#hansol fic

[shadowkoo]

What Friends Are For

→ Summary: When your closest friend confides in you with something truly surprising, it's only natural to step in and offer your assistance, because that's what true friends do, right?

↠ vernon x f.reader | 2.8k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, best friends, friends to lovers, virgin/first time au

→ Warnings: explicit & unprotected sex, oral sex (male & female receiving), handjob, doggy, language, creampie, jealousy, teasing, slightly dominant!vernon, virgin!vernon, riding, breast play, nipple play, dirty talk, fingering, rough sex, deep dicking, hair pulling, begging, cum swallowing, deep throating

→ Author note: This is an updated version of an old fic of mine, I hope you enjoy it!!! If you’d like to read this on ao3 instead it’s been crossposted here! As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3

“You can’t be serious!” you burst out laughing, sharing a dumbfounded look with your best friend. You’re at his apartment and he just finished telling you the most ridiculous thing ever. You chuckle again while you continue to look for a movie to watch. “You are such a liar.”

“I’m dead serious, don’t laugh,” Vernon huffs, “You have no idea what it’s like having to pretend with the guys like I know what I’m talking about.”

“Oh please, I know you’ve watched porn before and I still don’t believe that you’ve never at least gotten a blowjob before.” He can’t be a virgin. And you seriously doubt he’s made it to twenty-five without ever having his knob slobbered on.

“Well, it’s true! So just let it go,” he barks. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

You look over to see if he’s just playing with you, he has to be. But you’re surprisingly shocked to see that he genuinely looks upset.

Realizing you hit a nerve, you apologize. “I’m sorry, I guess I just can’t believe it.” You click on a random movie to ease the awkwardness and decide to text your friends.

♡y/n♡: okie serious question, who wants to blow vern [7:50 pm]

♡cee♡: askjlasjdflkj !! [7:50 pm]

♡mal♡: giiiirl what are you on [7:50 pm]

♡y/n♡: he’s feeling down, someone’s gotta take one for the team [7:50 pm]

♡anna♡:: 👀 …. [7:51 pm]

♡anna♡: KIDDING [7:51 pm]

♡anna♡: but on a real note, why can’t you?? [7:51 pm]

♡y/n♡: ur joking right [7:51 pm]

♡cee♡: yeah you do it, i’m busy rn [7:51 pm]

♡cee♡: plus we all know he wants none of us [7:52 pm]

♡mal♡: lmao truuu [7:52pm]

♡y/n♡: what’s that supposed to mean?? [7:52 pm]

♡mal♡: idk why don’t u suck on ur boyfriend [7:52 pm]

♡mal♡: sorry i mean boy FRIEND [7:52 pm]

♡mal♡: major emphasis on the friend [7:52 pm]

♡y/n♡: i hate you guys [7:52 pm]

♡anna♡: no u don’t, now grow a pair of balls and play with his [7:52 pm]

♡y/n♡: OMG [7:53 pm]

♡cee♡: ur with him, aren’t you? sounds like the perfect time to do it [7:53 pm]

♡anna♡: and let us know after how it was 😏 and size, we’re all curious [7:53 pm]

You set your phone down intentionally upside down so Vernon can’t see the messages. At one point, you did have feelings for him but you pushed them aside in fear of ruining your friendship. How pathetic is that? Peeking over at him, you wonder if those feelings ever actually went away, or if you’ve been pretending this whole time.

He’s very attractive, that’s obvious. The last time you thought about your feelings for Vernon was about a year ago when he started dating this horrible girl. She was awful, but he was trapped under her spell and it drove you two apart. Back then, you thought that it was for the best since you wouldn’t have had the courage to tell him to break up with her and date you instead.

They dated for almost 6 months, and when they broke up Vernon was devastated. It didn’t take long for your friendship to go back to normal after their time apart, so that’s why you didn’t want to take any chances now.

Those 6 months without him were miserable and you didn’t want to live without Vernon in your life again. He was too special to you to let something as silly as old feelings come between your friendship. You don’t want to mess it up.

But on the other hand, you’ve heard friendships often create the best relationships. Would yours?

Vernon cares for you, that’s a given. But how far does it go? Sure, you two pretty much act like you’re in a relationship, but you haven’t kissed. Other than that one time when you brought drunk Vernon home… but that didn’t count because he was trashed at the time and didn’t remember it, or so you told yourself.

If you are ever going to make a move, now is the time. Do you really want to lose another chance that the universe is obviously lining you up for? Why else would he bring up the fact that he’s never had a blowjob unless he secretly wants you to give him one? Does he want more than a blowjob? Does he want you to…take his virginity?

You force yourself to quit overthinking and muster up enough courage to ask, “Vern?”

“Hmm?” he responds. He’s so caught up in the movie you’re watching that he doesn’t seem to notice you sit up and scoot closer to him. Your hands are shaking but you aren’t going to let that stop you.

‘God, what am I doing? This is so embarrassing…’

“Can I…” You mumble nervously, not being able to finish the sentence.

“Can you what?” He asks back, still not really registering what you are about to say.

’Well,’ you think to yourself, ’It’s now or never.’

You move off the couch to kneel in front of him and rest a hand on his thigh, commanding his attention away from the TV screen.

“Please, let me.”

It takes Vernon less than a second to understand exactly what you’re asking and he has no idea how to respond.

If he’s being honest, he’s always had a thing for you. Though he’s never had the guts to make a move or even admit it to you.

He swallows nervously as his length inevitably twitches in his pants. “You’re joking right?” ‘She can’t be serious. There’s no way. This had to be some kind of sick joke. But you don’t look like you were joking. In fact, you look like you’re pleading. Holy shit…’

“Not at all. I mean, we’re friends, right? Friends help each other,” you say while sliding your hands up to the button of his jeans. His eyes follow your movements as you unzip his pants and reach a hand in.

“You really don’t have to. Mingyu’s having a party and I’ll find someone and get laid this week-” his words are lost in his mouth as you wrap your small hand around his rather growing member.

“Why would you want a stranger to do it when you could have me? That’s what friends are for, silly.” You’re trying your damn hardest to make it sound like you’re doing him a favor as a friend and not doing this out of your own desire, your own need to touch him - to taste him. It’s your safety net in case he says no. In case this ends badly. However, you aren’t so sure that’s the message you’re sending since you’re quickly pulling his pants down his thighs.

You look up at him and run a finger over his tip before bringing him into your mouth for a taste. “Before I continue, I need to hear you say that you’re alright with it. Tell me that you want my mouth on your cock,” you demand playfully while your hands stroke his length.

Vernon is at war with himself. Should he give in to his desire of wanting you? Or should he pull back, laugh this off, and forget about this? How the hell is he supposed to forget about this? To forget the look of you on your knees asking to suck him off? There’s no way. It’s impossible.

“Fuck,” Vernon rubs a hand over his face and you freeze in fear of what he’s going to say. “Babe, you can do whatever you want to me. Fuck.”

Without hesitating a second longer, you lean down to take him in between your lips. His girth stretches your mouth in the most wonderful way, and you’re unable to control the moan that escapes from your parted lips. God, you aren’t even embarrassed. You lift your eyes up to watch him, his mouth ever so slightly opens and his tongue drifts out to lick his lips.

Vernon is lost. Is he supposed to hold your hair? Is he just supposed to sit here and watch? Should he be praising you right now? He has absolutely no idea. All he knows is that what you’re doing with your mouth is driving him crazy. “Oh my god, this is what I’ve been missing out on? This whole time?” Vernon leans his head back in pleasure. “Fuck,” he gasps, “I have a lot to catch up on.”

Hearing his words gives you more courage, and you relentlessly bob your head on his length, making sure to have just enough suction while doing so.

You pull back for air and let your hands tug on him while you kiss his tip, listening happily to his husky groans. Honestly, this is the best part of giving a blowjob. Knowing that you can make a guy, let alone Vernon, feel this good. You feel him twitch in your mouth and moan in pleasure. Drool is running onto your hands at this point, proof of how much you like his taste.

Vernon smirks, “I don’t know who’s enjoying this more. You,” he quickly inhales as you shove your mouth further down onto his length, “Or me.”

You slowly pull your mouth off of him, watching his face twist as you tease the underside of his tip with your tongue. “I don’t know, the look on your face tells me that you’re enjoying this a lot,” you taunt.

His legs quiver as his length once again finds the back of your throat, your hands massaging his balls. It’s too much. He has to cum, he can’t wait.

Wanting to help him out, you hum and instantly feel the sticky liquid running down your throat. Your hunger grows listening to Vernon call out your name, his hand pulling at the hair by your neck.

He watches in wonder while you swallow him, licking some of his seed off his length when you release him from your mouth. You lift a finger to rub the remaining cum around his tip, “You came.” Vernon shudders while you tease his sensitive member.

“Shit, Y/N,” he whimpers, “I couldn’t hold it any longer; not when you were doing that last thing.”

“I hope you’re not tired because I am so not done with you yet,” you whisper. You had a taste of him, and now you want more. You want all of him, and you don’t want to wait another second.

The lingering salty aftertaste in your mouth is washed away by Vernon's kiss as he pulls you up onto his lap. He lifts your shirt up and off of you, barely breaking contact with your lips in the process, before he takes off his own in the same manner.

Your hands rub along his chest, feeling his muscles tighten and relax as your touch moves along his silky skin. His head dips down to catch one of your breasts in his mouth. You roll your head back as his tongue plays with your hardening nub, a gasp leaving you when his teeth graze your nipple.

Your head snaps up when he pulls away from you.

He chuckles, “Relax, it’s time for me to return the favor.” He leaves a wet kiss on your other breast and moves down to nibble on the inner part of your thighs. After what feels like years, his hands reach for the waistband of your shorts and pull them and your panties off of you.

His tongue protrudes out and licks your center before moving closer to your clit, which he circles and sucks on gently at first. His mouth on your heat pulls moan after moan out of you, and you involuntarily take a fistful of his blonde locks when his tongue enters you repeatedly.

Vernon pulls back all out of breath and his cheeks glistening. God, it’s such a turn on to see him like that, his face damp with your cum. He reaches for you at the same time you grab for him. His lips crash against yours, your tongues twisting with each other.

Vernon slides a hand back down between your naked bodies and rubs your sensitive clit, making your back arch in pleasure. You moan into his mouth which he gladly swallows before sliding two fingers into your dripping heat, bringing you right back to where you just were. Only this time, your juices cover his long fingers instead of his face.

Just as you finish riding out your amazing orgasm, Vernon starts to sit up. Although, your hands are wrapped around his neck so he doesn’t make it that far. You pull him back down onto you, which he isn’t ready for. His knee falls next to yours, his other foot landing on the floor, causing his length to rub right up against your wet heat.

You both gasp at the contact, but it isn’t enough for you. Your hand moves to grip his member and bring him further between your lower lips, your hips moving along with his - until he hesitates, his eyes full of worry…

Vernon bites his bottom lip as you ask, “What is it?”

“I don’t know if we should go any further. I don’t have protection,” he explains.

“Oh Vernon, I don’t care. I need to feel you.” You kiss him again. “I’m on birth control anyway. I need you inside me,” you finish before gripping his hair to pull him closer to you. “Fuck me, Vernon. Fuck me hard, please,” you beg, “It’s all I’ve dreamt about. I need your thick cock stretching me out. Please, Vernon,”

Vernon almost dies hearing you say that. Shit, he’s dreamt about this moment too, and watching you beg him to fuck you like that made his length twitch with excitement. There is no way in hell he’s going to say no to you after hearing that. He leans in to kiss you hard before dipping his tip into your dewy folds. He’s being too gentle for your liking, typical Vernon behavior, so you push him to sit up and lean against the back of the couch, yourself following, and slide the rest of the way down onto him.

It takes you a moment to collect yourself before rolling your hips into his. Once you’re ready, you anchor yourself by holding onto his shoulders and he lifts his hips up to meet your delicious pace.

Your arousal soaks his member as he slides deep inside you. It’s a perfect fit, he hit all the right places and has you squirming in his arms.

“Oh my god, Vernon!” you whine, gyrating your hips to bring some relief to your aching bundle of nerves. Sweat covers both of your bodies as you fuck each other. The pleasure is almost unbearable; your insides scream for release.

As if he knows exactly what you want, Vernon flips you over and squeezes your ass cheeks before he enters you from behind. You push your face into the throw pillow below your head and grip the sofa’s arm for dear life.

“Oh god, don’t s-stop,” you drag out while he ferociously pounds into you. Vernon groans and hovers over top of you. His hand wraps around your neck and pulls your back against him.

This new angle has you shivering and Vernon can tell that you’re close again. His other hand wraps around your waist, pulling you down onto him harder. The sound of your arousal echoes through his living room, your breaths combining with the creaks of his couch.

You feel Vernon stiffen inside you, he’s close. “Cum in me. I want to feel you cum in me,” you sigh, begging for him to do so.

Vernon grits his teeth, there’s nothing he wants more than to fill you up with his cum right this second. Your legs clench as you tip over the edge. The climax hits you both instantaneously and sends you spiraling.

“Oh my god, oh god!” you cry out. Wave after wave of pleasure passes through your limp body. Thankfully Vernon is still holding onto you or you would have fallen off the couch. Resting against him, your breathing matches his.

His delicate touch leaves goosebumps along your body where his fingers trace. Everywhere tingles. You can’t remember the last time that you came this hard. It’s earth-shattering, exhausting, and yet you feel totally full of new energy at the same time.

Vernon’s cum starts leaking out of your folds, it’s a strange feeling. This is the first time you let someone cum in you and it felt oddly satisfying. Vernon reaches over to the coffee table and grabs a tissue to clean you up with before laying back down on the couch, bringing you on top of him.

“Jesus,” He pants, still completely out of breath, “Where the fuck did that come from.”

“I don’t know but I’ll be needing more of that when I wake up,” you moan, your eyelids feeling awfully heavy. Vernon’s chest vibrates, laughing at your response. He puts an arm around your waist as he whispers, “Thank you, for… well you know. That.”

“Mmm, no problem.” You turn your head over to look up at him and smile devilishly, “That’s what friends are for, remember?”

©shadowkoo 2023. All rights reserved.

[sailorrhansol]

One in the Grave | Series Masterlist

❀ Pairing: Vampire!Vernon x Dhampir!Reader (f) 

❀ Summary: Immortal problems require immortal solutions, but you never expected the unlikely help from a vampire lord and the destruction that might come with it. 

❀ Series Word Count: 1,366 so far

❀ Genre: Supernatural, Dystopian,

❀ Type: Unlikely allies to lovers, slow burn, angst, eventual smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Series Warnings: General fantasy and supernatural violence, dystopian/totalitarian themes, depictions of blood and gore, angst, character traumas, death and sickness, depictions of loss and suffering, humans are subservient to vampires, explicit language, and explicit sexual content. Each chapter will have its own set of carefully labeled warnings, these are general warnings for overarching themes. 

❀ A/N: This dystopian vampire idea is something I have had written in my writing journals since I was in middle school and I've finally decided to use the idea as a fic. I am writing this as I go and posting when chapters are ready - there is no schedule or post plan, just vibes. Please be patient with me! I have to see this fic through to the end or @daechwitatamic will find me and put me into a room until I do :)

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀ Playlist

00// NOTES FROM THE FALL

01// THE DHAMPIR.... coming soon

[slytherinshua]

PAMPERING

genre. fluff. period comfort. warnings. mentions of cramping. pairing. vernon x fem!reader. wc. 1k. a/n. bro this period has been like 💀 cramps are insane 😭 hopefully this comforts whoever else is suffering rn (like me) mom i want a vernon ☝️

“Are you cramping?” Vernon guessed, watching you walk through the door and absolutely crash on the couch next to him. 

You nodded, masking the pain you were experiencing as you decompressed from the exhaustion of the day. It was hard to be patient with the amount of moodiness that came with your cycle, and that certainly didn’t help you when it came to your job. Your emotions were all over the place, and it took all your willpower to not break down crying right then and there. You felt so tense and uncomfortable.

“You made it through the day. You can relax now.”

“No, I can’t. Seungkwan invited us both to a party, remember? We have…” You checked your phone for the time, groaning when you saw it, “30 minutes before we have to be in the car. It’s a 20 minute drive.”

“Babe.” Vernon muttered, pulling you to his chest, pressing a short kiss to your temple, “There’s absolutely no way I would choose going to a party over taking care of my girlfriend.”

“You RSVP’d, though.” You whispered.

“Yeah? And you’re in pain. So, no way.” He kissed your nose and stood up, making his way to different parts of the house to get all the things he needed to properly take care of you. 

Vernon had learned a lot of new things about himself when he started dating you. First of which was that he liked taking care of you. He liked giving, and he liked seeing you receive the love you deserved. He never hesitated to take the best care of you only because he enjoyed it.

He had never thought of himself as a selfless person, but before you, he never had a person to give himself to. He never thought he would get into a relationship before he met you. Dating was far from his top priority, and he had never experienced what it felt like to be in love. But as soon as he met you, he had fallen so hard. He loved every little thing about you. 

To him, you were perfect. 

He now understood why humans obsessed over love, why they spent their entire lives seeking it out and cherishing it. Every second he spent with you was timeless, and he had learned to cherish every day he got to spend with you.

Those included the bad days, like today. On bad days, Vernon was determined to do everything in his power to make your day just a little better.

He was back by your side quickly, placing a box of things on the coffee table and crouching down to be at eye level with you. He held out his arms and you gave him a confused look.

“What?”

“Come on. I’ll carry you to bed.” He smiled.

“Vernon!” You curled up a bit, hiding your flushed face behind your hands, “I can manage to make it up the stairs.”

“You’ve had a long day, come on.” He coaxed you until you opened your eyes again, peeking up at him. In one swift motion he scooped you up into his arms as if you weighed nothing. It was a quick trip up the stairs and within a minute he was gently placing you back down, making sure your head lay comfortably on the pillows.

You shrinked at the feeling of another painful cramp spiking and Vernon frowned. He adjusted the pillows, making sure they were fluffed to your liking and comfortable enough. 

“Y/n, rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10.” He instructed, tone completely serious.

“Is this really necessary?” You questioned as Vernon handed you a warm heating pad to place over your stomach.

“Just do it, babe.”

You thought for a moment, “I guess maybe a 4?”

“Are you sure? I heard women often downplay the pain they experience on their period.” He quipped, “I’ll take your 4 to be a 6.”

“Vernon, what about your work? Didn’t you say you were going to finish something today?” You suddenly recalled a conversation you had with him this morning. He had definitely said he needed to finish a project by the end of today.

“Y/n, I told you already, you’re more important to me than work. Today, I just want to take care of you, okay?��� He told you, brushing some hair away from your forehead and tucking it behind your ear. “Chamomile tea is supposed to help ease cramping, so I put the kettle on. It should be ready in 5 minutes. You’ll drink it, right?”

You smiled bashfully, “Thank you…”

“I can dash to the store to get some chocolate… or we could watch a drama? Anything you want.” His mouth curved up at the sight of your smile and he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips.

You really had everything you could have asked for. Snuggled cozily under the covers with a heat pad, a cup of tea and chocolate bar, one of those slice-of-life smalltown k-dramas playing in the background, and most importantly, your boyfriend to cuddle with.

“You’re setting the standard too high, you know?” You mumbled into Vernon’s chest, feeling drowsier by the second. You had been lying there with him for over an hour, content to just breathe in the scent of his cologne on his hoodie and relax until you finally got tired enough to sleep. “If we ever break up, my next partner won’t even be able to compare to you.”

“Good thing we’re not breaking up then.” He replied, pausing his scrolling on his phone to glance down at you when you didn’t say anything. Vernon observed that you were already half-asleep by your deepened breath, and he laughed softly at the thought that you probably didn’t hear what he said. He quietly turned off the k-drama and pressed a kiss to the top of your head— more than willing to let you sleep curled up next to him for however long you needed.

↳ svt taglist: @kangtaehyunzzz,, @yeonjuns-redhair,, @ddeonudepressions,, @hannahsophie0103,, @skz-minchan-enthusiast,, @shuabby1994,, @icyminghao,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @edensgardenn

[here4kpopfics]

Good Boy | Vernon

Pairing: Vernon x (f)reader 

Genre: good ol’ smut and fluff

AU: idol!au, established relationship

Wordcount: 3.3k

Summary: You visit your boyfriend on tour after two months away and find out something interesting about him.

Warnings: language. Some good ol’ smut. Unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP). nicknames. Praise kink. Vernon’s a rough boy sometimes. He calls her his plaything. Oral (f receiving). Fingering. Other sexy stuff I’m sure.

Rating: M / 18+ 

AN: this is a bts blog. this was a bts blog. now we are chaos and we are confused and horny. enjoy. thank you bby @playmetheclassics for beta-reading and dealing with me screaming and crying over Stage Vernon. Also tagging @yoongimingyu and @the-boy-meets-evil bc y'all made me do it. and @sugarwithtea bc 💜

I'm going to have to make a Seventeen masterlist. 🥲

and of course, banner and divider by @classicscreations

Masterlist | Taglist | AskBox | Coffee?

You land on the bed with a soft thud, head hitting just below the pillow and legs dangling off the edge.

You let out a shaky laugh, watching your boyfriend stand in front of the bed and grip the back of both of your knees. He slowly brings them up, eyes locked on yours as he parts your legs enough for him to crawl onto the bed, settling on his knees and in between your legs. Your thighs find their place on his, wrapping the rest of your legs around him as he crawls to hover over you. 

He stays silent while you’re locked in on his tense staring contest. He knows you hate it, much preferring it when he’s growling in your ear about everything he wants to do with you. There are  two different personalities to Vernon, and you love them both, but there’s one that just destroys you, and he knows it. 

Stage Vernon.

Off stage, Vernon is quiet, calm, and often in his own world in his mind. He can be very loud and hilarious when needed, especially with Seungkwan. With you, he’s the bonus of being extremely sweet and loving, always giving back hugs, and needing some sort of physical touch, even if it’s just sitting next to one another. 

He’s the perfect boyfriend, even if he is oblivious sometimes and a bit shit at remembering important things, but it’s fine. You’re the same way. 

Stage Vernon, however, is a problem. 

Stage Vernon is a natural entertainer. Stage Vernon gets lost in the music, rapping and singing his heart out and dancing like the rent is due in an hour. And it drives you insane every time. 

Stage Vernon almost always ends the shows that you attend by walking off stage, immediately looking for you, and fucking you senselessly in a random room. By the time he’s done with you, you usually find at least three bite marks near your shoulder, countless hickies across your body, and marks where his fingers had been digging into the skin on your hips from holding you still while he used all the adrenaline from the show to pound into you relentlessly. You fucking love it.

Which is why this feels different. You surprised him at a show in a different country. You were wearing your best outfit showing off his two favorite things about you, your ass and your breasts. You waited in the dressing room while they were doing soundcheck. When they came back, everyone quietly greeted you, not wanting to give away the surprise to Vernon, who was the last to enter. His eyes found yours immediately, his mouth hanging open in utter shock. Seungkwan had to push him towards you just to bring him back to reality, lifting you in his arms and swinging you from side to side as he buried his face in your neck, mumbling about how much he missed you. 

The show was amazing. Of course, it was. Vernon put his all on the stage, and you watched as you usually did, absolutely amazed at his duality and the fact that he was yours. You didn’t even care that he barely looked in your section’s direction because he focused on his performance and interacting with the fans. This was his job, and he can’t be distracted by you while working. 

Except you were all he could think about while on stage, which is probably why he went so hard tonight. All he could think about was getting you back to the hotel so he could have his way with you after two months apart. That’s why he didn’t look your way the whole night. That’s why he barely said anything when he got off stage, in the car ride back to the hotel, or in the elevator to your floor. 

It’s not until you put the keycard into your room’s door and open it that he finally makes a sound. A low growl as he stops you from proceeding down the hall once you both step inside the room. The grasp on your wrist is tight when he pulls you back to face him and desperately presses his lips against yours and pushes you against the wall in the process. 

You both moan in between fervent kisses and gasps of air. He dips down a little, hands wrapping around your thighs to pick you up and keep you pinned against the wall with his hips. Your dress quickly becomes useless and rides up to your waist just from being lifted, the straps falling off your shoulders like string. 

“I missed you so much, baby.” He groans into your mouth, and you lean your head back against the wall. 

You take a useless deep breath that escapes quickly when his lips move down your jawline, landing on the part of your neck he labeled the sweet spot since it always made you squirm under him. Tonight’s no different as you let out a sharp squeak, starting to struggle under the strength of him pinning you, hands tangling in his hair when he rolls his hips perfectly. 

“Vernon, baby. It’s been two months, don’t make me wait any longer.” You plead into his ear, and he stills immediately. 

For a second, you panic internally, thinking you ruined the moment. But he just brings his face back up to face yours, resting his forehead on yours as his eyes pierce yours. 

“You think I enjoyed making us wait until we got to your room? That I enjoyed not just bending you over the couch after soundcheck in front of my hyungs and fucking you until next year?” He lifts from your forehead, returning to your neck and biting down hard before letting go, ensuring he left a mark behind. 

“Or how I had to ignore an entire section of the arena because if I saw you in this fucking outfit again, I’d drag you onto the stage and show everyone what I do to you?” His lips trail down to your collarbone, lips bruising your skin on the way down.

“Do you think I haven’t lost my fucking mind these past two months without you?” After this question, the death grip  on your thighs loosens only to readjust his hold on you and push you further up the wall. 

“No, baby, no. I don’t mean that.” You whine, using your grasp on his hair to move him back to face you. 

“I mean, I need you. Now. I need you to fuck me right now.”

His eyebrows shoot up at you, a cocky grin following suit.

“Are you trying to tell me what to do?” His tone is teasing, his hands sliding up and down the back of your thighs. 

“If it gets your cock in me? Then, yes. Yes, I am telling you what to do.” You whine, trying to roll your hips for any amount of friction. But he presses further against you, making any movement impossible. 

The man dares to laugh, forcing a groan out of you when his lips meet yours again. 

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, baby girl.” A wicked smile flashes when you pout at your boyfriend. 

“You’re my little plaything, right? My little obedient plaything?”

You nod because you are, and you’re not afraid to admit it. You love when he throws you around and edges you until you cry. But you’re also needy and desperate right now and not in the mood to be played with. You missed him like crazy for two months, which is how you ended up working with Seungkwan to get you a flight out to visit. 

“But an obedient plaything wouldn’t tell me what to do, would she?” 

“Vernon. Please.”

“That’s better.” He grins, a small laugh escaping when you whimper against his lips. He backs away from the wall, giving you enough time to secure your legs and arms around him as he brings you to bed, giving you another kiss before he tosses you onto the bed. He sheds all of his clothes before you can fully process where you are. 

When he hovers over you, your legs wrapped around his waist and thighs resting on his, you get that familiar sense of excitement again. Vernon sometimes changes his behavior in bed. You call it the secret third Vernon. Stage Vernon multiplied by ten. You love it, you hate it, you crave it, and you fear it. 

Tonight’s Vernon, you’ve met a few times before it got rougher. This Vernon is slow, methodical, calm, and loving. He doesn’t bother helping you out of your dress, kissing whatever skin is exposed as he makes his way back down to lay between your legs. 

You let out a series of soft moans when he lightly bites your inner thighs, tongue dancing across the marks a little before moving on to the next bite. 

“Fuck, baby, please. Please, I need something. Anything.” You’re already on the verge of crying, the teasing being too much for you after such a long time away from him. 

You feel him exhale a laugh against your skin, kissing the space between your thigh and where you need him most before he harshly tugs your underwear down to your knees, giving you a moment to kick it off the rest of the way. He finally places a soft kiss on your clit, your hips buck up, and he forces them back down as he dives right in, lapping up your arousal from your center and thumb coming up to play with your clit. 

Your whines and moans become stronger and louder as he eats you out. You spare no thoughts or concerns for your hotel neighbors. The only important thing right now is your boyfriend’s mouth that’s buried between your folds and the fingers that are now thrusting in and out of you with no remorse. 

You lift your head slightly to look down and see him work his magic. You have no idea why you open your mouth, but you can’t stop yourself from speaking as your hand tangles in his hair.

“Fuck, that’s a good boy, keep going.” 

You don’t even sound like yourself when saying it. You have no clue who or what possessed you. Your eyes widen in horror as Vernon stops what he’s doing to slightly lift his head to look up at you, eyebrows raised to the top of his head.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t. I don’t—ahh, fuck.” Your head falls back onto the bed, crying out at the sudden pleasure of Vernon’s mouth sucking on your clit like his life depends on it until you’re coming around his fingers and on his tongue. He pulls off you for just a moment, quickly crawling back up your body to kiss all across your face and neck. 

“Say it again.” He growls against your ear.

“What?” You question, unsure of the sudden change. 

“Say it again, baby. Call me your good boy.” He groans against the skin under your ear.

“What?” You ask again, fingers dancing up and down his spine. “You wanna be my good boy?”

The guttural groan that vibrates through his chest answers your question for you. You’re thankful he can’t see your reaction right now, a huge grin plastered across your face. You whisper for him to roll over, and he does, effortlessly holding you close as he flips you both over and slides himself up the bed so he can sit against the headboard. He pulls you back on top of him, legs straddling either side of his lap. 

“I thought I just said roll over, not sit up.” You smile, wrapping your arms around your neck as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling at the zipper of your dress so it comes undone 

“And I said you don’t tell me what to do.” He teases back, capturing your lips again. But only for a moment because you pull away, leaving him to whine at the loss. You lift the dress over your head, tossing it somewhere off the bed.

“So I can’t tell you what to do, yet you get turned on when I call you a good boy?” You hold his chin between your thumb and index finger, tugging down slightly so his lips barely part.

“I didn’t get turned on.” He lies, his hands finding their usual grasp on your hips.

“No? Then what was that? What was that whole ‘say it again, call me your good boy’ stuff? You don’t want me telling you you’re a good boy?” You slowly roll your hips, your soaked center rubbing perfectly against his erection. “Don’t want me telling you how amazing you feel inside me? How well your perfect cock stretches me out?” 

The grip on your hips tightens and you feel yourself clench around nothing when he tries to suppress his whines. His eyes shut tight when you lean forward to whisper in his ear.  

“Tell me, baby. Are you a good boy that knows how to treat his girlfriend right?”

He nods quickly, exhaling a shaky breath and pulling your hips over his back and forth. 

“Yeah? A good boy that knows how to make his girlfriend feel good?” 

“Fuck, yes.” His words are drawn out, and his head falls back, hitting the headboard. 

“Then be a good boy and prove it.” He takes barely a second to do as you say, quickly lifting your hips so he can line himself up with you and sitting you back down on his length in one go. 

Your breath stops for a moment at his action, looking down to watch him rut your hips against him. You mutter a few curse words under your breath, mostly enjoying the feeling you’ve been craving for two months. He lets you take over, watching you lift your hips and bring them back down in a rhythm that has both of you losing your minds. You bring your gaze away to look up at him, his eyebrows are pinched together, and his bottom lip is perfectly tucked under his teeth. He looks so good, and the fact that he’s reacting this way because of you is a little confidence boost you don’t need but greatly appreciate. 

“Feels like I’m doing all the work here, baby.” You smirk, rocking your hips once to make his breath shudder, looking up at you. “You’re not proving to be a good boy if I’m doing all the work, now are you?” You tease, watching his eyes flicker from your sweet boyfriend enjoying the feeling of you to your menace of a boyfriend that just got off stage. 

In the blink of an eye, he pushes you forward so you’re on your back again, hands forced up above your head with one hand as the other grabs both of your ankles, folding your legs together up towards your chest. He gives you all of two seconds to focus on what had happened before he’s roughly shoving himself back into you, beginning the relentless pace you’ve been looking forward to since buying the plane ticket out here. 

“Fuck, there he is.” You quickly say in a gasp. He laughs as he presses deeper with each thrust. You cry out, unable to move any of your limbs. You try to lift your hips more to meet him faster, but he lets go of your wrists, pinning you back down by placing his hand on your lower stomach. His thumb creeps down, finding your clit and rubbing harsh, almost circles eliciting a loud moan of his name to leave your lips.

You breathe out a warning of you being close, and he only gives a small nod because he is pulling out enough to lower his head, spitting directly on your clit before quickly resuming his harsh pace. You try lifting your hips again at the sudden shock of him spitting on you, but his hand holds you down again, his thumb finding its way back to your clit. 

“Come for me, baby. I’ve missed the feeling of you coming around my cock.” He groans out the words, bringing your legs to his chest and kissing your ankle. Just that action alone is enough to quickly bring you to the edge, but it’s when he bites down just above your ankle that you feel the hot coil in you burst and you’re coming undone for him while he continues to fuck you through it. 

When you’ve finally calmed down enough, he quickly pulls himself out of you, dropping your legs and parting them, so he has access to your stomach. His hand wraps around his cock and starts pumping while he grunts a series of words you barely understand.

“Good boy, baby. Come all over your plaything. You did such a good job. Come for me, baby.” You repeat your affirmations a couple of times until he finally lets out your favorite sound, a loud but deep growl followed by short gasps and moans as he comes all over your stomach. He stills for a moment before moving to your side and laying backwards next to you, neither of you care that your feet are at the headboard. 

You both stay silent while catching your breath, your fingers mindlessly tracing the cum on your stomach as he watches. You’re not doing it to be sexy or try to turn him on again. It’s just a thing you do while thinking. He knows that, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t doing anything for him. 

“So…” you giggle at your own thoughts, “a praise kink, huh?” you turn your head to grin at him. He sighs, resting his arm over his face to hide a laugh.

“I guess so.” 

“Interesting…the rough loving dominating one wants to be told he’s a good boy. I can get used to that.” 

“That’s fine, but don’t forget who has the power here.” He grumbles with an almost giggle, failing to say it seriously as he turns on his side, head resting in his hand. 

“Oh, me for sure. You can’t be rough with me unless I say so. And you won’t be praised if you do anything I don’t like. All me, baby.” You grin as he stares at you, eyebrows pinched together again and mouth open in disbelief.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He concedes, and you giggle, flipping to your side, mimicking his posture to get closer to him. You cup his face with your free hand as your smile softens.

“I missed you, Vernon. So much. Two months is too long.” You whisper. You know it’s his job, touring the world and being an idol and someone everyone desires to be with. But it’d be stupid not to admit that it’s hard not seeing him every day. 

“I know. I’m sorry, y/n. If I could, I’d take you everywhere with me. You’d never leave my side.” His free hand finds your waist, thumb rubbing soft circles against your skin. 

“Oh, that might be too clingy there, buddy.” You giggle, easing the sadness you both feel.

“How long are you here for?” you look off to the side at the imaginary calendar in your mind.

“A week and a half. I think. I leave before you head back to Seoul.” One of his eyebrows raises at the idea of having you on tour with him for under two weeks. A mischievous grin creeps along his face as he tugs your waist closer to his.

“Then I have just under two weeks to make up for two months of neglect.” his voice lowers when he moves to kiss your neck. 

“Oh, a good boy with a good plan. I like it.” You tease, cackling when he tickles you before climbing back on top of you to make good on his plan. 

hope you enjoyed! lmk what you think. I love you 💜

[17caratrecs]

vernon * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

untitled by @som1ig

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untitled by @twogyuu

୨୧ 935 words

accidentally in love by @suhnshinehaos

୨୧ smau (5 parts)

wanna be yours by @waldau

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[yyxgin]

♫ — STRAWBERRIES AND CIGARETTES ALWAYS TASTE LIKE YOU ;; [chwe vernon]

9:03pm — Mindlessly taking off the stem on the strawberry you’re holding in your hand, the sky paints itself in pink hues and shines in your eyes in a golden ray. It’s your favorite time of the day, when everything takes a much different color, everything looks much more subtle and the town in front of you slows down just for a second, letting you breathe. The chilly air seeps to your bones when you tuck your legs closer to yourself, sitting cross-legged on the ground.

The roof of your apartment complex has always been your safest place. You were lucky enough to have the key, since your landlord left it to you when he left the town a few months ago. That meant that you no longer had to creep around and see if the small door was unlocked anymore– you could just simply climb up the ladder and enjoy the feeling of freeness that circles you every time you listen to the low hums of city life.

“It’s pretty up here,” Vernon hums from beside you, the soft black fabric of is hoodie warming up his crouching body on the ground. When you look over at him, his gaze is pinned somewhere far in front of you, watching the cars drive under the horizon of the tall hill in the distance.

“It is, isn’t it?” you nod, smiling to yourself. You swore to yourself you would never bring anyone up here– that it was your safe place, the place where you go to cry and enjoy the loneliness. Yet, when you were there in your apartment, laying in your bed while the low tunes of music played out of your speakers and your friend looked at you with sparkles in his eyes, your heart couldn’t desire anything more than to show him what you’ve been keeping for yourself.

“It feels different here. Like time isn’t even real right now. We are just… strangers watching other strangers, you know?” he says, lost in thought. His eyes scan over the elderly couple bringing groceries into your apartment complex, smiling softly at the way the man holds the door open for the woman.

“And they say romance is dead,” you chuckle lightly, shaking your head in disbelief.

Vernon hums, nodding. Once he takes one quick look at you, you plop the strawberry into your mouth and smile, chewing on the sweet fruit. 

Strawberries were always your favorite fruit. Your grandpa used to bring them to you from his garden every Saturday when you were young. They tasted like summer and endless joy– they were fresh and sweet. These ones taste just the same, even though they were store bought; Vernon brought them over when he came to hang out with you this afternoon. The strawberries from Vernon taste like youth.

“It is, though, isn’t it?” he mumbles, sniffling a little from the cold.

“What?”

“Romance. It’s kind of dead, you know…”

You dwell on his words for a second, humming. It’s no secret that both of you were strangers to love. Or at least, to the love you both desired– the love that was easy, love that made your cheeks hurt with never ending smiles and insides bubble with affection. You guess you both lack the image of what true love looks like, so you created your own. One that is so unreal and unreachable, you could never fully feel secure in what you feel towards someone.

“I guess it is,” you nod, licking your lips to taste the sweetness of the fruit.

“Love in general… It feels strange,” he says, moving a little in his place to find a more comfortable pose to sit in, “I don’t think I’ll ever fall in love.”

Taking another strawberry into your hand, plucking the stem off, you chew on the inside of your cheek before asking him: “Why?”

“It feels out of reach. I know that I’m still so young, but when you really look at it… wouldn’t it happen by now? Look at all the people around us. Everyone’s dating someone, yet when I look at them, they aren’t even happy. So what is it even good for?” he shrugs, not meeting your eye.

“Hmm,” you hum, plopping another strawberry into your mouth and chewing on it, “I guess they just like pretending. It’s like an escape, you know. To be with someone, to date someone…”

“Well, I’m with you, but it doesn’t feel fake,” he mutters, “it wouldn’t be the same if we were dating.”

Swallowing, you shrug. “I guess so.”

You hear the ruffling of fabric that prompts you to look over at him and find him taking out the small pack of cigarettes he always has around, sitting in one of his pockets. Putting one of them between his lips, he lights it and breathes in the nicotine, blowing out smoke that swiftly takes off into the distance and disappears with the flowing wind.

“And you?”

“Hm?” you look at him, eyebrows raised. You should pay more attention to what he’s saying.

“Do you believe in love?” he asks, putting the cigarette back in between his lips.

You shrug, looking to the distance. Chewing on your bottom lip, you focus on plopping each leaf at the very top of your next strawberry one by one before you turn to speak.

“I believe that it exists, you know,” you say, “because there must have been love between my grandparents when they got married, you know. But when I look at my parents… And I see how they treat each other… It’s a little hard to believe that something like that could be in my genes, you know. Love, that is,” you take a quick glance at him, noticing his eyes glued to the side of your face, taking you off guard, “I don’t think I’ll ever find love. And if I do, I don’t want it. It’s too scary.”

“Scary?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “love is a scary thing. It’s… it’s trusting someone with everything you have, and they could decide to crush it at any moment,” you say.

Averting his eyes from you and looking back at the city in front of him, he nods.  The sky slowly turns darker and darker, the blue hues now making things sharper, yet the time still feels like it’s flowing slower than ever before.  “I guess you’re right,” he says.

You watch him from the corner of your eye, seeing him blow out the smoke from his cigarette and keeping it twirling in between his fingers. Reaching over, you put the strawberry to his lips and watch him open them, letting you plop the fruit into his mouth. Quickly averting your eyes from him, your heartbeat rising as you notice your hands shaking, you try to calm down.

Love is a scary thing.

And frankly, Chwe Vernon doesn’t believe in love.

When you see him putting the cigarette back to his lips, you take it out of his hold and bring it to yours. You share one cigarette with him, blowing out the smoke and watching the city under your feet move. Vernon steals another strawberry from the plastic container in your lap, eating it, when he steals the cigarette back and puts it out, leaving the remains of it to his left.

You glare at him, seeing him chuckle. He always does this– it’s like he doesn’t like sharing.

“You’re mean,” you mutter, watching him grin even wider. You don’t avert your eyes this time. You let yourself watch his face move, you let your eyes glaze over every single one of his eyelashes and try to count them, even though you know you’ll never finish it before you have to look away.

You swear you see him staring at your lips. One would take it as an invite.

But you know damn well that this is leading nowhere. A story with no plot, a book with no ending. Because you don’t want love, and Vernon doesn’t believe in it.

You don’t want love as you feed him strawberries at the roof of your apartment complex, letting him into your safe place and watching him straddle through your mind. You don’t want love as you send him memes in the middle of the night and make sure to remind him about his upcoming exams. You don’t want it as you count his eyelashes and feel heat in your stomach when he cuddles you to sleep sometimes. You refuse love. It’s too scary.

And Chwe Vernon doesn’t believe in love as he brings you strawberries and puts out his cigarettes the moment you try to smoke them. He doesn’t believe in love as he texts you just to see if you came home safely and brings you take out when you have a bad day. He doesn’t believe in love when he brings you your favorite flowers on your birthday and pretends to be your boyfriend when someone hits on you in clubs. It’s not real to him even when he randomly holds your hand and plays with your fingers, humming his favorite song. It just simply doesn’t exist.

Yet, you’re here together. Silent and open to each other– unknowingly trusting the other one with your whole, fragile hearts, even though you don’t know it yet.

Perhaps it’s going nowhere. Maybe it doesn’t even have to.

On solemn evenings where you watch the city glimmer with starlight, confessing whispered secrets, strawberries and cigarettes always taste like him.

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen react to their s/o's baby photos

notes: ive been choosing baby photos for our school yearbook cz it's the end of the year and it had me thinking.... what if i made this a svt hc??

masterlist

seungcheol, jeonghan, hoshi

eyes are positively gleaming at the chance to see your embarrassing moments when your parents bring up ur baby photos when he's visiting one day. he is so very ready to make fun of you for how ridiculous you looked as a baby. only, that all gets forgotten when he's shown the first picture and his jaw drops open because???? you were so cute wtf????? how is this even possible omg you were the cutest baby he's ever seen. all thoughts of blackmail are gone from his head. he's just in awe over how you've stayed so CUTE over the years

joshua, woozi, vernon, chan

finds you absolutely adorable no matter what. every picture that gets placed in front of him, he's instantly smiling and pointing out your chubby cheeks and saying that you're the cutest little bean he's ever laid his eyes on. you could be screaming and throwing the biggest tantrum in the photo and he'll still giggle and say you're soooo so adorable. is he ridiculously, horribly in love with you? yeah. and he knows it. doesn't stop him from steadfastly believing you were the cutest baby ever tho

junhui, dokyeom, mingyu

giggles at all your demented baby photos. your parents were the kind that took photos of every single memory during your childhood, so there are many of you with your face screwed up into a temper tantrum or with food all over your face or when you're drooling all over yourself whilst u were teething. you find it embarrassing, but this guy thinks that it's soooo unbelievably cute. keeps giggling like he's gone insane. is, weirdly, especially attached to that one picture of u trying to gnaw off your grandma's hand with your toothless gums

wonwoo, minghao, seungkwan

he always had a feeling that u were cute when you were a baby, and on the day that your parents busted out the childhood photos, his feelings were confirmed. good lord, you were such an adorable baby that he can't help but smile with such ridiculous fondness down at the photos before looking over at you again, pinching your cheeks and saying that you're still as cute as you were back then. very seriously asks ur parents if they can send him copies of the baby photos that he likes the most so he can keep them for himself

PLEASE REMEMBER TO REBLOG <3

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reactions tags: @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @wonranghaeee @yonabutnotyuna @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @icyminghao @valenhui @sweet-like-caramel @odxrilove @kyeomyun @chansburgah @pepperonijem @jeonride @kellesvt @kikohao @astrozuya @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @amxlia-stars @all-american-fangirl @f1uffyjun @dokyeomkyeom @kikohao

[eoieopda]

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?”

[lovelyhan]

— divorce child ⟢

you like to think that your most recent breakup with vernon ended on relatively good terms. there’s only one issue left to sort out: who’s getting custody of the cat you got together?

★ FEATURING; vernon x producer!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 9.2k words

★ TAGS; exes to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, smut (MINORS DNI!)

★ NOTES; 3/4 stories in the series are now up <3 i hope you like this bc i really just wanted an excuse to write something fluffy and adorable with vernon.... he's got me in my feels these past few days fr. small heads up that this fic also features a bunch of characters from again and again, the mingyu installment of the series. this story takes place a couple years after that fic, but you don't necessarily have to read that part to get the events in this one :3c

★ P.S.; this was not proofread as usual lol if you spot any mistakes, do me a favor and pretend they don't exist !

this is part of the doting on you! series.

★ SMUT TAGS; vanilla, clothed sex, wearing ur bf's clothes kink(?), unprotected sex, body worship, praise kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, the smut is just so sweet okay

★ SVT TAGLIST; @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @cheolhub - @Idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jeonghancvunt - @jyiiscool - @jinniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @emmmui - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @jkbabiey - @featmia ★ SERIES TAGLIST; @exactlygreatcoffee - @gyusbabydoll - @jeonwonhi - @ti--red

“You sure you don’t need me to pitch in for this month’s check-up? I can always wire you some cash, you know.”

As you zip the pet carrier shut, you roll your eyes despite the fact that Vernon can’t exactly see your expression. Your phone’s sitting all the way on the coffee table but you were so preoccupied with wrestling your cat, Milana into the bag that you couldn’t exactly hold it like a normal person would.

“I’m good. You already covered for me last time, remember?” You remind him before taking the call off loudspeaker before pressing your phone to your ear. “I just got her inside the carrier. Might have to patch up a few scratches before we leave though.”

Vernon laughs. “She always hates going to the vet. It’s nothing too bad, right?”

“I’ve handled worse,” you snort before grabbing a couple of band-aids you keep around various corners of the house for this scenario specifically. “How about you? I thought I remembered Jihoon mentioning that today’s gonna be shut-in day. You know, that time of the month when you guys lock yourselves inside the studio to brainstorm lyrics together. Didn’t think you’d have the time for a phone call.”

“I always have time for a phone call when Milana’s going to the vet,” he says a-matter-of-factly and you can almost picture the warm smile on his face. The thought is enough to make your chest flutter, but you push the feeling down before it can completely come to the surface. “But you are right about shut-in day though. I might have to go in a few, so if there’s anything you need, you better tell me right now or forever hold your peace.”

“Nah. I told you, we’re good,” you insist with an eyeroll before placing band-aids on the scratches that your cat affectionately left all over your arms. “I’ll drop by the company later to drop off a mix that Jihoon asked me to mess around with. But if it’s shut-in day, I doubt we’ll get to see you.”

“Hmm. I can hide his Coke Zero stash outside so he’ll be forced to go out and get it?”

“Now that’s just downright evil.”

“It is. Anyway, aren’t you going to be late?”

“I already am, but Milana’s vet adores her, remember?”

“Nari adores everyone’s pets. Mingyu-hyung told me so.”

“Shush. You talk like our baby isn’t special,” you huff as you sling the strap of the pet carrier across your shoulder. “We’ll head out now. Thanks for checking in, Vernon.”

“...Yeah. Yeah, take care on the way.”

You end the call with your heart racing inside your chest. It’s not the phone call with your ex-boyfriend that flusters you, per-se. You work in the same agency, for god’s sake. Meaning, you’d be in deep shit if talking to him throws you off just because your relationship has already come to an end. 

But whenever you jokingly refer to Milana as ‘our’ baby whenever you talk to him, it feels like you’re encroaching on something you’ve already lost a long time ago. 

Your listlessness lasts until you pull up by the parking lot. Whether Milana’s staying at yours or at Vernon’s, this pet clinic at the heart of Seoul has always been your go-to. The fact that the attending veterinarian is Mingyu’s girlfriend does wonders to your final bills—she loves giving discounts to regulars and acquaintances—and you like to think you’ve found a friend in her ever since. 

The automatic doors slide open when you walk in—Milana’s bag still slung over your shoulder. Chae, the receptionist, flashes you a bright smile before you notice the familiar golden retriever lying in front of the front desk. Old eyes flicker up to you for a moment before his tail twitches once or twice to signal his excitement. 

“Good morning, Chae. Good morning, Namja,” you coo before crouching down to pet his head. “Is Nari waiting for me? Sorry for the hold up. It was a bit tough getting this one inside her bag.” 

Chae lets out a soft laugh as she types away behind her computer. “Really? Vernon always gushes about how much of a sweetheart she is whenever it’s his turn to bring her in.”

You don’t know whether you should be surprised or embarrassed that Chae knows—or at least has an inkling—of your little arrangement with Vernon. When the two of you were still together, you always brought Milana in at the same time, but now you’re taking turns in bringing your little divorce child to the vet. 

But hey, at least you’re still upholding your parental responsibilities, right?

“Of course he does,” you scoff with a shake of your head. “He knows better than anyone that getting Lana inside the bag is a nightmare. This one’s already her third this year. I was thinking of investing in a cage-type carrier instead but Vernon said it was like we’re sending her to prison.”

Chae sighs. “Men. Always so dramatic. Oh, but Doctor Nari’s waiting for you inside.” The receptionist glances at you curiously before you start taking Milana out of the bag so Chae could measure her weight.

It’s a bit of a challenge, handing your full-grown Maine Coon over to Chae, but despite the fact that she thrashes all around before vet visits, Milana has always been tame whenever she’s at the clinic. You manage to settle inside Nari’s office once your cat’s vitals have been measured and her vet is more than happy to see a familiar face.

“Well, if it isn’t Milana and her single mother,” she chuckles. “You here for routine check-ups? Where’s the father, though?”

You roll your eyes—fully aware that she’s only teasing. “Do you ask Vernon where’s the mother when he’s the one who brings her here?”

“Maybe.” Nari smiles before getting up from her desk and receiving your big cat into her arms. “Oh. She’s gotten heavier since the last time she came in.”

“Yeah, her father has been spoiling her with too much catnip. I only found out last week,” you sigh as you settle into one of the seats adjacent to the one across Nari’s desk. “But she’s been hairballing a lot recently. She doesn’t usually groom as much as she does now. Should I be concerned?”

She hums for a moment as she puts on her stethoscope—checking Milana’s heartbeat while her free hand examines your cat’s light brown coat. “Doesn’t look like she has any fleas or mites hanging around, but I can always do a scrape for you if you want the definitive results on paper. Though the excessive grooming could also be caused by stress.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Stress?”

Nari nods before hanging her steth around her neck once more, stroking Milana’s fur with calm affection. “Cats are more easily agitated than dogs. Lots of things can stress them out. Loud music, vacuum cleaners, thunderstorms… Actually, even a switch-up in their pet parent’s schedules is grounds for stress.” 

You can only watch in silence as Nari scratches behind Milana’s ears, making your cat purr like a kitten despite the fact that her long limbs are spilling out of her vet’s arms. But regardless of how adorable she looks, Nari’s words got you thinking.

In the tail-end of the breakup, it was a topic that was brought up over and over: who gets to keep Milana? You both split half and half with expenses after the two of you adopted her at a nearby shelter. Not to mention, you both loved her in equal measure, so it was difficult to come to a decision that the two of you could soundlessly agree on. In the end, you settled with the compromise of taking turns watching over Milana because neither of you could stand not being able to see her for too long.

It’s been about three months since you and Vernon call it quits and three months since you’ve agreed on ‘splitting custody’. She stays with you on weekdays and with him on weekends—along with some exceptions for when one party isn’t available. It was also agreed that you’ll take turns bringing her to the vet every month to make sure nothing is amiss with her health.

But when you planned on paying Nari a visit today, you didn’t expect to find out that the fluctuating schedule you and Vernon made a deal out of could be a possible stressor for your cat.

“I think you should just keep her.” Nari suggests, a hint of concern creeping on her face. “You could always tell Vernon to visit Milana whenever he wants to, right? The back-and-forth travel is definitely going to take a toll on this one. Also, cats are smarter than you think. I’m sure she’s already sensed something’s off with her parents a long time ago.”

Milana heaves a deep sigh as if she understood every single word her vet just said and you can’t help the guilt that gnaws at your gut. You thought that this was the best decision you could make for both yours and Vernon’s sanity, but you completely forgot to take Milana’s well-being into account. You can almost hear Nari silently judging you, but you shake your head to rid yourself of the thought.

“We’ll… We’ll talk about it,” you reassure, swallowing the lump in your throat. “But…she’s okay, right? No serious health complications or anything?”

She rolls her eyes. “Sweetie, you’re literally the most responsible cat owner I’ve ever met. No one ever bothers to bring their pets in unless the situation’s already too severe to handle. So you’re good. Milana’s perfectly healthy. Just a little…sad, maybe.”

“Why would she be sad?”

Nari stares at you like you just asked something ridiculous, but thankfully she doesn’t dish out any half-assed remarks about it—opting to settle Milana back onto a nearby examination table to do a couple more physical exams. 

“Have I ever told you that me and Gyu used to be in a similar situation in the past?” 

You stare at Nari with a bewildered look while her gaze never strays too far from her patient. She even coos out little remarks of praise whenever Milana behaves. How can someone who’s this focused drop such a question in the middle of work? 

“Vernon told me you guys split up and got back together after almost a year,” you tell her dryly, not liking the fact that you admitted your ex-boyfriend is a big gossip, but you don’t see any point in hiding the fact that you knew. “What brought it up?” 

Nari’s lips twitch into a firm smile before she lifts her gaze to meet yours. “I just think that…you and Vernon? You’re kind of on the same boat we were in before we reconciled. It’s either the two of you are too stubborn or too afraid to see it for what it is.”

Too afraid to…? 

“What do you mean?” you ask. “It’s best that we split up, you know? Relationships between co-workers can get ugly really quickly if we forget to be professional. I don’t want us to stop doing the things we love just because of some work-related spat.” 

“Then the two of you should just learn how to segregate work from play,” Nari insists before smoothing her gloved hands across Milana’s long torso. “I’m not trying to meddle or anything, okay? It’s just that there’s virtually no reason for you to not get back together. You’re still taking care of Milana together, still checking up on each other, still working together—”

“There it is. That’s the reason why we can’t be together, Nari,” you groan at her stubbornness. “We’re still working together.” 

She huffs. “Is there a clause in your company’s contract that prohibits romantic relationships among talents and staff?” 

“I’ve never read the fine print, but I’m pretty sure there’s something along those lines somewhere in there.”

“Oh. Well, who cares? Milana needs a loving home where her parents can take care of her at the same time.” Nari then leans down to cup her face in her hands. “Isn’t that right? You need both of them to look after you, hm?”

“So you’re suggesting that Vernon and I should just get back together for Milana’s sake?” you ask half-jokingly and to your surprise, Nari nods like it’s the easiest question in the world.

“Well, I won’t make any assumptions by saying that you’re still in love with him, since you’re the only one who can say that for sure. But come on, do it for the not-so-little baby. You can just learn to love each other again in the process!” 

You can hardly believe your ears. In the quick stories that Vernon shared about Mingyu’s girlfriend, you never expected her to be this carefree about the matters of the heart. It must’ve been her six-foot boyfriend’s bubbly personality rubbing off on her. 

“Right,” you say with a shallow sigh. “Pray tell, why’d you and Mingyu split up in the first place?”

Nari’s eyes dart to the ceiling as if deep in thought as Milana nibbles playfully at one of her latex-covered fingers. The silence presses on for a few more seconds before she turns to you with a mellowed out expression.

“I thought we weren’t going to work because of how different our jobs are,” she admonishes quietly, lips spread into a thin smile. “But after being an idiot for almost six months, I realized that our jobs don’t matter. I love him. I don’t think I really stopped. Don’t think I’ll ever stop, actually.

“That’s why I was so surprised when I found out you and Vernon broke up three months ago!” Nari continues with a disgruntled look on her face. “The two of you spend so much time in the studio and at your apartment. You even have a child together!” She then gestures dramatically over to Milana. “So forgive me if it doesn’t make sense to me, why the two of you broke up. But won’t you reconsider it? For Milana?”

You shake your head. “Nari, some relationships just aren’t meant to work out. Just because you and Mingyu managed to make good on that second chance, doesn’t mean it’ll be the same with us. We’ve already…settled with what we have right now.”

“What, the endless pining and using the poor cat as an excuse to see each other?” She huffs again and, god, she reminds you so much of Mingyu now it’s actually funny. “Come on, sweetie. I’ve been in your place before, so I know perfectly well. Gosh, this must be how Seungkwan felt when I was still getting my shit together.”

Unsolicited mention of Seungkwan aside, you just don’t see any reason to pursue what Nari is convincing you to do. Nothing really changed after you and Vernon broke up. That’s one of the things you like about him—how easy it is to fall back into a comfortable friendship despite the history you shared. 

But you aren’t going to deny the fact that it kind of sucks that you can’t kiss him anymore. Can’t lean into his chair in the studio to pull him into a hug. Can’t tell him you still love him even if…

Oh. 

Oh. 

Fuck. You still love him?!

“Fine, fine. Since I have a couple more patients on the waitlist, I’m gonna let you off the hook. For now,” Nari grumbles before handing Milana back to you and taking a seat behind her desk. “Just stick to her usual vitamins and diet and she should be fine until the next visit. But if you want the stress problem to go away…”

“Nari,” you groan. “I’m not getting back together with him.”

“Hey, that is not what I was saying,” Nari rebuts with her hands up in surrender. “I was gonna suggest that you just lessen her traveling! Maine Coons are usually really active, but Milana’s a bit of a…homebody, isn’t she? Might not like all that moving around between yours and Vernon’s apartments.”

“But she’s literally with me five days a week. Won’t she have plenty of rest time then?”

“Oh, who am I kidding? Just get back together soon, pretty please?”

Yep. Mingyu’s definitely rubbed off on her.

When you get home later in the afternoon, Milana is quick to slink off to her usual spot behind the sofa to take a nap while you make a beeline for the kitchen. 

It’s always been a post vet visit ritual to get take out to eat at home—even when you and Vernon were still together. However, you opted against the practice for now because not only does it remind you of your ex, but eating all alone in your apartment will only give you more leeway to think about the things Nari told you earlier today.

If you make your own food like you are now, your mind is at least preoccupied enough that you don’t have enough thinking room to even wonder if Vernon even wants you back. 

By the time the sun sets, Milana is still dozing behind the couch and you have a potful of pasta noodles and enough red sauce to last you five days. Another thing that you overlooked whenever you cook inside the house is that you almost always cook enough servings to feed two people. Whether subconsciously or not, you can’t bring yourself to hate how your habits are still attuned to the lifestyle you had three months ago.

Before you and Vernon broke up.

“Work,” you mutter to yourself as you dump some pasta and sauce into a bowl. “If I work, I won’t think about him anymore.”

Not-so wise words from a not-so wise person because newsflash: the time that you and your ex spent in your studio is leagues more than the time you spent together in the bedroom. Vernon has already cleared out his leftover gear from your home office, but memories aren’t something he can pack up and leave with so easily.

You recall quiet afternoons where you’d bounce ideas about their group’s next song off each other—sometimes with Jihoon and Seungcheol connected to a Discord call, but more often in the privacy of each other’s company. 

There were also gloomy days where it rained all day long. Milana would curl up on Vernon’s lap while he played around with the software on your computer—sometimes using the weird sounds she makes as samples to add into the mix along with the soft drizzle pattering against the windowpane.

But it’s even harder to just forget about all the times the two of you came together intimately within the soundproof walls. You can’t even count how many times Vernon has eaten you out while you’re perched on top of your work desk—one hand muffling your moans despite the fact that no one outside the studio can ever hope to hear you. The world is none the wiser when Vernon pulls you onto his lap, bouncing you on his length until he’s spilling into you with gratuitous release.

In the present, there you are in the ear-splitting silence of your studio—the music software your ex bought for you ages ago seemingly glaring at you for spacing out again. You know you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself since it’s easier to come up with the perfect beats when you’ve got a rough draft of the lyrics in front of you—something that Jihoon and Vernon are busy getting done today. 

But still. You can’t help the frustration because you’ve been functioning normally since the breakup. Sitting in the studio didn’t usually lead to you reminiscing about the countless hours you and Vernon spent here together. Making dinner never made you miss having someone to eat across from you at the dining table. 

If only Nari didn’t breathe a word about your ex-boyfriend and all the reasons why you should just get back together. Maybe you would’ve remained rational. Maybe you wouldn’t have started considering things that are beyond your control. 

Maybe you wouldn’t be hoping so badly for something to happen.

You try to distract yourself by listening to and reviewing the mix you’re supposed to hand over to Jihoon today. The visit you planned on making to the company was canceled since neither he nor Vernon were answering their phones, which usually means they’re taking shut-in day seriously for once.

The track continues to stream through the speakers as you munch on your dinner, filling the room with a quiet melody that would make a great ballad once the lyrics are in place. But no matter how good Jihoon’s music is, no matter how delicious your cooking can be, it isn’t enough to quell the thoughts that have been suffocating you all day.

You still…love Vernon. 

If you didn’t, your apartment wouldn’t feel as lonely as it does. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have to feel so awkward whenever you bring Milana to the vet all alone. 

But part of you insists that you’re just being carried away by the ideas that Nari planted in your head. You’ve been doing fine on your own for the past three months. How is today any different?

Your senseless overthinking gets worse before it gets better. 

The next thing you know, you’re scrolling through your gallery, unearthing pictures whose existence you’ve long forgotten about. You’ve spent almost three years with Vernon—two years officially before getting Milana on your second anniversary. Tons of photos were snapped, countless memories created. 

You could’ve snapped more photos, could’ve made more memories if only you hadn’t split up. The fact that (what should’ve been) your third anniversary passed a few weeks ago, stings more than it’s supposed to. That day, Vernon jokingly asked if you wanted to celebrate by your usual spot in the park a few neighborhoods away and you jokingly rejected his offer by saying you had a sitcom to catch up on.

Part of you wishes you accepted the invitation. Maybe the joke could’ve been subverted into something real, and maybe you could’ve been back in his arms by now.

That night, you go to bed with a mild headache and a million thoughts racing through your mind. It isn’t Jihoon’s sad, mellow mix that drones on and on in your head, but a single question that you aren’t sure if you’ll ever get a proper answer to.

How can you still love someone you were so sure that you didn’t anymore?

Come morning, you wake up with a heart that’s heavier than last night and the glaring realization that Milana is missing.

Panicking isn’t usually your first instinct when it comes to your cat. Milana is fairly easy to spot because she’s built more massive than your regular neighborhood felines. But when you’ve already scoured the vicinity for your beloved Maine Coon, it becomes clearer and clearer that she’s nowhere to be found.

You ask around with your neighbors—fairly certain that they know what Milana looks like since she slinks out of the house every now and again. What makes this particular situation worrisome is that she hasn’t come bolting back inside your apartment when you brought out the goddamn catnip. So, when your neighbors begrudgingly tell you that, no, they haven’t seen an oversized house cat prancing around the area, you don’t know what to do.

“Wait, come again?”

“She’s missing, Nari,” you whine into your cell as you nervously bite down on your nails. “I… I was so sure that I locked everything last night, but when I woke up, the front door was wide open and Milana’s just gone.” 

Your friend curses at the other end of the line and from the concerned voices in the background, you figure that you must’ve called at a busy time in the clinic. 

“Sorry for bothering you,” you tell her while choking down a sob. “Just…give me a ring if ever you or Chae see her around the clinic.”

“It’s not a bother at all! I’m sorry I can’t be of more help,” Nari sighs. “I’ll keep in touch. Oh, but it’s also worth considering that cats like familiar places. If you’re going to look for her, you can start with that.”

“Alright, thank you, Nari.”

After hanging up on her, you bury your face in the palms of your hands—sticky tears matting your skin as you breathe in sharply. You’ve never had to deal with a lost pet before. How the hell are you supposed to find Milana in a city that’s as big as Seoul?

You consider calling the police to file a report, but you’re not sure if pet cats even count for a missing person’s case. They wouldn’t be of any help if it didn’t. The only thing you can do right now is go outside and look for her yourself.

You’re quick to pull on an old sweatshirt you once nabbed from Jihoon before heading out—simultaneously texting every one of your friends about the situation as you scout further out of your neighborhood. Hell, you even contacted the animal shelter you and Vernon adopted Milana from out of sheer desperation.

Thankfully, a handful of them responded right away with a promise that they’ll keep a close eye out for any Maine Coons that surely don’t belong in their areas.

But no matter where you look, you always end up back to square one. It doesn’t help that Milana doesn’t usually wander too far from your apartment, which means that you have no clue where she could’ve possibly gone.

Nari mentioned that cats like familiar places, but the only places that are remotely familiar to Milana are yours and Vernon’s apartments. 

Yours and Vernon’s…

You quickly bolt back to your place—scrambling to your car before fumbling to get the keys into the ignition. A few failed attempts and very loud cursing later, you manage to rev the engine to life. The next thing you know, you’re pulling into the street with an urgency that’s barely beating the speed limit. 

Given that it’s still a weekend, you don’t have to come into work, which means that you have no idea what the boys’ schedule looks like right now. You’re not even sure if Vernon is in the same city, but you’d rather risk the off-chance that he isn’t in Seoul than do nothing. 

You try your best to keep an eye on the road all while dialing up your ex-boyfriend as well as doing your best to obey every Korean traffic law there is. The first call goes straight to voicemail and you would’ve crashed into an SUV that’s idling by a red light if you hadn’t angrily brought down your foot on the brakes. Why the hell isn’t he answering?!

By the time you’ve made it to the street that led to his apartment complex, you’re already shaking with anxiousness. Dozens of uncertainties flit into your mind a million miles per minute. What if he doesn’t know where she is? What if he gets mad at you for losing Milana? Hell, what if he isn’t even here? 

Shoving down all these biting questions, you park haphazardly across the street, locking your car behind you as you jog up to the steps that lead to the entrance. You don’t know how to feel about the fact that the receptionist at the counter still recognizes you—even going as far as flashing you a kind smile and informing you that Vernon is just upstairs. You wordlessly thank her for the tip before jamming a thumb on the elevator buttons. 

You tap your foot impatiently across the marble tiles. Why the hell did Vernon choose to live in a place where you have to use elevators just to get home? Your apartment’s much more accessible especially in times like this when you feel like you’re going to explode with how fucking nervous you are—

The elevator dings when it arrives at the ground floor, making your nerves jump back into focus. You’re completely ready to brush past whoever’s getting out so you can come up to your ex-boyfriend’s apartment faster, but when you meet said ex-boyfriend’s surprised gaze at the mouth of the elevator, your prior urgency comes into a screeching halt.

He’s dressed like he usually is on lazy days—ugly checkered pajama pants, a tour shirt from some Western band that he probably hasn’t listened to a day in his life, and that perpetual bedhead he always sports whenever he just rolled out of bed.  

God, he looks so good. It’s so fucking unfair.

“Hey,” he greets awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “I was just about to head out and grab breakfast… Uh, make that brunch. Did you need something?”

You don’t even dare to dawdle. “Is Milana with you?”

Vernon cranes his head in confusion and the look makes your heart sink like a stone. “Last I recall, you’re the one who brought her to and from the vet yesterday. Aren’t we missing a couple of chapters here or…?”

You meant to explain the situation as concisely as you possibly can to him. Vernon’s always been an easy going guy. You’re sure that he won’t resent you for it when he finds out that you lost the daughter you’ve been sharing custody over. Even if some irrational part of your brain insists that he will. 

But instead of coherent words, all that comes out of your mouth is a choked up sob.

The curve between Vernon’s neck and shoulder is as comfortable as you recall as you press your face against the crook of it—letting the tears run from your eyes and across his pale skin. You vaguely feel him wrap a protective arm around your frame while his free hand smooths down your hair and it makes you wonder why he’s patient enough to let you cry in his arms despite not having explained what the hell even happened yet.

He’s thoughtful enough to bring you to a more secluded corner of the lobby, calming you down by rubbing soothing shapes on your back with his hand and never letting you stray too far from his embrace. It helps that his low voice is there to keep you grounded—telling you that everything’s going to be fine and you just have to breathe, love. 

It works after a few minutes and Vernon only lets you let go when he’s sure you’re not in danger of suffocating on your own tears anymore.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” he murmurs, taking your hand in his. A small gesture that you’re too selfish to resist. “Is it about Lana?”

You nod weakly. “She’s…gone, Vernon. I have no idea where she went, but she’s gone.”

He hums in understanding and surprisingly enough, the understanding glint in his eyes never wavers. It’s a bit off-putting since you expected him to at least be shocked by the news, but it’s almost like he’s used to hearing that your pet cat just ran away. 

“Right. I forgot to tell you about this new habit of hers.” He chuckles with an apologetic smile before one of his hands reaches up to wipe the tears off your cheeks. The close proximity has heat rising to your face, but you’re too stunned to react.

“I read somewhere that it’s good for Maine Coons to wander around to stretch out their limbs. Nari also told me last month that Lana could use the exercise, so whenever she comes over to mine, I let her out without supervision. She eventually finds her way to the lobby and just waits for me to come back if I’m ever running a little late.”

You listen to every word of Vernon’s explanation with a look of disbelief. All this time, you were worried sick about how he’ll react to the news that you lost your cat, but he’s been letting her go out and about when it’s his turn to look after her?

“Then where is she now?” you ask—not bothering to pick a fight with him now of all times.

Vernon hums for a moment as if considering the options and you don’t miss how his fingers tighten around yours when he gives you an answer.

“I might have a good idea.”

When Vernon suggested for you to head to the park just a few minutes away from your apartment as he climbed into the passenger seat, you merely scowled at him. “Milana is afraid of all the dogs that go for walks there. The only dog she isn’t scared of is Namja.” 

“Just trust me,” he insists as you start the car. “Better we look there and find nothing than not look when there turns out to be something.”

His logic isn’t so flawed after all when he briskly leads you down a familiar walkway to an even more familiar location. It’s a small hill that’s got a perfect view of the river nearby. The upslope is lined with plum blossom trees that bloom even more vibrantly in spring and it just so happens that one of those trees is dubbed as yours and Vernon’s usual spot. 

It’s where you and him usually hang out when the air in the studio has gotten a bit too stale to bring forth any sort of output. The outdoors can offer all sorts of inspiration when it comes to writing and producing songs and it’s common practice to make the trip to the usual spot when either of you are suffering from a nasty bout of creativity block. 

And under the shade of the tree in the said usual spot is none other than Milana—curled up in deep slumber as plum blossom petals drift onto her pale brown fur. 

You don’t even feel bad for rudely disturbing her from her comfortable nap, immediately pulling her into an abrupt embrace as you feel the tears welling in your eyes again. Milana lets out a strangled meow—claws straining against your skin with a threat of attack if you don’t knock it off. But you can’t bring yourself to care. You’d gladly use up all the band-aids in the world after she scratches you up if it means you can get to hug her for a few seconds more.

“There she is. All cozy at that.”

Vernon’s smooth voice startles you out of your relief—so overwhelmed to see your cat again that you almost forgot that you had company.

“I told you she’d be here,” he laughs before reaching out to pet her head. “You got us worried though. Don’t go wandering too far, okay, Lana? You scared your mom shitless, you know?” 

Milana responds with a disgruntled noise but you can feel her claws retract nonetheless. Damn Vernon and the fact that he’s obviously the favorite parent…

She seems considerably happier when you deposit her into her father’s arms—nuzzling his chest with a satisfied purr as you and Vernon start to descend the hill. 

But as he showers her with affection, you can’t help but sneak brief glances in your ex-boyfriend’s direction. Vernon has always been easy on the eyes. That’s one of the reasons you were drawn to him in the first place. But whenever you see him like this—laughing goofily as he teases Milana, the high of his cheekbones dusted red with a shower of plum blossoms gliding all over…

The gods are cruel to think you could ever put up a fight.

When Vernon comes over to bring Milana back to your apartment, you don’t expect him to stay for too long. He mentioned on the way that yesterday’s shut-in session was a complete success and that they’ve got all their work cut out for them. All they need is a green light from the higher-ups before Jihoon can start handing the song samples to the company’s usual team of producers—a team that just happens to include you.

So yeah, you don’t expect Vernon to linger because he’s obviously got a lot on his plate. The man hasn’t even had breakfast or brunch or whatever. So when he surprisingly decides to stay and rummages through your fridge for the pasta noodles and red sauce you’ve been saving for tonight, it’s like you never broke up with him at all.

The sight is almost too familiar for you to bear. 

Vernon sitting on the kitchen counter, helping himself to some day-old pasta as his long legs dangled over the edge. Milana watching his feet sway around with keen eyes as she attempts to swipe at them with her claws. Not to mention you, who’s staring at the two of them like they’re the most precious things in the world.

“Hey, this is really good,” Vernon compliments with half his mouth stuffed with noodles. “You’re using that one Italian tomato sauce that I like, right? Man, I missed this a lot.” 

You will yourself to snap out of whatever trance his presence has got you in before walking closer to him with a soft laugh. You lean across the counter, grabbing a fork from the drawer where you keep your silverware to help yourself to some of the pasta that he haphazardly tossed into the microwave. 

“It could’ve been better if you heated the noodles properly in boiling water.” You shake your head. “Then again, you’ve always been impatient when it comes to food.”

“Not as impatient as Seokmin-hyung,” he snickers. “One time when we were still staying back in the dorms, Mingyu-hyung just put the lasagna in the oven but Seokmin-hyung was already yelling about when it’ll be ready to eat. Actually, he always does that even if one of us just pops something in the microwave.”

You shake your head, recalling the words of Nari’s receptionist, Chae. “Men. Always so dramatic.”

Vernon snickers in agreement. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

You fall into conversation with him so easily, it’s almost unreal. When Vernon finishes his food, the two of you eventually migrate to the living room—catching up with each other in a way that you don’t really have the time to whenever he comes over to pick up Milana from your apartment in the past. 

Speaking of Milana, your cat acts as a barrier of sorts between you and Vernon, lying comfortably in the space that the two of you left unfilled. Cuddling up to him on the couch used to be so easy, it’s almost second nature, but now that you’re nothing but co-workers that are friends at best, you’ve got a lot more reservations than you used to have.

“By the way, I’ve been looking everywhere for that sweatshirt,” he muses before pointing at the graphic crewneck you’re wearing. “I thought I lost it in the laundry or that Seungkwan might’ve nabbed it when he came over to my place.” 

“Why is he your first suspect?” you snort. “Also, what are you talking about? This is Jihoon’s.”

Vernon blinks at you, a little confused. “No, that’s mine. Jihoon-hyung must’ve borrowed it from me and let you borrow it after. When did you even get it from him?”

“Um. About a month ago?”

“That explains it then.” 

You roll your eyes. “Look, if you want your sweatshirt back, I can just give it to you.”

“No, it’s okay. You can keep it,” he insists, one hand drifting onto Milana’s head so he can scratch her ears. “You’ve always looked good in my clothes anyway.”

Silence fills the room almost uncomfortably at how easy it is for him to admit that. The sudden shift in the atmosphere occurs to Vernon a little late and the smile on his face falls when he realizes what he just said.

“Oh, I didn’t… I mean—”

“It’s— It’s okay,” you interject meekly, managing a shy smile as you tug on the sleeves of your—his—sweatshirt. “I always liked wearing your clothes too.”

You’re perfectly aware that you should know how to hold yourself accountable for the things you say. That goes the same for Vernon. So when the two of you willingly let the other hear such controversial things that co-workers-slash-friends probably shouldn’t be saying to each other, you’re not sure what to make of the situation. 

Are you reading him wrong? Or is he actually reciprocating your misplaced longing, no matter how subtle? It’s always been hard to tell with Vernon, who’s never straightforward with what he wants to communicate. Always trusting that you would understand the nuance of his every action, his every word, when all they do is make your head spin.

The sight is perfectly domestic—lounging comfortably on the sofa after a good meal, both of your feet kicked up on the coffee table, and your big baby daughter purring quietly from where she lies between the two of you. 

But even if three months doesn’t seem like a whole lot, it’s enough time for some…due changes to eventually set. 

“You know…” Vernon starts, sucking in a deep breath almost like he’s nervous.

“Do I know what?” 

His eyes flicker over to the ceiling as if praying for some sort of deliverance before forcing himself to meet your gaze again. There’s a look in his eyes that you can’t parse right away, and you wonder if you can ever understand what it is. 

“I… I still listen to that old mixtape you gave me. Do you remember? The one you gave to me when we first met?” he murmurs quietly, bringing his hands onto his lap so he can twiddle with his thumbs. “Before we have to come up on stage and I start feeling nervous, I just listen to a softcopy of that mixtape on my phone. I still do now.”

That mixtape… He still has that? Moreover, he managed to save a softcopy and downloaded it onto his phone? You would’ve asked him how on earth he managed to do that, if you weren’t so startled about his sudden revelation.

“Your voice always gives me strength. Even when we weren’t together yet—even if we’re not together anymore.” Vernon purses his lips, a sad look eclipsing the sincerity in his eyes as he strokes Milana’s fur thoughtfully. “So I’m really sorry if you think I’m overstaying my welcome today. I definitely am. But I just— I just wanted to be selfish for once.I wanted to spend a little more time with you because I know you’ll go back to distancing yourself from me once I leave.”

When he turns to face you, you know it’s the real deal. There’s a spark of determination in his eyes that scares you a little—like he’s about to say something you’re not ready to hear yet regardless of how badly you want to. 

But before he can get a chance to utter the words, your phone starts ringing on the coffee table. You’ve never swooped in to answer a call so quickly in your life.

“Hello, what’s up?” You nearly cringe at how bubbly your voice sounds as you get up from the couch.

“Hey, have you found Milana?” Nari’s voice flows into your ear, genuine concern lacing each word. “I asked Mingyu to look around with Namja, but no dice. I could contact some other friends if you—”

“It’s okay, Nari,” you interject, fingers drumming across your thigh. “We already found her.”

Your friend makes a curious noise. “Who’s we?” 

You nearly balk when Vernon plucks the phone out of your hands, pressing it to his ear with a smug grin that you don’t usually see him wear.

“Who else?” he says. “Thanks for checking in, Nari. But we’re kind of…busy.” 

The call isn’t even on loudspeaker but you can obviously hear the way Nari gasps like Vernon just unveiled some scandalous secret. “Oh my god. Are you—”

Vernon ends the call before tossing your phone back onto the couch, startling Milana out of her nap. Your cat flashes Vernon something similar to a dirty look before hopping off the cushions and sauntering off elsewhere. You just hope she doesn’t retaliate by wandering outside again.

But your cat’s newest penchant for wandering around is the last thing on your mind because even if you’re not facing him, you can sense Vernon’s towering presence directly behind you.

You don’t resist when he hugs you from behind—resting his forehead against your shoulder as he breathes out a shuddering sigh. His arms still feel like home despite being months into the breakup and you don’t know how to fucking deal with it.

“I still love you. Never stopped,” he whispers. “It was…completely stupid of me to think we’re better off as friends just because we’re coworkers. You’re too important to me. I don’t want to be your friend. I want to—”

You don’t even give him leeway to finish that sentence, whirling around in his embrace as you meet his lips in a quiet kiss.

In a split second, several things happen at once. Dying stars collide. Black holes collapse. Eternities unspool. 

And you start to realize that you can’t live without Vernon Chwe.

“Shit, Hansol, please.”

Vernon loves how his other name falls so gracefully from your lips—loves how you frame the words in such an…interesting way. You only ever call him that when you’re feeling particularly strong emotions—happiness, anger, disappointment…

Pleasure.

He heaves a long sigh as he peels himself away from the home he’s made between your thighs. You’re not sure how long Vernon has been eating you out, but your brain is close to melting and you can’t process any other coherent thoughts aside from how your cunt still tingles from the orgasm he just gave you. 

Your panties have long been discarded on the bedroom floor. All you’re donned with now is the old sweatshirt that you thought belonged to Jihoon but turns out was Vernon’s property all along. He insisted that you keep it on—emphasizing just how much he likes seeing you in his clothes before promptly robbing you of your capacity to think by eating pussy like it was his life’s purpose.

It doesn’t help that he looks so fucking delectable between your legs—big hands splayed across the sensitive flesh of your thighs as he looks up at you with a dazed expression. His lips are parted, still glossy from the aftermath of your release and the look in his eyes almost makes it seem like he’s the one who’s just been eaten out to completion.

“Fuck, ‘Sol,” you whimper, head falling back onto the pillows as you shield your eyes with your arm. You can’t even look at him without feeling like you’re about to combust. “Stop staring at me like that…”

Vernon leans down to pry your arm off your face—forcing you to meet his loving gaze before pressing your arm down onto the mattress.

“Like what?” he whispers, the blunt of his nail scraping against your bottom lip. 

“Like you want to swallow me whole.”

His eyes almost crinkle with how wide he smiles at you and you nearly writhe with anticipation when you feel his drenched fingers prodding your slicked entrance again. 

“What if I tell you that’s exactly what I want?”

Vernon’s mouth is on yours before you can even breathe, tongue bullying its way past your lips as he licks into your mouth. He slips the digits he used to tease you back into your wet channel and you delight in how he swallows your moans as he pumps them inside at a languid pace. Vernon has always been good at building your release from the ground up—never one to rush any orgasms he’s willing to give. As long as you feel good, he’ll exercise as much patience as he can.

“V-Vernon,” you gasp when he curls his fingers and thumbs at your clit at the same time, flicking your sensitive bud with just the right amount of pleasure that has your toes curling with pleasure. “Fuck, please, please—”

“Sounds so good for me,” he sighs, taking your bottom lip between his teeth before giving a delicious tug. “Wanna record all your pretty noises and use it in a song. D’you want that too, love? Want everyone to hear how nice you sound?”

The idea of him using your voice in the throes of pleasure for such a mundane thing sends a rush of heat straight to your core. You moan in reply, rubbing your needy cunt against his hand in a desperate attempt to get yourself off. Vernon chuckles against your lips and his teasing almost makes you pout, if only he isn’t so fucking good at finding your g-spot.

The first time he makes you come, it’s with his mouth and the second is after he expertly picks you apart with his fingers. But no matter how well Vernon knows your body, you still think it’s fucking unfair for him to coax orgasm after orgasm from you like it’s as easy as breathing.

“Hansol,” you whisper—brain too fucked out to segreget his two names properly. “Want you inside me. Want all of you.”

He shakes his head with an audible tut, slipping his fingers out of your pulsing hole. The action makes you mewl in protest, but Vernon brings those same fingers to your lips to silence you. 

“You have to work on your patience, love,” he murmurs, angling his face a little before his lips descend onto your neck. “It’s been a while since I’ve had you like this… I want to savor you. You’ll let me do that, right?”

All you can do is answer him with a helpless nod.

His sweatshirt is off in a split second, revealing your body to him in a way that makes you want to hide underneath the covers. He gazes at you so intensely, it makes you wonder how someone you broke up with three months ago still looks at you like it's the first time.

Vernon writes poetry onto your skin with each caress of his lips, making sure you feel everything he’s doing to you as he leaves no inch of your body untouched. Sex with him has always been intense, not because he likes to fuck hard and fast but because he likes to take his time—to sink himself into your skin deep enough that you can’t ever hope to flush him out of your system. 

That’s probably one of the reasons why you just couldn’t bring yourself to stop loving him. He’s become such a fundamental part of your life that living without him is the same as breathing without oxygen. 

“Beautiful,” he murmurs as his lips latch onto your breasts. “So fucking beautiful.” 

Vernon isn’t a man of many words. You’ve come to know this for a fact, so whenever he spills all these compliments for you to hear, it makes your heart swell inside your chest. A handful of other people have called you that in the past, but when the words come from Vernon’s mouth, it feels like the gospel truth.

Fortunately, your lover was never too cruel to you. Sure, he likes to instill the value of patience, but Vernon never found the appeal of bringing your partner to tears because of their unquenchable need for release.

He doesn’t even make you beg for his cock. Vernon simply lines up the tip with your swollen entrance before slowly pushing inside—dark eyes cognizant of every shift in your expression to make sure he isn’t hurting you. When all he sees is you whimpering from how good it feels to be split open by his cock, he knows he’s doing it right.

“I love you,” he whispers breathlessly—hoping the words won’t be lost in the midst of the mind-numbing pleasure. “I’m so in love with you.”

He ploughs you into the mattress slowly, deeply, wanting you to feel every inch of his cock as he fucks into you. Vernon is rarely vocal with his words when it comes to sex, but he makes up for it with the pleasurable sounds that escape his lips. And with how long it’s been since the two of you lied together like this, you wouldn’t blame him for feeling more unhinged than usual.

“I love you, too, ‘Sol,” you sigh but the words are eclipsed with a high-pitched keen when he amps up the pace of his thrusts. 

“I love hearing you say that,” Vernon groans, biting his lip until he can taste iron on his tongue. 

“Then I’ll keep saying it.” It’s a miracle how you manage to get the words out when he’s quite literally punching the breath out of your lungs with each stroke. “I’ll say I love you while you’re fucking me. I’ll say I love you even when you’re not.”

“I’ll say it all the time if it means you’ll come back to me.”

For a moment, the intense pace he’s set falters—eyes wide and mouth agape. You worry that you must’ve said something out of turn, but Vernon proves you wrong by pulling you forward into a tight embrace, fucking up into your tight cunt with a kind of vigor that you never would’ve associated with someone as easy going as he is.

“I’m yours, love.” he rasps against your neck, teeth grazing the skin just above the thrum of your pulse. “I’ll always be yours.”

The sudden switch in positions and the sincerity of his words is what pushes you over the edge a third time—making you cling onto Vernon like a lifeline as he continues fucking you through your orgasm. You can tell that he’s close. His strokes are more erratic, more frantic. Now that he’s brought you to the pinnacle, he doesn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t make it to that same paradise too.

When he comes, it’s a burst of white hot pleasure that singes through every single nerve ending in Vernon’s brain. You let out such an adorable little whimper as his cum coats your insides in generous spurts, filling you to the brim with his emission with the full intention of keeping it inside you for days.

But as much as he loves entertaining the idea of defiling you until everyone in the world knows you belong to him… 

He’s always put great importance in the art of aftercare.

Both of you try very hard to ignore Milana’s judgemental stare as Vernon carries you to the bathroom—propping you up on the toilet cover first as he draws a warm bath. But from the way she dismissively leaves the two of you to your own devices after a few minutes, you like to think that you’ve gotten her seal of approval.

Your no-longer-ex-boyfriend gently lays you into the tub with him, reaching out for the soap on one of your toiletry holders as he massages you everywhere you’re sore. You let out a satisfied sigh before resting the back of your head against his firm shoulder.

“How’re you going to explain to the higher-ups that you’re dating one of their producers again?” you chuckle, placing your hand on top of his as he continues to clean you up. “Maybe I should just find a job somewhere else. A place where it isn’t illegal to have an idol as a boyfriend.”

“Maybe,” he muses before placing a firm kiss on your temple. “But whatever happens, I know I’ll always stick by you no matter what.”

You turn around, arching an eyebrow at him. “Even if it’ll cost you your job?” 

You completely expect him to backtrack a little. Vernon is obsessed with you—you get that. But probably not to a point where he’s willing to breach the company’s contract just to keep being with you, right? 

But for some reason, it sounds so fucking easy for him to say it when he whispers:

“Even if it’ll cost me my job.”

⟢ end notes: this is probably the sweetest thing i've ever written bc i personally headcanon vernon as someone who loves his s/o so deeply, it consumes him (like in a good way yk). i had so much fun writing this (esp since i got to sneak in vet!reader from again and again under the name nari hehe) so i rly hope you enjoyed it! do look forward to the last part of this series, which will feature resident catboy jeon wonwoo <3

this is part of the doting on you! series.

[wheeboo]

laundry day | hansol vernon chwe

SYNOPSIS. in which it's laundry day and you're in a bit of an embarrassing predicament. PAIRING. hansol vernon chwe x gn!reader (however, sorta implied that reader is more leaning toward fem) GENRE. fluff, humour?, best friends/roommates to lovers WARNINGS. cursing, vernon is checking reader out lowkey, reader embarrassingly wears hello kitty underwear i don't make the rules, ik vernon is mainly chill but in this they bicker <3, this was very stupid n silly lmfao WORD COUNT. 1.6k

requested from @weird-bookworm: lemme be annoying already— noni + #16 and #59 from list 1!! - #16: "You hugged me like your personal pillow." - #59: "Laundry day doesn’t mean walking around in your underwear, but for you, I’ll make an exception."

notes: i'm never good with writing humour but i thought of this stupid scenario and idk how i feel BYEE (cuz ur girl lowkey struggled on figuring out how to put #59 in the story lmao) tysm for submitting this in sky <3 and ty @bananabubble for reading it over for me!

join the 2k celebration!

You are so stupid.

So fucking stupid.

How could you let yourself get carried away in loading all your laundry that you forgot to save a pair of pants to wear in the meantime?

You replay everything in your head: your overflowing, neglected laundry basket, the utter satisfaction you felt after loading it... right up until the moment you realised every single pair of pants you own was now basically swimming around in a goddamn whirlpool, and now you're left sporting nothing but your underwear and a shirt that didn't offer much coverage than expected.

You let out an annoyed groan, burying your face into your hands and mentally slapping yourself in the face. The chill of your room sends a trail of goosebumps running up the exposed skin of your legs. There really was nothing you could do but wait for your laundry to finish.

Then your head shoots back up, and maybe your bedroom lights up a bit brighter at your metaphorical lightbulb moment, because you think of Vernon. He's the only other option you have.

Tip-toeing up to your closed door, a bit of hesitancy gnaws at you for being so dumb, before you yell out, "Vernon!"

He's probably in the living room right now𑁋you can overhear the faint music of the record player the two of you snagged at this vintage thrift store the other week. A very good and lucky find, nonetheless.

Taking another (and maybe regrettable) deep breath, you call out again, a little louder this time. "Vernon! Can you hear me?"

The music seems to dip down slightly, and after a moment, the record stops spinning, replaced by the sound of footsteps approaching the door. You brace yourself for the door to swing open to reveal the embarrassing state you're in right now, but it doesn't.

Instead, you hear Vernon's voice respond to you through the door, "Yeah?"

"Uh..." You bite your lip because you can't believe you're about to ask this. "Do you have, um... a pair of pants or shorts I can borrow? I'll give it back to you tomorrow."

For a moment you think he didn't hear you because it's completely silent on the other side of the door, and it does absolutely nothing at calming down your racing heart. You see, you probably should be fine with walking around in your underwear with Vernon because he's your best friend and roommate and he definitely would not judge at all, but it's simply not that simple𑁋

"Did you, like, spill Monster on yourself again?" Vernon asks casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world that you would do (it's happened one too many times).

"Yes, I mean, no, I mean𑁋look, just fetch me a pair and I'll bring it back to you later?"

"Uh, yeah, about that..." He pauses. "I'm wearing my only pair right now since you loaded yours first."

You really should've considered that being best friends with Vernon meant collectively sharing the brain cell of procrastinating when it comes to doing your laundry. Great, just absolutely fantastic. This was very much how you wanted your day to go. Perhaps this is why you're best friends, after all.

"Well, shit," You murmur, more to yourself but Vernon hears it anyway.

"Look, I'm sure it's not that bad, right?" Does he seriously still think you spilled Monster on yourself? "You could probably just𑁋"

You can hardly act by the time the doorknob twists and Vernon peeks his head around the door. But the second he catches sight of you, his eyes flicker over you, before he quickly averts his gaze to the Radiohead poster on your wall. Was it the lighting in your room that's making his face look pink?

You stand there awkwardly, suddenly feeling so exposed in front of him as if some sort of gigantic spotlight was shining down on you. It's not like you haven't been half-naked around each other before, but this feels different... somehow. You don't know why, or maybe you don't want to know.

A cough erupts from Vernon, breaking the sudden silence.

"Oh, wow, um..." He toys with the black hoodie around his head. "I didn't look. I swear."

His eyes dart everywhere except back to you, lingering on the Radiohead poster, the slightly askew picture frame on your desk, just anywhere but you. You don’t know whether to feel relieved or embarrassed.

"Ugh, I'm so stupid." You run a frustrated hand through your hair. "And I have this meeting for work in an hour and I know the laundry won't be done by then. I'm actually screwed."

Vernon thinks for a minute. "You can't like... virtually attend the meeting?

"No."

"Or it can't be postponed?"

"Nope."

"What if I file you as a missing person to the police?"

"You're seriously no help, dude," You say, giving him a light shove to the shoulder, but it's hard to suppress the curve to your lips and the small chuckle that leaves your mouth when you see him fall back dramatically.

Vernon snorts lightly. "Well, it's probably better than showing up to work in your Hello Kitty underwear𑁋"

"You said you didn't look, you idiot!" You exclaim furiously, and Vernon literally does not see the way a pillow practically spawns in your grasp and flinging toward him before he can even react. The pillow hits him square in the chest, causing him to stumble backward with a surprised yelp. "Oh my god, just report me missing at this point."

Vernon just laughs as he catches his breath to stand back up, grabbing the pillow up the floor and lifting it up like a shield as if to defend himself from you. Your face is burning brighter than the lava lamp glowing on your bedside table.

"This is so embarrassing," You mutter sheepishly, wanting to unleash another defeated groan again. "I can't believe I'm this stupid to forget to..."

"You're cute."

"...and then I'm probably going to get fired𑁋what?"

Vernon tosses the pillow back onto your bed and clears his throat.

"I said you're really dumb."

That is not what he said.

For a second, the disastrous situation seems to lighten up just a little bit, and your heart is doing some intense, unrhythmic tap dance against your ribs. You heard exactly what he said𑁋that he called you cute in this ungodly predicament𑁋and now he's trying to brush it off?

Vernon cracks a teasing, boyish smile. "And stupid, yeah. You're not wrong about that."

You open your mouth to retort, but the words get caught in your throat, almost like a choked sound coming out instead. So you point an interrogative finger and step closer to him (and yes, still in your underwear), eyebrows furrowing together.

"You called me cute," You state, all firm and serious now.

Vernon's playful look falters slightly, expression shifting to something a bit more guarded now. He rubs a hand at the back of his neck, that nervous habit you've always found sort of endearing throughout time. Perhaps there's a bit more meaning to it now.

The few moments of silence that follow is absolutely suffocating. You can't even tell if time is passing by quicker or slower as the two of you stand there, shifting this uncomfortable weight between both of your feet.

"Yeah," Vernon says simply, quietly. "I did."

You nearly want to laugh for some reason, but you can feel the nerves tickle up your spine. "I'm standing here in fucking Hello Kitty underwear and you think I'm cute?"

You can visibly see the way the lump in his throat tightens as he swallows, his eyes flickering uncertainly between you and the floor.

"Look you just... You caught me off-guard. Like... laundry day doesn't mean walking around in your underwear and all that," Vernon explains, in a tone like he's trying to reason with you. "but for you, I'll make an exception because𑁋"

"𑁋because I'm cute?"

"Because you're so stupidly cute from freaking out when I could just go to the store right now and buy you a pair of pants to wear." Then he sucks in a breath. "And yeah, the Hello Kitty underwear is cute, I guess."

You feign a shocked, traitorous look to your face. "You guess?! It's Hello Kitty, man."

"Dude, do you want me to snatch you some pants to wear or not? Because I'm deadass about the missing persons report," Vernon asks, half-annoyed yet somewhat half-amused. The twitch to his lips doesn't go unnoticed. And the voice of him calling you cute just minutes earlier also doesn't go unheard of too.

You wear a cringy, exaggerated pout to your lips. "Please."

Vernon's face contorts in slight disgust at that. "Please don't do that eve𑁋I'm leaving." And before you can say anything, he's turning around and leaving your room.

You hear the clinking of keys, assuming that Vernon is getting ready to leave to presumably retrieve you a pair of pants to wear for the day. You step up to your doorway to peek into the living room.

"Hey, I owe you!" You holler out to him. "Let me know how much it costs and I'll pay you back."

"No need," Vernon calls back over his shoulder.

"Come on, I'll feel bad," You insist, leaning against the doorframe. "I'll do anything, I swear."

Now that seems to intrigue him, and you watch the way Vernon slowly turns back to you, and maybe you're starting to regret ever saying that to him.

"Okay," he says lightly. "We're watching a movie tonight."

"A movie? What are we..." Then your eyes widen in realisation. "We are not watching Shrek again. I'll end up falling asleep on you because we've rewatched too much."

Vernon just shrugs. "Yeah, like last time. You hugged me like your personal pillow, remember?"

"I..." You stop yourself from responding immediately, feeling a flush creeping up your cheeks at the memory. "Fine, whatever. If I fall asleep again, you can just wake me up this time."

A low, thoughtful hum runs out of Vernon's mouth. "I mean, I really don't mind if you fall asleep, you know. If you're tired and stuff."

You blink up at him dazedly. "Really?"

"Yeah," he answers, and the corners of his lips lift up ever so slightly. "You're cute when you fall asleep on me, anyway."

another note: guys idk what i just wrote lol its like 90% dialogue n rushed HAHSADSA

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9 @roziesmei @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit @bewoyewo @honglynights @bananabubble @treehouse-mouse @tanya596carat @starshuas @totomoshi

[spamgyu]

RED STRING THEORY // Hansol x Reader Oneshot

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates weren't real. This wasn't a fantasy world... But somehow, the world wanted them together. Giving them one too many chances to be together. Almost as if there was a little string that connected them to one another PAIRING: Idol!Hansol x Reader GENRE: A very LONG fluff.

There is a popular belief that there is one person you are destined to be with regardless of time, place, and circumstances.

A person is born in to this world connected to their other half by this invisible red string. No matter how knotted and jumbled this string got, it was never broken – because in the end, it will always be them that would be destined for each other.

Y/n had grown up with her grandmother telling her and her older sister this folklore; standing firm on her belief that her and their grandfather were destined lovers and had proclaimed that one day, the two girls would find their way to theirs.

The two had taken their grandmother's words a with a grain of salt. More now that their father and mother had a very messy divorce, leaving the two to be solely under their mother's care.

But the older woman didn't care if the two girls huffed and puffed about her tales that she told each summer they paid a visit. A regular occurrence of their mother shipping them out to her home country; claiming it was good for them to be in touch with their roots instead of rotting away in their rooms during summer break.

Plus, it was far better than making the journey to Chicago where their father had relocated with his new girlfriend.

It was just like old times.

Except, now they were no longer required to have their grandparents accompany them as they explored the large city. They had the freedom to run about the streets, spending hours on end at the computer shop, biking along the river, and spending all their allowance at the local convenience stores.

"I don't think we have enough money." Y/n looked down at the basket of snacks her and her older sister have filled.

Her sister agreed with a nod. "Put back some chips."

Y/n pouted, reaching down to grab three bags of honey butter chips she had carelessly thrown in; trudging to the next aisle where they had been placed.

"Are you going to buy all that?" A young boy no older than fifteen asked, pointing at the bags in her arms. Unlike the boys from the neighborhood, he had looked like someone from back home. She took in his disheveled appearance, his hair was almost like a helmet on his head; the sweat on his forehead causing some of the strands to stick together.

Yuck.

Blinking slowly, y/n tilted her head to the side trying to comprehend what he had asked. She knew the language, just not well enough to understand when someone was speaking fast.

He must have grown up here.

"Hello?" He waved his hand to gain her attention.

"Sorry." She mumbled, rushing to place the chips back on the shelf.

"Weirdo." He said underneath his breath, grabbing a bag.

"Excuse me?!"

Eyes growing wide, the boy turned to face her – ears and cheeks red. "Heh?" He flashed a shy grin and peace sign before running away to the front of the store.

Y/n dismissed the small interaction with the young boy – not before ranting to her older sister about how rude he was to someone who was clearly from not the area.

Teens were rude and arrogant at that age anyways.

It was her last day before heading back west when she had another run in with the teen. She was reaching for a can of grape drink when another hand brushed against hers; causing her to quickly retract her hand – mumbling a soft apology and motioning for the person to go ahead.

"Here." He extended his arm to offer the girl the can, recognizing her from weeks ago.

Their first small interaction that had left him flustered as he made his way back to the practice room. He was told specifically by the staff to be careful of how they portrayed themselves during their time outside the green room, in case they were to debut.

No future idol wants negative stories from strangers as a new comer. One story can easily cause a snowball effect and become not only the downfall of one member but the group as a whole.

He knew their conversation wasn't much of a headline, but he also knew how easily the public villainized a celebrity for something so miniscule.

He did not want to risk it.

The young teen had gone back nearly every day before practice in hopes to run into the girl, wanting to change whatever impression he had originally made.

"Thanks." Y/n pulled a tight lipped smile before turning her heel to head for the register.

"Sorry about the other time!" He called out.

"I don't care." She called back, handing the cashier the change she had fished out from her pocket – not bothering to look back at the dumb struck boy stood at the refrigerated drinks aisle.

Crisis averted.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

It had been years since he had been back in the city where his parents had met. Not to mention years since he had given a proper break.

Thanks to their group's success over the past two years since debuting, they were granted a month and half of down time. No practices, no variety show guesting, no filming.

Just quiet time.

The first in a very long time.

Each and every member agreed that they would use the first half of this break to work in their team and the latter half with their own families.

Vernon could not be anymore grateful that his mom had decided this meant flying back New York for a change of scenery and pace.

For once since his debut, he felt like a normal teen; waking up at noon, exploring the city by himself with no set schedules, and eating whatever his heart desired.

"You're staring." His sister nudged him, breaking his gaze from the girl behind the counter who was far too busy taking everyone else's order to notice that he was practically burning a hole into her skin.

"She looks familiar, doesn't she?" He nodded to the girl.

His sister follower his eyes before giving him a look. "No she doesn't."

"I swear, I've seen her before."

Sofia snorted, rolling her eyes at her brother.

He could be a dits at times.

"You wish." She took a step towards the counter, placing her order.

"And for you?" The girl smiled, using her customer service voice that she had gotten down to T since applying for the cafe.

"Oh uh–" He glanced up at the menu, scratching the back of his neck. He had become too preoccupied trying to figure out why the girl in front of him had looked like someone he had seen before that he had completely forgotten the reason why he and his sister decided to drop by in the first place.

Coffee.

"He'll have an iced mocha." His little sister interjected, seeing that her brother seemed still be buffering by her side.

"$10.78 please."

"Vernon." Sofia nudged him yet again, this time a little harder, signaling for him to pay.

"Right." He cleared his throat, digging into his back pocket to pull out the plastic card from his wallet. "Here you go."

"Is he okay?" The girl joked, taking the card from his had.

"He's allergic to girls."

"Am not!" He cried, now fully present.

"Okay well then don't be a freak."

Y/n awkwardly laughed at the two's sudden bickering, handing the form of payment back. "Drinks will be ready at the side."

"Thanks– wait, do I know you?"

"Oh my god." Sofia grumbled, slapping her hand on her forehead in embarrassment.

"Um.... No." Y/n replied, coming out as more of a question. "Are you trying to hit on me?"

"Wha– No! Oh my god no!" His eyes wide, shaking his head quickly.

He was never good with girls.

Or strangers.

Unless they were his fans; all thanks to their media training and fan service lessons.

She raised her brows. "Should I be offended by how quickly you said that?"

"Oh my god oh my god, let's go please you're embarrassing me." Sofia cried, pushing her brother towards the direction where the rest of the cafe customers were stood, waiting for their drinks. "I'm really sorry about him!"

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Curiosity had gotten the best of him and he was set on figuring out why the girl at the coffee shop looked familiar – dropping by another time.

"Hi familiar stranger." She greeted as he walked into the semi-empty shop, a glaring difference from the other day.

Granted, he stopped by during hours where most would be busy at work or school.

"What can I get you today?"

"Iced mocha please." He said confidently this time.

"Anything else?"

"That's it." Vernon pulled a tight lipped smile, handing her his card.

He was so sure he would have been able to figure it out by now; unable to help himself from staring at her.

Not in a creepy way of course.

No. He was not a creep.

Just annoyed that his brain can't seem to put a finger on why her features looked like someone he has seen before.

He hadn't been in the states in years. Let alone has he been to this particular coffee shop.

But why was she so familiar?

Before he could walk away, he found himself asking the question aloud. Again.

"Are you sure I don't know you?"

"Are you sure you're not hitting on me?" She countered.

He shook his head. "No, I– you just look like someone I know."

Maybe she was a fan.

From a fan sign.

What if she was playing a sick prank, wanting to have her own little cliche moment of bumping into their celebrity crush so that they could organically fall in love with each other.

Not that he was in love.

Nor did he like the girl.

He didn't even know her.

She's pretty. Very pretty– but– oh my god he's staring at her. Shake it off.

"Do you go to fan signs?"

Oh he is about to blow his cover.

"Yeah, totally. I just went to one in Brooklyn– are you stupid?" She replied sarcastically.

She didn't live under a rock. She knew what fan signs were, having heard of them from her cousins when she would visit her grandparents for the summer.

"Taking that as a no." He said slowly.

"Is this some sort of pick up line. You're going to say I look like one of those idols you see when you go to fan signs? It's a really dum–"

He let out a laugh.

If she had only known.

"I told you I'm not hitting on you."

"Says the guy that keeps asking why I look familiar, in a really weird way, I may add."

This was hopeless.

Why did he think he would be able to figure it out this time around?

It was as if there was an itch in his his brain he couldn't seem to scratch. But considering there was no progress in getting any clues as to why the girl looked like some one he had previous encounter with, he'd just have to learn to ignore it.

"I just– it's bugging me– It's whatever." He mumbled, walking over to his drink that was waiting at the counter.

"If it helps, my mom said I have an average face!" She called out.

Little did he know she would later find out who he was, all thanks to her mom's need to watch any and all content that was happening back east.

She had nearly choked on her water that night when his face appeared on screen as her mom watched the latest episode of Happy Together; earning strange looks from both her mom and sister.

Y/n wanted to so badly let the two know that she had not only one but two encounters with the boy on the screen a few months back – for street creds of course.

But she knew they wouldn't believe her.

No one would have.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Moving was one thing.

Y/n didn't mind moving.

Moving to different country.

That was another story.

Due to her grandfather's recent passing, y/n's mother thought it was best to relocate back to their home country to accompany her now widowed grandmother.

Y/n wanted to be selfish.

She wished she had enough guts to fight to say behind, just as her sister had, and complete her masters with her friends. She wished her mom hadn't been fully educated about the transfer program her university had.

If she had only been born two years earlier like her sister, maybe she could have used the "I have a job here that I can't leave behind." excuse.

Don't get her wrong.

She loved her grandmother, and she would do anything for her.

But asking to up root her whole life, to move all the way across the world to leave behind her friends and her boyfriend, was a lot.

Y/n wanted to complain. She wanted to pout. She wanted to throw a fit, like any other toddler who was told they were not allowed the toy they have been asking for but she knew better.

Y/n sucked it up, hiding her disappointment behind a smile each time she came home from yet another day of classes at the university.

A lifestyle she had yet to adjust to.

Pushing past the mess of people, y/n ran down the stairs of the subway station – afraid of missing the train that was set to arrive in just a minute. She had gotten a little too distracted with the shops along the way and lost track of time, forgetting to account for the endless corridors and staircases she had to travel before reaching her set subway line.

She had nearly reached the last step when she felt someone step on the heel of her sneakers, sending her forward in an instant.

Y/n was fully prepared to make contact with the floor, bracing for impact.

But the pain never came.

Instead, a tight grip on her upper arm held her up just enough for her to regain balance.

"Thank you." Y/n turned to the stranger, reaching up to rub where their hand had once been – in attempts to soothe it.

Thanks to their quick thinking, she had been able to save herself from embarrassment and a possible concussion; but that didn't mean it didn't come with a cost.

She could practically feel the bruise forming on her arm where their fingers once was, wincing at the thought of having to explain to her mom and grandmother why she had a perfect hand print bruise on her upper arm.

"Sorry." He apologized sheepishly, coming out as almost a mumble due to the mask that covered half of his face.

"It's fine."

"I uh– let me give you money for uh– cream?"

She raised her brows. She knew there would be a cultural difference once she had moved to the country, but never had she heard of someone being a little too friendly and offering to buy.... bruise relief cream.

It's just a bruise, anyways.

"No need, oh my god." She shook her head, subconsciously reaching over to stop him from grabbing his wallet from his back pocket; instantly retracting her hand when she noticed him flinching at her touch.

Right, this wasn't the west.

They don't do that here.

"Sorry, I– am not."

"From here?" He finished with a chuckle.

"Yeah..."

"I know. I mean– you sound like my sister from back in the states– That's information I didn't need to share."

"Line 6 is arriving." A perky voice blared through the speakers, interrupting the two.

"Shit. Gotta go, don't worry about the bruise!" She spoke quickly, hurrying over to her platform.

To her surprise, the stranger had hopped on to the same cart as her – instantly spotting his all black outfit paired with black fitted hat from a few seats down.

Sh had tried her best to keep herself pre-occupied, looking down at her phone as she pretended to be interested in her instagram feed – not wanting to look like a stalker. It wasn't that she was interested in him.

She had a boyfriend.

No, she was just.... curious.

Something about his voice seemed... familiar.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

He was in the same cart as her the following day — easily spotting him as he was dressed in the same ensemble. Just different colors.

This time, he wore light washed jeans and a plain white tee. As opposed to yesterday's all black attire. Not to forget the cap that rested low on his head and mask covering the remainder of his features.

He really did not want to be seen.

"How's the arm?" He asked, taking a seat at the now vacant spot next to her.

Y/n lifted the sleeve of her oversized graphic tee to show him the mark he had left behind. "Purple."

"Sorry again." He winced.

"Saved me from cracking my head open." She shrugged. "You been to New York?"

"Huh?"

Y/n gestured to the embroidered team cap he was sporting.

"Oh uh— kinda?"

"Kinda?" She raised her brows.

"I was born out there." Vernon answered hesitantly.

He wasn't sure if his disguise was, if it could even be considered as one, had been good enough to hide who he really was. He wanted to be careful of any and every information he gave out to her, just in case she was a fan of him and his group.

Not that she seemed to hint that she had any sort of idea of who he was... or seemed to care to figure out who she was speaking to under the mask and hat.

Besides, who's ever heard of an idol taking a subway.

In Vernon's defense, he didn't have a license and didn't feel the need to. It was very rare that he needed to be behind the wheel on his own anyways.

"Cool." She nodded. "Me too."

He let out a soft chuckle, finding her poor attempt to make small talk.... humorous...ly cute.

"What brings you out here?"

"My mom."

"Well yeah–"

"No I'm serious," She laughed, realizing he had probably thought she was making a joke about reproduction. xi. "My mom wanted to relocate."

"Oh my god." He groaned putting his head in his hands out of embarrassment before sitting back up and joining her in her fits of laughter.

"What about you?"

"Also my mom.... and dad."

"Cool."

"Cool."

The sound of the train humming along the tracks filled the silence between the two.

She had yet to figure out how to properly interact with strangers, afraid to come off too strong.

"I'm y/n by the way." She hesitantly brought her hand up, unsure if it was appropriate to shake his hand or not.

"Hansol." He took her warm hands in his cold ones, giving it a quick shake — just in case there had been wandering eyes.

"This is me," Y/n allowed for the train to a complete stop before standing from her seat, turning to give the boy one last smile and wave. "I'll see you around I guess"

She never did.

A part of her wished that he was on the same train again the following day, catching herself craning her neck to see if she could spot him in the mess of crowd that had piled in.

She had done this for three days.

Giving up on the fourth.

Why was she so curious? Who makes a friend on a train?

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Y/n had grown to love the place.

Contrary to what she had made herself believe.

Maybe it was that she had finally adjusted to the culture and the lifestyle of the country, or maybe it was that there was no other reason for her to go back – her boyfriend of three years dumping her on a random Tuesday in May, just days before she was set to fly out to visit him.

So much for the stupid red string theory.

Swearing off relationships, y/n chose to focus on her new job; as a Media Marketing Associate at the new leading entertainment company.

She wanted to make her mother proud – just as her older sister has, who was now a Creative Director for Capitol Records.

Y/n wanted to follow her older sister's footsteps.

At least, if it fate allowed it.

Just before clocking out the night before, her team had received word that one person will be removed – claiming that the workflow needed restructuring.

Y/n wasn't stupid. She knew it meant someone was getting fired.

And judging by seniority, and her being a new hire of two months, she knew she would be the one to be let go.

"Morning." She greeted her coworkers with a sigh.

"Don't look too sad, y/n." Soooyun frowned, knowing that she had nothing but words to offer.

"So much for being a marketing director." Y/n pulled a tight lipped smile, reaching over to turn on her computer.

As if it was any use, considering she may have already had her employee access revoked.

She had been fully prepared to pack up her desk by the end of the day, giving her mother a heads up that she may need to cry in her arms once she got home from work.

But fate was on her side.

"No way." She gasped, scanning the email she had opened. "I'm not fired!"

"What?" Sooyun jumped from her seat, walking over to her desk to read over her shoulders. "We are pleased to tell you that you have been selected to join our subsidiary label's marketing tea– this is good news!"

"Oh my god. I thought I was going to be unemployed!" Y/n cried, continuing to scan through the email. "Wait, what floor is PLEDIS?"

"Eight. Good luck. They're a mess." She snickered, walking back to her desk.

"Oh so I might as well have been fired."

"I'm kidding. They're .... working on it."

"I'm drafting my two week notice."

She never drafter her two week notice.

Instead, the department she had been suddenly thrusted into had welcomed her with open arms — despite half of the team having been around since before the label acquisition.

They were all learning the new groove of workflow that HYBE had standardized for a good portion of their subsidiaries' PR and Marketing department, leaning on one another for support during their onboarding.

She had quickly grown to be comfortable with her new team just as she had with the temporary one from two floors above.

"Y/n, it's your time to shine." Her lead grinned, leaning against her desk. "Sales and PR approved of your tour pitch."

"No way." Y/n gasped, her grin matching his.

"I want you to pitch it to the boys."

The grin quickly fell from her face. "No way."

Yn had known each and every boy by name; especially the boy that she had interacted with years back when she was working at the cafe near her home. But she still couldn't help but feel nervous.

She had done minor research on the men she now worked for, but interactions with them in person was different.

Especially now that she was a grown adult with an almost fully developed frontal lobe.

Y/n had yet to meet the group as a whole, having only met Seungcheol and Woozi in passing on the way to the office — tucked far behind the practice room used by the team.

She knew she wanted to move up in the company, meaning that she would be heading meetings regularly. But she had also yet to assimilate to the workplace — let alone the talents she had worked for.

Almost everyone on the team were comfortable with the boys, each having their own stories about how kind and attentive they were to their staff members.

She wanted to ease into it slowly.

Not thrown into the deep end.

Which seemed to have been occurring far more often than she would like.

"Can't I just be the person that clicks the arrow button for the next slide?"

"It's your presentation. You have it memorized."

"I'll teach you."

"I think that will be tough because meeting is in," He glanced down at the silver watch on his arm. "Ten minutes."

Oh she's definitely drafting her two weeks now.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Nervously standing at the end of the very long conference table, y/n fiddled with the hem of her cardigan — waiting for the group of thirteen boys to file in and take a seat.

The growing sound of booming voices grew louder and louder as each seconds passed; signaling their arrival. It was only a matter of milliseconds before they appeared one by one through the doorway — greeting her and Seongho, her team lead who stood beside her.

Of course, he earned chirpier hi's and hello's — being a part of the team for five years now.

Y/n nearly had to fight her eyes from lingering at the him. He had matured entirely, his shoulders now broad, maybe even gotten taller.... and god that jaw.

He looked good.

She quickly averted her eyes down to the device in front of her before anyone caught her stare – which was quite easy as they all seemed quite busy in their own worlds.

Y/n waited until they were situated in their seats, each small conversation finishing as she tapped away on her laptop that was connected to the projector behind her — instantly catching their attention with the bright colors of the mood board she had put together.

She felt like a teacher standing in front of a group of kindergarteners and she felt their gaze on her — some with hands folded in-front and on the table.

Just like kindergarten.

"Hi everyone, name is y/n." She bowed, using her best customer service voice. "I'll be heading today's marketing pitch."

Y/n was about to open her mouth, ready to start with her first slide when a sudden cough attack caught everyone's attention.

It was him.

"You okay?" Mingyu turned to Vernon, letting out a laugh as he patted his back in attempts to soothe him.

"Yeah, swallowed my water wrong." He croaked, earning laughters from everyone.

"Slow down, yeah?" Minghao chuckled.

Vernon nodded, clearing his throat as he adjusted in his seat. "Sorry, uh, y/n please continue."

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

She didn't know which she liked more about her job. The pay.... or the free food.

Not a day had gone by where she did not passed up taking trip to the company cafe on the third floor to get her daily caffeine fix and sweet little treat from the pastry selection that was baked fresh every day.

Yeah.... it was definitely the free food.

Especially now that she had been appointed to lead the marketing for the group's Japan leg of the tour.

It was her fourth day in a row that she had made her way down to the cafe for the second time since clocking in – deeming that one iced coffee was not enough.

Unfortunately for her, there was a line of at least eight people ahead of her and only two barista's working the counter.

This was going to take longer than the ten minutes she had told her team.

Unbeknownst to her, he was stood second in line – his eyes immediately spotting her when she had entered the room.

Not that he was looking for her.

She was just very easy to spot.

She dressed differently than the rest of the staff.

Her style still very much influenced by western fashion.

"Y/n." Vernon called from his spot.

His voice was very easy to recognize.

Once she locked eyes with him, he motioned for her to stand next to him – cutting the rest of those who stood behind.

Not that they would complain.

"Thank you." She bowed hesitantly.

Y/n had yet to be comfortable around him and the rest of the boys, despite having had frequent interactions since the meeting she had delivered months ago.

She was his age and he had specified that it was completely fine to address him like a friend.

They all preferred their staff seeing them as coworkers, people that they could be friends with, instead of land mines that they had to carefully tiptoe around.

"We'll be seeing each other a lot and we hope you'll be around as long as we are... So please, don't think you have to treat us like kings." The leader said after the meeting, formally introducing the team as a whole to y/n.

"How's planning going?" He asked, making small talk.

In all the times he had a run in with the girl, he hadn't been able to properly converse with her. Mostly because it was either he had a other members with him, who were far more outgoing and vocal – leading the conversations. Or he just didn't quite have time.

He would see her in the halls, giving her a nod as a form of greeting and a quick smile before rushing to the practice room.

The last time he had a proper one on one with her was a year ago... at the subway station near his parent's home.

Though, it was just him that knew of that interaction.

He planned to tell her one day. Thinking it would be a fun fact to bring up one day.

He just needed to find the right time.

"Really good, actually. Stressful. But good." She beamed, wanting to spill all that she had managed to accomplish since being assigned the project.

"I'm excited to see all that you worked on– you and the team."

Pulling out her phone from her phone pocket, she quickly swiped through her emails – double checking to see if anyone had been peering over their shoulders before showing him the screen.

It was rough draft of the train decal she had managed to secure with the subway system in Japan – promoting their multiple shows.

"Are we gong to be on a train?" He gasped, zooming into the file.

"Yeah, just got it approved this morning." She smiled.

"Whoa." Vernon was shocked.

He knew their group had been successful, his bank account being the biggest indicator, but he didn't think it had gotten this far.

Vernon was fully aware that they had gotten quiet big; bigger than what they had imagined during their trainee days. But a train.... with all their faces... set to be traveling throughout the country....? That blew his mind.

"Thank you." He handed her phone back.

"Working on gettin it on a plane too." Y/n replied, stepping up to the counter once the person in front of them had stepped away. "Iced hazelnut coffee please."

"Plane?" He gasped, still standing in his spot, mouth agape.

Y/n didn't think it was much of a big deal, remembering that she had briefly mentioned it during her presentation. Along with the VERY generous budget HYBE and PLEDIS had given the marketing team.

She remembered clearly because Minghao compared it to the Hello Kitty plane he had taken once on the way back to China; unable to help herself from laughing.

"Uh.... he'll have an iced mocha." She turned back to the barista, letting out a soft laugh as she stepped away from the front of the line – Vernon following suit.

She had perfectly remembered his order from that day.

Unable to shake it off. Especially not after she realized who he was.

"A plane?"

"It's not for sure yet."

"A plane." He repeated, coming back down to earth. "Wait I didn't order!"

"Oh I got it."

"Did you get me an iced americano?" He deadpanned, knowing that it had been a stereotypical drink that was a crowd favorite. And considering he was lost in his own world, he figured it would have been the safe choice for her to say.

He hated that watered down tar drink.

"Did you want an iced americano?" Y/n asked slowly, scolding herself for ordering the same drink he had picked out when he was a teen.

How was she going to explain this to him?

Without being an absolute creep...

"No but it's fine, I'll give it to Seungkwan."

"I got you an iced mocha."

Welp.

There goes the bomb.

She began planning her escape route.

"Oh." He was left dumbfounded for a second time.

"Uh.... you seem like an iced mocha guy."

That was convincing.... right?

"Should I be offended?"

"Maybe." She shrugged, letting out a small sigh of relief as she walked over to get their drinks from the counter.

Crisis averted.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Y/n didn't intend to stay past her usual work hours. She wasn't one to work a full twelve hour day, not when she can help it.

The first day of the Follow to Seoul was fast approaching, and though she was on the Japan team, she had grown restless as the big day approached. Each and every single marketing deliverables had to be cohesive through out all the stops, regardless of country or city. And considering it was her that had pitched this overall theme, she couldn't help but take extra hours to ensure any and all loose ends had been perfectly tied off.

Y/n was a perfectionist.

She had taken one last glance at the email she had scheduled to be sent to all the staff members the following morning, containing all information relating to the tour; including posting schedules on social media, announcement of later dates, and merch recap.

Content with herself, she closed out of her browser and collected her belongings – heading for the door.

At least she wasn't the last one on their floor, getting accustomed to the group's late night practices. She had one too many run ins with a few members in the past week, each scolding her for staying past the usual 6pm clock out time.

"Didn't you already get an earful from Seungkwan the other day?" Vernon called out from the end of the hall.

He had stepped out of the elevator and instantly recognized her; a smile appearing on his face.

Because he wanted to tease her.

Nothing else.

Looking up from her phone, she let out a laugh. She was caught.

"Shouldn't you be at practice? You're late." She teased right back.

They had met halfway, both with stupid grins on their faces.

Because of the joke.

"I had schedule before this." He defended.

"I was finishing up the last few details." Y/n countered.

His bottom lip jutted out, nodding in understandment. A habit she had noticed he seemed to have done quite often.

"The last train was 30 minutes ago."

"My mom's picking me up."

"That's cute."

She reached over to give his arm a smack, knowing that he was holding himself back from making another joke.

They had finally crossed the weird line that rested between coworkers that made small talk with one another in the work place and coworkers that you'd consider to maybe... just maybe be okay with hanging out with outside of the workplace.

Not that they have ever.

That was still untouchable territory.

Being an idol and all.

The only time they have spent time outside of the office building was during company dinners. A neutral setting.

Sure, they've spent some lunches at the cafeteria together – Vernon unable to pass up free food when he was far too lazy to go off and find other meals outside of the company.

"Ow! That'll bruise." Vernon cried, grabbing the spot where her hand had landed.

"Oh please. I barely grazed it. I would have to grab you really hard to even leave a mark."

"Like when you fell in the subway?" He snorted.

Y/n brows furrowed in confusion, her head tilting to the side. She had never told him about that day in the subway.

She had never told anyone about it.

It was of no significance.

A minor interaction with a stranger.

"How do you know about that?"

Vernon's eyes grew wide at the sudden slip up. "Huh?"

"I never told anyone about that."

"No– no you definitely told me about it. You were falling and this guy saved you from falling."

Or maybe she had.

... Had she?

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

He was screwed.

Not only was he screwed but he owed Mingyu and Dokyeom ₩100,00 ... each.

Vernon had a crush.

A big fat crush that had him grinning like a stupid little kid every time he was near her. Hell, he had caught himself grinning while looking at her instagram.

Which took a lot of convincing and a few specially delivered coffees at her desk for him to even pry out of her.

He would spend hours on end that day carefully swiping through to make sure that he did not accidentally like any of her posts.

His fans were smart. Detectives even.

He knew any movement on any social media did not go unnoticed.

All hell would break loose the second they caught wind of him interacting with anyone but his members or fans.

He had managed to deny all claims that he may be attracted to the newest addition to their staff team, and everyone seemed to have bought it.

All except Mingyu and Dokyeom, who had caught the two one too many times in their own world during her lunch breaks.

Vernon had confidently challenged the two to a ₩100,00 bet to prove that they were wrong.

He didn't think they would win.

It was silly little crush.

But she had texted him earlier that day, wanting to talk after work – claiming that she had to confess something.

Since receiving that text, he had been restless; unable to find a comfortable position on his couch and opted to plan out his outfit instead.

He wanted to look good.

Because she's confessing her feelings right?

And if the feelings were mutual.... then why not? Right?

He's allowed to date.

Everyone else around him had significant others.

Why can't he?

Vernon decided being home was not an option, not while his everyone else was home and able to pick up on his behavior.

Coming up with some lame excuse about wanting to practice one last time before they headed off to Japan for their first show, he made his way to their company's designated floor – waiting in the practice room.

He was grateful that she had asked to meet on the one particular day their day off landed on – their managers agreeing they needed rest more now that the non-stop schedules were kicking off.

Vernon was laying on the couch when he heard the door creak open, his head shooting up – eyes immediately locking with hers. He jumped up and off of the couch; adjusting his shirt.

He could hear his heart pounding in his ears as she grew closer to him.

It began to beat louder once she was a foot from him, his nose instantly filled with her signature scent.

Burberry HER.

He wasn't weird.

He had complimented her months before and she happily advertised the small roll on version of the product she carried with her at all times.

"I hate not smelling good." She reasoned when he had teased her about it.

"How was work?" He asked.

She shrugged. "We finally announced the Follow train and plane. Your fans made a few jokes about how they hope it was you guys flying it too."

He let out a chuckle, aware of the jokes that their fanbase were capable of making – some even making it into the groupchat whenever either one of them found one good enough to send them to tears in laughter.

"Anyways, I have a confession." She wasted no time getting right to the point. "And I already know you're probably going to distance yourself after, but I don't care. It's been literally bugging me for months now."

"It's okay, I– I think I have something to say too." He wiped his hands on his jeans, feeling them grow moist from the anticipation.

"You do?" Y/n was puzzled.

"Yeah but uh... you go first."

"No, now I'm curious." She laughed, picking up on his nervous demeanor.

She was nervous as well, but his.... was little more off putting; the color on his lips draining.

Vernon was glad they were standing, knowing that his legs would have been bouncing enough to shake the whole room from the anxiety he had been feeling.

He had confessed his feelings to someone before. Why was he so nervous?

She was going to do it as well.

Right?

"I– fine." He sucked in a deep breath, locking his eyes with her. "I um, may have a slight, crush– No actually, no I have feelings for you. Positive ones. You know the one that makes me want to kick your feet and giggle when you text the person you like.... That kind."

Y/n's lips formed into an "o".

That wasn't what she was expecting, though.... she should have guessed the minute she picked up on his strange behavior – mentally comparing it to a high schooler when they were around their crush.

Vernon watched as the girl slowly walked over to the couch, taking a seat. His eyes remaining on her as she sat in silence.

"I'm guessing that you were not going to say the same thing."

She slowly shook her head, still in shock.

Welp.

Time to go on a year long hiatus.

He allowed her for a minute of silence, taking a seat on the far opposite end of the couch; silently drumming his fingers on his legs as he tried his best to keep the voices in his head from jumping into further conclusions.

"So I'm uh– going to head out." He clicked his tongue, standing from his seat.

God this was so awkward.

"Wait!" Y/n her voice cracked, finally blinking away the blank stare she had.

Vernon was halfway to the door when she had called out for him, turning his heel to face her.

"Sorry I was... processing." She ran her fingers through her hair. Y/n had many things to consider.

The thing was, she too had positive feelings for him.

But that was the thing.

She was perfectly fine pining for him in silence. She was okay with the one sided admiration. Y/n was completely okay with having him as her work crush, the reason as to why she was that much more motivated to come in when the days felt like a call in sick type of day.

Because just a minute ago, she didn't know he had felt the same.

But now that he had exposed how he felt, it complicated her false reality.

Not only did she realize she might just have a chance with him... she had a chance with an idol.

Someone who was meant to remain unattainable. Only for fans.

Someone who cannot be seen with anyone of the opposite gender.

Someone who she was definitely not supposed to be dating.

Not that he asked her out.... he just told her how he felt.

"I came here to tell you that we met before." Y/n swallowed, walking over to where he stood. "I– we were teenagers. I was working at a cafe and you and your sister came in. I– I didn't know who you were at the time but a few months later I saw you on TV and– I didn't think I would see you again. Let alone work for you. It's been eating me alive since I saw you in the conference room. More now that we're friends. Or... possible ... crushes? I–"

Now it was his turn to be in shock.

"Do you believe in the red string theory?" He blurted.

That damn red string.

Y/n couldn't help but laugh, nodding in response to his question.

Vernon had heard about the red string theory from his mother, she had always entertained all sorts of ideas as such and happily shared it to him and his sister.

He rarely believed in these ideas, such as zodiac signs being able to properly describe someone's personality down to what makes them tick. Listening to his mother ramble on and on out of respect.

"You don't know this but– that day, that you fell at the station... That was me. I was the one that stopped you from falling. That bruise, I– I'm Hansol."

Vernon remembered that day so clearly.

His sister was in town for a quick break from her school back west and he had been paying her a visit at his parent's home – opting to take the public transportation instead of bothering his band of brothers or managers.

He was far too busy trying to keep his profile low as he headed back to his shared apartment when he stepped on the back of her sneakers.

Thanks to his quick reflexes, he had been able to catch her.

He was left in awe of her beauty that day, cursing himself for not approaching her when he had caught her staring from a few feet away.

The second time was purely coincidence.

He was sending his sister off.

He didn't think y/n would be taking the same scheduled train as him.

Vernon wasn't one to take things a sign. But he did just this on time – taking a seat next to the girl.

He didn't think he would see her again.... again.

Especially not as someone heading their marketing meeting.

"I choked on my water that day you were presenting because– I mean, I was surprised that you were there." He continued.

Maybe both her grandmother and his mom were right.

Maybe they did have an invisible string that tied them together.

That must be the only explanation.

"Wait— you— hold up." She reached over, using one hand to hold onto his upper arm; trying to stabilize her now weak knees. "Is this okay? I'm allowed to hold onto— I—"

Vernon felt his ears grow hot, unable to bite back the smile fighting its way to appear on his face. "Yeah this is okay." He nodded.

"Before we circle back to the whole destiny thing," Y/n withdrew her arm back to her side. "I— can't believe I'm saying this out loud, but I... uh— kinda like you too?"

"Kinda ... with a question mark?"

"Okay, I do. I have positive feelings for you."

He felt his heart take a leap.

"Can you give me a second?" Vernon held up a finger before walking over to a corner, letting out a dramatic 'yes!'.

She watched him in awe.... and pure adoration. A larger grin on his face as he made his way back to where he stood.

He was cold and stoic on camera, rarely showing any emotions but she quickly realized that the facade he seemed to put on wasn't who he really was.

Vernon was a dork, an animated and very funny guy who enjoyed teasing her any chance he got. Just like any other boy who had a crush.

There had been countless of times when she found herself wiping away the moisture from her eyes from the stupid corny jokes he told.

"Back to the whole destiny thing."

"It can't possibly be real but... I'll take it. I'll allow it." She laughed.

"You think that little red string is tied to yours?" Bringing his pinky up to their eye line.

"I would hope so."

"Want to test the theory?" He wiggled his finger, earning a giggle from her. "Dinner on me?"

"Let's start with dinner on a plate first."

Vernon's smile fell, using his other hand to fiddle with his pinky.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm trying to untie the string." He chuckled, breaking character.

"You're a loser." Y/n rolled her eyes.

tag list: @leah-rose03 @yoonzinuhh @musingsofananxiouspotato @woofie-nctzen-fanarts @hanniebanggi

[sluttywoozi]

Bloodhound Pt. I | chs x reader

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~4.5k | Pairing: chs x reader | Genre: romance, supernatural au

Life as a vampire isn't the easiest for Vernon, friend-wise or feeding-wise. He's ready to find a solution, and he thinks it just might be you.

Warnings: blood mentions (i mean it's a vampire fic like ...), non explicit sexual advances from strangers online, suggestive thoughts, involuntary thoughts of violence/murder, the briefest angst (it's me lbr), food mention, mention of being unable to eat

Reader Notes: human, has 2 brothers (i don't name or describe them so they can be other members if u want), currently ungendered (will have breasts and vagina in future smut)

It took a while for Vernon to figure out what happened to him. He still doesn’t know all the details, just that he woke up in an alley with blood all over his clothes and a burning in his throat that wouldn’t cease, and even now, he doesn’t know who did this. Who made him like this. 

This being a vampire, of course. 

He knew they existed, but in his short twenty five years walking the earth as a human, he doesn’t think he ever met one. He supposes now he has, considering the fact that he didn’t just wake up like this out of nowhere. He wonders if they meant to change him, or if he bit back and managed to get some of their blood in his system before they left him for dead. 

Either way, he’s a vampire now, and it fucking sucks. Literally and metaphorically. 

There are many cons, and only a few pros, he’s discovered in the six months since he was turned. He can’t go out in the sun anymore, and he’s so strong, he’s broken three phones. Worse than that, he likes the taste of blood now, likes feeling the coppery liquid fill his mouth before he swallows it down, likes the way it soothes his throat and sates his hunger. His brain still screams at him that it’s not normal or right or cool of him to be drinking fucking blood, and the cognitive dissonance gives him a headache every time he feeds. 

That’s another con, the feeding. He doesn’t want to just snatch innocent people and drain them dry like his maker did, but he can’t afford blood bags like the rich vampires, and he also hates the synthetic options available on the market. They all have an awful taste, like too sour grapes, and the weirdest consistency, just a bit too thin to alleviate the burning he still feels. 

That leaves him to find willing donors, which is surprisingly difficult when you don’t want to fuck them too. He doesn’t have anything against fetishists, but he also doesn’t have a lot of experience, and gaining it with people who only like him because he’s a vampire isn’t what he wants.

He’s tried the apps, tried the matching services, but they all lead to people who just want him for his venom, and he’s grown tired of it. So, he does the next logical thing. 

He puts an ad out on Craigslist. 

Vernon wakes from his daily rest to find his inbox completely full, his phone buzzing on a near constant vibration with every email received. He props himself up on an elbow in bed (no, he doesn’t sleep in a coffin), and scrolls through, cringing at all of the sexual subject lines and wondering if maybe he shouldn’t have included pictures. 

He felt like it was the normal thing to do, share part of himself in hopes someone will share back, but it seems all he’s done is made them feel bolder, made them feel more comfortable being open about what they want from him, even though he clearly put NOT DTF in the listing. But maybe that’s a good thing? 

He can easily weed out the people who don’t actually want to help him out, and he doesn’t even have to open every single message to find out who they are. His thumb blurs as he deletes email after email, the amount in his inbox dwindling the longer he swipes, until finally, he’s left with one unread. 

The subject line is innocuous enough, [interested in becoming friends with “benefits”], and he opens it to find a picture of you, with your arms extended on either side and seemingly wrapped around something, though nothing appears in the picture. You begin by saying that your two vampire brothers took the photo with you, which explains the empty spaces, and continue to tell him that they were changed against their will, attacked on their way home from seeing Spiderman in the movies a few years ago. 

That tugs the corners of his lips down, makes him feel sorry that there are other vamps out there like him, other vamps who didn’t choose this life. He knew he wasn’t the only one, but seeing, or he supposes not seeing proof drives the idea home. 

Apparently, they struggled with finding a source of sustenance too, never wanting to turn to you for your blood or your help, and when you saw his post, it made you think maybe you could help someone, in some way. 

He’s curious what solution your brothers found, and curious if you’re really offering to be fwbb (friends with blood benefits), but reminds himself to be cautious - this could all be a lie to lure him in, to get his defenses down so you can go after what you really want. He maintains that thought as he types out a reply to you, trying to play it cool and not get his hopes up. 

Vernon | hey! im sorry to hear what happened to your brothers, my turning was under similar circumstances. ive been looking for someone for a while, someone who i could feed from without hurting, but maybe also a friend too? Idk i lost most of mine when i was changed, even though i didn’t ask for it, and it would be nice to have someone who understands like it seems you could 

Okay, so that didn’t come out cautious at all. He practically laid his soul bare and sent it off to you with a smile (literally he ended the email with his name and a smiling emoji). But it’s already in the void, in the cloud, out of his hands, and now all he can do is wait. 

Vernon doesn’t have to wait for long, he finds. You reply within minutes, the buzz making him jump and glance away from the space he was staring into. He does that a lot now, just finds some point in the room and sets his eyes on it, thoughts running through his mind in circles and zig zags and parallel lines. 

His phone is still lit up with the email icon, and when he brings it up to his face, it unlocks to reveal a new message from you. 

You | Oh no, I hate to hear it happened to you too! Is it still fresh? I know you said you were only turned a few months ago. My brothers wouldn’t even see me for a year after, too concerned that they’d snap and hurt me. I never had that fear, but I never blamed them for it either. 

Funny, that’s the fear that drove his friends away in the first place. It’s nice to hear you don’t have it, that you accepted your brothers’ new forms immediately and also accepted their worries, didn’t get upset or hold it against them when they felt they couldn’t be near you for your own safety. 

You | I think we could definitely make this work! I have blood and friendship to spare, and you’re in need of both. My only restriction is that I can’t offer too much of the first on weekdays, I teach third grade and I need all my energy to wrangle those kids :-)

So you’re a teacher too? Are you just entirely altruistic or…?

If you are, he thinks this might really be good, maybe even great. His heart would be racing if it could still move, and he can’t stop himself from scrolling back up to find your picture. He didn’t pay much mind to it before, didn’t study your face like he’s doing now, and he really should have before responding to you. 

Because you’re beautiful, and he’s in danger. 

In danger of what, he doesn’t know, but he can feel it stirring in his belly, burning like hunger and brewing like need, and before he knows it, his fangs are poking at his bottom lip and his dick is throbbing. 

But he won’t give in, won’t ruin this with his base desires, won’t become something to fear. 

He needs a blood source and a friend, and if he wants you to be both, he can’t be lusting after you like the monster he worries he really is. 

Vernon exchanges emails with you for days after that, going over logistics and preferences and possibilities. You decide together that you’ll meet next month, after some time spent getting to know and trust each other, and he decides not to feed from you that first meeting, wanting you to feel comfortable and safe with him before he sinks his teeth into you. 

It makes him feel giddy almost, the anticipation of having a friend, of having someone to drink from who doesn’t carry ulterior motives, of having you. Emails become texts which become calls, and soon enough, he’s got the tone and cadence of your voice memorized. He learns how you take your coffee in the morning, knows that you’d both die and kill for your kids, hears the love in your voice when you’re talking about your brothers. 

You’re a real, genuine person, and Vernon can’t wait to meet you. 

The days and nights fly by now that he has someone to talk to, and it only hits him the week before your meetup that not only will he be meeting you, you’ll be meeting him. 

You’ll be seeing and hearing and perceiving him, and suddenly, he’s nervous out of his mind. He hasn’t met anyone that stuck around since he was changed, and he’s all too aware that you could slip out of his life just as easily as you slipped in. 

In the days before, he tries to remind himself that you’ve already heard his voice, already seen his face, that you know he’s a vampire and haven’t shown any sign of running. 

It doesn’t occur to him to worry about his own reaction to you, which is mistake number one. 

Mistake number two is going to your meeting hungry. 

You settle into the booth, latte in hand and heart beating out of your chest, and keep your eyes locked on the door. Vernon should be arriving soon, and with so many conflicting emotions razing your thoughts, you don’t know how you feel exactly. 

You’re nervous, of course, as you should be when it comes to meeting online people in real life. You’re scared a little, because what if he’s not as harmless as he seems? He is still a vampire, and he could still easily kill you. But you’re also a bit… excited? He’s cute and sweet and in dire need of a confidante, and you think you could be that for him. 

Over the weeks spent getting to know Vernon, you’ve grown fond of him, fond of his dry jokes and his media recommendations and his fascinating opinions, and you’re interested to see if your easy back and forth will remain in person.

This should be a good environment to test it out, you think. 

You chose this cafe because it’s open twenty four hours, but also because it’s welcoming to vamps, serving a few synthetic options and even carrying donated blood for those with a bigger budget. 

What will Vernon get, you wonder? Will he go for synthetic even though he’s admitted to you that he hates it, or will he spring for a blood bag, drink it in front of you with a straw like it’s expensive cherry cola?

Will he buy nothing, deny his hunger and his state of being?

It’s a shame you don’t get to find out. 

Vernon takes in a no longer necessary deep breath to steady his nerves and places his hand on the door of the cafe, primed to pull it open. There’s a growl in his stomach, an emptiness that reminds him he didn’t have a chance to feed before, and he pushes it down, drowns it out, ignoring it for all he’s worth. 

There’ll be time later, after he finally meets you. 

His hand is steady as he pulls the door open but his ice cold heart is in his throat, lodged there like something he can’t swallow down. 

“Come on in!” The barista calls out, allowing him to cross the threshold and enter the cafe. He nods in thanks and starts to scan the tables for someone familiar, someone whose picture he definitely doesn’t look at before he lays himself to rest every morning. His eyes catch on a hand raised, one that leads down a soft arm to a gently sloped shoulder and up a tantalizing neck to a sweet, kind, open face. Your sweet, kind, open face. 

He grins, beams really, and races over, stirring napkins and shifting chairs with his sudden movement. He’s about to slide into the booth across from you when it hits him. 

Your scent. 

It’s like a brick wall smashing into him, every sane, rational thought in his head scattering like rubble in the wake of your natural perfume, unmarred by synthetic smells and caustic chemicals like so many others out there. 

Instantly, the burning in his throat starts, except this time, it’s an inferno, a supernova of pain and need and desire and hunger screaming at him to take take take. His fangs shoot out, bursting through his bottom lip and making him cover his mouth, frantically backing away from you with his eyes wide and his other hand held out to keep you in the booth when it looks like you might follow him. 

He bumps into tables and chairs as he flees, his blazing red eyes still locked with yours, part feral, part apologetic. The door slams behind him but he doesn’t hear it as he runs, his ears full of a roaring voice telling him that he’s going the wrong way, that he needs to go back to you and steal you and keep you and sip drink devour until you’re his, all his, until you’re glassy eyed and your heart is slow and your breaths are even slower. 

Which is fucking terrifying, the thought of ever hurting you like that, of wanting to hurt you like that, making him shake with rage at himself and despair over likely blowing it with you. 

He’s miles out of the city before he stops running. 

When he finally does, he turns in a slow circle, taking in his surroundings and attempting to find his humanity again even with his mind still screaming at him to find you and fucking kidnap you. His clothes are torn and his bones are aching and his stomach is empty, so very, very empty, but nothing is worse than the shame. 

He wasn’t strong enough for you. He wasn’t in control, wasn’t even capable of sitting across from you without wanting to drag you over the table and either kiss you breathless or suck you dry. 

Numbly, he sinks to the ground, laying himself out on the forest floor and staring up at the moon peeking through the trees. 

He feels like it’s taunting him. 

The moon used to be his friend, back when he was human. He was a perpetual night owl, always staying up late with his curtains open and music blaring and the light of the moon filtering in through the window. His roommates didn’t mind the noise because they were all making their own, and it wasn’t often any one of them would be sleeping before the sun came up. 

He lived most of his life at night and slept during the day, wasting the sunshine and warmth and normal waking hours like the ungrateful bastard he was. 

He can remember the moon that night. The night he was bitten.

It was a blood moon, foreshadowing trouble around the bend, and it’s about the only thing he does remember before the agony blinded him and his memories started to flicker through his brain, going too fast for him to make sense of much. 

Some stood out, like when his baby sister came home for the first time, screaming and crying until she set those big eyes on him and fell silent, transfixed. Or when he was thirteen and broke his arm sledding in Prospect Park, pretending after that it didn’t hurt because all his friends were watching, waiting for tears. Or when he got a full ride at Berklee for music production, every exhausting day sped up and reduced to a flash before he saw himself walking across the stage and shaking the Dean’s hand. 

He succumbed to the encroaching darkness soon after, the red moon growing nearer and nearer in his mind’s eye. He awoke hours later, just minutes before the sunrise, with his throat on fire and his body feeling like someone else’s. 

This moon is full and silver, friendlier looking than the last one he remembers, but no less foreboding. 

This moon is the one he ruined everything under. 

He’s sure any chance he had with you is gone. Any chance to be your friend or maybe even more, as he’s realizing only now that he did want more. Does want more. 

How could he not, when you matched his energy, met him quip for quip, made him a playlist and a hypothetical skincare routine? When you devoted so much of your time to helping others and still made some for him? When you’re so beautiful inside and out, that it would take his breath away if he needed to breathe?

How could he ever not want more with you?

You stare down at your undoubtedly cold latte and furrow your brows, scrunching your mouth to the side as you remember how Vernon ran from you. 

The barista has already been by to check on you, and you can still feel their eyes every so often, concern and pity rolling off of them in waves. You appreciate their empathy, but you feel a bit raw, a bit on edge, and you wish you could just burrow into the booth and go unseen. You’d leave but too many people who witnessed it remain, and you don’t have it in you to walk past them just yet. 

That leaves you to wrap your trembling hands around the mug and bring it up to your lips, attempting to act like nothing is wrong. Like it’s normal for your possible friend and perhaps crush to dash away at one whiff of you. 

You have to assume that’s what happened. He seemed so happy to see you, his mouth stretching wide in a smile and his hand coming up to mirror yours as he zoomed over in a blur. The wind he created made you laugh but it also rustled your hair, blew it away from your neck and probably wafted the scent of your rushing blood toward him. 

You don’t wear perfume or use fragranced products, your brothers’ noses are too sensitive for that, and you bite your lip, considering that perhaps you should have just this once. Your brothers are old enough to be able to control themselves but Vernon isn’t. 

He may be twenty five in human years but in the vampire world, he’s still a baby, and you didn’t approach him as such.

Fuck, this is all your fault. 

You sip down the latte slowly, the rich bittersweetness heavy on your tongue, and take a small bite of the cake the barista brought over while you were stewing in your thoughts. It settles like a stone in your belly and you push it away, unable to eat with the idea that you may never see or hear from Vernon again blaring in your mind. 

It’s only been a few weeks since you started talking to him but he feels… special. Important. Like someone who’s meant to be in your life. You’d hate to go back to not having him in it, especially now that you know what it’s like with him around. 

Everything is brighter, happier, more vibrant. You wake with a smile on your face knowing you’ll have a goodnight text from him, countdown the minutes from sunrise to sunset knowing he’ll call you as soon as he opens his eyes, go about your day wishing you were sleeping next to him instead. 

You don’t want to be a vampire, but by God you really think you could love this one. 

So you’re not going to let him go that easily. You’re not going to let him fade into the night, never to be seen again. And you’re definitely not going to let him be alone anymore, not like he has been since he was turned. 

With determination alight in your veins, you unlock your phone and find Vernon’s contact, pressing call and assuming he’ll send you to voicemail. You have a lot to say, and you’ll be glad to get it off your chest. You’re surprised when a ragged voice greets you, sounding, for all intents and purposes, dead inside. 

“Hello?” 

“Vernon?” You gasp desperately, any thought of a speech gone from your head as soon as you hear his voice. 

“Y/n?” He gasps back, suddenly full of wonder and light and life. “I didn’t check before I answered, I can’t believe it’s you.”

“Why can’t you believe it’s me? We talk every day,” you joke halfheartedly, not even trying to suppress the frown at his response. 

“I thought you’d never want to speak to me again after I went feral like that,” he confesses, shame and dejection obvious in both his words and his voice. 

“Vernon, you didn’t go feral. Feral would have been killing me. You ran instead, hell, you protected me!” 

“Yeah, from myself,” he laughs acerbically, making you roll your eyes at his self-deprecating tone.  

“Listen, you’re still new. My brothers had run-ins like this too, it’s not a sign of your character or your control. It’s just a byproduct of your nature, you can’t help it,” you insist, pleading with him to understand and stop blaming himself. 

“That almost makes it worse! The fact that there’s nothing I can do, nothing I can change. I don’t think I can see you until I figure this out,” he sighs regretfully, and somehow you can picture him shaking his head, his brow furrowed and his mouth tight. 

“What are you going to do until then? How are you going to feed?” You ask in concern, knowing it’s already been a few days and selfishly wanting him to change his mind. 

“I don’t know, I’ll spring for the blood bags and try some synthetic too,” you can tell he’s shrugging, and his nonchalance at being able to fucking eat has you lighting up with anger. You tamp it down, try to temper it, but your anger isn’t just at him. 

You’re upset with the world, with the greedy overlords who decide the price of life, with the asshole who took Vernon’s away from him, with the fact that he may never be able to control himself around you. Talking has been enough for the last month but that’s just with you in the crush phase. 

What happens when you finally fall in actual facts love with him?

“Vernon…,” you start, not knowing where you’re going but knowing where you want to finish (with his teeth in your neck and your body on top of his). 

“Y/n, I’m not risking you.” 

He sounds as firm as you’ve ever heard him, and you feel the anger ramp up and then wash away as you realize you’re simply not going to win. There is still a way you could help him though. It might be tedious and painful, but you’re willing to endure it for Vernon. 

“What if I go to a donation center and have them reserve it for you? You’d just have to tell them your name and show your ID and you could drink my blood instead of paying for bags. You may still need to supplement with synthetic but together they could tide you over until we can meet again.”

There’s silence on the other end for a few minutes, minutes you spend picking at your nails and going over tomorrow’s lesson plan in your head. You doubt he realizes how long he’s been thinking about it, but you’re not going to rush him when it’s likely that his hasty answer would be no. 

“I don’t know… I could still- You’d have to be so far away from me, I couldn’t even smell you,” he sounds unsure, apprehensive, and you don’t want to force him into it but you know this is the best solution.  

“You could wait a day or two before going to pick it up? It’ll be less fresh but maybe by then my scent will have faded,” you offer, nearly ready to beg him to say yes. 

A few more beats follow, your breathing steady and calm though your heart is racing, galloping in your chest as you wait for his response. You just want to know Vernon is happy and healthy and fed, you just want to take care of him. It seems like no one has done that in a long time, maybe since even before he was turned. 

“Okay, we can try,” he still sounds reluctant, but there’s an edge too, a determination that wasn’t there before. 

You bite back the squeal, vibrating in your seat as you look up centers nearby. There’s one just down the street and it’s open twenty four hours, so realistically, you could go right now. 

“I’ll donate tonight, just don’t change your mind in the next couple days, okay?” You rush to say, grinning and relaxing in the booth when you hear him let out an easy laugh. 

“I’ll do my best,” he chuckles, and though you know you should hang up and get going, you can’t help but linger. 

“Did you make it back to your apartment alright?” You ask, realizing you don’t hear any music or TV in the background like you normally do. 

“Ummm, I think I might be in Connecticut actually.”

He’s not nearly as bothered by this as you are, he even sounds almost carefree compared to how he first picked up the phone. 

As if he can anticipate your responses, he says, “I’m not coming back until you’re home safe, okay? With the door locked.”

“You don’t even know where I live,” you remind him, jest in your voice and fondness in your heart. 

“That doesn’t matter. I could find you anywhere with how good you smell,” his admission sounds apologetic almost, like he’s sorry for wanting your blood so bad he could find you by fragrance. 

Honestly, you preen a bit, flattered that you seem to affect him so. 

“Let me go to the blood bank and get you squared away first, then I’ll go straight home and lock all my locks,” you can hear the smile in your voice, hear the affection, and you wonder if Vernon hears them too. You hope he does. 

“Promise?” 

“Promise.”

AN: i was super excited to kickstart baby vamp vernon so i figured i'd post on his (and dk's) birthday!! this was inspired by a series of asks, but mainly this one. it got a bit more plot heavy than i expected but i'm having a good time so far!! i have the second part written already and i'm hoping to write part three before i release part two just so i can stay ahead of it and yall don't have to wait too long!

pls pls pls reblog and lmk how you liked it! you don't know how happy it makes me to see your thoughts and feelings on my work, they're my fuel to keep sharing my writing 🥰

*warnings for this were a bit tricky so if you think i missed anything, lmk and i'll be happy to add it!

Join the taglist here!

My Masterlist

Part II

[sailorrhansol]

One in the Grave | 00

❀ Pairing: Vampire!Vernon x Dhampir!Reader (f) 

❀ Summary: Immortal problems require immortal solutions, but you never expected the unlikely help from a vampire lord and the destruction that might come with it. 

❀ Word Count: 1,366

❀ Genre: Supernatural, Dystopian,

❀ Type: Unlikely allies to lovers, slow burn, angst, eventual smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Chapter Warnings: Descriptions of a viral pandemic and global shutdown, depictions of sickness, death and disease, brief mentions of grief and general destruction of the world, mentions of murder and fear, a note that implies suicidal intent, collection of items that are somewhat nonsensical and not necessarily supposed to make sense

❀ A/N: I got the idea for a collection of items that show a little of the world before we dive into it, though a lot of it won't make sense until one reads further. I liked the idea of showing different sides of the event that takes place before this story with the articles, discovered notes and lab sheets, and then at the very end you see some notes to our characters that you'll find in the story later :) IT IS IMPORTANT TO KNOW I'M NOT A SCIENTIST AND SO MUCH OF THIS IS NOT ACCURATE LMAO. I know little about biology or viruses but I did try to look stuff up to be... somewhat believable.

❀ A/N 2: Huge thank you to @daechwitatamic and @eoieopda for beta reading for me and letting me plague them with this unhinged project. I love you both and I really enjoy when we three way smooch in the comments of the doc okay bye

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

❀ Disclaimer 2: The names and emails in this specific chapter are not real and for the fictional purposes of this story!

❀ Series Masterlist ❀ Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀ Playlist ❀ Next Chapter ❀

Excerpt from the New York Times

Global Shutdown Imminent as WHO Declares VAHS a Global Pandemic

Thursday, October 1, 2063

…In a historic announcement today, the World Health Organization (WHO) has declared the outbreak of Vampiric Acute Hemorrhagic Syndrome (VAHS) a global pandemic. This declaration has sent shockwaves across the globe, prompting governments and health organizations to initiate unprecedented measures in an attempt to contain the spread of the deadly virus. VAHS, a highly contagious and fatal disease, has been rapidly spreading across multiple continents, causing widespread panic and overwhelming healthcare systems. The WHO has warned that without immediate and decisive action, the virus could result in catastrophic consequences. In response to the WHO's declaration, governments around the world have announced plans for a global shutdown in an effort to curb the spread of VAHS. This shutdown will entail stringent measures aimed at reducing social interactions and limiting the movement of people in order to minimize the risk of transmission. Public gatherings including… 

Excerpts from emails at the Center for Disease Control

From: Jelena Suarez <jelena.suarez@CDC.org> To: Alison.Murphy <alison.murphy@CDC.org> Date: September 1 2063, 2:12 PM Subject: [SECURE] Report 09-01-2063-11 Mailed-by: CDC.org

Alison,

Please find the attached report as requested. Confirm receipt upon review. 

Regards,

Jelena Suarez Lead Biologist, Team 6 Center for Disease Control jelena.suarez@CDC.org

[IMAGE] Previous Report Subject 990 shows signs of degradation in cognitive condition. Lateral views of the brain demonstrate lesions in the frontal lobe. Subject shows signs of hydrophobia and increased hemorrhaging. Internal temperature remains stable at 110 Fahrenheit. Fever continues to degrade.  [IMAGE] Current Report Subject 990 experienced a spike in fever and internal organ failure. Lateral views of the brain demonstrate further decay in the frontal lobe. Subject died at 0200 and reanimated at approximately 0523, showing signs of clinical vampirism unrelated to Renfield’s syndrome.

Excerpts from the journal of Nathalie Wharton

October 20, 2063

… This isn’t like those old-school movies Mom and I used to watch when I was little. These vampires are real, and they don’t sparkle in the sunlight. Tara says that the older ones, the real vampires, don’t go crazy like the new ones do. I say they’re all the same. We’re leaving to go to the cabin tomorrow. Mom is worried that we’ll get stopped at the checkpoint and sent back because we’re technically in a quarantine zone, but Tara said the checkpoint south of the city fell last week.  There’s not much news. We’re the only family on the street now, and Tara’s radio doesn’t always work.  I’ll miss home, but maybe the woods would be nice… 

October 25, 2063

… Tara was right, there was no one at the quarantine fence south of the city. The roads remind me of those zombie movies with abandoned cars on the side, full of stuff people left. Thankfully the National Guard cleared the road on the way up north. No one has driven this way since it looks like.  Dad keeps looking for Carriers but we haven’t seen any. It’s like humans don’t even exist out here anymore. Mom says it's because all of those infected have gone to the big cities where the human population is higher.  She said Memphis collapsed last week, with no radio signal going in or out but the screams can be heard for miles.  It’s hot all the time now. The air outside makes me feel breathless like that one time we went to Florida and it makes me tired. I’m going to miss Tara but the radio said there was a breakthrough on a vaccine.  I’m so tired… 

October 26, 2063

… I had nightmares last night and could barely sleep. It is so hot in the car that it feels like my skin is on fire. Dad is making us ration our water and food. All I want is a cold shower to wash the sweat off and to not be starving. It’s just water. I just want to cool off.  We have two days until we get to the cabin…

October 27, 2063

… I hate this trip. I want to go home. It’s too hot down south and I’m hungry all the fucking time. Mom and Dad look at me like I’m crazy, but I just want to not be hungry. They won’t give me any more food.  I can’t sleep. It’s too hot. I’m too hot. Why is it so hot… 

October 28, 2063

It’s too hot to write. I just want to go home. I’m hungry. I just want more food. 

October 29, 2063

It’s so hot and I hate my fucking parents. They won’t let me eat more. I’m starving. I’m hot. It’s too hot. 

October 30, 2063

I didn’t mean to kill them.

Bloodied note in abandoned warehouse, Columbus, Georgia 

To whoever finds this note, Are humans still alive? I hope they are. If they’re not, I understand. They didn’t tell us that this would happen. They told us that it would be okay. It isn’t okay. It was never okay. They told us to stay inside and wash our hands as if that could ever stop the virus from spreading.  I’m alone now. Mom died in the first wave of the virus. Dad died a few weeks later after Mr. Johnson attacked and tore out his throat. Daniel and I made it to the quarantine center in Albany with his friends from high school, but a week after Atlanta fell the Rabids showed up and tore through the quarantine. Those older vampires - the ones not infected - they didn’t even help us. They just keep fighting each other in the big cities. Daniel died yesterday. He wasn’t even a Carrier. He just starved. I don’t have anything to bury him with, so I’m going to leave him here and hide him the best I can. The vampires won’t bother with dead blood. It’s the Rabids who will eat him but there aren’t so many away from the big cities.  I hope that Daniel forgives me for not giving him a proper grave.  I don’t want to starve like Daniel. I don’t want to keep walking either. My shoes are busted from running when we left the quarantine. I know we passed a canyon on the way here. I thought it might be a nice place to die. I’m going to go right before sunset so I can watch it one last time before I jump. I’m not afraid to-

Crumbled lab sheet in Buenos Aires, Argentina

[ORIGIN]: Bloodline, turned [NAME]: Leanna Cordova [DOMAIN]: Eukarya [KINGDOM]: Animalia [PHYLUM]: Chordata [CLASS]: Lamiae [ORDER]: Carnivora [FAMILY]: Hominidae [GENUS]: Inmortui [SPECIES]: Vampiris

[ORIGIN]: Natural, birthed [NAME]: Manuel Onzari [DOMAIN]: Eukarya [KINGDOM]: Animalia [PHYLUM]: Chordata [CLASS]: Mammalia [ORDER]: Primate [FAMILY]: Hominidae [GENUS]: Inmortui [SPECIES]: Dhampiris 

[ORIGIN]: Fever, turned [NAME]: Leandro Trejo [DOMAIN]: Eukarya [KINGDOM]: Animalia [PHYLUM]: Chordata [CLASS]: Lamiae [ORDER]: Carnivora [FAMILY]: Hominidae [GENUS]: Inmortui [SPECIES]: Rabidus

[ORIGIN]: Unknown, turned [NAME]: Unknown [DOMAIN]: Eukarya [KINGDOM]: Animalia [PHYLUM]: Chordata [CLASS]: Lamiae [ORDER]: Carnivora [FAMILY]: Canidae [GENUS]: Inmortui [SPECIES]: Canis familiaris

Ripped sheet of paper, abandoned home, Yunnan Province, China

Weaknesses:  Sunlight Stakes Holy water Beheading Batrachotoxin* Fire Chest damage  ripping out heart Carrier blood *Temporary paralysis that only affects vamplings and Dhampirs. Older Bloodline vampires seem to have higher resistance to paralysis. 

Unaddressed note smeared in blood, Seungcheol’s Blockhouse, Southwest of Black Harbor, Red Republic 

Find me, motherfucker. You owe me. -GR

Neatly folded note, Vernon’s office, The Tower, Black Harbor, Red Republic

Lord Chwe, Your request for documents regarding the sect of Grim in the Undercity has been denied by Master Archivist Ilsa per security clearance IA-45-KL7. My recommendation is to seek a writ of clearance from your Lord Father or any member of the High Council. Alternatively, I suggest seeking an audience with Lord Hong, who has extensive experience with the Grim that pre-dates the existence of the Undercity.  Yours in loyalty and service, Lead Archivist Jeon

Crumbled note, Chan’s pocket, The Tower, Black Harbor, Red Republic

I need you to steal something from the archives for me. Meet me in the Shadow Grove one minute after midnight.  -V P.S. Don’t bring Mingyu 

TAG LIST:

@hipsdofangirl

[slytherinshua]

I'd like to request #27 and #22 from fluff, #6 from action for Vernon please <3

Jealousy, Jealousy

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre and tags: fluff. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ warnings: none. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ pairing: vernon x fem!reader. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ wc: 760. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ a/n: ty for requesting hannah!! vernon is wrecking me again now 😭 and i'm having second thoughts abt having unbiased him after writing this sdkjsdd i mean just look at him he's so gorgeous 😭 so ty for that as well 🤩

It was so petty of you, honestly. You were supposed to be on set supporting your boyfriend, but after you had seen one of the makeup artists laughing so flirtatiously with him, you couldn’t stand it. So you removed yourself from the situation, and the set.

You knew there was no way Vernon would ever cheat on you, or even glance at another woman with anything other than a friendly gaze, but you still felt insecure, especially after seeing that. You weren’t mad at Vernon obviously— he had done absolutely nothing wrong. And maybe you had seen the makeup artist in the wrong light, but she did give you a bad vibe that you couldn’t shake off.

So now you were at home, seconds away from tears because you knew you were being so stupid and that Vernon had wanted you to be on set with him. He had even asked you to come this morning. You should’ve stuck it out and not gotten so overwhelmed with jealousy.

You remember his confused expression as he saw you leave the set, as if pleading for you to come back. You didn’t even tell him you were leaving. You just gave him a quick wave goodbye and left because the sight before you was suffocating. It was probably a lose-lose decision you made, because now you missed him like crazy.

You decided to take a nap to clear your head. That way when Vernon came back home you’d hopefully feel better. You stripped off your outfit for something comfier: sweat pants and Vernon’s hoodie. As you covered yourself with the blanket (on Vernon’s side of the bed cause it smelled like him) you were already feeling better. 

You fell asleep, the thoughts already leaving your head. You only thought about happy moments in your dream. Your first date with Vernon, countless nights where you had stayed up way too late laughing with him, all the times you had cuddled together, or how just his presence put you at ease.

When you woke up, you barely remembered what had upset you so much. And your attention was drawn away from it almost immediately, as your boyfriend walked through the door just minutes later.

“Hey.” You greeted with a small smile. Vernon dropped his bag on the chair and joined you by sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hi,” He laughed softly, and you were glad he didn’t seem too upset at your sudden disappearance. He flopped down on the bed all the way, sighing and closing his eyes. He looked tired. You scooted closer to him and brushed some of his hair off his forehead.

“You tired?” You asked, and he nodded slightly, opening his eyes.

“You’re wearing my hoodie again.” He whispered fondly, not bothering to sit up just yet. He turned sideways so he faced you, head resting on the mattress comfortably.

You smiled and looked away, “I missed you, so I put it on. It’s comfy.”

“You wearing my clothes should be illegal. You look too cute in them.” He murmured. You laughed softly, continuing to run your hands through his hair soothingly, trying to relieve some of the stress of the day.

“I’m glad you’re back,” You sighed, “I missed you as soon as I got back home.”

He scoffed slightly, “You left the set and then immediately missed me?” 

You laughed, “It sounds a bit pathetic, doesn’t it?” He shrugged and sat up. “You would do the same thing, though.”

“I would.” He smiled, “Why did you leave, though?”

“Just got a bit annoyed, that’s all.” You muttered quietly.

“Over what? Did Jeonghan tease you again?”

You shook your head, “No, no. There was just this makeup artist… and I guess I didn’t like how she acted around you.” You sighed, your shoulders drooping down in defeat. It was a stupid reason, after all.

Vernon raised an eyebrow, “Are you jealous over me?”

You could only nod slightly, blush spread on your cheeks shyly, “Maybe…?”

“Come on- you totally were!” His smile was wide as he watched you grow more and more embarrassed. 

“Shut up.” You whispered.

“Admit you got jealous first.”

You groaned, “Fine. I admit that I got jealous over you.” You scowled at him, but that soon turned into a smile. He wrapped his arms around you for a hug.

“You’re so cute when you’re jealous.” He murmured, pressing soft kisses to your temple and the side of your face. You stayed like that for a while, in the comfort of your boyfriends arms.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ svt taglist: @kangtaehyunzzz,, @yeonjuns-bluehair,, @syrxiee2,, @ddenoudepression,, @hannahsophie0103

[novalpha]

𝙎𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝐎𝐓𝟏𝟑 𝙍𝙚𝙘𝙨

[ Contains poly, single member at once x reader, and others..]

♡ Fluff || ୨୧ Angst || ★ Smut || ꗃ SMAU || ✹ Humor|| ⌗ Series || ✿ Drabble || ♤ Mature (No smut)

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ The Xperiments ⌗♡୨୧ -> @gamerwoo

Synopsis : Growing too strong to stay at the lab you grew up in, you’re shipped off to South Korea to continue your life in their much bigger and more high-tech lab. That’s where you meet thirteen other experiments who are just like you, only knowing life inside the labs which consists of constant inhuman studies and awful mistreatment. However, being kept solitary for your whole life, you find it difficult to trust even the experiments who know exactly what you’ve gone through. But the labs simply creating these experiments because they can may not be the only reason for your existence, and trusting the other experiments might be your only way to freedom – assuming you can stay hidden from the white coats.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Play along ★⌗ -> @xddaengx

Pt 1 , Pt 2 , Pt 3 , Pt 4 , Pt 5 , Pt 6 , Pt 7 , Deleted Scene , Pt 8

Summary: Your boyfriend proposes the idea, that he shares you with his 12 best friends.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Challenge Me ♡୨୧★⌗✹ -> @seokgyuu

Synopsis: you have never been a person who turns down a challenge, but when your best friend challenges you to hook up with 13 boys in one semester you kind of wish you were.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Horanghae ⌗♡★ -> (Hoshi centric, OT13) @horanghaejamjam

Summary: Everyone knows that Soonyoung loves tigers. The term Horanghae literally means “I tiger you”. Needless to say, the Seventeen members shouldn’t have been as surprised as they were the night he came home with a very timid white tiger curled against him.  

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Kitten ears ♡୨୧★⌗ -> @hansols-yoda-boxers

Synopsis: Your first family wasn’t terrible, but they weren’t very loving either and they didn’t have much space for you so you were happy to leave. Except that you were useless when it came to working so the shelter was really your only option. After a lot of waiting you were happy that you might finally be getting a family that really wanted you and cared about, despite how painfully shy and skittish you could be.

Now you just had to worry about how to handle your next heat.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ And the universe said ⌗♡୨୧♤✹ -> @thepixelelf

Synopsis: When soulmates are suddenly thrust upon the world, you are one in a million who wishes they weren't -- and that's before you meet the person (people?!) making your life much harder than it needs to be. And before someone asks you to sign an NDA.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Under the Sun ⌗♡୨୧♤ -> @wooahaes

Summary: It all starts when you wake up in a field without a name or any memories to define yourself with. Thirteen men take you in as one of their own, and slowly you begin to wonder what is going on within this world... and between you and one of them.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ thief | ʇsᴉǝɥ ★⌗ -> @meltwonu

synopsis: Working under Jeonghan had it perks. On most days, he was kind and even a little lazy; opting to let you approach certain projects on your own while letting you keep half of the profit. But on the days you royally fuck up are the days that remind you that he’s the one in charge, despite him giving you some semblance of authority.

Seperate member x reader (OT13)

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Tales from the pack ♡୨୧★⌗ -> @gamerwoo

Summary: The adventures of werewolf!Seventeen as they try to cope with finding their mates, and try their best to stay hidden from the eyes of the humans who want them dead.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Imprinted ♡୨୧★⌗ -> @gamerwoo

Summary: How the thirteen boys met their mates in a modern day world where werewolves must try to blend in with society but keep their secret hidden.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Tales from Camp ♡୨୧★⌗ -> @kwanisms

Synopsis: Thirteen friends reconnect on a camping trip, reminiscing about their times as camp counselors when they were in college.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Don't listen in secret ♡୨୧★⌗ -> @j6shua

imagine being best friends with idol group seventeen! very fun! and you get to sleep with them as a friendly favor! yay... hold on,

in order words, adventures as all of seventeen’s fuck buddy organized into a series masterlist

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ SVT hospital ♡ꗃ୨୧ -> @taeyegu

summary ━ four different departments, four different love stories, all in one hospital; hospitalplaylist!au

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ In pursuit of wedded bliss ♡୨୧⌗ -> @fantasyescapes17 (A Seventeen Regency!AU Series)

It is the season- and London is full of eligible bachelors and bachelorettes, waiting to be swept up in a whirlwind of romance, passion and matrimony as they each fight their own battles for happiness in London's elite society.

Single member x reader (ft OT13)

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Fate and desire ♡୨୧⌗✹ -> @gamerwoo

You know you’ve found your soulmate when your pendant turns red. It’s just your luck you meet an entire host club of 13 boys – save for your best friend, Jeonghan, and his boyfriend – all at once. Your pendant is now red, and all of theirs are always hidden in their shirts. But one person in particular kind of makes you want to forget about the whole “fate” thing.

[ More ot13 fic recs will be updated ]

Want more seventeen fix recs? -> Click here

[cheolism]

jealous

✿ chwe hansol x reader ❀ summary: hansol wants to fuck you until you can't remember anything but his name and when the man who inspires jealousy in him just so happens to call you, hansol can't help but take advantage. ✿ word count is approx 2k ❀ tags: jealousy and possessiveness, rough sex. biting and spitting, cursing and praise. ✿ warnings: possessive vernon, jealous vernon. spit kink, bruises. pet names (baby, sweetheart). over stimulation, crying kink (mentioned). vernon has a dirty mouth!! ❀ request: Dude dirty talk with vernon is driving me crazy, his deep voice ahhhh bruh just imagine he got jealous of y/n's guyfriend (I don't think he's a type who gets jealous but just IMAGINE) and during your SEGZY time, y/n's friend called her and vernon made her take the call. He had one goal, to make that guy know y/n belonged to vernon(not in a toxic way, ofc) so he slowly fucks her and whispers all the dirty things he'd do to her later, which makes y/n so weak and just moan into the call. He just smirks and cuts the call 😩

Hansol wasn't usually rough with you.

So when he grabbed your hips and shoved you onto the bed, mouth attaching to your neck and biting, you were surprised. Not a bad surprised, of course -- his hands elected moans from you as they shoved into your pants, nails digging into your ass, soft little whimpers escaped your mouth as his teeth sunk into your neck, marking you, claiming you.

Hansol worked quickly, shoving your pants and underwear to your ankles, forcing your hoodie up and above your head, phone tumbling out onto the bed beside you. Urgency roughened his touch, hands constantly moving against you, touching and claiming you.

"Sol," you breathed, arching into him. He shoved his knee between your thighs, mouth trailing to your breasts. You were powerless against him, grinding your cunt down onto his knee, wetting it and smearing your juices along his skin. "Hansol --"

"Don't worry, baby," he murmured. His tongue laved over your pebbled nipple. His breath was hot against your skin, the contrast between the cold of his spit against your skin drawing a shiver from you. "Gonna take care of you. Gonna treat you good, yeah?"

Two of his fingers went to your cunt. He slid his fingers along your pussy, collecting the juices. "Fuck -- so wet for me, baby. You're fucking soaked."

His fingers massaged against your hole, rubbing and taunting. Your arousal gushed out of you, hips twisting up into his hands in a futile attempt to guide his fingers in.

"God -- can smell your cunt all the way up here," he hissed, pulling back from your chest. Bruises and bite marks littered your skin, marks of him. "Your fucking cunt's eager, yeah? So eager for me."

You nodded, whining loudly in your throat as his thumb brushed over your cunt. It wasn't enough to do anything, just mindless contact. But it was enough to drive you insane, for your mind to clear of all thoughts other than Hansol, other than the desire, the yearning, for relief.

"Want you," you agreed weakly, hands sinking into his hair. You pulled at the locks, tugging and twisting, sweet pants and moans escaping Hansol's mouth at your efforts. "Fucking want you, Hansol, want you so fucking bad."

He swore, pulling away. Hansol hooked his arms around your legs, lifting and baring your cunt to the room. He ducked his head, and you tensed in anticipation.

A wad of spit shot from his lips, landing on your cunt. You groaned, eyes screwing shut. You could hear as he spat again, imagined his saliva mixing with your arousal on your cunt.

Hansol released your legs, withdrawing from you. Your eyes flew open, protests immediately leaving your mouth.

"God you're so desperate, aren't you?" Hansol crawled up the bed, reaching to the bed table on his side. He grabbed the lube bottle, popping off the clear cap and letting it fall to the floor.

Ignoring the mess already between your thighs, how the inner skin of your thighs was already soaked with the combination of your own arousal and his saliva, Hansol pumped liberal amount over your cunt.

"You're a fucking mess," he moaned, lips twisting into a mean little smirk. "So fucking messy, baby."

He threw the lube to the side of the bed, the both of you ignoring it as it rolled off and onto the floor. Hansol stuck his hands into his pants, shoving them down to his knees.

His hands settled on the back of your thighs, pushing them up once more. Hansol crowded close, releasing one of your thighs to grab his dick. He tugged at it, hissing and huffing with every pull.

He rubbed the head of his dick along your cunt, gathering the crude mix of your arousal, his spit, and lube. Curses poured out of his mouth, praise intermixed. "Fucking perfect, your sweet little cunt. Shit, baby, fucking soaking my dick, fucking goddamn perfect --"

The tip of his cock pressed against your hole, and immediately you were bucking up into him in a poor attempt to force it in. "Please, Hansol, please, I need you to fuck me, want -- want your cock, please --"

He laughed, a deep thing that made your cunt clench in arousal. "Fucking desperate, baby. So eager for me, aren't you? Can't think about anything other than my fat dick, can you?"

Then Hansol was pushing in. You tossed your head back, eyes pressing shut. The stretch burned, your cunt squeezing and tightening around his dick with every centimeter he pressed into you. Hansol cursed, and the hand not holding your thigh went to your cunt. His thumb pressed into your pussy, orbiting around your clit, skin brushing against the bundle of nerves but never touching it head-on.

The action had you whining, body relaxing and bucking up into him, desperate for more. "Solie! Hansol, fuck -- please, Hansol, please --"

Once his cock was fully sheathed inside of you, Hansol stopped torturing your clit. He withdrew his hand, wet from your cunt, slipping it to your thigh. He went to his knees, pressing down on your thighs.

Hansol began to withdraw, his cock dragging against your walls. Your toes curled, hands grasping at the sheets. Pleas poured from your mouth, wanting more and more.

Then the sound of wind chimes filled the room, startling the both of you. You scrambled, throwing your arm out in an attempt to find your phone. Hansol refused to help, holding your thighs still, keeping you impaled on his dick.

You took one look at your phone and then you were throwing it to the side, not caring. Hansol lifted a brow at you. You rolled your eyes, wiggling your hips down on his cock in an attempt to coax him back. "Just Jaehyung. Ignore it."

Hansol's face turned to stone, grip on your thighs tightening. He couldn't help but think back to that photo on Instagram that had ignited the little spark of passion (and jealousy) inside of him. Jaehyung, a friend of a friend, had posted a handful of photos of the get-together you had attended last night. And one of them featured you and Jaehyung, his shoulders pressed against your side, arm around your waist.

Hansol was not a jealous person. But immediately he had felt the seeds of jealousy sprout in his gut. Jaehyung had been yearning for you for as long as Hansol knew you, no matter that you and Hansol had been dating for nearly just as long.

Get-togethers that Hansol managed to attend were spent awkwardly with Jaehyung constantly aiming for your attention; stealing Hansol's spot, speaking over him. You never paid it any attention, thinking Jaehyhung merely as a friend of a friend; no one important.

It reassured Hansol that you were so willing to cast Jaehyung aside, but he couldn't stop the little monster inside of him.

"Answer," he commanded, fingers digging into your thighs. "Answer him, baby."

Your eyes widened. "Hansol, I don't --"

"Answer him or I'll pull out right now," Hansol threatened. He didn't really mean it. He'd fuck you regardless, but he still liked the desperate look you got on your face at his reply, liked the spike of pride it gave.

You grabbed your phone. Your eyes flicked up to Hansol's, and then you were answering the phone. "H-hey, Jaehyung."

"Speaker, sweetheart," Hansol said. You did as he demanded, and then you were setting your phone on the bed. "Good baby."

Hansol finished pulling his cock out of your cunt, until the tip was catching on your hole. You bit down on your lip, eyes darting down to where the two of you were joined, trying to pay attention to the phone call enough to answer Jaehyung.

" -- so much fun last night," Jaehyung was saying, his voice quiet due to the phone volume. "Such a shame your boyfriend couldn't make it. Why couldn't he, again?"

Hansol grinned, raising his brows at you and prompting an answer. You huffed a sigh. "He had to meet with some producers."

Your answer prompted a little nod from Hansol, and then he was thrusting back into you. You moaned, high and needy, back arching up and into him.

"Y/n? You okay?"

You bit down on your lip before replying, cunt fluttering around Hansol's cock. He withdrew all the way again, until his head was resting on your hole. "Y-yeah! Just -- just lost my place in my game."

Hansol looked down, eyes watchign as his cock sheathed in you once again. In dramatic contrast to the urgency that had taken over his movements earlier, Hansol slowly moved his hips against your cunt. He paid half attention to your conversation with Jaehyung, the other man's voice nothing but background noise to him. Your voice, however, had Hansol grinning.

Your voice wavered with every slow thrust into your cunt, biting back moans and groans of pleasure. Your face was contorted with effort, hands pulling at the sheets. You barely spoke other than to offer affirmation that you were paying attention, trying to concentrate on not letting on what you were really doing.

Hansol moved against you fluidly, never stopping his movements. He only paused long enough to release your thighs, bending over you and caging you underneath him.

He next thrust was well-aimed, hitting that spongy spot dead-on. You bit down on your lip, but that did little to muffle your whine. Hansol huffed a laugh, and then he was driving his hips forward, thighs meeting your ass in a brutal slap.

"Doing so good," he said, grinning meanly. "Do you think he knows, baby? Knows I'm fucking you so good?"

You let out a shuddering breath, tensing in his hold. "Sol --"

"Feel so good wrapped around my cock," he murmured. He drove into you relentlessly, little strangled noises escaping your mouth. "Gonna fuck you until you're dumb, baby. How's that? Fucking you on my fat dick until you can't say nothing but my name, 'til you're sobbing and crying for me to stop 'cause you can't take it."

"Hansol," you sobbed, and it was like the threads holding him together snapped.

Hansol grabbed you, pulling his cock out. He roughly flipped you over, hand pressing down on your back and forcing you to stick your ass up into the air, face pressed into the sheets next to your phone.

"Y/n? Are you okay? What's going on?"

In one swift movement Hansol was impaling you back on his cock, a loud moan ripping from your mouth in response. He jack-rabbited into you, his hands gripping your hips and waist so tightly that Hansol knew he'd leave bruises. The sound of his hips and balls slapping against your thighs filled the room, a crude sort of music to his ears.

"So fucking good," he cursed, watching as your ass cheeks bounced. He released his grip on you just to slap his hand down on your ass, roughly grabbing the flesh and massaging the sting. "So fucking tight around my cock, baby. Fucking soaking it. Getting my dick wet so well."

Hansol glanced at your phone. The screen was blank; Jaehyung had hung up.

Hansol smirked, and then he was ducking his head. A fat wad of spit dropped from his mouth, hitting the curve of your ass. You sobbed as an orgasm traveled through you, Hansol continuing to ram into you as if you were his own little plaything.

"Hansol, please, fuck," you screamed, hips in constant torment, both pulling away and grinding closer. "Hansol, god, so much --"

He chuckled, breathless. He hooked an arm around your waist, pressing down against your back. "Gotta cry for me first, baby," he panted, nipping at your back. "We ain't stopping 'til you're fucking sobbing for me to stop."