Seventeen Preferences & Scenarios

Imagine 8 (request)

Hansol Vernon Chwe

It was raining, much to your discontent.

You were stuck walking home from your community college, your piece of crap car having broken down for good a few days ago, and you had no umbrella.

As you passed an alleyway, a voice stopped you.

"Please," the owner of the voice groaned. "Help me."

It sounded like a boy, maybe twenty years old at the most.

Despite your instincts, you hefted your purse to use as a weapon and peeked in.

There was a boy curled against a brick wall, drenched thoroughly. He was dressed in a ratty t-shirt and jeans despite the cold weather, the only protection from the cold being a black beanie. Bruises and dirt and what looked suspiciously like dried blood covered every visible inch of him, and he shivered pitiably.

"Please," he whimpered again. "Please help me. I'm lost."

You reached out a careful hand to him, and you had to do a lot of the work to pull him up.

He was very tall, you noticed, standing at almost six feet, and muscular below the threadbare clothes. However, he swayed on his feet, looking like he was on the verge of collapsing.

"We need to get you to a hospital," you muttered, looking him over.

His eyes widened, and his whole body tensed. "Please, no, don't do that," he begged. "I can't go to hospitals."

You frowned, utterly confused. "But you're beaten to a pulp — you're bleeding!"

He grimaced. "I know. Please don't take me to the hospital."

You brought him to your four-room apartment, sitting him squarely on a towel on the floor to drip while you found something for him to wear.

"You're filthy, so get in the shower," you ordered, coming back with a bundle of clothes. "Take as long as you need — you can wear these when you're done."

He stood, accepting the clothes with a bow, and vanished.

You watched him go and nearly fainted. Surely your eyes were deceiving you.

That couldn't be a straggly tail waving behind him.

When your guest came out of the shower, holding his bundle of old clothes and hair messy and dripping slightly, you about had a heart attack.

The tail you'd thought you saw was definitely there, now full and fluffy and swishing contentedly, and on top of that, removing his beanie had given you a perfect view of the sleek, floppy dog ears adorning his head.

The t-shirt (from a previous boyfriend of yours) fit him surprisingly well, tight against his muscular chest, but the sweatpants were a little overly long and loose.

You inhaled deeply as you took the old clothes from him. "There's no saving these, I guess," you murmured. "So, uh, what's your name?"

He shifted from foot to foot. "I think... I think my birth name is Hansol, or Vernon, or something."

You laughed a little. "Those are very different names. What do you prefer?"

He considered as he followed you to where you were disposing of the clothes. Cleaning the dirt off his face had revealed strong, almost Western facial structure with high cheekbones, thin lips and a wide mouth, as well as huge, sparkling light-brown eyes with the longest lashes you had ever seen.

"I like Vernon," he said, a bright smile growing on his face.

You had him sit down at the table and pulled a covered plate out of the oven. "While you were showering, I made dinner," you murmured, setting the plate and a fork in front of him. "Eat, you look like you're starving."

Vernon lifted the foil, sniffing the steam gently. His pupils visibly dilated and he exclaimed loudly, pulling the last of the foil off the plate you'd kept warm for him.

He ate like a starved man, scarfing the food down in less than ten minutes.

"So, if you don't mind me asking," you began, hesitating. "What exactly are you?"

Vernon sighed, laying his fork down. "... A genetic experiment," he murmured. "Crossbreed of a Great Pyrenees, a Labrador, and a regular human boy." His lip curled in disgust. "You have no idea how many times they repeated that. Proud of themselves, the monsters."

"That's why you don't want to go to a hospital, I'm guessing?"

He nodded, swishing his tail again. "They'll want to do even more experiments on me," he said, and you could almost smell his fear. "Like my handlers used to. They called me Mutt, did I tell you? Not even a name or serial number, just the mutt. Getting away was a disaster, I almost died... and then I got beat up by some guys because I didn't have any money, and..." He trailed off, frowning.

You reached out to touch him without thinking.

He actually leaned into your touch, sliding your hand from his shoulder to his back.

"I've not been touched except for the experiments in twelve years," he murmured. "I forgot what it was like."

You half smiled, rubbing his back.

A few things were for sure — this guy had been through a lot, and you had the inexplicable urge to protect him from anything else bad that might happen.

So if those monsters who experimented on him ever found Vernon, you weren't letting him go without a fight.

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okay I dOn't know if this made any sense but a Vernon oneshot was requested??? I couldn't find any inspiration for literally anything else so I kinda went with this! Hope you like it!