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waldau · 4 months

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wanna be yours — chwe hansol | 2,208 words | fluff

i'm asexual as fuck (the irony) but friends with benefits to lovers is a delicious trope i would love to see more of. title from i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys.

gender neutral reader. college!au. warnings: mentions of sex but no actual descriptions of anything. also reader is mentioned not to like coffee, because i dislike coffee. soz <3

the last person you expected to see tonight was chwe vernon, dressed in his usual bomber jacket and slacks. yet here he is, crashing into the empty place on the sofa next to you. he doesn't say a word, simply squeezes his eyes shut and throws a hand over his eyes. dino keeps talking like there's been no interruption, but you're hyperaware of the way your legs are almost touching.

you and vernon didn't really run in the same circles before you got together, so it is odd to see him here amidst all of your friends.

"hey," you say, ducking down so you don't disturb the others.

"hurts," he says back, pressing his face into your shoulder. you look around, but no one really seems to be paying attention to you, some of them engrossed in beer pong and the others making idle conversation.

"what does?"

"my...head."

you wince in sympathy. "drank a lot?"

he shakes his head. "not that much. but i can't find seungkwan, and he has the keys to our dorm."

"so you decided to find...me?"

"better you than anyone else."

you don't respond to that, and you can tell by the way his head grows heavier on your shoulder within the next few minutes means he's asleep.

the first few months of your relationship with vernon were based solely on sex. it's the usual story — you met at another of minghao's parties (really, a catalyst for trouble), and hit it off surprisingly well with vernon. there was something you saw between you both and following it ended up with you in his bedroom.

when it was time for you to leave, it somehow didn't feel awkward. so you decided to test the arrangement another time. and another. and it's led you to whatever you have now, which is arguably more complicated than a normal relationship.

for starters, the past few weeks vernon's been visiting your dorm haven't been about sex. no, you've had actual arguments about which lord of the rings movie is the best and why shrek deserves yet another sequel. you've even baked with him, for heaven's sake (which ended not so well).

it's been less about sex and more about you fighting the urge to cuddle vernon when he throws an arm over your shoulder, or when he shares his blanket with you when you're feeling cold (which happens to be your blanket in the first place).

long story short, you like him, and he makes you feel some type of way you can't possibly let him know.

vernon twitches a bit when you pick up your cup from the table, toying with it but not actually drinking from it. you rest your hand on his thigh, hoping he doesn't wake up, while you contribute to the conversation every now and then. you pointedly ignore the looks dino's giving you.

this means nothing. vernon only found you because he knows you the most out of everyone here. he'd be in his own place by now if he'd found seungkwan.

still, there's something about the fact that he trusts you enough to fall asleep on you in front of people he's not entirely familiar with. that has to count for something, right?

people keep entering and leaving the room as the party goes on into the night. when the person next to you gets up to leave, you shift a bit down the sofa and pull vernon's head into your lap so his neck doesn't hurt when he wakes up. dino asks if he should wait for you before he leaves, but you make him go. it's not often you get to be like this with vernon, and you'd much rather he got back in one piece.

it's only when your back twinges and the music begins dying down and you remember you have an essay due next week you haven't begun working on that you decide to wake him up. you look down at the boy in your lap. he looks so much at ease, face devoid of the frown he sports every now and then. you feel almost guilty waking him up.

"vernon," you say, pushing his shoulder. "get up, both of us need to sleep."

vernon blinks his eyes open slowly. "wha'?"

"you. me. sleep. now."

"you want to sleep together? now?"

you trip on your words. "that's not what— i just need my sleep, sol." you bite your tongue at the name that slips out of your mouth. he doesn't mind his close friends calling him that, but you don't think you're there. or you'll ever get there.

"oh," he says, pushing himself up to sit.

"feeling better?"

"much," he says, running a hand through his hair. "but i had to tell you something, actually." he looks shifty. that gets your attention — vernon is many things, but he's never hesitant.

"i, um. i think we should stop seeing each other."

that shocks you the way falling into an icy cold pool would, the water taking no time to permeate your clothes and sting your skin with the cold and rendering you somewhat unable to breathe when it finally hits. "i'm sorry?"

"i said, i think we should stop seeing each other. not that the sex was bad," he says hastily, and you wince. that's a weird thing to say. "no, really. it's been great. it's just...i like someone, like, actually like them, and i feel being in this relationship would be weird."

you can't resist. "do i know them?"

vernon meets your eyes briefly before they dart away to the blank television screen in front of you. "i guess you could say that."

you rack your brains for who it could be. some names pop up in your mind: a girl from his friend group you've spoken to a few times, another from the library, the guy in english lit — but none of them shine as the number one contender for his affections.

you're one of the few close friends vernon has, but it doesn't matter. of course he wouldn't like you like that.

"fine," you say, feeling anything but. "okay."

vernon's looking at you like you're an injured puppy.

"i hope you get with whoever it is," you say, aware you sound a bit snappish, but you don't care. it's not your fault for liking someone as brilliant as vernon, only to be reminded that he doesn't really like you back. you're certain he likes your body more than he likes you, anyway.

"that's it?"

"what?"

"you're fine with it? just like that?"

you frown. "i'm not going to stop you if you want to go. we're not together. you should be with someone you really like."

"sweetheart..."

you shudder at the nickname that falls from his lips. you always like hearing it, more so the fact that vernon says it unconsciously. but now it sounds like a nail scraping against a chalkboard. you're not the sweetheart he wants. "i have a couple of classes in the morning."

"wait. it's a saturday."

"so?"

"we don't have classes on saturdays."

"yeah, well, that's you," you say, pulling out your phone to check the time. it's much later than you expected it to be. "dino's in the lab on weekends and i promised to help him out this time."

"listen—"

"i'll be glad if you let me go, vernon. i shouldn't have stayed this late in the first place."

"why are you acting so weirdly?"

you look up to see him frowning at you. why are you acting so weird, huh?

"i'm not. i just— i don't have to justify anything to you." you know you're being ruder than the situation calls for, but vernon is one of a kind. he'd taken to you despite the fact that you weren't one of the "popular" ones when you started out, and you'd managed to find a lot of common ground with him.

but the fact that you thought he'd like you back was stupidity on your part. you curse dino for hinting vernon might like you back.

"i'm sorry," you say, resting a hand on vernon's arm for a moment. he moves back at the touch and your stomach sinks even further. "i'm sorry this didn't work out. i hope you get with whoever you like. i'm just...tired. a bit. i hope this doesn't mean we'll...stop being friends?" it's a stupid thing to ask, but it's your last resort.

"i would," vernon says, crossing his arms, "if they weren't so dense."

"what?"

"i'd love to get with them if they realized i don't call anyone else sweetheart."

you freeze. you become aware of the people still present in the room, someone laughing, bottles clinking, bass still thumping, but— sweetheart?

"what are you trying to say, vernon?" you ask, making your voice as steady as possible.

"i'm trying to say that the person i want to get with doesn't really understand what flirting is."

you almost drop your phone. "no. vernon, you're not doing this. you don't mean it."

"i do."

"vern—"

"i'm not drunk anymore, see? and i do mean it. i don't just want us to be friends with benefits. i want us to be more. i want to take you out to dinner and stay up hearing you talk about why freud is the worst person you've ever had to read about. i want to watch whatever the heck it is you like. i want to date you. if you want me to, that is."

you're more surprised at how lucidly he's speaking, without a pause, more than what he's saying. but the meaning of his words slams into you like a tidal wave hardly a minute later. "if i want to, he says," you laugh helplessly.

vernon raises a perfect eyebrow. "well?"

you sigh and fiddle with your phone cover. "i don't— i've never been in a real relationship. not a long term one."

vernon moves closer to you, your knees now pressed against each other despite the fact that there's no one else on the sofa you're sharing. you can't even bring yourself to care about all the other people in the room. "really?"

you nod, feeling a strange sense of embarrassment creep up your neck. vernon simply lays a hand on your thigh. "hey. you know that's not a bad thing, right?"

you shrug.

"it's not," he repeats, rubbing his thumb across your knee. "and it doesn't bother me. is that what's troubling you?"

you shake your head. "you're just...the first person to want to be with me, even if it's just for sex."

"hey, it hasn't been all for sex. what about all those movie marathons we had? and that one time i helped you bake a cake for jun?"

"you mean you tried?"

vernon flicks your forehead, but moves in immediately to kiss it. the slight touch has you burning up, and you pray he doesn't feel it. "yeah. tried. but that's the thing, isn't it? it wasn't always about the sex for me. was it...the same for you?"

you can't get yourself to lie now. "it was," you say, putting your phone down and taking his free hand, fiddling with his fingers. "it is. i didn't mean to clam up like that. it's just...i want this with you, too, vernon. i've spent so long thinking about it. i'm sorry."

vernon sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "don't apologize, sweetheart. and it's a relief. i've never felt this way with anyone before. also, i've only had a couple of flings before you, but i really want this to go somewhere. and i want to try it with you."

you try to speak, but nothing comes out. you bury your face in your hands. "aren't you supposed to be drunk?" you ask.

"you always sober me up, sweetheart."

you shake your head and let it fall against the back of the sofa, vernon's hand cushioning the fall. there's silence for a while before he speaks.

"you know, no one's like that."

"like what?" you ask, slightly affronted. "is that supposed to be an insult or a pick-up line?"

vernon laughs a breathy laugh. "no friend with benefits offers to look after their partner when they're bored or drunk or whatever. and they certainly don't show up to basement music shows. you're...really the only person who gets me, you know? but now that i know you, like, really like me..."

"like you back."

you love his grin. "can i take you out on a date?"

"i...don't drink coffee," you say breathlessly.

vernon raises an eyebrow.

"milkshakes. or i could drink coffee, maybe. you like it, so i can try."

"there. again. you're too nice for your own good."

"it's just...me. i can't help— mmph," you get cut off when vernon leans down and presses a kiss to your lips. and another. you push him away before someone notices and teases you.

"i'm going to get some sleep, and we'll meet tomorrow. at a good place. not in my bed."

"you mean today."

"do you want me to cancel on you?"

"no," vernon laughs against your hair. "tomorrow. anything you want."

#i don't know if college dorms allow you to have ovens and stuff in your room so for the sake of this fic y'all live in apartments #chwe vernon #chwe vernon fluff #hansol #hansol fluff #seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt #svt fluff #vernon #fluff #waldau writes #🍃 — svt

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gyu-effect · 4 months

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Hiii, I’m not sure if your requests are still open, but, if they are, could I request Vernon with a reader who’s getting their master’s (library sciences if you need a specific program 🫣) & they’re one semester away from graduation and just stressed and very tired? (It’s me, I’m reader)

PAIRING || Vernon x Female Reader

GENRES || Fluff

WARNINGS || none

WORD COUNT || 0.5k

A/N || thank you so much for requesting! i'm so sorry this took me so much time TT all the best for your degree! ik its very stressing but pls don't forget to take breaks and drink of plenty of water!

TAGLIST || @romeosbreastmilk @y00nzin0 @cecedrake2217 @candidupped @ashkuuuu @hanicore @alyssng @weebotakuboy @angelfeverdream @aaniag @sea-moon-star @thepoopdokyeomtouched @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hrts4hanniehae [if you want to be added to my taglist, fill in this form!]

[11:32]

“baby?” vernon called, as he stepped into your both’s shared apartment. but you didn’t respond to him, causing him to frown, because he could see the lights of your bedroom switched on, indicating that you were awake.

he peeped into the bedroom and was met with the sight of you sitting in front of your study table, your head lying on the table with countless books open around you.

vernon found himself chuckling at this, his heart squeezing a bit as he took in your appearance. he knew you had been working extra hard for the past few days, especially because you were near your graduation and you looked really pretty right now, looking calm for the first time in days. but he could also see the dark circles under your eyes, indicating the amount of stress you were under and it pained him to see you like that.

then as quietly as he could, he walked up to you and gently patted your back. “y/n? baby?”

you muttered something in your sleep and vernon stroked your cheek instead this time. “y/n? can you get up, baby? you’re going to hurt your neck if you sleep this way.”

slowly, your eyes fluttered open, staring at him in confusion as you tried taking in your surroundings. vernon had always found this habit of yours very endearing and this time was the same, a smile threatening to pull at the corner of his lips.

“baby? how about you go lie down on the bed for some time?”

“what’s the time?” you muttered, closing your eyes again. vernon glanced at the wall clock once before answering, “it’s 6:30 in the evening-”

“what?” you shot up from your desk, hands scrambling around your books. “oh no, oh no. i slept too much. i need to-”

“baby.” vernon said, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. you paused what you were doing to glance at him, eyes still hazy due to the confusion. “you need to rest. that’s what you need.”

even before he had completed speaking you had begun shaking your head in negative, going back to your books. “no, no, no. i need to finish this assignment by today-”

“y/n.” he said again, this time gently pulling you out of your chair. to his surprise you obliged, though there was some hesitance in your face. slowly, he walked you over to the kitchen and then handed you a glass of water. “you really need some rest. you’ve been working too hard.”

quietly, you took a sip of water. “i know. but my exams are around the corner! and graduation is just a semester away. i cannot afford to slip up now, you know.”

vernon placed the now empty glass in the sink, before pulling you into a hug. “babe, you’ve been doing so well all this time, there’s no way you can slip up just by resting for a while, okay? besides, if your health gets ruined, then you have a chance of falling back.”

you buried your head into the crook of his neck and he began rubbing soft circles on your back. he felt you relax into his touch before humming, “maybe you’re right…”

“i am right. you’re definitely going to get that masters in library sciences in flying colours, babe. now did you have your lunch at least?”

you looked up to smile at him sheepishly, and vernon placed a kiss on your forehead. “shall we order from your favourite place then?”

#╼ 𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐒 #╼ [𝟏𝟏:𝟑𝟐]#╼ 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒 #╼ 𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 #caratlibrary #vernon x reader #seventeen x reader #hansol x reader #vernon fluff #seventeen fluff #chwe vernon x reader #choi vernon x reader #chwe hansol x reader #choi hansol x reader #hansol fluff #chwe vernon fluff #choi vernon fluff #chwe hansol fluff #choi hansol fluff

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heavenwithgyu · 2 years

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locked in heaven

pairing: vernon x gn!reader (mentions reader wearing skirt once when describing the outfit somewhat but other than that nothing else!)

genre: fluff !

a/n i got this idea from tiktok lol ! i used filters to come up with the premise (forced proximity and vernon) and the rest was just me so :P also costume party bc halloween is so close and idk how long i’ll keep this writing spree !! i havent written this much in so long its crazy :)) i took the songs mentioned from seungkwans playlist on spotify so its songs he actually listens to and i absolutely adore ftisland so seeing them on there made me so happy

proofread: sorta, tumblr deleted part of my draft so i had to rewrite some which i didn’t reread

warnings: seungkwan says an suggestive joke accidentally, reader repeats it, brief mentions of drinking (reader doesnt and neither does vernon) uhhh kiss/makeout scene

Seungkwan had finally convinced you to go to one of his halloween parties, when he first asked you about it a couple of years ago, you weren’t as close so you said no.

The year after when he asked, you had already agreed to going to another friends party so you had to decline, treating him to lunch because of how petty he was afterwards. Any time you would ask to hang out a few days after the party, he would be telling you to go ask your other friends before you finally caved and told him you’d pay for him. He agreed.

This year he had asked you before your other friend even began planning theirs, spurring you on with the idea that Vernon would be there. Seungkwan knew you had the fattest fucking crush on him and who were you to say no to being at a party with your crush?

It gave you the chance to get to know him better, so you agreed, telling him you had no idea what to be. He had given you the idea to be an angel, said the halo and wings would look good on you.

You should’ve suspected the reason why he instantly knew what you should be but you didn’t, which is why when Seungkwan pulled up to your house just as you had finished getting ready, Vernon following behind him and dressed as the devil, you knew you were in for one tonight.

“Oh you guys are matching! How cute!” Seungkwan mused once he got inside, Vernon’s eyes locked onto your outfit, his face unreadable as traced up from your white skirt to the halo that you had gotten on your head with a headband and a piece of wire.

“Don’t go corrupting them!” Seungkwan scolded playfully, slight shock overrided you at his words and then he seemed to realize what he said. “Oh, not like that, oh I could’ve worded that better,” he said, his hand covering his mouth and you were giggling, walking over to the other man.

A smile on your lips as you looked at him, his eyes pouring into yours. “You heard him, don’t go corrupting me,” you repeated, his eyes widening while Seungkwan was telling you to shut up, obviously annoyed with you spurring on his misspeak.

Another giggle left you while Seungkwan was pushing you out of your house, Vernon following the two of you out and shutting your door since you were being pushed all the way to Seungkwan’s car. He was scolding you the entire time, saying how it’s not nice to make fun of mistakes, that he is soo nice to you all the time and you treat him like this.

You got into the back seat, letting Vernon have the front seat since he had been sitting there on the way to your house so all his stuff was still up there. Seungkwan was still going on about how he had done so many things for you when Vernon was getting into the car, a laugh slipping out of his lips when he realized that.

Vernon put on some music to shut him up, Seungkwan not protesting since he enjoyed the song that was on, singing along to it immediately while beginning to drive to his house so he could get the party ready.

You knew it wouldn’t rake him long, he probably had most of it set up already and just had to do a few finishing touches like scattered decorations or something of the sorts. You began humming along to Take Me Now by FTISLAND, surprised since the song that had last played was one by Harry Styles.

He didn’t live that far away from you so it didn’t take long to get to your house, the next song started to play as he pulled up. He sighed as he turned off he car, normally if he liked the song enough, he would wait until it finishes to leave but he didn’t have the time to.

You all got out, holding your bag close to you since you had never gone to one of his parties before, you were close with all the guys but it would be more than just them there. Seungkwan asked you to help him put silly stickers around, one’s that were fake blood and had writing that said ‘help me’, and stuff like that.

You were reaching up to put one of the stickers where he told you, up close to the ceiling for some god awful reason, but you couldn’t quite get it there. You looked around for something to stand on, just to give yourself an extra inch or two because you knew Seungkwan would be picky.

“Here, I got it,” Vernon’s voice suddenly said from next to you, carefully grazing your fingers to take the sticker from you, sticking it where he saw Seungkwan tell you to.

You muttered a quick thank you, feeling your fingers buzz from the gesture, it was small, it was nothing, you knew you shouldn’t be this flustered over it, but it was him, you couldn’t help yourself.

A few of the others began to come in, Minghao was dressed as a cowboy, boots and all, a smile gracing your lips at the sight because he looked funny. “Howdy partner!” you called to him, he grumbled, Seungkwan coming over and laughing.

“Seokmin and I made a bet, I lost,” is all Minghao said before he was off into the kitchen, presumably looking for the alcohol to start the night off early. He was ticked off from what it seemed, he hated losing bets, he was a competitive person by all means.

Seokmin followed in after him quickly, absolutely beaming with pride while he was dressed up as Pennywise. “Did you guys see him?” he asked, a slight giggle in his voice and Seungkwan was quietly telling him he was a genius and that he should win bets more often.

Minghao came back out with a cup in his hand, a glare sent to the two who were giggling, Seungkwan instantly trying to find something to pull him out of his situation. “Oh, uhm, Vernon! Help me with the rest of these?” he seemed to have settled on continuing to decorate, holding up the pack.

You glanced at the boy who was still beside you, him blinking a couple times while looking at Seungkwan, “Huh? Oh yeah, sure.” He walked over to the other, grabbing some and walking off to go put them places, not even waiting for Seungkwan to direct him.

A hum left you as you walked over to Hao, letting him complain about how Seokmin most definitely cheated somehow, just to see him wear this. He was planning on being Jack Skellington and had the makeup for him down but he just had to lose the bet, which he wouldn’t tell you about.

He brushed off the question both times you asked, so you just assumed he was holding onto the little bits of dignity he had left. “Y’know, you look like Woody from Toy Story,” you snickered after you looked at his outfit more, a loud sigh coming from him and then he was taking a swig of his cup.

“Whatever,” he muttered, walking off as more people began to file into the house, Seungkwan setting off towards where people weren’t to finish up and make it look like it wasn’t last minute.

You found yourself in the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water, surprised Seungkwan even had them in his fridge at a party to begin with, but you were grateful nonetheless. Sipping it as you walked out towards where the party had seemed to come alive spontaneously, music, people, everything.

While it wasn’t a lot of people, it was still people, you decided to walk around until you at least found someone you knew in the slightest, seeing Chan dressed as fucking Pikachu, no way.

You sat down next to him, holding in a laugh when he meets your eyes because he can see that little glint meaning you were going to make tease him for his outfit, a quick “Hey Chan—”

He quickly cut you off, “I don’t want to hear it,” him sighing right after and leaning his head back against the couch, sulking through his yellow face paint.

From the way he is sitting, you can tell he also painted his neck which causes a laugh to fall from you finally, him turning his head to face away from you at the sound, his nose scrunching.

You reached over and flicked one of his ears to his hoodie, giggling out “You look so cute~ Makes me wish I had a pokeball to—”

“I get it! Pikachu is funny,” He exclaims, making sure you didn’t get to actually make fun of him, which sucks the fun out of him being dressed like this.

A hum and you’re telling him goodbye, making sure to call him Pikachu instead of Chan which causes him to sulk more, walking off to go find someone you knew.

You wanted to find someone who was relatively alone because everyone who you were finding seemed to be very invested in their conversations would means you wouldn’t be spared the time of day.

Another swig of your water bottle as you finally settled on just roaming around, walking through the hallway and peeking into open rooms to find anyone who wasn’t caught up in something— or someone like Gyu was. He must’ve forgotten to shut the door or something because as you peeked your head in, you saw him making out with someone.

A sight you wished you could forget but also you were glad to see because at least he hadn’t gotten any further than that.

You got into a slightly deserted part of the hallway, leaning against the wall and pulling out your phone, trying to pass the time without getting super bored in the process.

You brought your hand up to open your water but a hand grabbed your wrist instead, looking up to see Seungkwan excitedly telling you, “We’re playing a game! C’mon.”

You didn’t protest, letting him lead you to a room that held a random people from the party, a couple of the boys, and Vernon. You quickly realized what they were playing, Spin The Bottle, at least you assumed with how everyone was sitting in a circle.

The thought of Vernon spinning the bottle and landing on someone else, kissing someone else right in front of you immediately crossed your mind.

You almost told Seungkwan that you didn’t want to play and left. Almost. The little devil on your shoulder was telling you all the possibilities if Vernon spun the bottle and it landed on you, that he would be kissing you.

So you sat down, all logic thrown out the window because there had to be at least 15 people and the chances of him landing on you out of 14? Slim. Close to none.

But there was a chance.

Seungkwan set a bottle in the middle, staying there, “So we all know what this is right?” he asked, a few people shaking their heads to where he was sighing, “It’s a combination of Spin The Bottle and Seven Minutes In Heaven, makes it more fun that way.”

Oh.

Your eyes wanted to look at Vernon, to see his reaction, though you were sure he already knew that since Seungkwan probably told him before he gathered people so your eyes stayed on Seungkwan.

“Who wants to go first?” he asked, his hand still on the bottle, and for some god forsaken reason, Vernon was saying he would.

Your stomach felt like it was in knots as his hand reached for the bottle, his eyes locking with yours before he was glancing around the circle. For some reason, your breath stopped, did he want to land on you?

No.

No you were sat across from him, of course he’d look at you right now, he would’ve looked at whoever was in your spot.

After what felt like an eternity, he spun it, your eyes staring intensely at it as you prayed to every possible God you could think of to have it land on you. You were an angel, they had to help you in your time of need.

The bottle began to slow, your nails wanting to dig into your palms but you tried to act like you didn’t care who it landed on, that the idea of him kissing someone else didn’t make your heart sting.

Because why would it land on you?

You were 1 out of 14, it was stupid chances and you should’ve never played and you wanted to look away to save yourself the disappointment whenever it stopped at— you.

It stopped at you.

Your eyes met Vernon’s, relief faintly on his features but you told yourself that you were imagining it, that he was just glad to have gotten someone he knows.

Why would he want to kiss you? He wouldn’t, he would’ve done it already if he did, there’s no way he wanted to be trapped in a closet with your for seven long minutes.

You were pulled, literally, out of your thoughts by Seungkwan tugging you to stand, Vernon’s arm in his other hand as he was leading you two to a door. You knew this door, this door led to a bathroom would led to another room which wasn’t frequented.

Gulping as Seungkwan pushed you into the other room, smiling at both of you with an evil grin, “See you two in seven minutes~” His voice was sickly sweet and you wanted to pass out when he closed the door.

It was you two, in a room. Alone. At least you weren’t pressed against each other in some tight closet.

“Have you, uhm, have you had your first kiss?” Vernon’s voice suddenly speaks but its quiet, you almost miss it, but you don’t because how could you miss his voice? Your eyes meet his, his hold worry.

You decide to tease him, “No, wanna be my first?” you ask nonchalantly, his eyes widen to comical levels while he’s opening his mouth to say something, shutting it right after. “I’m just kidding, Nonie, I’ve kissed people,” you tell him after a few seconds, walking over and for some reason, putting your hand on his arm.

You tell yourself it’s to help him relax but it’s most definitely just to feel his skin on yours even in the slightest way. “That was a terrible opener by the way,” more teasing leaves you, your hand also leaving him, you miss the way his fingers twitch as he wants to touch you instead.

He laughs softly, nodding, “Yeah, couldn’t think of anything better and the only thing on my mind was kissing so—” He cuts his sentence off short, seemingly thinking he said too much with the way he’s gulping, his eyes moving between yours quickly.

He’s nervous, you can tell, he’s hard to read to most people but to you? You can read him like the back of your hand, shallowly, you can never tell the reason he’s feeling it but you can tell what he’s feeling.

Wait.. the only thing on his mind was kissing? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was he thinking of the game? Was he thinking of kissing someone else out there? Was he thinking of kissing you?

Your mind was racing with thoughts as you try to decode what he said, hoping by some miracle it’s a confession and you can finally kiss him.

But you can’t, it’s too vague, you don’t have enough to work with to come up with anything concrete. So you two are left looking at each other, words on the tip of your tongue that you want to spill out, that you want him to kiss you, but they don’t come.

Because while you’re silent, he is too, leaving you no indicator that he also wants it. So you’re left, looking at him. “Man, Seungkwan needs to clean this room,” Vernon suddenly says, you hadn’t noticed him look away and you peel your eyes away from him to look around, a laugh slipping past your throat.

“Yeah he really does, jeez,” you reply, not knowing how else to continue the conversation because all you can think about is what the fuck you should do. Fuck it. “Nonie,” you call out to him, his attention immediately on you, and you’re finishing your sentence before he can say anything, “you should kiss me.”

He doesn’t move, neither do you, but he seems to be frozen in his, not even breathing while he stares at you. “What?” he asks, dumbly, after a few seconds and you’re starting to think you’re making a huge mistake but you can’t turn back now so you’re just repeating yourself, quieter this time.

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds again and your heart is racing and your body feeling like it’s about to throw up whatever you last ate and you realize just how dry your throat is gotten and how you left your water bottle out sitting in the circle still.

You’re too busy overthinking to see him walk over to you, his hand grazing your cheek pulls you back to reality, his eyes pouring into yours, silently asking if you were sure.

You nod slightly to him, letting him know you are, your hands reaching out to hold the back of his neck and he’s softly pressing his lips against yours.

It’s barely a kiss but it’s enough to feel as though matches had just struck your skin, your hands pulling him closer to kiss him more. He practically melts into you, his hands moving to grip your waist so he can ground himself.

You swear you’re losing your mind with how strong his cologne is, how his fingers dig into you to make sure you aren’t going to disappear, how his lips mold against yours— Your head is spinning. It’s too much, but it’s also not enough, you need him to kiss you harder.

It’s still featherlight and you need to feel his lips against yours more, he pulls back to breathe, you think, or find his sanity like you need to do, his eyes still closed. “Vernon,” you whisper, his eyebrows furrowing as you call him by his name, something you haven’t done in what feels like years, “Kiss me like you mean it.”

He smiles at you, his eyes practically sparking as he captures your lips in his again, finally pressing against yours firmly, his arms moving to wrap around you to hold you even closer when that doesn’t feel possible.

Your hands move to his hair, not caring that he had it done up and slicked back, he doesn’t seem to care either because he’s even smiling against you, tilting his head more to deepen the kiss.

Lungs are aching as you both sit there, absorbed in each other, but you couldn’t care, not when he’s like this with you. His lips part and yours do the same, his tongue carefully meeting yours before the door flies open, revealing Seungkwan standing there.

“I knew this would get you two together!” He exclaims triumphantly, a wide smile on his face while you two are practically jumping away from each other, heat spreading to both your cheeks.

You don’t say anything and just look at Vernon, him doing the same and then he’s walking over to the door, pushing Seungkwan out of the room. “Five more minutes,” he says, shutting the door and then walking back over to you, arms wrapping right back around you.

“I like you by the way,” he suddenly confesses, kissing you once again before you can respond and you’re left standing there torn— to kiss him back or confess back.

#chwe vernon #chwe vernon fluff #chwe vernon imagine #chwe vernon seventeen #vernon fluff #vernon seventeen #vernon imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #jazz.writing

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ksyongi · 2 years

Text

how cuddling with the svt hiphop unit would be like

members: scoups, wonwoo, mingyu, vernon

genre: fluff, comfort

paring: seventeen x g!n reader

warnings: the whole post is in lower caps, pet names getting used, some kissing involved! theres some hurt and comfort for scoup’s one.

m.list

an: helloo sorry for the late post today<3

note:please do not copy my works! reblogs and likes are appreciated!

scoups: indulging in each other’s presence, either just staring at each other, getting lost in each other’s eyes, tangling your legs and holding hands as you feel his warmth. wanting time to stop, feeling as if two of you are in your own world. some days would be different, holding each other’s hand, and talking about each of your days. seungcheol would tell you all sorts of things about his members, it could be about jeonghan cheating on the gose episode that they took that day or how mingyu got teased for messing up the chorography. it could also be about his troubles, how the latest come-back was stressing him out, or how being seventeen’s leader can put too much weight on his shoulders. you would always tell him about your work, he would look at you in adoration, giving frequent nods of his head to show that he was listening, he would admire every line or mark on your face, admiring your features. sometimes it gets too hard to manage, you would lay your head on his chest, wetting his shirt with your tears. seungcheol would pat your head and play with your hair to calm you down. when his emotions get too much for him to handle, he would cry into your shoulder. you would pat his back, then wiping his tears with the palms of your hand as he lifts his head up, his eyes watery has he softly thanks you for your comfort. these events would always either end up at the balcony as you two watch the stars or in your shared bedroom, having the privacy and being able to adore each other more.

wonwoo, mingyu and vernon under the cut!

wonwoo: late saturday evenings would always be the perfect time for cuddling, wonwoo would lean against the headboard of your shared bed, you would rest on his chest. you two would read books, just appreciating the presence of each other. you can hear wonwoo’s heartbeat and can feel his chest rise and fall with each breath. when either of you two find a line that is funny, laughter could be heard, the other would ask to read that particular line before laughing along too. after such reading sessions before heading to bed or having supper, you would update each other on your books, grasping an understanding of what the other read. after finishing your books you exchange books most of the time, understanding the storyline and probably would talk about the book on dates. when you are too tired reading, you hug him, feeling the steady beat of his heart as he reads his book to you or either his favorite poems that reminds him of you. his voice deep and smooth has honey as you try not to fall asleep. wonwoo notices sometimes, kissing your forehead and muttering a “good night love”, before you could answer, you get lulled to sleep by his voice as he continues to read. wonwoo would be the type of person to say “i know you are sleeping but...” too shy to say it to you when you are awake. sometimes you hear what he says, blushing but trying to show that you are still sleeping. you would not tell him about what he heard, listening to him say your flaws and “thank you for..” when hes done, he would place his glasses on the table at the side, intertwining your fingers and going into deep slumber.

mingyu: mornings when either one of you switch on an alarm an hour before the time you two needed to wake up to cuddle. sometimes mingyu would whine, telling you to switch of the alarm and giving him another 5 minutes to rest. if his arms were crossed across his chest, you would place one to the side, grabbing hold of his other one and placing kisses on the knuckles of his hand. then hugging his abdominal area, if you were already fully awake, you would absentmindedly trace his abs. it would tickle for him, giggles would erupt from his chest, feeling his chest vibrate. after he wakes up, he would lift you up, so that now you are directly above him. you would place your head in his neck, your hair would tickle his neck as he squirms trying to stop the tickling sensation. when you want to change positions, he would whine again and use his strength to his advantage, not letting you go. he would eventually give in, trying to negotiate to be the small spoon. since hes the tallest member, he would sometimes want to feel small, celebrating when you give in, he shifts so you can place your hands around him. placing neck and cheek kisses on him is a must do when you cuddle if not he’ll demand for them, being straight forward. (lowkey think mingyu would like you to play with his hair too since hes like a puppy) he would not mention about it at first because of not knowing about it. you would just do it unknowingly and he would close his eyes and place his head in his desirable angle. the morning would be spent in silence and comfort, (bonus) and a happy mingyu who got what he wanted

vernon: cuddling with vernon would be actually very very chill and soft. there would be background music as both of you just vibe. hes the big spoon soo sometimes he would break the silence, talking about his preferences about music, the music would be those like slower, comforting songs like ‘falling for u’. occasionally there would be some rap music but not really that fast or loud going songs. vernon would be super soft when you cuddle, loads of affection would definitely be given. he would throw in random topics or like even ask about your opinion on certain things, like if you prefer pop or rock genres more, then having discussions or debates on them. he’ll be like (this is an example) “whatt how do you prefer ‘PANG!’ over imperfect love? i don’t get where you are coming from, please enlighten me” you’ll counter him with “‘PANG!’ is a more energetic song that imperfect love you know? it could fit almost any vibe, I bet carats would agree with me” he would respond acting offended like “ugh you bringing carats into this debate now? i bet you thought i would give in but my decision still stands,” it becomes a little debate night between the two of you which would probably not end for a while.

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wooahaes · 1 year

Text

on the right track

pairing: non-idol!vernon x gn!reader

word count: 0.7k~

warnings: school stress. senior student reader working on their thesis. also just a smidge of like... implied adhd reader. no proofreading, intentional lowercase, admittedly very self-indulgent.

daisy’s notes: i am terrified of being an adult w a Real-ish Job can someone fund me to get my masters--

four thousand five hundred and sixty-nine words and you were finally fucking done with your rough draft.

despite everything you had once thought about writing, drafting out your senior thesis was far harder than you thought it’d been. one part of it had been your inability to focus, brain flitting to something else that needed doing (or, rather, anything else because revisiting your stupid books for the fifteenth time was boring and there was a reason you’d put off actually typing up excerpts). the other part had just been the frustration of trying to satisfy your professor--who, in all fairness, was encouraging as hell and one of the best women you’d ever met. at least she gave you thesis a fair chance and indulged you in it instead of writing it off because it didn’t contain british literature. your boyfriend had been thankful of that: as much as he liked to hear your passionate rants, he knew it couldn’t be good for you to get so frustrated with one woman.

that brought you to now: three in the morning days after the rough draft was technically due. you told yourself that it was fine, as only one of your classmates had submitted it on time. you were busy with other things, namely other classes, anyway. you were getting some progress on it.

(of course, that progress also came in late nights at your computer until vernon inevitably woke up, reached over to the empty space in bed, and then made his way back to you. his warm arms would wrap around you as he slowly pulled you away when you finished the sentence you were on, mumbling that you needed sleep. with him. he missed having you there to cuddle, and a pouty boyfriend was the easiest way to make you give in to your own desire to curl up in his arms and fall asleep.)

no thoughts, head emptier than earlier, you submitted the damn thing to your class’s discussion board and immediately clicked off. you relaxed into your chair, shutting your eyes with a heavy sigh. sure, there was more to be done after your professor looked it over and gave you feedback: but this was one step. hopefully a final draft wouldn’t require rewriting every damn part of the paper.

“baby?” vernon was lingering near the kitchen at this point, staring at where you’d moved from the dining table to the couch for maximum comfort. “are you done?”

you shut your laptop with a sigh. “for now.”

he perked up, immediately making his way over to flop into the space next to you. “you’re done!”

“for now,” you repeated. “i still have to edit the thing and then do my defense--”

“you’re done,” he said again, “with this part. you’ve got the rest of it, babe. no sweat.” he set aside your laptop, already pulling you into his arms. “i’m proud of you.”

you almost want to make some quip, asking if he suddenly decided to become your dad. yet something about the sentiment made you tear up, breath hitching as your emotions overtake you faster than you expected. one step closer to being done with all of this bullshit. you felt your tears brim up and finally overflow as you began to cry into vernon’s shirt, and he was already starting to rub circles into your back as he pulled you in closer. between the rough draft and every other assignment you had on your plate... this cry was what you needed.

“i mean it, babe,” he said in a softer voice. “i’m really, really proud of you. you came back to it.”

you did. you were supposed to graduate earlier that year. he knew how much you had struggled with having to withdraw from classes and then go back into it after barely two months of down time. and he knew exactly how scared you were of whatever came next, after you actually graduated.

“did you eat?”

you shook your head.

“aw, baby...” he dragged out the term of endearment, and you could hear his smile in his voice. “that’s no good. c’mon, i’ll warm it up for you. you’ve still gotta eat--”

except you wrapped your arms around him a little tighter, taking refuge for a little longer. his arms wound back around you a moment later, thumb tracing hearts into the back of your shirt.

“i love you,” he said quietly, pressing a kiss into the side of your head. “c’mon. it’s self care time.”

at least you had vernon to have your back when you needed it the most.

general taglist: @wonuziex @twancingyunhao @synthetickitsune

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #seventeen fluff #vernon x reader #vernon x you #svt vernon x reader #svt vernon x you #chwe vernon x reader #chwe vernon x you #chwe hansol x reader #chwe hansol x you #vernon fluff #chwe vernon fluff #chwe hansol fluff

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babyleostuff · 16 days

Text

avoiding their kisses | ot13

❥ seungcheol

if you want to end up with an extremely sulky boyfriend who’ll insist on giving you the silent treatment for the rest of the day, then yeah, go ahead and avoid his kisses. cheol would obviously be so petty the second he’d notice you ignoring his kisses on purpose, he’d spend the day giving you an attitude in his sulky choi seungcheol manner. funny thing is how by the end of the day cheol would be low key on the verge of death, because he didn’t get to touch you, hug you, cuddle you, etc throughout the day (and the only person to blame is him, his pride, and his stubbornness) (can you imagine his clinginess after not being able to touch you for the whole day?)

❥ jeonghan

you chose the wrong person to mess with. even if you avoid his kiss only once, your precious hannie turns into the menace yoon jeonghan - no partner privileges can save you from his pettines when you ignore his kisses. he’s kind of the same as cheol, clingy and in need of your touch, but whereas cheol is a whiny baby, jeonghan uses your own weapon against you. he’ll avoid kissing you, he’ll avoid hugging you, he’ll avoid doing all of the things he knows you love. he’d wait till the point where you’d come sulking to him, upset that he’s just being mean, because after all, you avoided only one of his kisses. after that, he’d just laugh and coo at you for being so needy (it’s not like he was dying to kiss you ten seconds ago). “that’s what happens when you ignore my kisses, honey.” (lovingly)

❥ joshua

at first joshua would get a bit concerned that something had happened, or that you weren’t feeling well, that is until he realised you were just messing with him. jeonghan’s evil twin because two can play this game. he’d proceed to avoid most of your kisses for the rest of the day, and if you gave him confused looks (he never ignored your kisses, so his behaviour would immediately be suspicious in your eyes), he’d just give you a sweet smile, asking you if something was wrong, clearly messing with you. your (adorable) frustration at the end of the day would be worth every kiss joshua had to give up that day. of course you end up making out for the rest of the evening because you have to get your daily amount of shua kisses

❥ jun

too shy to ask you why you ignored his kiss, too sad to think straight, too worried that he did something wrong. immediately goes through the things he had said that day, trying to remember if he could've said something to upset you, or if he had forgotten to do something you asked him to do. so he just ends up moping around, trying to remember things he didn’t even do, but if you asked him if something was wrong, he’d just brush it off, not wanting to come off as too dramatic. but then it’d get too much for jun, and he’d shyly ask about that ignored kiss, and if there was something he could do to apologise for whatever he did. and his sweetness and worry would melt your heart so badly, it was never your intention to avoid his kiss, it just happened, so you’d scold him for not mentioning it earlier. you’d give him a lot of reassuring kisses afterward because that’s what jun deserves

❥ hoshi

he’d get extremely confused because it’s not often that you avoid his kisses, or any type of affection for that matter, but would brush it off as only an accident. when he tries to kiss you again some time later, and you ignore it once again, he gets so so sad :(( “what do you mean you don’t want to kiss me?” would immediately ask you if something was wrong, and if he did something to upset you, he doesn’t like it when you give him the silent treatment (although nothing but the ignored kisses showed that you were angry with him, which made him even more confused). before you’d be able to say anything, though, he’d start apologising (for what he didn’t know), and you’d end up laughing at your silly boyfriend, who’d stand there with a question mark above his head because what the hell was going on? you’d just coo at him and kiss him (he still wouldn’t know what had just happened, but hey, at least he got his kiss)

❥ wonwoo

(dare to avoid this man’s kiss and i am going to hunt you, and kill you). if you ignore his kisses wonwoo will get sad. not like cheol in a “i will whine and throw a tantrum” way, but in a way where you can clearly see the corners of his mouth turning downwards. he’d be the epitome of this 🥺 emoji (the funniest thing is when he tries to act like he doesn’t care, but then he goes around with his big sparkly eyes, and the smallest pout, acting like a kicked puppy). i know a lot of people see wonwoo as someone cold that doesn’t like physical affection, but i don’t see him like that at all. yes, he might be too shy to initiate hugs and cuddles himself, but he thrives off of your touch, and hugs, and kisses, etc. so he’d turn into a lil sad cuddlebug when you avoid his kisses

❥ woozi

jihoon would be so understanding if you ever avoided his kiss because as someone who really values his personal space, he gets that sometimes you’re just not in the mood for affection, and physical touch - he would never want to make you uncomfortable, thus he wouldn’t think much of you ignoring his kiss. and that alone would melt your heart because get yourself a man who’s so understanding of your comfort, and would not throw a tantrum just because of a kiss (i’m looking at you choi seungcheol). but, the second you start avoiding more of his kisses, he immediately starts suspecting that something’s off, and that it has to be one of silly pranks. when you ignore his goodnight kiss, which you usually happily accept, he’s sure you’re just messing with him (which he instantly calls you out for). woozi would find your commitment to the bit so funny, you’re seriously something else. to end your prank with a bang, he’d grab your chin and place a peck on your lips, and go to sleep like nothing happened

❥ dk

to be honest, you’d break his heart by avoiding his kisses, so please don’t do that. seokmin would straight up start spiralling and overthinking because what if he had said something hurtful to you, what if he had forgotten an important date, what if he had bought the wrong flavour of your favourite snack, what if he hadn’t given you your goodnight kiss. there would be so many “what if’s” in his head. he’d be the epitome of a kicked puppy, and yes - just because you avoided one of his kisses. not to be dramatic, but dk would feel like his entire world was crumbling, you never avoided his kisses, so why did you do it all of the sudden. obviously after seeing his reaction you'd immediately explain that you didn’t mean to make him upset, etc etc. and he’d demand extra cuddles and kisses before bed because hello that was so mean??? later, though, he’d realise how dramatic he was about all of it, and you’d end up laughing so much during your nighttime cuddle session

❥ mingyu

yeah, not on his watch. the second he catches you avoiding his kiss you’re trapped in his embrace with a very offended puppy expression from mingyu, and a demand for an explanation why you dare to ignore his kiss. he will not let you walk away before you tell him why you even thought of avoiding his kiss, and an apology in the form of even more kisses. the thing with mingyu is that he can be as petty as coups and jeonghan, so even after your apology he’d still give you an attitude throughout the day, and even go as far as avoiding some of your kisses (which he realised wasn’t that great of an idea, because it made him even more grumpy and sulky), so at some point he’d just trap you in a bear hug and apologise, shyly asking for a peck

❥ minghao

xu mighao is a petty, petty man. he immediately knew what you were up to by avoiding his morning kiss, while you were making breakfast, so don’t be surprised with no more kisses for you for the day. hao would find it so amusing, because - on one hand, you know him well enough to know how your little pranks always end (with him not falling for it), on the second he’d think it was adorable how you couldn’t help yourself (you still had the hope that someday he’d fall for a prank). the small smirk on his face anytime you’d (not so) subtly try to kiss him would annoy you so much, but hey - you were the one to avoid his kiss in the first place. all jokes aside, he’d think you were so cute, sulking at the end of the day because you didn’t get to kiss him, and as a small apology he’d give you all of the kisses you missed throughout the day (can you hear his giggles in between the kisses because i can)

❥ seungkwan

malfuntiones because his first instinct is to whine and pout, but after a second he’s all grumpy and you’re rewarded with the boo seungkwan side eye. does not like when you avoid any type of his affection, especially if it's his kisses (and he was in practice for the whole day, why don’t you want to kiss him), so he’d just sulk around with an attitude because ignoring his kisses is not allowed in this household. but after some time he gets tired of the “why did you ignore me”, so he’d strike again with his kisses (don’t avoid them the second time, or seungkwan will get really annoyed with you). on the other hand, seungkwan is another member of the “petty” squad, so if he was feeling particularly evil that day, he’d just proceed with ignoring your kisses as well :))) (then both of you would end up grumpy and annoyed)

❥ vernon

doesn’t pay much attention to it - not because he doesn’t care about your kisses, but similarly to woozi - he understands that everyone has their boundaries, and maybe you weren’t feeling in the mood for kissing at that moment, or maybe you just needed some space. it doesn’t really matter, your personal space is sacred to vernon, so he’d never do anything to cross it. of course he’d get a bit sulky (he’d never show it, though) if you kept ignoring his kisses, but he still wouldn’t try to force anything on you. he’d maybe mention it as a passing though, why you were avoiding his kisses, mainly to make sure you weren’t upset. then you’d kind of realise that, yes - you did ignore his kisses, but it was a bit of an accident? and vernon would immediately assure you that he didn’t mind, and that as long as you were happy, he was happy too

❥ chan

please, don’t avoid his kisses. poor baby would immediately think he did something wrong, because you never ignore his kisses, so obviously he did something to upset you. chan wouldn’t ask you if something was wrong, though, he’d be afraid of upsetting you even more, which would leave him with a small pout and sad puppy eyes. and while normally he isn't the most energetic person, you’d immediately notice the lack of his “spark”, and his usual excitement over the smallest things, which could mean only one thing - he was overthinking you avoiding his kisses. so please, give him lots of reassuring kisses, and tell him you love him

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @aaasia111 @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @minwrld @bbysnw

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kozukensgf · 2 months

Text

bf texts with vernon!

genre: smau, crack, fluff

character: chwe hansol

warning(s): none

masterlist

part one | part two | part three

#vernon #seventeen x reader #hansol vernon chwe #chwe vernon #vernon imagines #chwe hansol fluff #seventeen fluff #kpop smau #seventeen imagines #smau #svt fluff #svt smau #seventeen #hansol x reader #hazel posted

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miraclewoozi · 3 months

Text

DO YOU DREAM OF ME? - c.hs

the first time you kiss your soulmate, you’ll open your eyes to a world of colour. the problem? vernon hates the thought that he might pull away from you and still see in monochrome. or, five times he wanted to plant one on you, and the one time you beat him to it.

pairing ; vernon x gn!reader. content ; all the tropes. 5 times fic. soulmate au. slight college au if you squint. f2l. fluff, some angst. pining. one (1) hint of suggestiveness if u squint. MINORS STILL DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT. content notes ; mentions of reader having a(n unnamed) partner & thereafter, going through a breakup due to said partner cheating. reader is maybe implied to be shorter than him but hopefully not too obviously or frequently. alcohol is mentioned & is a key theme in scene #3. pov switch for the final part (necessary for logistical reasons.) PLEASE let me know if i've forgotten anything. w/c ; 9.6k note ; welcome to thee most self indulgent fic ever lmao. i hope u enjoy this slight break away from what i usually post here (as if my entire brand isn’t writing losers in love. ANYWAY) -- this was very fun and a little bit special for me! <3

“What was your first kiss like?”

Initially, Vernon swears he just didn’t hear you right. It’s dark up here, where you’re hiding away from a party on the roof of his university accommodation and he’s starting to get tired. There’s some sort of siren wailing away in the distance to his left, and on the street below, a gaggle of freshmen are cackling as they walk past the building. His ear closest to you is currently listening to your favourite song.

All the signs suggest that he simply got it wrong.

But he doesn’t know if he believes those signs, especially not seeing as when he looks over at you, you’re staring pointedly up at the stars overhead. He doesn’t doubt that you’re giving yourself an ache in your neck in the process, too.

“Hmm?” He asks, taking out the earphone that connects him to you. The other one is still nestled away in your ear and he reaches to gently pull it away. “What was that?”

You still don’t look at him, but you do repeat yourself. Quietly. “What… was your first kiss like?”

“Oh.”

He was right.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you hurry to say, hugging his jacket tighter around yourself to block out the cold air that blows across the rooftop. He shrugged it off and told you to take it the very moment your teeth started chattering — almost an hour ago now. His arms are bare, shoulders and biceps only covered by a t-shirt so thin it’s practically sheer, but he isn’t cold. He’s always run hotter than most. “Sorry.”

He nudges you with his knee, silently telling you that you don’t need to apologise. He doesn’t mind — you just caught him off guard; Vernon hasn’t given this any thought in a long time, and he has to really put his mind to coming up with an answer. It was forever ago — when he was eleven or twelve, maybe, with his first ever girlfriend. They dated for a whole two and a half weeks. He doesn’t know if it really counts: the kiss was a dare, after all.

“Kinda…” He starts, trying to follow the line of your sight, wondering if he can find the exact stars you’re looking at. “She’d just put this weird lipgloss on. It was real tingly. And like, neither of us knew what we were doing? So it… got everywhere. I think I ended up swallowing some, I don’t know. My mouth felt weird after. Thought I was having an allergic reaction.”

You laugh softly at him. “I think that would put me off for the rest of my life,” you say.

“It almost did,” he chuckles. You hum at him and lean back on your elbows, leaving Vernon more than a little bit confused. He readjusts his hold on his knees, bringing them closer to his chest as he tilts his head down at you in your new position.

“…why?” He asks, just as you close your eyes and take a deep inhale of the cool air.

You just shrug. “I guess I just… wondered.”

He nods, and it’s his turn to fall short of a response, but that’s okay. You’ve known each other for too long for these silences to feel uncomfortable. He grew up with you. In fact, he’s reasonably sure he’s told you this story before. He must have done.

Then he realises, maybe he hasn’t. Because he doesn’t know the story behind yours, and maybe that’s just a line the two of you never came to crossing. He knows he told his other friends, back then, because he was the last one in his circle to have a first kiss and he felt like it made him more grown-up, or something. Naturally, he left out the more embarrassing details. But maybe you just told your other friends who weren’t him, and went on with your life. Maybe yours was just… normal.

Either way, he’s interested now. And there’s no time to ask like the present.

“What was yours like?” He asks, fiddling with the strap on his wristwatch. You don’t answer straight away; he doesn’t think anything of it, because neither did he, but when he’s still waiting for you to speak a small eternity later, he prompts you again. “Hey, it can't have been worse than mine.”

You snort.

“You’ll laugh at me,” you say, shaking your head. Vernon furrows his brows and drops his legs flat, twisting to one side to look at you.

He doesn’t know where you’d get that idea from, but he’s… almost a bit offended by it?

“No I won’t,” he tells you softly. Maybe at first, he might’ve laughed with you, if your story happened to be as dumb as his own. But not at you. Never at. Not when he’s been the butt of the joke in too many friendship circles, for about as long as he can remember.

You take a shallow breath, pursing your lips. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not…” you start to say, before you clear your throat and try again, this time heading in a different direction. “I don’t know. It’s dumb, I guess.”

“Don’t make me come down there,” Vernon threatens playfully, poking you in your side. You squirm, giggling despite yourself, despite the serenity of the sanctuary you two have found, despite the fact that you, too, were on the edge of falling asleep before your question came out of nowhere.

He pokes you again, and again, and then starts to tickle your ribs instead. You squeal, swatting his hands away to no avail and you move to sit up, grabbing him by the forearms to physically make him stop. The grin on Vernon’s face is wide and heart-shaped. A warm feeling spreads through him: it has everything to do with the sweet sounds of your slowly dissolving laughter.

You sit cross-legged across from each other like this for a moment or two. Your knees are touching. Your hands move down his arms until you’re holding him firmly by the wrists. Your eyes lock together: his crease with the sheer force of his boyish smile, while yours are narrowed, daring him to try and wiggle free and attack you again.

He doesn’t, but for the first time ever, he’s struck with the urge to do something maybe more scary.

The urge to just… lean in to you.

It makes his heart do a backflip, in a way that it hasn’t done since he had his last crush. His head goes empty, and he forgets what he was even asking you before: the only thoughts he can muster are ones regarding what your lips taste like, whether they’re half as soft as they look, if you’d lightly touch his shoulder or his arm or his chest or his cheek—

Do you smile when you kiss?, he wonders. Do you sigh? Do you—

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” you answer, looking away now and letting go of him. He’s gone so loose in the moments since you grabbed hold of him that when you’re not supporting their weight, his arms fall like two cinder blocks onto his knees.

True to his word, he doesn’t laugh. He’s surprised by your revelation, sure, but in no way humoured; actually, he feels a little saddened by it, for a reason he can’t put his finger to. He ends up not saying anything, just biting the inside of his cheek; he wants to ask why, but knows maybe that’s a bit of a dick move, and if it’s something you’re sensitive about he doesn’t want to risk hurting you.

But he’s watched people fawn over you for years, and he doesn’t think you’ve ever been short of attention from those who have thought you were attractive. So it can’t be that you’ve been lacking in chances? Surely?

“I thought… maybe I should save it,” you go on to explain. Your hands keep busy by playing with a thread at the cuff of his jacket sleeve, wrapping it around one finger until the skin beneath it pinches before you unravel it again.

“Save it?” He asks. You nod your head.

“For when I thought I’d found them.” You pause, swallowing hard. “Like I said, it’s s—.”

“No it’s not,” Vernon says abruptly, shaking his head. He holds onto you now, one hand slipping around your back until it rests on the shoulder furthest away from him. You scoff. He squeezes you into his side. “Hey. It’s not stupid.”

He doesn’t like how this admission has, somehow, made his desire to kiss you stronger. He hates that he feels even more drawn to you, a magnet finally finding its opposing pole. It freaks him out a little. He’s never wanted to kiss anyone this badly.

Red button theory, he tells himself to try and get back on the straight and narrow. If you hadn’t said anything, none of this would be happening.

“It’s romantic,” he says finally, swiping his thumb in small motions over the top of your shoulder. You nod, mumbling a ‘thank you’ (for what, he isn’t sure), and shiver. Vernon doesn’t know if that’s because of his proximity to you or because you’re finally starting to feel the cold. Either way, he takes the initiative to stand up and holds a hand out for you to take so he can tug you to your feet too. You get up with a little hop.

It’s… devastatingly cute.

“Where are we going?” You ask, brushing off your jeans before shoving your hands into the jacket’s pockets. He’s already on the retreat, walking backwards towards the door that took you up here.

“To get food,” he tells you, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That party was dead, anyway.”

It doesn’t cross his mind again until your twenty-first birthday.

He’s not your soulmate. He couldn’t be. The thought he had on the roof that autumnal night was little more than a passing fantasy; besides, he doesn’t have a thing for you. He doesn’t want to kiss you, or date you, or have you be his soulmate. The reason you work so well together is because you’re just friends; he thinks you’d drive each other crazy if things ever went romantic between you. You bicker with him for sport. He drowns away hours at a time with his headphones clamped over his ears and forgets to answer your texts. It would be a nightmare.

Not that he’s ever thought about all that. Not actively, or even passively. Not when he should be listening to college lectures instead, for example. Not awake, nor in his dreams. He hasn’t. Not once.

He swears.

“You can save it ‘til tomorrow, if you want.”

Vernon bounces his leg nervously, fidgeting with the edge of your comforter as you sit on the floor in front of him, styling your hair for your party. He arrived half an hour ago while you were still waltzing around in your bathrobe, holding a small, neatly wrapped box in both of his hands. It’s several degrees too warm in your bedroom. He feels a bead of sweat roll down his back as you grumble what seems to be a threat at a strand that won’t cooperate. Thankfully, you don’t seem to notice his discomfort. (If you do, he’s grateful that you don’t say anything.)

“But it’s my birthday today,” you pouted, taking the box from him. “Let me finish getting ready, then I’ll open it. Come on.”

His wrist still aches with the pressure you held onto him with as you dragged him up the stairs. Your parents are away for the weekend and the house is all yours, so there’s a speaker blasting your favourite playlist full volume on your nightstand and there’s nobody to tell you to turn it down. He flits his attention between his phone and watching you, but he can’t fully concentrate on either; he’s too nervous that maybe you won’t like his gift, and he’s never been the type to splash out on birthday presents before but this… well, it burned a hole in his wallet, that’s for sure.

“Okay. Wait here,” you tell him as you push up off the floor, limping on the leg that had started to fall asleep thanks to the way you were sitting.

“All right,” he says back. As if he’d go anywhere, anyway.

You grab a hanger from inside your closet and scurry off down the hall to the bathroom. For the first time, Vernon feels like he can actually breathe. He drops his phone onto the comforter between his crossed legs and cradles his head in his hands, telling himself that he needs to get it together. You’ve never not liked anything he’s given you, and you’ve known him now for more birthdays than you haven’t.

Your friends said you’d love it. So did your mother, with a sparkle in her eye as she held it delicately in her fingers. He has nothing to worry about. It’s only you.

And yet—

“You’ll be honest if it looks bad?” You call from the other side of the door, interrupting how his lips move wordlessly in an endless mantra of self-reassurances.

Vernon snaps his head up and he clears his throat, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “Aren’t I always?” He answers.

You click your tongue, evidently disagreeing, but you pull the handle and take a step into the room anyway. When you see him, he looks exactly as he did when you left, no trace of his anxieties anywhere to be seen on his face or otherwise.

When he sees you, he feels like the world could end any moment and he’d be okay with that.

His mouth runs dry and his eyes seem to be stuck open, unblinking, fixated on you in your all black outfit as you stand still as a statue with your hands behind your back. You cough quietly, waiting for some kind of a response other than a dumb stare, but it doesn’t come.

Eight seconds later… still nothing.

“Do you hate it?” you fret, because Vernon is a very good hype-man and you’ve never known him struggle to find something positive to say. “All right, uh— okay—”

“No!” He rushes, almost shouting in his urgency to assure you that that’s not the case at all. He scrambles up to his feet, taking a breath, and pushes a hand through his hair. He’s been growing it out lately, and he kind of hates how his fingers catch on a tangle even though he brushed it meticulously before he left his apartment. You keep telling him it looks good, though, so he hasn’t been to get it cut. “God, no. I’m sorry. You look amazing.”

It doesn’t sound like much to the untrained ear, but the warmth of his compliments comes less in the words he says and more in the sincerity he says them with. Your face softens, and Vernon can see the way the thoughts of changing into something else fizzle out behind your eyes. He takes a backwards step to try and tempt you further into your own bedroom, and you move in tandem with him, closing that space and coming better into the light.

“Wow,” he says, swallowing hard and looking you up and down. “I-… wow.”

It’s your turn to clam up, now. You look down at the floor, kicking at the carpet with your toes. “Shut up,” you say. “I’m not...”

“Yes, you are,” he protests, leaving no room for argument as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t know who you’re trying to impress but… yeah, it’s gonna work.”

You walk past him with a scoff, barging against his shoulder on your way; he dramatically staggers to the side, rubbing at the impact site, laughing. When he faces you again, you’ve picked the gift up from the end of your bed and are moving to sit on the mattress yourself. Your eyes flicker between Vernon and the empty space in front of you. He takes the hint, settling back down with one foot tucked beneath him, the other still planted on your rug.

His heart shoots back up into his throat and he stares down at the box, licking over his lips and frowning at how dry they feel. He glances away, lifting a hand to his mouth, running his fingertips over his lips. What would they feel like pressed against yours? He thinks, and then he cringes again.

You misread his reaction and hesitate with your finger pressed underneath a strip of tape, tilting your head at him. “What’s going to jump out at me when I open this?”

“Nothing,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. “What do you take me for?”

“The kind of guy who puts glitter in birthday cards because he thinks it’s funny,” you retort, earning a click of his tongue.

“That was one time!”

“One time too many.”

“I swear,” he laughs, tight shoulders easing, both hands falling to his lap. “No sparkles, no loud noises, nothing jumpy. Cross my heart.“

You eye him a little suspiciously but eventually tug your finger beneath the wrapping and make the first rip in the paper, allowing you to tear into the gift after keeping Vernon on edge for almost an hour and a half. You peel it away and it falls to the bedsheets, in your hands now a small, square box not too dissimilar a shade to your comforter. You look from it, to him, and he thinks you notice how his cheeks are a little darker than they were before.

He nods at you once and you slowly pull it open. On a plush, velvety bedding sits an elegant, dainty bracelet. A small gemstone is set in the metal of the bar in the middle of the chain. You skim a thumb over it, your breath held.

“Vernon,” you murmur, tearing your eyes away from the bracelet to look at him. Now, even the tips of his ears have grown flushed, but you’re kind enough not to comment on it to avoid spoiling the moment you’re in. “This is…”

“The lady in the store said it was your birthstone,” he says, twiddling his thumbs. “I mean… I’m really just taking her word for it, ‘cause they all look the same to me, but—”

He’s interrupted as all of your weight topples against him, arms thrown around his neck in a hug. He hesitates a moment before he wraps his own around your waist, drops his head to your shoulder and he smiles wider than he thinks he ever has. “Happy Birthday,” he says, dragging his thumb up and down over your hip.

“Silly,” you scold him playfully, still pressing wholly against him and showing no signs of moving. Your voice sounds thick, a little like you’re tearing up, so Vernon squeezes you tighter.

“I know you are,” he chuckles. “But what am I?”

You swallow hard, finally now pulling away from the hug but sitting entirely too close for comfort, one knee pressing into the outside of his thigh.

Your surprise attack has left him dishevelled. With a quiet apology, your fingers innocently try to smooth everything back into place, but Vernon doesn’t hear you say you’re sorry. His pulse, thundering in his ears, drowns it out while also skipping a beat with each little touch. You’re not looking into his eyes as you shyly put him back to rights, too busy working to tame his — at the best of times — unruly hair.

He’s looking into yours though, and he can’t stop.

Your eyes, which dart all over to find strands out of place, so your hands can move them to where they ought to sit and lay them down flat. Your eyes, that drop down the length of his throat as you realign the neck of his t-shirt over his broad shoulders.

Your eyes: the ones crinkled at the corners as you pick the bracelet back up from your bed and admire it under your bedroom light. Your eyes, landing on his, finally, in a silent plea for help.

“The best?” you answer, now, extending your wrist to ask him to put it on you. He takes the chain from your fingers and unclasps it, slipping it beneath your hand and holding it in place.

“I know you are,” he says again, but it’s quieter now as he concentrates on trying to reconnect the two pieces. “But what am I?”

When he successfully fastens your gift onto your arm, he looks up to see your watery eyes still staring down at it. He decides this is the time to reveal part two of the surprise. Pulling up the sleeve of his t-shirt, he reveals his own wrist to you, and you now see there’s a matching chain hanging off it. A little stone set in the metal. His stone, presumably. You choke out a laugh around your tears, shaking your head.

“You got us friendship bracelets,” you giggle, holding your hand next to his and admiring them together. Your skin touches and he feels butterflies erupt in his stomach, which he hasn’t felt around you since…

He nods, breathing a chuckle too. “Yeah,” he says. His heart is pounding. “I guess I did. Is… that okay?”

“I love them,” you insist, leaning forward to affectionately press your lips to his cheek. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Your doorbell sounds downstairs and Vernon’s words die in his throat. Maybe that’s for the best, though; he’s got so much nervous energy rising up inside him and he’s scared it might accidentally force up something he’ll regret saying. You spring off the bed again, fussing in the mirror, and he watches you rush out the bedroom warbling about how you’re not ready for anyone to be here yet. It’s too early. What’s going on? Who is it?

He shifts his legs so both his feet are planted on the floor, letting out a breath he doesn’t remember sucking in.

I love them. Thank you, you said.

It’s perfect.

He groans when he stands up, too, tugging his sleeve back down as he starts to follow after you.

“I know you are,” he mumbles under his breath, hearing your relieved laughter at it just being the FedEx man on your doorstep. It makes him feel warm. Everywhere. “But what am I?”

Five hours later, Vernon is seeing double.

He has Seungkwan’s hands massaging the tops of his shoulders and there are two Juns sitting across from him at your dining table. He remembers feeling fine around 9pm, distinctly: like nothing he drank was having any kind of effect on him. Like he could walk home on his hands — like he was invincible. Now, after spending exactly five minutes out in the fresh air, he’s blinking four times for every breath he takes and his friends’ voices keep phasing in and out of focus.

“But what if they’re not?” Vernon stresses for the eighth time, fingers clumsily peeling at the label on his bottle.

“And what if they are?” Jun tries. Again. Also, for the eighth time, because apparently when Vernon gets tipsy, his skull gets really really thick and nothing in the world can penetrate it. “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

Vernon shakes his head, sitting back so heavily that his chair tips and he sends Seungkwan stumbling into the wall behind them. His friend gives up trying to rub the stupid out of him and settles into the chair at Vernon’s side instead.

“I don’t know-…”

“If you’re about to say you don’t know what you’ll do if it isn’t them, I’m putting you in an Uber and sending you home.” Seungkwan claps his hand down onto Vernon’s knee for good measure. “It’s not even been a day.”

Vernon groans, threading his fingers into his hair and tipping his head back. “It hasn’t, though,” he whines. “What if it’s been like this since… and I just kept ignoring…”

Jun and Seungkwan exchange a look. An exhausted one. They both know Vernon turns into a complete baby when he’s had a drink and can just about manage a trip to the bathroom without somebody holding his hand, but neither of them have seen him like this before. Neither of them want to see him like this ever again.

Hell, neither of them want to be dealing with him like this right now.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Jun’s (remarkably) calm voice repeats as he pushes up from his seat and glances towards the doorway. His ears lock onto a voice just beyond it, and in an instant, the older man recognises his chance at an exit. He casts an apologetic glance at Seungkwan, who has resorted to rubbing Vernon’s earlobes to try and get him to stop stressing, and he dips out before either of them can argue.

On his way, though, he throws in a sly little remark. One that raises Vernon’s– and Seungkwan’s– blood pressure to a level that would get them prescribed a week of strict bed rest.

“Besides – everyone can see the two of you were practically made for each other.”

Vernon whips around to face Seungkwan with shock written into every line of his face. It paints perfect full-signal WiFi creases on his forehead; it makes his jaw hang loose.

“I– what?” Vernon splutters, shooting a hand to the back of his head. Seungkwan hasn’t taken his eyes off the doorway since Jun slipped through it. Vernon doesn’t notice the fact that his older friend’s full genetic line is currently being cursed out. “What does he mean?”

“You don’t have to do anything tonight,” Seungkwan tries, now acutely aware of the fact that Jun has just given Vernon a nudge he should never have. There’s a fine line between bolstering a friend and straight-up causing chaos. This could get messy. Seungkwan doesn’t like messy.

But… It's too late.

Before Seungkwan can wrangle him back into his seat, Vernon has broken away from the table and is on the hunt for you. Seungkwan follows behind, doing his best to summon Vernon back, but he can’t. He’s on a mission now. And maybe that mission involves giving in to the thing that eats away at his brain when he should be waist-deep in music theory assignments. Maybe that mission is to finally, after two years, know what it feels like to kiss you. He’s going to find you, so help him God. He has to.

And yes. He does. He finds you, eventually. As soon as he reaches the top of the staircase, there you are.

Being pressed into the wood of your bedroom door, wrapped up in the arms of some pretentious looking art student in an oversized button-down and baggy, ripped jeans. Your mouth is covered by theirs, your fingers are threaded through those glossy fucking locks, both of you are laughing breathlessly as you drop one hand and it fumbles blindly to reach for the doorknob.

Vernon spins away, turning his back as he hears the door click. At this exact moment, Seungkwan comes stumbling up the stairs too and plants his forehead into Vernon’s sternum.

But his good friend’s skull is not the only thing Vernon is struck with, not the only thing knocking the wind out of him.

Simultaneously, he’s swept up with the sobering realisations that either this guy is your soulmate, or you’re not the same person you were when you were nineteen.

It’s eleven o’clock and two years later when he hears your secret knock on his apartment door.

Maybe it’s luck. Maybe it’s fate. He only took his noise cancelling headphones off a few minutes ago before he washed up and settled into bed; his head has hardly even had time to make a dent in the pillows. But whichever force is at play, the thing that matters is that he hears you and he knows it’s you, straight away. He doesn’t remember how it started, exactly. He thinks it might have been while he was in his exam-season hermit stage in his first year of university and refused to come to the door unless it was something important.

You’ve been knocking the same way for years now though, and he slides out of bed with creased brows at how desperate your fist sounds as it pounds against the wood. He pulls on an old t-shirt and perhaps the loosest fitting pair of shorts anyone’s ever owned, at least making himself decent before he answers. He’s still tying the drawstring when he gets to the door.

When he looks through the peep-hole to make sure he’s right, you’re drying your eyes on the back of your sweatshirt sleeve. You’re shivering quite violently, and you’ve got a bag on your shoulder that’s weighing you down on one side. Vernon’s heart sinks. He unbolts the door, pulling it open just as you lift your hand to knock again; your knuckles punch the air between you as your eyes land on him, and your bottom lip wobbles in despair.

You fall into his chest with a sob. Tears start to soak their way through his shirt until it clings to the skin underneath.

“Hey,” he soothes you, locking his arms so tight around you that there’s a strong chance they’re the only thing holding you upright.

“I didn’t— know where else to go—” you choke out, your arm trapped between your chest and his as he rests his head on top of yours and pats your back softly. “I’m s-”

“Don’t you dare,” he murmurs, tilting his chin down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. “It’s okay. I’m here. You can always come to me.”

He holds you until your shakes start to subside, trying to talk you through whatever this is with soft reassurances and gentle shushing sounds. When you pull back from him, Vernon guides you into his apartment, flicking on the lamp in his living room so he can see to settle you down on his couch. He throws a blanket over your legs before he sits down himself, pulling your hand into his lap and holding it between both of his own, his thumb moving absently over your knuckles. You’re still crying, but when you shuffle against the seat to be a little more comfortable and finally turn to face him, he finds his voice long enough to ask you what happened.

“He kissed— kissed someone else,” you tell him, sniffling and shaking your head.

His blood reaches boiling point in what must be record time and he knows he accidentally starts to grip your hand tighter, but he can’t stop.

“He what?”

Vernon knows this guy wasn’t your soulmate. You told him, a few days after your birthday. You said everything was still black and white when you pulled back from the first of — what you spared no detail in explaining was — many, many, many kisses with him that evening. But you didn’t care. Not then, and not for the whole time you’ve been together.

He asked you about it once. About four months in (when he figured things were starting to get serious), late at night, if it bothered you. Whether you were going to keep seeing him. If you still thought about finding your soulmate. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget what your replying message said.

I mean, sure, I’m curious. But maybe I don’t need to see in colour. I think being in love is enough :)

So… you were in love.

With someone who wasn’t him.

He didn’t speak to anyone — not even you — for two whole days after that. He felt like he’d gone ten rounds with a peak-form George Foreman. He felt like he’d never be able to get rid of the pit that had developed in the depths of his gut. He couldn’t sleep, he could barely eat, he couldn’t focus: it was the worst he’d ever felt. And, well… Vernon knew it was immature. He knew he was acting like a child. If he could’ve shaken it off, the way he’s always done with so many of the things in his life that have bothered him, he’d have loved to. But he couldn’t.

Besides. Only about four people noticed his silence, anyway. You weren’t one of them; your boyfriend was keeping you plenty busy.

“He went to a club and got completely wasted and he— he—” you say, squeezing his hand even tighter than he’s holding yours. “But-… he says he-…” Hiccup. “Everything. Straight away — his…”

You don’t need to say it out loud; if anything, he’s a little disgusted with himself that he didn’t figure this out sooner. “His soulmate,” Vernon ruefully finishes for you. He groans the words out, feeling rotten to his core. “I’m so sorry…”

Your shoulders start to shake and he wastes no time in pulling you sideways against him, both his arms locked around you again, just like before.

“It’s so stupid,” you cry, laughing emptily. His stomach turns; he hates this. Your anguish is an assault on his eardrums, especially when he’s got you so close, but he tries so hard not to flinch, not to move away. You need him, no matter how agonised it makes him feel. “I knew he wasn’t mine, but I thought-…”

Your voice fades away to nothing. You shake your head.

“You thought he was happy the same way you were,” he finishes again. You just nod, sobbing harder. “That's not—… stop saying the way you feel is stupid.”

Vernon doesn’t understand how that loser could ever not have been happy with you. How could he dream about going out in search of something more? Hell, Vernon doesn’t think there’s a soul alive better than you — how could anyone stand to just throw you away?

He wonders briefly if you can hear his heartbeat, thundering in his chest with the rage he feels all the way into his bones. You’ve always told him that you admire how chilled out, how collected he is, but Vernon has never felt less calm in his entire life. It’s only as he acknowledges that he has no right to feel like this, that he takes a few deep breaths in an attempt to bring his fever down. You mimic him, trying to do the same, and by the time his pulse starts to settle, you’re back to just sniffling against his shoulder.

“Stay the night here,” he tells you. It isn’t a suggestion, or really even a request. It’s an order. There’s no room for negotiation. “We’ll go get your things in the morning. I’ll be right there with you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Vernon gets there before you do. Before you can protest the offers he’s made. Before you can ask him if he’s sure. He knows you, a little too well: he knows these are the words that are going to come out of your mouth next. “I’m with you, okay? Always.”

You sit back from him with a quiet chuckle, wiping your eyes again on your damp sleeve. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” you murmur. “You’re the best— the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He just rolls his eyes at you and shakes his head, standing up from the couch. (I know you are, he thinks. This isn’t the time for jokes, though.) He wishes you knew what you mean to him; how, in his eyes, you deserve the world, presented to you on a shining silver platter. Wishes you knew that he’d give it to you if thought he could carry it.

“Go wash up,” he says, ignoring the ache in his chest at the way your watery lashes flutter when you look up at him. “I’ll find you something to sleep in.”

He locates a spare toothbrush from a travelling kit he’s never used and sets a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants on the heated towel rail, leaving you alone in the bathroom to go about your business. You emerge some fifteen minutes later to find Vernon perched on the edge of his bed, scrolling through an app on his phone. He can’t help but swallow at the way his clothes fit you. How the steam from your shower clings to your skin, casts a heavenly haze around you. He hopes it isn’t obvious. This is about more than his dumb little crush.

“Were you asleep?” You ask him, nodding towards his comforter, still pushed back on one side. He turns to glance over his shoulder, following the line of your sight, before he looks back at you and shakes his head.

“Not even close,” he says. “I’d just got into bed when you got here.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. Vernon doesn't think you look totally convinced, but he can’t force you to believe him, even if it is the truth.

It’s unspoken but accepted that you'll sleep in the bed with him; he’s never let you stay on his couch when you spend the night, and you never agree to displacing him even though he always tries to insist he doesn’t mind. You’ve been friends for enough time now that it’ll never be weird to crawl beneath the sheets with him, anyway. At first, he didn’t really like sharing (he’s a bit… particular with how he sleeps, after all), but he got used to your weight on the mattress beside him quite quickly and makes a point to say he always sleeps better with you.

He hasn’t curled up next to you for the night in over two years. It’s awful, that that’s what he thinks about now as he turns off the lights and you settle down, shuffling under the comforter until he slides in next to you in the dark and you can lay your head on his chest. He knows it’s selfish. He thinks it probably makes him a bad person, too.

“Do you think—” you start to say, cut off by a long, vocal yawn. Your breath feels so warm through his t-shirt. “If you fall out of love with them… do the colours go away?”

With his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling he can’t even see, Vernon feels his heart shatter beneath the soft cushion of your cheek. He’s suddenly grateful he’s still fully clothed, as if the cotton barrier is the only thing stopping you from getting scratched by the splinters beneath his skin. He wonders if you hear it. It would be an easier explanation for why he doesn’t say anything than whatever his mouth could come up with, that’s for sure.

“I don’t know,” he says after a few seconds too long. The arm wrapped around your shoulders slips down to your waist and he squeezes you. Briefly, he wonders if it can force your broken pieces back together.

Vernon knows he would never do this to you. He’d never hurt you this way. Out of everyone he’s ever met, he thinks you’re the sweetest, the kindest, the most thoughtful of them all. The last person he’d ever wish a heartbreak upon. He even used to joke that he’d go to war with anyone who dared to try.

But now he’s seeing it happen? He feels as if he really could.

“I just hope you never have to find out,” he follows up, blinking back the thoughts that start to bubble away as your breaths slow down.

He wrapped a band-aid around your finger when you got a papercut once and you asked him, then, if he would kiss it better.

When you bumped your head in the playground, the same.

He’d kiss it all better now too, if he could. He’d show you how you deserve to be loved.

And he doesn’t just think it, anymore; Vernon knows that this makes him a terrible person.

“I hope you don’t, either,” you mumble back. “... and I hope we find them soon.”

He’s so proud of you.

Okay, it never took much. He’s been proud of you for every good grade you’ve ever achieved, every doctor's appointment you booked for yourself, every trip to the dentist you stressed over. He’s been proud of you for finishing projects you were struggling with. Proud of you for learning new recipes. For every milestone, personal or professional, it’s the first thing he makes sure to say.

[ hey, look at u go!!! proud of u :) ]

Now? He’s seen you crawl from rock bottom to the top of the world. It hasn’t been easy. There have been hurdles and barriers and sometimes, sixty foot high walls you’ve had to climb up and over, but you’ve done it. You’re thriving. Every time he looks at you, these days, if you’re not wearing a smile there are at least traces of one in your eyes, on your face, in your voice. Happiness suits you, and he’s so, so proud of you for getting here.

He knows you’re doing better, because between Christmas and New Year, you asked him if he wanted to come to a party with you. At first, he wasn’t sure; the holidays left his wallet feeling a little light and he’s been on a really good streak of not drinking anything lately, but when you promised that you’d stay sober too, he kind of couldn’t say no.

[ i just wanna see in the new year with my favourite person ever <3 ]

[ ha. flattery will get u everywhere ]

So here he finds himself, out in the backyard of somebody he’s never met, a can of Coke in one hand and your gloved fingers holding tightly onto the other. You dragged him outside at five minutes to midnight and — though he doesn’t know why — you decided you didn’t want to let go. Vernon certainly wasn’t going to be the one to make you. Your warmth down his left side is settling the slight unease he’s felt all evening while also making him feel tipsier than he’s ever been under the influence of any amount of soju; he thinks maybe this should scare him, but he’s just… so glad he came.

With sixty seconds until the clock strikes twelve, somebody stands up on top of the picnic table in the yard and starts to try and coordinate a countdown. With forty-five, Vernon squeezes your hand, butterflies where his stomach ought to be. With thirty, he takes a long drain of his drink, finishing it as if it’ll give him some courage, maybe, or… he doesn’t know. Zero sugar, zero caffeine — there’s no logic behind his process, just a lot of bubbles and artificially sweetened syrup. All the same, he crushes the can against his thigh and slips it into his pocket to throw away later. That alone relieves a bit of his adrenaline.

Not enough, but some.

With ten seconds remaining, the first shout drowns out the white noise in his ears, the chaos of his thoughts. 10. He joins them. So do you. 9. 8. Your voice is the loudest, the most excited sounding. You want this year to be over. You want the rest of your life to begin.

7. 6. 5.

The crackers are set. Flames dance at the end of the garden on fire lighters, ready to send rockets shooting into the sky.

Some people here are going to see them as they truly are. Brilliant and vibrant and colourful against the black canvas of the midnight sky. Vernon won’t. Neither will you. But what was it you said to him once?

4. 3.

Maybe I don’t need to see in colour.

For the first time, he thinks he agrees. The feeling of loving you, even if he never knows green from red, blue from orange? He doesn’t care. He has you. He loves you. That’s enough.

Happy New Year.

As if dawn has broken early, the world becomes impossibly bright, pyrotechnics bursting not only over your own heads but everywhere, as far as his eyes can see. After the first few, he permits himself a glance over at your face: there are tears running down it, and his heart stutters, but then he hears you laugh. Brightly, wetly, more resonant than any of the booms and crackles and cheers he can feel all the way down to his toes.

For whatever reason, Vernon starts laughing with you.

You pull him closer into a bone-crushing hug and blink your damp lashes against the side of his neck. “Thank you for being here with me,” you say to him, practically shouting to be heard. “I love you so much.”

“I’m always gonna be with you,” he says as you pull back a little. Your arms are still around him. The chain of the bracelet he bought you all those years ago is bitterly cold against the back of his neck. He can’t feel his fingers anymore, all he knows is that they’re resting on the curve of your spine. He thinks he can see something in the way you look at him, so softly and tenderly and yet, in the twitch of your brow…

Like you’re searching for something that might not be there.

He knows his gaze moves in a perfect triangle — from your left eye, to your slightly parted, wind-chapped lips, to your right. He knows he stops breathing. He swears you do, too. Something builds — a spark catches, an energy festers, egged on by the curious murmurs of the people around you.

You could do it, his brain tells him.

So what if he’s a few minutes late for it to be traditional? Does it really matter?

But he’s reminded, again, this time with a whizz and a boom and a crackle, that you aren’t his to have this way. His storybook moment fizzles out, the final firework bursting into sparkles overhead. He sees every one of your perfect features brighten in wonder as you tilt your head back to look up at it. Sees it beautifully reflected in your glassy eyes. He has about enough time to commit the image to memory before you clear your throat and finally step away from him, losing all touch for the first time since you came outside.

One of your friends comes and pulls you into an embrace, before passing you along to someone else, and then someone else again. He loses you in the crowd that rushes to get back in the warm, but he makes no effort to move with them. He just stays out in the dark for a while with his own thoughts for company, shoving his frigid hands into the pockets of his jeans.

He’s happy, though. It’s like you said.

Being in love is enough.

“There’s just one more thing,” you say as the waitress returns with your bank card and a receipt. Vernon slides you a look as he stands, picking up his jacket from the back of the chair he’s been sitting in.

He shakes his head at you. “Whatever it is, it better not be edible,” he laughs. “I think this is the most full I’ve ever been.”

In other words, you’ve done enough already. Stop spending money on me. Please. Thankfully, your final surprise is in-keeping with his unspoken rule.

His birthday rolled around way too quickly. The start of the year has been so chaotically busy; you swear, you’ve hardly seen him since he dropped you off home after the party. You moved out of your parents’ house for the second time a few weeks ago and settling in, unpacking boxes, sorting through clothes and belongings and trinkets has taken you much longer than you care to admit. You’ve been busy at work, too. So has he. Your social calendars have barely lined up at all.

But you were determined to make plenty of time for him on his birthday.

To Vernon, this has always just been another day. He’s never cared too much about big celebrations: as long as he can spend some time with people he cares about, he’s happy, and this year he’s managed exactly that. He saw his family this morning, had some friends drop by his apartment later in the day, and now, he’s with you.

You’ve never been great at the laid-back approach, though. Not with him. How could you be, when he does so much for you, always without even batting an eye? When he deserves to be doted on, and adored, and thoroughly spoiled? It’s the same every year. You make a fuss, he playfully scolds you for it; you and he are creatures of habit. It’ll probably never change.

This year, you invited him to your new place to open the gifts you’d bought him: the new speaker he kept saying he couldn’t justify buying, a record he looked at in the store a few months ago but never bought, a sweatshirt to replace the one you stole off him on New Years Eve. Some candies he likes. Then, after he finally stopped pouting and sighing that you really didn’t need to go to all this effort, you took him out for dinner, making a reservation for two at his favourite restaurant.

The pouting continued.

Only up until your appetisers came out, though. The moment your food was placed down in front of you, his eyes doubled in size and his lips became a little too busy to stay pursed. Your own dinner almost went cold with how fondly you sat and watched him. This year, you even spared Vernon the embarrassment of having the restaurant staff sing at the side of your table.

All right, you have an ulterior motive, but… it’s the thought that counts, right?

He holds the door open for you now as you thank the waitress who served you one last time and without him lowering his arm, you step into place beneath it. Tucked up into Vernon’s side, you’re as happy as you’ve ever been. Nervous, too, but… you have a good feeling.

“Where to?” He asks as you fall into step together.

“This way.”

You emerge from the shelter of the canopy outside the restaurant’s front door and immediately feel the cool tickle of a snowflake landing on your cheek. They started to fall while you were eating and Vernon couldn’t stop watching through the window, small specks that grew over the hour into big clumps that tumbled towards the ground. He’s always loved the snow, and there’s no real destination for this gift, anyway. You guide him to the left and watch as peace takes its rightful home on his beautiful features.

“We’ve walked in a perfect square three times now,” Vernon says after a little while of meandering about in the dark, making comfortable small talk and laughing as the champagne bubbles in your stomachs continue to fizz away. “Where are we supposed to be going?”

You wondered how long it was going to take him to notice, or even if he was going to realise at all. Looking up and down the street you’re on, you stop in your tracks, standing beneath the same flickering street lamp that you’ve passed twice already. Your footprints trail both behind and in front of you, neither quite covered yet by the snowfall. You break into a laugh when you notice that the convenience store on your left has closed since the last time you came down this road.

“I can get a map open, if…” Vernon starts, reaching into his pocket. You stop him, stepping out from under his arm and wrapping your hand around his wrist instead.

“I might’ve told a little white lie,” you confess,

He halts with his phone only half pulled out, pushing it into his hip for fear of it falling if either of you let go. “What do you mean?” He asks.

You know he’s probably thinking back to your earlier conversations, trying to figure out which part exactly is the mistruth you’re now admitting to. But whether he gets there on his own or not, he waits for you to answer.

“I had it with me this whole time,” you explain, readjusting your hold on his covered forearm. His eyes dart downwards, looking at the site of contact, but he quickly lifts them back up to your face. “I was just… waiting for… ”

“What are you talking about?” Vernon asks.

“Close your eyes.”

You know.

Unfortunately for your best friend, as hush-hush as he’s managed to be all this time, the same can’t be said for the other person he entrusts all his secrets to. A few weeks ago, when you’d called Seungkwan to coordinate timings for Vernon’s birthday plans, he’d accidentally let something slip. It was your suggestion of taking Vernon to dinner that did the trick.

“Oh, he’s going to love that,” Seungkwan had gushed. You could hear the breadth of his smile down the phone and felt yourself growing hot at the compliment.

“You really think so?”

“Pfft. You could take him to the Eiffel Tower or to a drive-through KFC, and he’d still have hearts in his eyes – because it’s you.”

Of course, he attempted to do some damage control immediately after. Make out that he meant it in strictly platonic terms. But once the idea planted itself in your head, it sort of… made sense. You mulled it over for a couple of days but when you finally asked Seungkwan, deathly serious, if he really thought you stood a chance with Vernon?

He practically screamed ‘yes’ down the phone.

“The last time you asked me to do this, you killed me at laser-tag,” Vernon says, narrowing his eyes. He surely doesn’t think you’re hiding a plastic gun underneath the coat he literally just watched you don, but he doesn’t do as you ask and you suck your front teeth at him.

“Luckily for you, I left all my weapons at home,” you counter. “Come on, please. Just… trust me.”

“Said that last time, too,” he snickers. But, to his merit, he finally does it. He takes in a breath and follows your instruction. “I swear to God…”

Selfishly, you take a moment to bask in how handsome he really is. His eyes twitch underneath his lids and snowflakes cling to his lashes, moving with them. It’s in his hair, too. On his shoulders. Melting on his cheeks, leaving small wet spots on his face. One lands perfectly on the tip of his nose. You would immortalise this moment, if you could.

It made sense, when you found out, because thinking back? Nobody has ever loved you how Vernon does. He shows it in so many ways – he sends you the songs that he hears and thinks you’ll like, the pretty photographs that he takes when he’s away for work, some variant of a ‘good morning’ text, almost every day. He massages your shoulders, lets you fall asleep on his lap, follows you around like an obedient puppy when you have errands to run just so you don’t have to do them on your own.

He tries, and often fails, to cook you breakfast when you stay over. He brings you coffees, or lunch. He looks at you like you’re the moon and the stars. People have teased for years that you could be psychically connected. That you were cosmically united. That it was fate for Vernon to move into the house down the street from you when you were nine. To be the only other child your age on the block.

Two people, perfect for one another, lives intertwined eternally by fate. Or, in other words…

“Are you…?” He asks, breaking the quiet that has only been filled with your cloud-forming breaths.

“Give me a second,” you breathe. There’s no doubt in your mind.

One.

You lean forward to kiss him softly, free hand settling against the side of his neck. In the February chill, Vernon freezes, no part of his body reacting to you except for his lips. Though they twitch in a gasp, they press back against yours as if he isn’t even thinking about doing it. As if it’s instinctual. As if he was always supposed to kiss you – as if he’s your…

There it all is, when you finally pull away.

Brown eyes, framed by fluttering lashes that untangle from one another to finally see you, too. Brown, you know, because when you asked your mother to tell you about Vernon’s colours when you were younger, that was the only one she told you, saying everything else might change when he got older. Warm, brown eyes. Glistening with every blink, blink, blink of the bulb above you. Pupils slowly dilating, drowning the colours out of view. You see his lids shoot wide as he realises, as he glances left and right, as he takes this new world in for the first time, too.

“I knew it,” you say on a stuttered breath, so overwhelmed you could cry. “My soulmate.”

A brilliant smile threatens to split Vernon’s features in two as he cups your cheeks and pulls you back to him, kissing you again, and again, and again.

“I know you are,” he says against your lips, his bare thumbs pink and cold as they press into your skin. And, before you can kiss him quiet – “but what ‘m I?”

thank u so much for reading, i really hope you enjoyed this. as always, your likes/reblogs/comments and feedback are always deeply appreciated.<3

#vernon fluff #vernon x reader #vernon chwe fluff #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #hansol x reader #hansol fluff #kpop fluff #j writes.#*#so nervous ab posting this. anyway. i wrote this for meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee and my deluded ass is gonna go jump in a hole now GOODBYE <3 #vernon fanfic

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nonranghaes · 8 months

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heads up! vernon performs fake surgery on med student!reader to cheer them up. he's just silly <3

"scalpel."

you have no idea what your boyfriend is doing. you've been slumped over the dinner table for the past who-knows-how-long because studying has turned your brain to mush (you're in med school, that's the medical term, you swear). vernon hums to himself, and then you can feel his index finger trailing down your back as he makes his own sound effects in the form of a steady beep... beep... beep... to simulate a heart monitor. his fingers trail across your back, as though searching for something, and the "beep"s turn a little more frantic.

"vernon, what are you--"

"patient's getting better," he says, and then immediately goes back to those faster 'beep--beep--beep's. "i think. heart rate is increasing. that's good right?"

you don't answer, burying your face in your arms again. you can't let him see you smile. he'll know whatever he's doing is working, and you kinda wanna see where he's going with this. he grabs a fistful of the back of your shirt, letting go as he draws his hand away, still making those beeps.

"the surgery is a success..." he says. "i've removed the heart... i've saved the patient."

you turn your face. "baby. you can't live without a heart. i think the patient's dead."

"nah," his hands rest on your shoulders, already kneading at them. "i stole your heart and you're still alive--"

immediately, you let out the loudest groan--although whether it's out of disgust for the cheesy line or amusement because he managed to entertain you, he can't be sure. he thinks its a mix of both, actually--but it doesn't matter. you're smiling now, and that's what he set out to do.

he leans over you, pressing a quick peck against your forehead. "food's here, by the way. gotta support my future doctor somehow."

(you don't have the heart to tell him that making you laugh is always enough... and not because he stole it.)

#nonranghaes.thoughts #seventeen x reader #nonranghaes.svt #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen x you #svt imagine #svt x you #chwe vernon fluff #chwe vernon x reader #vernon x reader #vernon fluff #chwe hansol fluff #chwe hansol x reader #yes i saw the video of him n the others doing their surgery pov thing again sdkfhsdfsf #they r so silly for that. him removing the heart is so stupidly funny to me like good job vernon... are you gonna... yknow...#replace it.... wheres the bypass machine thingy.... (<- not a med student)

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cherryredcheol · 8 days

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quiet time

tldr: what exactly is he staring at? a/n: this is an ode to my own headphones. thank you for everything you do. (none of this would exist without you)

you think the best thing vernon ever did for your relationship was buy you your own pair of noise-canceling headphones. not only was it cute that you two had a subtle way of matching, but the gift was the catalyst for what you two called “quiet time”.

you knew vernon needed his alone time. knew he needed time with his headphones on and music blasting in his ears, in his own world. you were happy to give him the space and do your own thing. when you opened the headphones he had given you, you weren't really sure you’d use them, perfectly happy with your small earbuds. the large headset seemed excessive. however, you quickly got the appeal after using them for the first time.

now every time you two hung out, you’d have quiet time. each doing your own thing, existing in the same space but not interacting with each other. hair getting flatter on both your heads as the band of the headphones pressed down.

today you were sat on opposite ends of the couch, several feet of space between you both. you were absorbed in a game on your phone. he couldn’t help but stare at you, the music blasting into his own ears becoming background noise as he focused on you. he loved seeing you in those headphones, pleased to no end when he sees how well you use them. when he bought you the exact same pair that he had, he was nervous they would get mixed up but that fear was put to bed when you promptly decorated yours with little stickers, saying they needed to be “cuter” and as he stares at those stickers now, he can confirm you’re cute, but it might not be the headphone’s doing.

you could feel vernon’s gaze on you, you’d felt it for minutes now. no longer able to stand it, you turned your head to him, pulling the headphones down to rest around the back of your neck.

“why are you staring at me like that?”

vernon pulled his own headphones down, unphased, “what?”

you huffed, “why are you staring at me so intensely? it's creeping me out.”

he smiled easily, “i just love you so much, bug.”

you rolled your eyes, pulling the headphones back up, “well knock it off, you’re distracting me from my game.”

vernon just continued to stare, not missing the soft blush on your cheeks and little smile tugging on your lips as you tried to focus on the small screen in your hands. unsuccessful, you turned your head again pushing the headphones just off the ear closest to vernon, "for real stop staring. i need to beat this level before i can even think about making dinner so if you want to eat soon, you’ll look away.”

laughing, vernon crawled closer to you, closing the distance between you two on the couch. wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he pulled you closer and whispered in your exposed ear, “i’ll wait forever for dinner if it means i can keep looking at you.”

#seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #svt #svt x reader #vernon x reader #vernon fluff #vernon imagines #vernon #hansol vernon chwe #hansol fluff #hansol x reader #seventeen hansol #hansol

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mingtinys · 12 days

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" i am so proud of you "

pairing : hansol chwe x gn!reader

"13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen"

warnings : language

word count : 0.6 k

a/n : got a little carried away with this one , something about writing for vernon is just so fun

"I was thinking, why don't we go out tomorrow to that restaurant you really like? To celebrate and all."

"I'd really like that." You call back, glancing over at your boyfriend who is still busy washing dishes at the kitchen sink. Though he isn't looking directly at you, you can just make out the excited look in his eyes and the toothy grin gracing his lips. He's been like that since you told him about your promotion at work. Honestly, you didn't expect him to make such a fuss over it. It was a relatively small promotion, just a raise and a slightly higher title. But that sunny expression on his face could make someone think you'd hit CEO status.

"I'll make reservations after I finish up here." His words are barely audible over the running water. You're about to thank him when your phone buzzes to life beside you.

Incoming call from Boo Seungkwan.

Seungkwan? You think, narrowing your eyes at the screen. Why on earth could he be calling you and not Hansol?

"Hello?"

"Y/N!" His excited voice comes through the speaker. "You're not busy right?"

"Not really, no. Why, what's up?"

"I— well we all wanted to call and congratulate you on your promotion!" A chorus of voices flood your phone and you take it you're on speaker with the rest of the members.

"That's very sweet of you all, thank you." It's nice, having so many people in your corner cheering you on. "But how'd you know? I only just found out about it a couple hours ago."

"You're joking right?" It sounds like Chan. "Hansol won't shut up about it in the group chat."

"He talks about me?" You ask no one in particular

"Yeah, like an annoying amount." That's definitely Mingyu.

There's a short altercation on the other side of the call, probably Seungkwan trying to wrestle his phone back from various members. But you don't pay much mind, the warm feeling in your chest taking over all other senses. You let your gaze drift back to Hansol, who is now on his laptop, nodding along to whatever song is currently playing in his head.

"Just, give it here—! Sorry about that," Seungkwan's voice jolts you from a daze. "Anyways, we just wanted to give you our compliments. We'll let you get back to your night."

Good, because tears are already welling up at your lashes and you're not sure how much longer you can hold back the stitch in your throat. "I appreciate it, tell everyone I said thank you."

You hang up before Seungkwan can respond and promptly make your way to the kitchen. Hansol's nose is still buried in his laptop, eyes squinted as his fingers peck at the keys. "Okay," He says upon the realization of your presence. He hits the enter key rather dramatically. "Reservations are made and you're . . ." His words teeter off when he looks up, met with your tear-filled gaze.

He takes a beat. Brows furrowed and head cocked to the side. "–You're crying. Shit, wait— why are you crying?" Hansol panics. He rushes to you, taking your face between his warm hands. Holding you the way one would hold fine China. Carefully, his thumb comes to swipe a stray tear from your cheek.

"You tell your members about me?" You sniffle. Hansol's eyes go wide and his mouth opens and closes like a fish before he conjures up an answer. "Was I not supposed to?"

The pure concerned cluelessness in his voice makes you giggle and he seems to relax when he realizes he's not in trouble. "I just didn't know you bragged about me like that, it's sweet."

"I am so proud of you," Hansol speaks with unashamed sincerity. "Why wouldn't I brag about your accomplishments?"

taglist: @matchahyuck @dontwannaexsist @minnieminshi @myfavoritedelusion @tanya596carat

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silv3rswirls · 3 months

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Note: He peels an orange for you.

Also, ya'll prefer him to be called Vernon or Hansol in fics? I never know which to use as I personally don't mind either.

Warnings: None :) Soft, fluffy vibes

Requests are open!

You didn’t pay much mind when you felt Vernon’s weight press into the bed beside you, returning from a quick trip to the kitchen. You just kept your eyes focused on the show playing on your phone. You were snuggled under the covers; tucked tightly in thanks to your boyfriend as you tried to combat the cold. It was freezing, outside layered in snow with a bitter chill hanging in the air. You had decided not to leave your apartment, not even your bed if it could be helped. It was just too cold and dreary to muster up any will to move.

Your ears pricked at Vernon’s hushed voice, cursing to himself as he shifted in his spot. “What’s wrong?” You asked monotony, too invested in the movie in front of you to look away. He muttered something about getting you a snack but seemed too invested in his actions to properly answer. “Ah- sorry,” he huffed, prompting you to look over

“What are you doing?” You sit up a little. He was trying to dab away the orange juice that had leaked onto your sheets, a half-peeled orange in his other hand.

“I heard your stomach making noise.” He replied, “So I got you a snack until the food gets here.”

“Really?” You begin to smile, moving closer to him and leaning your head on his shoulder. He had gotten back to peeling it for you. It feels quieter, the faint buzz of your movie fading into the background as you observe him. He seems so serious about doing the tedious task for you. The way his brow scrunches just slightly and how his eyes seem so trained on it. “You didn’t have to peel it for me” you laughed, watching him trying to remove the peel as perfectly as he could. It wasn’t though. It was messy and getting all over his hands. The sections broke apart and the peel hadn’t come off nicely at all.

“I wanted to,” he shrugs. “It looks kind of bad” he admits quietly, tossing the peels onto the plate and breaking off a piece for you. You smile and take it. What a simple task to brighten up your evening. How kind and thoughtful, though he was always doing simple, little tasks for you.

“Thank you” You break off a piece and hold it up for him to take. He does, sitting in comfortable silence with you just eating the orange.

“I love you” he looks over to you, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before going in to peel a second to share with you. You watched him again; how kind, how thoughtful, he probably didn’t even realize how little, but heartwarming it was. Maybe you’d peel one for him next.

#seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen reaction #vernon x reader #hansol x reader #vernon imagines #hansol fluff #chwe hansol x reader #vernon fluff #svt x reader

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eoieopda · 8 months

Text

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?”

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