your thighs, pushing them up once more. Hansol crowded close, releasing one of your thighs to grab his dick. He tugged at it, hissing and huffing with every pull.
He rubbed the head of his dick along your cunt, gathering the crude mix of your arousal, his spit, and lube. Curses poured out of his mouth, praise intermixed. "Fucking perfect, your sweet little cunt. Shit, baby, fucking soaking my dick, fucking goddamn perfect --"
The tip of his cock pressed against your hole, and immediately you were bucking up into him in a poor attempt to force it in. "Please, Hansol, please, I need you to fuck me, want -- want your cock, please --"
He laughed, a deep thing that made your cunt clench in arousal. "Fucking desperate, baby. So eager for me, aren't you? Can't think about anything other than my fat dick, can you?"
Then Hansol was pushing in. You tossed your head back, eyes pressing shut. The stretch burned, your cunt squeezing and tightening around his dick with every centimeter he pressed into you. Hansol cursed, and the hand not holding your thigh went to your cunt. His thumb pressed into your pussy, orbiting around your clit, skin brushing against the bundle of nerves but never touching it head-on.
The action had you whining, body relaxing and bucking up into him, desperate for more. "Solie! Hansol, fuck -- please, Hansol, please --"
Once his cock was fully sheathed inside of you, Hansol stopped torturing your clit. He withdrew his hand, wet from your cunt, slipping it to your thigh. He went to his knees, pressing down on your thighs.
Hansol began to withdraw, his cock dragging against your walls. Your toes curled, hands grasping at the sheets. Pleas poured from your mouth, wanting more and more.
Then the sound of wind chimes filled the room, startling the both of you. You scrambled, throwing your arm out in an attempt to find your phone. Hansol refused to help, holding your thighs still, keeping you impaled on his dick.
You took one look at your phone and then you were throwing it to the side, not caring. Hansol lifted a brow at you. You rolled your eyes, wiggling your hips down on his cock in an attempt to coax him back. "Just Jaehyung. Ignore it."
Hansol's face turned to stone, grip on your thighs tightening. He couldn't help but think back to that photo on Instagram that had ignited the little spark of passion (and jealousy) inside of him. Jaehyung, a friend of a friend, had posted a handful of photos of the get-together you had attended last night. And one of them featured you and Jaehyung, his shoulders pressed against your side, arm around your waist.
Hansol was not a jealous person. But immediately he had felt the seeds of jealousy sprout in his gut. Jaehyung had been yearning for you for as long as Hansol knew you, no matter that you and Hansol had been dating for nearly just as long.
Get-togethers that Hansol managed to attend were spent awkwardly with Jaehyung constantly aiming for your attention; stealing Hansol's spot, speaking over him. You never paid it any attention, thinking Jaehyhung merely as a friend of a friend; no one important.
It reassured Hansol that you were so willing to cast Jaehyung aside, but he couldn't stop the little monster inside of him.
"Answer," he commanded, fingers digging into your thighs. "Answer him, baby."
Your eyes widened. "Hansol, I don't --"
"Answer him or I'll pull out right now," Hansol threatened. He didn't really mean it. He'd fuck you regardless, but he still liked the desperate look you got on your face at his reply, liked the spike of pride it gave.
You grabbed your phone. Your eyes flicked up to Hansol's, and then you were answering the phone. "H-hey, Jaehyung."
"Speaker, sweetheart," Hansol said. You did as he demanded, and then you were setting your phone on the bed. "Good baby."
Hansol finished pulling his cock out of your cunt, until the tip was catching on your hole. You bit down on your lip, eyes darting down to where the two of you were joined, trying to pay attention to the phone call enough to answer Jaehyung.
" -- so much fun last night," Jaehyung was saying, his voice quiet due to the phone volume. "Such a shame your boyfriend couldn't make it. Why couldn't he, again?"
Hansol grinned, raising his brows at you and prompting an answer. You huffed a sigh. "He had to meet with some producers."
Your answer prompted a little nod from Hansol, and then he was thrusting back into you. You moaned, high and needy, back arching up and into him.
"Y/n? You okay?"
You bit down on your lip before replying, cunt fluttering around Hansol's cock. He withdrew all the way again, until his head was resting on your hole. "Y-yeah! Just -- just lost my place in my game."
Hansol looked down, eyes watchign as his cock sheathed in you once again. In dramatic contrast to the urgency that had taken over his movements earlier, Hansol slowly moved his hips against your cunt. He paid half attention to your conversation with Jaehyung, the other man's voice nothing but background noise to him. Your voice, however, had Hansol grinning.
Your voice wavered with every slow thrust into your cunt, biting back moans and groans of pleasure. Your face was contorted with effort, hands pulling at the sheets. You barely spoke other than to offer affirmation that you were paying attention, trying to concentrate on not letting on what you were really doing.
Hansol moved against you fluidly, never stopping his movements. He only paused long enough to release your thighs, bending over you and caging you underneath him.
He next thrust was well-aimed, hitting that spongy spot dead-on. You bit down on your lip, but that did little to muffle your whine. Hansol huffed a laugh, and then he was driving his hips forward, thighs meeting your ass in a brutal slap.
"Doing so good," he said, grinning meanly. "Do you think he knows, baby? Knows I'm fucking you so good?"
You let out a shuddering breath, tensing in his hold. "Sol --"
"Feel so good wrapped around my cock," he murmured. He drove into you relentlessly, little strangled noises escaping your mouth. "Gonna fuck you until you're dumb, baby. How's that? Fucking you on my fat dick until you can't say nothing but my name, 'til you're sobbing and crying for me to stop 'cause you can't take it."
"Hansol," you sobbed, and it was like the threads holding him together snapped.
Hansol grabbed you, pulling his cock out. He roughly flipped you over, hand pressing down on your back and forcing you to stick your ass up into the air, face pressed into the sheets next to your phone.
"Y/n? Are you okay? What's going on?"
In one swift movement Hansol was impaling you back on his cock, a loud moan ripping from your mouth in response. He jack-rabbited into you, his hands gripping your hips and waist so tightly that Hansol knew he'd leave bruises. The sound of his hips and balls slapping against your thighs filled the room, a crude sort of music to his ears.
"So fucking good," he cursed, watching as your ass cheeks bounced. He released his grip on you just to slap his hand down on your ass, roughly grabbing the flesh and massaging the sting. "So fucking tight around my cock, baby. Fucking soaking it. Getting my dick wet so well."
Hansol glanced at your phone. The screen was blank; Jaehyung had hung up.
Hansol smirked, and then he was ducking his head. A fat wad of spit dropped from his mouth, hitting the curve of your ass. You sobbed as an orgasm traveled through you, Hansol continuing to ram into you as if you were his own little plaything.
"Hansol, please, fuck," you screamed, hips in constant torment, both pulling away and grinding closer. "Hansol, god, so much --"
He chuckled, breathless. He hooked an arm around your waist, pressing down against your back. "Gotta cry for me first, baby," he panted, nipping at your back. "We ain't stopping 'til you're fucking sobbing for me to stop."
#svthub#my writing#vernon#svt vernon#vernon fic#vernon x reader#vernon oneshot#svt#svt fic#svt x reader#svt oneshot#seventeen#seventeen fic#seventeen oneshot#seventeen x reader#chwe hansol#chwe vernon#svt smut
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𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄 | 𝐜𝐡𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐥
pairing. idol!vernon x idol!reader
genre. fluff
blurb. dating as idols is never an easy task. but thankfully, you have vernon by your side.
wc. 332
a/n. did y'all see today gose? i was watching it on my way home and i sorted wheezed in a bus.. lol.. i had to bolt out of there when it came at my stop
m.list
The fire exit door clanged shut behind you, muffling the excited chatter and thumping music from the after-party. Relief washed over you, the stifling weight of a hundred eyes finally lifting. Vernon, usually the calm one, practically shoved you against the rough concrete wall. His hand shot up, cupping your face, and his lips were on yours before you could blink.
The kiss was electric, a desperate tangle of limbs and unspoken longing. Weeks of stolen glances and near misses fueled the urgency. But as quickly as it started, you pulled away, gasping for air.
"Wait," you breathed, heart hammering against your ribs. "What if someone sees?"
Vernon's forehead creased. The playful glint in his eyes was replaced by a flicker of something deeper, a vulnerability that made your stomach twist.
"We can't keep doing this, Y/N," he murmured, his voice rough. "Sneaking around like we're criminals."
You knew he was right. The thrill of stolen moments was quickly turning into a suffocating cage. But the alternative – the potential fallout, the company's iron fist, the disappointment in your fans' eyes – terrified you.
"I know," you whispered, the weight of the secret pressing down on you. "But what if they…?" Your voice trailed off, the unspoken fear hanging heavy in the air.
Vernon cupped your cheek as he quickly pecked your lips, his thumb tracing a gentle path down your jawline. "We'll figure it out," he said, his voice firm despite the tremor in his hand. "Together. But right now…" He leaned in again, his eyes searching yours. "Just this once?"
You stared into his gaze, the familiar warmth igniting a spark of defiance within you. Maybe, just maybe, there was another way. A way where love and music could coexist, unafraid.
With a shaky breath, you nodded. The taste of rebellion mingled with the sweetness of the kiss, and for a stolen moment, tucked away in the darkness, you were just Vernon and Y/N, not idols, not commodities, but two souls finding solace in each other.
#☁︎ snwprl#☁︎ vernon#☁︎ seventeen#☁︎ snw writes#seventeen#idol!reader#☁︎ chwe hansol#seventeen x you#seventeen imagines#seventeen fanfic#seventeen fanfiction#seventeen fluff#seventeen headcanons#seventeen imagine#seventeen oneshot#seventeen scenarios#seventeen x reader#seventeen vernon#vernon chwe x reader#vernon x reader#vernon#vernon fluff#vernon fic#seventeen carat#seventeen x y/n#chwe hansol#chwe vernon#hansol x reader#hansol vernon chwe#☁ drabbles
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~☆□ seventeen imagines: [ Hip hop unit ]
~☆how they react when you want to kiss all over their face but with your lipstick on: (slightly suggestive so minors dni) .
Word count: 1437 words (sorry lol) • Masterlist
These are honestly small scenarios literally-
♡Seungcheol:
"Babe! Cheollll!!! Listen!!!"
Cheol, who was lying on his bed, now looked up from his phone. "What is it baby?"
"Which color do you like the most??" You held up two shades of red lipstick. A dark wine red and a raspberry red shade.
Cheol pondered for a minute on which one should he choose. He really loved the wine red shade and how enticing it looked on your pretty lips.
"The wine red one!"
"Okayyy!"
You applied some and Seungcheol watched you with confusion.
"Y/n i don't know if there's a special occasion or something and I don't understand- why are you doing your makeup before dressing up" Seungcheol asked outta dread if he actually forgot if there's any special occasion.
"Well no there isn't. I just wanna place plenty of kisses all over your face with my lipstick on" You said nonchalantly
"Oh oka- wait what!?" His ears went red and cheeks became all blushed upon hearing this.
"Cheollieee you are blushing"
"Y/n stop teasing"
"Okay then I can do the lipstick thing right~ pretty please with a cherry in top~"
He thought "it wouldn't be bad I guess".
"Okay fine" He said smiling.
Without further ado, you went closer, sat on his lap with your legs on one side and started planting soft kisses, first on his lips then all over the cheeks and then forehead. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't melting into the fuzzy feeling of those soft kisses. After you were done you looked at him and he had a love drunk gaze on you, which, most definitely, wanted more. And then you kissed him on the lips and he kissed you back. A soft and sweet kiss.
"You look sooo pretty babyy" you said.
"All thanks to you my love"
♡Wonwoo:
You were apparently lying, stomach down on your bed, scrolling through Pinterest as usual. You again came across that video of the couple where one of them is kissing their partner ,all over their face, with lipstick on. Wonwoo was in his gaming room at that moment. You wondered if Wonwoo would like it or not. You let out a frustrated sigh.
"I'm sure he won't let me but I can ask I guess-" You thought.
"WONWOO can you please come here!!" you called him. After a few minutes he came.
"What is it y/n? Are you hungry-"
"Nope I ain't hungry but I wanna try something"
Wonwoo raised his eyebrows " And what exactly is it?"
"I'll kiss you with my lipstick on-" you paused for a second "can I??"
You showed him the video and he'd be lying if blood wasn't rushing through his cheeks. He was pondering for a moment.
"Pretty pleaseee just once and then I'll fulfill any of your wishes as well"
"Oh- really? Fine I'll let you" he smirked after saying that.
"Okayyy wait". You brought your lipstick and settled on his lap, legs on either side. You applied a generous amount of lipstick on your lips and cupped his cheeks. He took the chance and pulled you closer making your eyes go wide. And then you started planting soft kisses, first on his lips then his slowly all over his cheeks. You could feel him smiling. He was relishing the feeling of your soft warm lips on his face. You left a soft peck on his nose in the end then looked at him with a smile laced on your lipstick smeared lip.
"You look like cat who got his face kissed like this"
"Well do I look okay?"
"You look so freaking cute"
"All your work of art madam y/n" he grinned.
"And oh about the wish…" Wonwoo smirked as his hands squeezed your thighs. ".. how about we try to tie your hands tonight~"
Blood rushed through your cheeks.
"WONWOOOO! you-" you hid your face on the crook of his neck while he chuckled at your reaction.
♡Mingyu:
"Gyuuu babyyyyyy please let me do it" You were following Mingyu like a duckling who was apparently grabbing some snacks from the kitchen cabinet for the movie night you guys planned.
"Nooooo y/n you aren't doing that to my face with your darkest red lipstick on" Mingyu was pouting while taking out your favorite snacks.
"Plsplsplspls just onceeee" Your eyes were sparkling with that utter happiness hoping your boyfriend would let you kiss his face with the red lipstick on just to leave some lip imprints on his face, just like you saw on that Pinterest post you came across. He turned around and looked at you with his lips pressed together in a thin line. How could he deny those sparkly eyes with hopes determined to try something new.
"Okay okay fine but just once okay babe?" He said while cupping your face with both of his hands.
"YAYYY okay lemme grab my lipstick"
You ran back to the bedroom, grabbed your lipstick and came back to the kitchen.
Gyu picked you up and made you sit on the kitchen counter top. You let out a yelp in surprise. And then started to apply a generous amount of lipstick on your lips as Mingyu watches you . You pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt. And started planting soft kisses starting from his cheeks to his forehead to his chin and then nose. Everywhere on his face but his lips. Just like Mingyu was happy about you kissing all over his face, he was sulking as well because you didn't kiss his lips, yet you kissed right under the place of his lips.
"Y/n baby you know very well what you're doing" He said pouting.
"What? What am I doing?" You said, trying to act fool.
"Alright then" he announces before smashing his lips onto yours. Your eyes went wide but you loved it. You loved an impatient Gyu. After kissing for a while you guys pulled away. Your lipstick was smeared. And Gyu looked so freaking cute.
"Mission accomplished! Now we take a pic"
"Nooooo"
"Hell yess"
You took out your phone, turned on the camera. Gyu was very amused by how he looked. And you slung a hand around his neck and you both posed and clicked a picture.
"You look so cuteee Gyu" you squealed. Mingyu smiled looking at your reaction.
"Sure miss y/n it's your work of art after all"
♡Vernon:
"Boinonieee~" You called Vernon like this every time you had a request which you think he might hesitate to fulfill.
"Yeah?" Vernon's eyes were glued to the bright screen in front of him. He was in between a gaming match with Mingyu, Cheol and Wonwoo.
"I have a request"
"Just a second y/n"
"Okay"
You sat on the bed quietly staring at him.
You laid back on his bed scrolling through your phone. He was concentrated but at the end lost the game.
"Ahhhh wow I lost yet again"
"Hansol Vernon Chwe, it's okay. Now come here. Right! Now!"
"Not my full name- and what is it?".he was definitely caught off guard with the full name calling.
"Okay so can I kiss you?"
Vernon was confused. Why would you ask him if you want to kiss him?
"To be more specific, can I kiss you with my lipstick on? So it leave the lipstick prints on your face-"
There was an awkward silence with a nervous smile on your lips. Vernon was surprised but he actually liked the idea if he was being honest. And he had seen those videos of leaving lip prints on your partner's face before.
"Alright go ahead"
"REALLY!?"
He had a grin laced on his lips and thumb up confirming you about it.
You applied your lipstick, a light dusty red shade. Vernon watched you intently. He really admires you when you put on makeup and get all dolled up. You're just so pretty, he can't get enough of you. You sat on lap and then lightly pressed a kiss on his lips. When he went to kiss you back you pulled back and then pressed soft kisses all over his cheeks and corner of his eye and lips. One on his neck as well because you both knew how much he loved your neck kisses.He loved every sec of it. He loved the warm feeling of your lips.
"You look so freaking adorable Vernon" You giggled.
"All because of you my lady" he said and smiled.
a/n: bewitched series is next~
#seventeen#seventeen fanfic#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#choi seungcheol#kim mingyu#jeon wonwoo#hansol vernon chwe#vernon#wonwoo#mingyu#scoups#wonwoo scenarios#mingyu scenarios#vernon scenarios#scoups scenarios#seventeen fic#seventeen smut#seventeen fanfics#svt hip hop unit
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