#vernon imagines

[mingtinys]

" i am so proud of you "

pairing : hansol chwe x gn!reader

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

warnings : language

word count : 0.6 k

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

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

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

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

Incoming call from Boo Seungkwan.

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

"Hello?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[honeyboylovee]

i can do it (for you)

Pairing: Non-idol!Vernon x reader

Word count: 1k

Genre: Fluff, Angst(just a little cos I can’t, for the life of me write angst), implied strangers to lovers

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, reader refuses to accept any help, mentions of negative experiences from the past

A/N: Before saying anything else, I have to say that I am not satisfied with the ending. But I really do not know how to end this. Also this is a little different from my previous works. This may or may not be written from personal experiences. Also, I did a little word play in the title if you guys notice that. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading! Feedbacks are appreciated.

You believe yourself to be self-sufficient. It hadn’t always been this way. Several times in the past, there had been instances when you’d had to ask for people’s help- be it your peers, friends or your then-partners. And more times than not, these people, after helping you, made you feel like you owe them something. Their help started to feel like an obligation. You hated the feeling. You still do.

As you grew both mentally and emotionally, you stopped asking people for help. It wasn’t immediate. It took you time to get rid of. You wouldn’t care how difficult a task would be, you never asked for assistance or help. It was almost as if you had a point to prove. You didn’t know who you were proving it to, but you were.

This wasn’t a habit you were particularly proud of. You hated that you couldn’t trust someone enough to ask for help or accept the offered help. You hated that you were scared of people imposing an obligation on you. You hated it. And yet you did nothing about it.

That was until you met Vernon. You met him at a party. Your friend introduced him to you as her coworker. As you chatted, you discovered you had similar taste in music. And so the conversation flowed. You later discovered that you didn’t have a ride back home since your roommate left early. And it was too late for you to find a taxi. Vernon was quick to offer a ride back home. That’s when your habit of declining anybody and everybody’s help kicked in. You politely refused making a lame excuse. An excuse that you needed to sober up and so you’d walk back home. He didn’t want to push you on that. After all you’d just met. You ended up exchanging numbers with Vernon that day.

It was early on in your relationship when Vernon started noticing this habit of yours. He was observant when it came to your mannerisms. You loved and hated that at the same time. There had been an instance where he offered to bring you some lunch at your workplace. You had been late that day and hadn’t gotten the time to make any food. You had once again denied his offer.

‘I love the ramen from the cafe downstairs. I’ll just have that today.’, you’d told him.

You ended up eating two protein bars for lunch since you had a meeting at lunch and didn’t find the time or energy to go and have actual food.

Another time, it was a task as minuscule as tying your shoelaces. He noticed they were untied before you did. And so like any boyfriend(not all of them but that’s not the point) would, Vernon proceeded to bend down to tie them. That’s when his hands were stopped mid-air by your hands.

‘Wait wait wait…I’ll tie them’, you were quick to say as you beant down to tie your laces.

To say that he was dejected was an understatement. Man, he just wanted to tie his girlfriend’s shoelaces! Was that too much to ask for? As an ‘acts-of-service’ man that he was, he often became sad when you did that. He had to have a conversation with you soon.

As you reached home, he had been looking for an opportunity to start the conversation. He could see the opportunity from a hindsight when you complained about how sore your shoulders felt. He knew what he had to do then. He casually offered to massage them to make you feel better. And as he had expected, you refused. Frustration bubbled in him. But he managed to remain calm.

‘You never let me help you, lovie.’

He watched as your eyes widened for a second. Then, you were normal again.

‘That’s not true. They’re not that sore anyway. Maybe I just need some sleep and I’ll be fine.’

‘I’m not just talking about your shoulders. It’s just in general that you never accept any help from me or from anyone.’

Now you were the one getting frustrated. He could see it in the way you sighed. But he wasn’t going to leave the topic right now.

‘When have I ever refused any help from you?’, you said with a raised pitch to your voice. That was another indication that you’d lose your temper soon.

‘When have you not?’, he continued. He knew it was a tricky shot but he hit it anyway.

What he didn’t expect was the tears in your eyes following your prolonged silence. How could he forget? The raised pitch of your voice also meant you could cry soon. He was quickly on your side comforting you as you sobbed a little.

‘I don’t do it because I don’t want your help or because I think you can’t do a task.’, you spoke through your tears. ‘I just don’t want to be a burden on you. I have always done that to everyone around me. And…people, sometimes even my own friends made me feel like I owe them something even if they were the ones who offered to help me. It’s not the help that makes me anxious but the feeling after.’

You looked at him through your damp eyelashes. He was speechless, to say the least. When he decided to confront you about this, he hadn’t expected the reason to be that. Hell, he had even expected you to change the topic or make a poor excuse. His first instinct then was to engulf you in his arms till your sobs turned to sniffles.

‘You’re not a burden on me, lovie. You know I like helping you with chores, right? It makes me happy when I’m able to help you, be it making you food, tying your shoelaces or ordering your skincare for you. I feel zero burden doing that. Trust me, lovie.’, you listened to him as he poured his heart out, not looking at him.

You nodded then, not saying anything else.

‘What am I supposed to understand from that, hm?’

‘I’ll let you do some of the work from now.’, you said so softly that he would’ve missed it if he didn’t have all his attention on you.

‘You don’t need to ask for help. It’s good that you can do your work yourself. But if you ever need some, let me know, okay?’

[kozukensgf]

bf texts with vernon!

genre: smau, crack, fluff

character: chwe hansol

warning(s): none

masterlist

part one | part two | part three

[onlyhuis]

can't get you out of my head

member | fwb!vernon x f reader genre | smut, like a little tiny bit of angst? with a happy ending word count | 2.4k synopsis | so what if calling your fuck buddy every other day is a little excessive? maybe you're just in love with him. smut warnings | descriptions of female anatomy, lots and lots of kissing, some dacryphilia, multiple orgasms, begging, creampie warnings | vernon is called hansol - i don't usually do that but just go with it; vernon is kind of a sweetheart tbh this ended up being pretty soft notes | june is back !! i've really been struggling to write these past few months so i'm actually super proud that i was able to sit down and write this as fast as i did. i can't promise another fic anytime soon or any kind of consistent uploads, but i hope you enjoy this meager offering! thanks for the support even while i've been gone :) also this is based on a dream i had about vernon the other day and i could not stop thinking about it it was driving me crazy, so everyone say thank you to my brain or the sandman or whoever put that idea in my dreams because this fic is a result of it. if there are mistakes pls ignore i wrote this at 2am

the thing you remember most about hansol is his lips.

the first time you kissed him was like opening a door to a world you'd never known existed. your past hookups had been terrible kissers, or even worse—hadn't even tried to kiss you at all. you were sick of the boring, underwhelming sex with men who couldn't care less if you got off or not. but some god or being in the universe must've been looking out for you, because finding hansol was nothing short of a miracle.

it was so good, you weren't even that embarrassed when you'd desperately texted him a couple of nights later, practically begging him to come over and fuck you again. he was burned into your brain, the feeling of his mouth locked with yours seared so deep in your memory you couldn't erase him if you tried, but it wasn't exactly like you wanted to. 

he hadn't explicitly said you would only be a one night stand, but you usually didn't hang around the same guy for too long, and he didn't really seem like the commitment type anyway. but when you find something this good, you don't let it go, and somehow you both knew that whatever this was, it was too good to pass up on.

so it wasn't really a surprise when you found yourself on his couch, straddling his lap in the late hours of the night for the third time this week. 

like you remembered, his lips were warm and soft, his cheek brushing against yours as you melted into him. you could kiss him for hours and not notice the time passing at all, so focused on the rhythm of his mouth working you up more than anything you'd done with any man you'd slept with before.

the heat of his hands resting on your hips sends shivers up and down your spine, unconsciously arching towards him as his tongue pushes into your mouth.

one gentle hand travels carefully up beneath your shirt, tracing the skin of your stomach before stopping at your breast, your heartbeat racing beneath his palm.

your breath is hot on his cheek as you readjust your position, slipping your knees onto either side of his hips and sinking down to straddle his lap. your clothed cunt throbs as he presses his bulge against the inside of your thigh, and you don't hold back the open-mouthed moan that escapes you as his other hand quickly reaches up to angle your jaw and guide your lips back to his.

you push your hips down a little harder on him and his nails dig into your breast. his grip tightens a little as his hips cant up against you, desperate for more pressure against his strained cock.

your eyelids flutter as his other hand tilts your chin upwards, finally breaking away from your mouth only to reattach his lips at the base of your jaw. his tongue laves over your skin before he starts to suck, and you shiver when he pulls back and cold air hits the wet patch of spit on your neck.

you have to focus hard not to drool when you open your eyes and catch a glimpse of his face, lust-glazed eyes staring up at you through his long, thick lashes, his intense gaze fixed on you.

if you ever get past this weird in-between stage of talking but not talking, maybe you'll tell him how jealous you are of his beautiful, natural eyelashes. if you ever actually get to have a conversation with him outside of calling to hook up, maybe you'll tell him how nice his lips are. you'll tell him how soft his hands are and how he's by far the best person you've ever slept with, leaps and bounds better than all the rest, and—

before you fully realize what's happening, you feel your shirt being pulled over your head and hansol's lips have made their way down to your chest. without a sound his hands roam your body, fingers drawing invisible lines over your bare skin and leaving trails of goosebumps with every touch.

he doesn't talk much during sex, or maybe you just don't know each other well enough yet for him to have much to say. aside from the way he occasionally murmurs about how perfect you are — an oddly intimate thing to say to someone who's just a friend with benefits, but coming from him it sounds so casual — the only words you ever get out of him are curses and whimpered pleas.

the only words he ever gets out of you are shamelessly begging him, please kiss me again, please, hansol; and you're always too far gone to care about how whiny you sound, because you need his lips on you so fucking bad you think you might just die without them. but he always obliges, quickening the speed of his thrusts and wrapping his arms around you tighter so he can kiss you deeper, until your lips are numb and you can still feel the weight of him holding you even hours after he's gone.

so maybe you do have a teeny tiny crush on hansol. anyone in their right mind would, and when he's finished with you tonight you're sure you won't have much mind left to even think about it. certainly this is a problem for another day, a day when you'll inevitably call him again so he can make you lose your mind all over again and you won't have to think about how much you like him, and you'll continue like that for who knows how long. 

maybe he'll get bored of you, or find someone else, or move to another city too far for you to justify travelling for a relationship that isn't even a relationship…

… but then he lets out a little groan and you fall back into reality, the reality where you've been making out with him for the past half hour and he quietly but confidently lets you know if he doesn't get his dick out soon he's definitely going to cum in his pants and not only will it make him look like a loser but he also won't get to fuck you, which is the whole reason you asked him to meet up tonight, right?

well, yeah, you guess, but a part of you knows there's more to it than that. but that's not really a conversation for right now.

you lean down to press another chaste kiss against those lips that you can't stop thinking about, and your fingers pull his t-shirt over his head before finding their way down to the button at the top of his jeans.

you've had his cock inside you more times than you think you deserve, but still your stomach bubbles with excitement as he lifts his hips and shimmies out of his pants, the outline against his briefs more than enough to make your mouth water before he slips those off, too.

for tonight, you're the recipient of his undivided attention. you alone get to have him and his perfect cock all to yourself; maybe not forever, but for right now, and that's all you really need.

he presses his hand against his bulge, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as you stand up from his lap to kick off your pants and underwear.

you must have been taking too long for his liking, though, because as soon as you're fully nude his hands tug impatiently at your waist and pull you back down onto him. 

he lets out a heavy sigh, the head of his cock pressed deliciously against your clit as you start to rock your hips back and forth.

but before long his hands bring you to a stop and he lets out his usual string of pleas to let him fuck you, and now it's your turn to sigh in relief as he pushes into you, the stretch so natural like he was the only one who was made to sit you on his lap.

he doesn't move right away. he never moves right away, whether to give you a chance to adjust or maybe because he himself can't handle the feeling. either way, you always struggle to take in a shaky breath as your walls flutter around him, perfectly thick and long that you could probably cum untouched like this if you sat there for long enough.

but as badly as you want to never move and let him cockwarm you for hours, he always eventually moves. 

he starts out slow, just a few inches at a time, a gentle in and out that's almost romantic until you feel like you can breathe normally again— right before he knocks the breath out of you, increasing his pace until the room is filled with the loud sounds of skin against skin.

he always fucks you like it's been months since he's came, even though you know for a fact it was last thursday and all over your stomach. all you can do now is hang onto his broad shoulders for dear life, nails scratching helplessly at his muscles as he carries you up and over the edge, pushing you into the first of many orgasms tonight.

sometimes he'll make a comment about how wet you get when he fucks you like this, rough and fast as he pounds into you like there's no tomorrow. and that's when you'll agree, yes you love it so much, yes he's so good, yes you need more and please, please keep going.

if it were anyone else they'd probably smirk at that, satisfied with the momentary boost to their ego. but that's what you love about hansol, is that he's not anyone else: he'll take those words and use them to somehow fuck you even rougher and even faster, so rough and so fast that sometimes tears will start to roll down your cheeks, and that's usually about when you start begging him to kiss you.

you can't help it. the way he bounces you so effortlessly on his cock, his lips parted and beads of sweat trickling down his neck, you need him bad. you want to be closer to him, closer than you know is physically possible but damn if you won't try anyway.

throwing your hands around his neck and falling against his chest, tears still streaming from your eyes as you plead with him, repeating his name over and over and over like you've lost your mind and he's the only thing left. in all honesty, maybe he is.

he quietly shushes you and tilts his chin up to capture your lips in the kiss you so badly crave, and it's everything you need and more and somehow still not enough but you can't think straight anymore when his cock is hitting you just right and his mouth is also just right and each vein, each curve, each ridge, drags perfectly along your walls and he's splitting you open and goddamn you are ruined for anybody else.

you feel like you're skirting in and out of consciousness when you cum again, squeezing around his cock so tight that even his powerful thrusts can't continue at their current pace.

it isn't long before he lets go too, holding you flush against his body as he fills you up, painting your insides white with a breathy moan, and in a weird way it makes you feel kind of proud.

you both sit there for a moment, panting as you start to come down.

without even standing up you already know your legs are jell-o, but you don't really have time to think about that as hansol lifts you off his lap and sets you carefully on the couch, leaving you with another kiss before he stands up and disappears down the hall, returning seconds later with a towel that looks suspiciously new.

you'd asked him about his bathroom towels last time you'd been over at his place. a mismatched collection of white and brown and aquamarine that he'd taken with him when he'd moved out of his parent's house, he said, he'd never really had a reason to buy a set of his own. 

the grey cloth in his hand now that he uses to gently wipe between your legs is one you don't remember seeing.

he finishes and you want him to kiss you again, but you're too shy to ask now so he leaves you again with just a kind smile this time.

you've put most of your wrinkled clothes back on by the time he comes back. he offers to drive you home every time afterwards, but you always insisted you were fine, already feeling like you'd overstayed your welcome.

this time he doesn't offer, though, just quietly sits down next to you to pull on his own clothes until you're both fully dressed.

he speaks before the awkward silence has time to set in.

"have you been seeing anybody else?" he asks, and it's probably the longest sentence he's spoken to you outside of when he's fucking you.

it takes you a couple seconds to say no. god, you sound like a loser, but you couldn't lie to him. since the very first time with hansol the thought of seeing anyone besides him hadn't even crossed your mind. just like you thought; ruined.

it takes him a couple seconds to reply, too. 

"good," he says, and you could almost swear his cheeks are pinker than usual as he admits that he hasn't been with anyone, either. "could we keep it that way?"

your breath catches a little. "yeah?"

"yeah," he answers. "whatever… this is, i like it. and i like you."

and just like that, things make sense. 

"maybe, would you, y'know, wanna stay this time?" he asks, and you can't hide the grin on your face as you lean over and kiss him again, your answer evident in the way your hand falls against his warm chest and your fingers weave gently through his hair.

everything is so simple with hansol.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[astrozuya]

☆ svt + subtle ways they show their love.

⊹ . ♡ pairings. svt hip hop unit x gn!reader. fluff. 0.8k wc. warnings: established relationship. ࿐ ♡ ˚ .

SEUNGCHEOL.

absentmindedly playing with your hands.

it’s no secret that seungcheol loves holding hands with you, but sometimes he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. when he’s talking to someone and you’re standing next to him, he’ll absentmindedly link pinky fingers with you and then eventually just take hold of your whole hand.

he does it often when he’s focused on other stuff, like if you’re watching a movie together. his eyes are fixed on the screen, but he has your hand in his, occasionally playing with your fingers or unconsciously drawing little patterns on your palm and stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.

massages whenever you seem stressed.

it’s like cheol has a sixth sense for when you’re tired or upset. he’ll silently sit by your side or stand behind you and place his hands on your shoulders. he’s great at giving massages, strong fingers knowing exactly how to work the tension out of your skin. he’ll use just enough pressure to make it feel good, all the while carefully gentle— he’d never want to hurt you. once he’s done and you’re sighing contentedly, he’ll hug you, murmuring, “d’you feel better now, baby?"

MINGYU.

letting you have a bite of food he’s preparing.

mingyu loves cooking for you. it’s one of his love languages, and you’re always the first person to get a taste of whatever he’s making— he adores the sparkle in your eyes when you take a bite of something yummy. plus he’s a sucker for your praise, and can’t help but smile smugly when you compliment his food.

he’ll call you over to the kitchen and feed you some, blowing on it to cool it down. he asks you how it tastes, carefully holding a hand under your chin just in case something drips from the spoon. when you tell him it’s good, the obvious pride on his face makes you laugh and call him cute.

holding hands while walking.

it’s more than wanting other people to know you’re together. mingyu just likes the warmth of your hand in his. whenever you cross a road, he’ll make sure you’re holding hands, and if you’re in a crowded place together he’ll keep a firm grip on your fingers so you don’t get separated from him.

his favorite thing is taking walks in the park together, holding your hand in his and swinging them together as you walk. his natural body temperature is hotter than yours too, so if you say you’re cold he’ll immediately use his warm hands to heat you up.

WONWOO.

worrying about your safety.

one of wonwoo’s most endearing features is how he’s always watchful and attentive to you, pulling you to the side of the road when cars pass, picking cat hairs off your clothes or brushing a few stray crumbs from the corners of your lips.

in particular, he’s careful to make sure that you’re safe all the time. when he sees you stumble even slightly on a pavement crack, he’s reaching for you in panic, a hand outstretched, always ready to catch you if you fall.

sending you pictures throughout the day when you’re apart.

whether it’s a picture of a cute cat he saw at work, a café that he went to with his friends or even the pretty leaves adorning the trees during fall, wonwoo loves to share small things about his day with you.

especially if the two of you are apart, he likes to send you pictures as a reminder that he’s thinking about you. even if you can’t experience these moments together, he can at least share them with you, and he would love it if you did the same.

VERNON.

unconsciously smiling whenever you smile.

even his friends have noticed how whenever you’re together, vernon’s eyes are always on you. watching you while you talk, eat, or simply do nothing— he can’t seem to be able to look away from you.

whenever you smile, the corners of his lips curve up into a smile too, fondness coloring his expression.

if the two of you are at a café with some friends, and you’re laughing at something they said, vernon will see you giggling and won’t even notice he’s started smiling too, his grin mirroring yours, until one of his friends teasingly points it out.

hugs from behind

vernon is quite comfortable when it comes to showing you physical affection. he likes being able to be in contact with you, even if it’s something small like having your shoulders touching or occasionally squeezing your hand.

his favorite thing to do is come up behind you and wrap his arms around you. he’ll simply hug you from behind and stand there, happy to have you in his arms, while you continue doing whatever you were doing. <3

[gi4hao]

some vernon x acts of service fluff for you ♡

vernon dyed his hair black this morning. he kind of loves it, and he hopes you will too. obviously the execution isn’t perfect; there are some dark stains on his ears and his forehead and he ruined two t-shirts in the process. but he knows how much you love that color on him.

this afternoon, vernon did some shopping. he needed a new shirt and he remembered the pretty bracelet that had caught your eye last time you were in town. he hopes you’ll be happy when he gifts it to you.

and this evening, vernon cooked dinner. it’s not done yet, but it will be in about thirty minutes. mingyu sent him an easy yet sophisticated recipe which he followed to the letter, and it turned out pretty well, at least on the outside. he hopes you’ll like it.

it’s past 7pm when he hears your key turn in the front door’s lock. the oven is a bit greasy, there’s oregano spilled on the counter, the wrapping of your gift is a little messy, and his ears are red from his attempts to remove the dye from his skin. perhaps from stress too.

and suddenly it hits him. he feels stupid. what if he’s doing too much? it is too much, isn’t it?

“hi handsome” your voice pulls him out of his panic as he exits the kitchen, his hands a little moist. you’re ready to lean in for a kiss, it’s almost muscle memory at this point, but the sight of his hair makes you pause.

“love it. and love the new shirt”, you reply, letting your hand brush against the strands of hair on his forehead before finally going in for the kiss. “what’s that smell? did you cook something?”

his ears turn a new shade of red as he grabs your arm to lead you to his living room. “i did, but you don’t wanna go in there right now”, he warns you, grabbing your arm to lead you to the living room instead.

it’s rather unusual for vernon to look so agitated, especially around you. you look at your surroundings, trying to notice anything different.

“is everything okay?”

he nods, a bit faster than usual, before digging his hand in his pocket and pulling out a small gift with a wonky ribbon on top.

“got you a little something today. but you can return it if you don’t like it, or even if you change your mind in a few days. or weeks. or even months, really.”

you’re only now noticing the dye stains on his skin, which draws a chuckle out of you. he looks so frantic it’s almost comical. without a word, you put the gift aside and stand up, pretty sure to know what this is all about.

“i already know i love that gift. i’ll love it forever and i would not trade it for any other. ever. because it comes from you, and that’s all i want.”

completely unfazed by how easily you saw right through him, he looks down at the hand you’re still holding, the one with a brand new silver ring on his fourth finger.

your words were heard and understood, but you can feel him internally tiptoeing around what’s really on his mind. his eyes, however, carry the same sweetness they always do when he looks at you.

“this is gonna sound really dumb but, i just want to make sure you don’t feel pressured to love… my gift. or to commit to it. i promise i won’t be mad if you tell me you don’t want it”, he tells you, grabbing your other hand to get a look at your own ring, the exact same as him.

it’s now 7:25pm, meaning that it’s been almost 24 hours since vernon has gotten down on one knee to ask the most nerve-wracking question of his entire life. 24 hours since you were legally allowed to call him your fiancé, a much awaited upgrade from the ‘boyfriend’ status.

last night had been a dream come true. but this morning, an uneasy feeling had started crawling into vernon’s mind, making him feel like maybe that dream of his would never come true after all.

dyeing his hair, making dinner, buying gifts, he had really thought about doing anything in his power to keep you from second-guessing your answer from yesterday.

still, nothing would calm his mind except maybe hearing the words from your mouth.

“i’ll love your gift because i love you. and because i spent the last 24 hours on cloud nine, thinking about how lucky i am that you proposed”, you told him in your calmest voice. “i’ll be honest, i even spent my entire day practicing saying “my husband” instead of “boyfriend”… and it sounds really, really nice.”

and that is the exact moment when the crushing weight of doubt and insecurity is lifted from vernon’s shoulders.

he still feels a bit stupid, but in a way that feels great, warm and almost comforting. for the second night in a row, he’s overwhelmed by the pure yet simple feeling of knowing his love is perfectly reciprocated.

“so… does that mean you still want me to be your husband?” he asks with a relieved smile as you trap him in the tightest hug, one hand running in his freshly dyed locks.

he loves you and you love him, that’s the one thing he doesn’t need to hope for. he knows it, and oh how he loves knowing it.

[hcaeh]

bf ! vernon : random texts to make u smile :p

cws — one suggestive , kms joke , humorous stuff ig !!!

[seungcheorry]

going to a music festival with vernon. he's behind you the whole time, hand on your waist as he jams to the songs of a band he doesn't really know.

vernon loudly whispering in your ear from time to time, either commenting on the artist that is playing or asking you if you're hungry. he checks the lineup once again, smiling so bright and telling you "i hope they perform the song we like" while pointing at an artist's name.

for the whole day, vernon sings loudly, bangs his head, holds you close whenever you get emotional or something, and just truly enjoys to have that time with you - because he wouldn't rather share his love for music with anyone but his own lover.

[silv3rswirls]

Note: He peels an orange for you.

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

Warnings: None :) Soft, fluffy vibes

Requests are open!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[suhnshinehaos]

' ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE ' | c. hansol

synopsis : the one where you get into an arranged marriage with your childhood best friend vernon, but neither of you seem to mind that much pairing : vernon x gn!reader genre/s : mini smau, non-idol au, fluff, little bit of angst

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five (finale!)

walks with hansol aren’t always silent. when they are, they’re almost always comfortable. tonight isn’t one of those nights. you always know when there’s something on his mind. you see it in the way his gaze combs through every inch of the venue grounds, each step cautious and careful. he keeps his hands behind his back as both of you walked past a wooden sign, pointing one way to a quaint little building meant for the ceremony and the reception tent. 

you head for the direction of the building.

the small building was mostly empty, except for the rows of chairs and wooden arch decorated with dried and fake flowers at the very end of the room that had been set-up earlier in the day.  both of you opted to keep the wedding small. only sending out invites to family, close friends, and — of course — business associates. 

you absently run your hand over the backs of each wooden chair as you follow hansol. he’s a few   steps ahead, but both of you make your way down the aisle. it’s only then that it finally, truly, sinks in what was going to happen tomorrow.

you’re going to marry your best friend. your hansol. your sol, with the brightest smile you’ve ever seen. with the most comforting voice you’ve ever known. the same kid you’ve known before you could even walk on two feet. 

“are you sure you want to go through with this?”

his voice snaps you out of your train of thought. hansol has already reached the end of the aisle and he’s looking at you with expectant eyes. his voice is soft, hesitant, the most worried you had ever heard it. 

you don’t hide your confusion as you pick up your pace until you reach him. you raise a brow, standing just a few feet in front of him. “why are you asking me that? of course, i want to go through with it.”

you reach out, grab both of his hands, and give them gentle squeeze. hansol squeezes back, taking a deep breath, and gathering all the courage he has in himself. “you know how when we go on these late night walks, when you can’t sleep, or i get caught up in work?”

“mhmm.”

“you know the phrase i always say?”

“the moon is beautiful.” you let out a quiet exhale, recalling the words he always spoke to you. in a voice that’s tender and yet somewhat distant, as if he doesn’t want you to hear. but you always do.

and he knows that you do.

“to you, this could just be a business deal. a means to an end-”

your eyes widen, voice rising uncharacteristically as you cut him off. “that’s not how i see it at all. you know that.”

“you’re marrying your best friend.” he smiles, albeit sadly, and shakes his head immediately after. hansol lets go of your hands and lets his own fall at his sides, defeated. “it’s different for me… i’m marrying my best friend, and the love of my life.”

you feel tears prick at the corner of your eyes, but you blink them back and you let hansol continue speaking.

“going through with this is fine by me, but i don’t want you to wake up one day and regret it. because i love you. i don’t know why, or how, but i’ve never known a day where i didn’t love you.”

the weight of his words sit heavy on your chest, and you don’t let the silence last more that a few seconds. you reach a hand towards your pockets and pull out a bracelet. “i’ve been meaning to find a way to give this to you, i was hoping to do it before the actual ceremony. this wedding has been so publicized, and i wanted to take a moment that’s just between us two. no cameras, no press, no board members.”

you take his left hand and hansol lets you place the bracelet around his wrist. it’s a simple chained gold bracelet, but threaded through the loops are strands of cotton strings from a friendship bracelet you had made him in your childhood. you smile as his eyes light up in recognition.

“where did you find this?”

“i had some help from wonwoo. it took him a while to find that. i have one with the bracelet you made me, but it’s in my room and i didn’t wear it so i don’t spoil the surprise.” you laugh, shrugging your shoulders. “i know this wedding changes a lot of things, most of which are on the business side of things. it won’t change a lot either. you know, we’re not doing rings or taking each other’s last names. it doesn’t change the fact that we will take care of each other. and it doesn’t change the fact that i’m in love with you.”

his eyes widen in shock. “but wonwoo?”

“well, since he was older, it was kind of expected that i would marry him. and i thought, if i spoke of it enough times, i could will it into existence that he was the one i had feelings for.” you sighed. “but i’m standing here with you tonight, very much in love with you, like i have been the past couple of years. and i will stand with you tomorrow, in front of our friends and family, letting everyone know that this feeling isn’t going to change.”

hansol stands there, completely and utterly speechless. but mostly because he knows mere words would never be enough to express everything that he feels for you. so instead, he pulls you in for a kiss. 

from reese, with love <3

and this ends the story of hansolyn !! they are so dear to me, thank you for joining me on this little adventure !! i hope enjoyed this story, and as always, i'd love to know what you think !! reading all your asks/rbs/replies is one of the highlights of writing these little brainrots <3 hope you're all doing well and taking care !!

ps. yes, i used 'the moon is beautiful' (pls look this up if u dont know what it means, it's v sweet hehe) as a plot moment again-- i just cant help it,, it was right there cmon sol like the sun and now we have yn and the moon sdfghjkl

[ikigaisvt]

quiet love

in which your boyfriend vernon likes showing his love for you in a quiet way.

pairing: vernon x f!reader words count: 2k content: childhood bestfriends to lovers, fluff, domestic warnings: so soft but very corny, contains pretty common prompts imo, vernon's love language is not words of affirmation lol, implied that kids are mean to vernon, mention of driving, drinking, loss and exes, reader is sick at one point (the flu), a lot of food/eating talk, they are so healthy youre gonna throw up, soooo much physical affection they make me SICK (holding hands, kissing, playing with each other's hairs, hugging etc), babe/baby petnames note: omg im alive?!?!? hiii!! it's been so long since i posted a fic! this one is a birthday gift for the loml @vcrnons <3 happy birthday, u know it all already but don't forget i love u sm!!! i hope you enjoy this childhoodbff!vernon (it's ur thing) who's very very in love but very very shy to say it. hope anyone else who sees this fic enjoy too! don't forget to interact with this if u liked it, rbs are very very very appreciated! thank u<3 (also this was proofread by tired me so if there is any mistakes, ignore it pls thanks <3)

Vernon has always been a man of a few words; when you first met him in elementary school, he was the quiet boy and nothing could get him to speak apart from spinning tops and his favorite cartoons. Still, you decided to befriend that calm boy – at the time, people used to think you were only being nice but deep down you knew: you were making a friend for life.

Going through all of the different steps of childhood and teenage hood with Vernon by your side was an experience – you raised hell together, driving your parents crazy. But it was also having a best friend to experience each other’s every first times: first partners, first time driving, first time getting drunk but also first breakup, first bad haircut and first loss. You have seen each other through everything. No, you have watched over each other through everything; wherever you were, Vernon was standing two steps back, making sure you were always safe. And wherever he was, you were always standing two steps back, making sure he was always loved.

And that’s how you both fell in love. It was slow and secure; falling in love with Vernon was never complicated or painful. It was how things dropped into place and none of you ever denied it; at the time you knew you were meant to be – maybe you always did. And so, you let yourself fall into each other’s arms, a safe place, full of quiet love.

You were 24 years old when Vernon first wanted to tell you he loved you; yet, he didn’t have the courage to fess up. Having spent his whole life showing his love through actions, he had a hard time saying it out loud. After a nice date to the cinema and the restaurant, he drove you back home, small talk and look exchanged during the trip. As soon as he puts the car in park, he reaches out to hold your hand, his thumb drawing circles.

“Had a nice time tonight?” he asks.

“Of course I did,” you answer, a blush creeping on your cheeks, “You know I always do with you,” you add, reaching out to cup his cheek.

“You need to go, you have an early day tomorrow,” he tells you, kissing your palm.

“Yeah, I’m going,” you say as you reach down for your bag and open the door, “Let me know when you’re home, okay?”

“Of course,” he says as he holds your face between his hand, “You do the same,” he adds against your lips before kissing you softly.

“It’s literally two steps away, I’m already home,” you chuckle as you exit the car.

“Won’t leave until I get the text, babe,” he smiles as he leans over the center console to look at you.

You roll your eyes sarcastically at him but still, your lips go up into a smile as your cheeks reddens from the way he so apologetically loves and cares for you. This boy would do anything to make sure you see how much he adores you. So, you wave him goodbye and it’s only when you close your front door and his phone buzzes with an i’m home :) drive safe, text me xx that you hear him drive off.

The second time he almost confessed to loving you was when you were 25. You had just gotten over an awful flu that got you bed ridden for days, unable to go on with your schedule as you normally would. You were sleeping the sickness off for hours on end, only waking up when Vernon knocked on your door to check up on you. Honestly, he knew it was only the flu, but he was so scared for you; in his eyes, you always appeared as the strongest women on earth so seeing you so weak and tired pulled at his heartstrings. He thought about confessing his undying love as you were blowing your nose – maybe it will magically heal her, he thought one night. But deep down he knew you needed someone to help you out physically and so, he did. He had taken such good care of you; he kept your home clean, did the laundry and helped you out to the shower if needed. He had thought about doing the cooking but he knew his poor skills wouldn’t get you to eat at all. So, even if you couldn’t finish your plates, he had ordered your favorite meals all week, even if he didn’t really like some of those.

It's been a few days since you last had a fever, so even if you were still blowing your nose and coughing a little bit, you could still get out of bed and hang out with Vernon. You two decided to have an at-home date, ordering your favorite meals and watching the show you recently started together. Since you were less sick you could finally finish your plate and eat more than usual; even after finishing your food, your stomach was still grumbling.

“I’m still hungry,” you whisper to yourself, not thinking Vernon would hear you.

“Yeah?” he asks, still looking at the TV as he holds a spoon full of food in the air, “Want a bite?” he says as he looks at you.

“Is that okay?” you ask, not wanting to take away his favorite food. Even when you were sick, you saw how Vernon only ordered your favorite foods – he deserved to have every bite of his favorite dish.

“Of course it is!” he smiles at you, extending his spoon in front of you, “You like it?” he asks, waiting for your nods of approval.

You nod enthusiastically, giving him a thumbs up with a smile, “That’s so good!” you exclaim before Vernon reaches for your plate. You look at him, wondering what he is up to before you see him fill your empty plate with more than half of his meal, “No, no, no,” you say, trying to reach for it as Vernon puts it out of reach from you.

“You need to eat, babe,” he says as he puts the dish on your lap, “Go on,” he smiles, patting your head before turning his attention back to his almost finished meal and the tv.

You smile down, cheeks red from your boyfriend’s attention. You notice how he gave you the tastier part of his dish – meat, veggies and a lot of gravy with a good amount of rice – and he kept most of the rice and only a piece of meat for himself. You start to eat happily, re-adjusting your position on the sofa to be closer to him. It might have been a year and a half since you started dating with no I love you’s said, but you know this is how he shows he loves you. And that is enough for you – it will always be.

It's now been two years since you started dating Vernon; you’re 26 years old, living with your boyfriend, your two cats and waking up every day with the love of your life next to you. Life is beautiful and you could not ask for more. To celebrate your anniversary with Vernon, you planned a trip to your hometown - only a 1 hour-drive from home – so you can have your date where you first kissed: at the cinema. If someone told Vernon he would one day ignore a movie to give his attention to a human being, he would have laughed at their face. But here he is. Countless of movies and shows watched with you right there, next to him, and yet you always steal his gaze away from the screen. You are just so beautiful, he thinks to himself. And when he sees you, laughing at a stupid joke from a character, he smiles with you. Not because the joke is funny, no, but because he cannot watch you without his heart filling up and his feelings pouring out onto his lips. He knew since he woke up that day, on your 2 years anniversary, that he would say it. It had been on the tip of his tongue since the first time he saw you in elementary school, smiling at everyone and saving bugs, but he always held it back. He thought it would be too soon, too fast, too much – but how can love ever be those things? he realized recently. He had said I love you a thousand times already through his actions, he had said he loved you out loud to his friends, his family, his cats. He thought now was the time you should hear it. So, all day, his head was in the clouds, thinking how to bring this up, how to say I’m in love with you to his soulmate. It happens when you pull him into your apartment at 1 am, your anniversary already over. You both get rid of your shoes, the tiredness of the day finally falling on your shoulders, before you pull him into you for a hug. Your arms stay at his waist, his heart going thump, thump, thump against yours as his cheek rest on the crown of your head.

“Gonna let you go to sleep,” you mumble against his shirt before letting him go, “I’m gonna shower.”

“Hey- babe,” he says softly to get your attention, his hand wrapping around your wrist, “need to tell you something,” he tells you as you’re pulled back against his chest, hands on his front as one of his rest on your waist, the other one covering your cheek.

“Everything’s okay?” you ask, rubbing circle on the fabric of his shirt.

“Yeah, everything’s good,” he whispers, his eyes going down to look at your lips and up again, “You’re pretty,” he speaks under his breath, a blush making its way on your cheeks – and his.

“Thank you,” you smile as you reach for his neck, pulling him down for a kiss, “You’re not so bad yourself,” you whisper against his lips.

He holds onto your cheeks, your foreheads resting against each other, “I love you,” he murmurs so low you think you made it up but as you open your eyes and see tears in his own, you know this is nothing but real life.

“Oh,” you gasp softly, taken aback, “I love you too,” you say, smiling up at the love of your life.

“I know this was long overdue and I’m sorry it took me so long-“ he starts to babble, uneasiness bubbling in his chest before you cut him off with a kiss.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, playing with the hair at his nape, “To me, you’ve said it a thousand times,” you reassure him as he blushes, chuckling softly at how you always find the right words for him, “But a thousand more wouldn’t hurt,” you tease slightly, making him snort.

“I love you,” he repeats, his arms wrapping around your shoulders as yours find a resting place at his waist, rubbing his back over his shirt.

“Again,” you say with a smile in your voice before kissing his chest in an I love you too.

“I love you,” he says against your hair, his hands making its way under the straps of your dress.

“Again,” you ask him, never getting enough of these words flowing out of his lips.

“I love you,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, leaving a kiss behind, “so much.”

“I’ll never get tired of hearing this,” you whisper, your hands meeting the end of his shirt, “I love you,” you say as you touch his bare back.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he says like a mantra, “I’d unlearn any other words so all you could hear is my love for you,” he whispers, his eyes meeting yours, before your lips collide – just like your worlds did so many years ago.

You’ve always found reassurance in this quiet love you and Vernon were giving each other – but maybe you liked your love being a little louder sometimes.

thank u for reading! hope you enjoyed hehe <3

[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?”

[hannieehaee]

Can you do sumn with vernon with a pretty girl like drop dead pretty she’s really shy, quiet and introverted like you can do wtv

content: crush!vernon, kinda simp!vernon, mutual crush, talking stage turned into official relationship, afab reader, fluff, confession, etc.

wc: 1166

a/n: i hope u enjoy what i came up with c:

masterlist

vernon just couldn't help himself whenever you were around, you were simply too pretty a sight for him to behold; always making him fumble and act an idiot.

vernon wasnt really one to put too much weight on appearance, always considering what's on the inside to be far more important, but you had just drawn him in. you were the prettiest thing he had ever seen, and vernon knew were fully unaware of your beauty, which only added even more to your charm.

your shy demeanor and cute blush any time he stumbled over his words made the embarrassment worth it. he would make a joke of himself in front of the entire nation if it meant seeing your shy smile and the way you'd attempt to cover your mouth as you giggled at him.

the two of you weren't dating, per say, but vernon liked to think you were on your way there. with his inability to function around you and your introverted demeanor combined, it was a bit difficult for either of you to ask the other out, but vernon was very much enjoying the 'will they, wont they' the two of you had going on.

he knew you liked him, which was something he prided himself on greatly, always showing off to the members (and consequently turning into putty the moment you walked in).

"yeah, when are you gonna ask her out, nonnie?", had asked seungkwan one day during practice.

the members had been taking breaks on and off throughout the day, with that day being pretty much free aside from dance practice. during one of the breaks, you had come up, as vernon had decided to invite you over to impress you so that you could lend him some company during his work day. the members had taken this opportunity to berate him about your current relationship status.

"oh, you're not dating? huh. mind if i-",

"don't finish that sentence," vernon interrupted mingyu before he could even picture a reality in which you even so much as looked mingyu's way.

"fesity. you really like her, huh? she is super pretty," joined in jeonghan, instigating further conversation.

"yeah ... how'd you get her attention?", now was chan's turn. it was like they were taking turns to drive him as insane as possible while he waited for your arrival.

"can you guys shut up? i'm going to ask her out. she's just a little shy, i wanna show her that i really like her before making things official," he rebutted.

"well, you should hurry up. pretty girls like that are never single for too long; shy or not," added seungcheol.

before vernon could respond by telling him the intricacies of your exclusive relationship friendship, you suddenly walked in, calling vernon's name from the entrance and consequently scrunching up your nose in embarrassment at having accidentally invoked every member's attention upon entering.

vernon couldn't help but coo at you from where he was standing, adoring how shy you could be sometimes. you were entirely unaware of the fact that a few of his members had just been inquiring if they had a chance with you just before your arrival.

despite having been around the members a few times (with your friendship with vernon being quite obviously just a phase of denial on both of your parts), you were still a bit shy around them. you knew that they knew you liked vernon, and you knew that they knew vernon liked you. it was all a childish game of chicken as the two of you waited for the other to make things official.

even through what you believed to be an awkward moment, one look at vernon's soft smile and you pushed that awkwardness aside and walked towards him, offering him a hug before being stolen away by a few of the other members for a greeting hug of their own. vernon simply grumbled beside you, knowing they were all friendly with you, but still wanting you all to himself.

when you finished, he childishly grabbed onto your hand, now holding it in his as a sign of possessiveness (a behavior vernon had never expressed up until meeting you). the two of you inadvertently blushed and looked away from each other, making seungkwan jokingly gag while you weren't looking.

"okay, get him out of here. you two disgust me," seungkwan practically pushed the two of you towards the exit, "don't chicken out this time! ask her out, you coward!", he finished before slamming the door on the two of you, throwing a panicked vernon a satisfied smile.

your eyes had widened as you looked back at vernon, a surprised smile making its way to your face, "'ask me out'?", you asked him.

"oh, uh, yeah ... about that-"

"mhm?"

he cleared his throat and finally made eye contact with you, realizing you were instigating him just to tease him. this eased the nerves he felt at you now knowing that he liked you (which was something he kind of already assumed you knew), though it did not prevent the endless string of words that left his mouth moments later.

"hey! don't make fun of me. i really like you, okay? of course i'm nervous. i've been nervous, which is why i've chickened out of asking you out every single time", his eyes trailed off you due to his nerves, "and you're- you're just so fucking pretty, every time you look at me i lose my train of thought. i have no idea how im even saying this to you right now. or why i cant seem to shut up, fuck. okay, fuck. what i meant to say is: will you please go out with me? officially? as, you know ... boyfriend and girlfriend?", he finished, finally looking at you again, though now with wide eyes and almost breathless.

you matched his appearance with your own breathlessness and shocked expression, but this did not last long, as you seemed to give yourself a short pep talk in your head before nodding to yourself and pulling him towards you, stealing a kiss from him.

he froze completely for a few moments before finally taking action and giving in, kissing you in a way sweeter way than his brain was begging him to (he did not want to scare you away by kissing you in the way he really wanted to).

once more, the two of you were too shy to make eye contact at first, simply blushing and holding onto each other in the most timid way possible.

vernon broke the silence first, "im really hoping that's a yes ..?"

you giggled back, "yes, vernon. i'd love that."

with a boyish fist bump thrown towards the sky, vernon let out a quiet 'fuck yeah!' before holding onto your hand and walking you out of the building, finally leading you to your first outing as an official couple, already planning your first date in his head.

[kozukensgf]

i accidentally deleted this inbox but thank god i have the screenshot. i hope things will get better for you anon❤️

bf texts with vernon!

genre: fake texts, one shot, fluff, overworked!yn x idol!vernon

character: chwe hansol

masterlist

part one | part two | part three

[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

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