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beefboyandbabygirl · 11 months

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Goodbye, Fourth of July (18+)

pairing: lee chan x fem!reader

genre: college au, best friends to lovers, angst w a happy ending, smut (MDNI!!), hints of crack?

description: it's the fourth of july when you realize you're in love with your best friend. unfortunately though, it seems that he doesnt love you back, and this knowledge sends you spiraling. you push him away, but chan just wants to know why you're so upset

warnings: v v sad, pining, brief mention of s/a, chan is kinda dumb in this fr, reader is dramatic af tho, unprotected sex, desperation, praise kink, finger sucking, titty sucking, use of petnames (baby, pretty girl, sweet heart, good girl, cumslut once), mentions of alcohol and weed, irene is chans gf in this but shes not a villain shes mother fr

quotes from my proofreader: "my soul left my body", "no this is too personal", "i feel like im having a panic attack"

wordcount: 8.2k

Fireworks exploded across the sky the night your life was ruined.

Down the gray, dim corridors of your campus where room after room was ablaze with idle lights, daring to imitate the stars above them. Every crevice of the left wing was filled with the noise and decorum of a college frat party, where people lived out their own lives simultaneously to yours - yours, that was shattering into millions of pieces onto Yoon Jeonghan’s kitchen floor. Every moment of teasing, of lingering touches, of adoring smiles, of secret memories and exchanged glances came hurdling onto you on the 4th of July, red solo cup long forgotten in your hand. You were in love with your best friend.

“I’m in love with Chan,” you whispered, looking blankly across the room to see him leaned back against the couch, flashing a bright smile at Mingyu beside him. His blonde mullet - the one, that he had been so terrified to get, and only did so, when you told him he would look great - was tousled and spiky across his neck. He was wearing a red bomber jacket over a white tee, and he looked so good you thought you might cry.

Soonyoung wouldn’t have heard your confession - was it a confession? Admittance? Defeat? - had he not been standing right beside you. He thanked God that your words were not lost to the music and to the ambiance, to lay and die in the sticky, hardwood floor. “What?!”

He was yelling over the music. You turned over to him, mouth cracked into a frown. “What?! You’re in love with Chan?! Seriously?!” He started bouncing and giggling, ignoring your hands coming to grab onto his forearms. He had predicted this exactly five months ago.

“Shut up, Soonyoung, seriously!” You were yelling too, barely overcoming the booming voice of Kesha on the speakers. Bathed in pink light, letting your nails trail over the kitchen counter, you felt your heart becoming soft and trembling.

Your life was ruined.

“What the fuck am I gonna do?” you cried, feeling Soonyoung spin you at your shoulders until he was right in front of you, alcohol dampening the air between you.

“What do you mean? You’re gonna confess to him. You guys are literally in love with each other” He said it as if it was the easiest thing in the world. As if you hadn’t been best friends since freshman year; as if you didn’t know his favorite animal cracker shape and the exact model of his everyday sneakers.

“I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can.”

“I can?”

“COMINGGG THROUGHHHHHHHH!” Frat-house dork Seokmin pushed between you and Soonyoung with a sky-high Vernon on his trail. Vernon shimmied apologetically, eyes sunken and red. “Getting cross-faded,” he supplied helpfully.

“As you should,” Soonyoung mumbled, slightly peeved in his tone, but Seokmin and Vernon seemed too intensely high to notice his disdain. You were too floaty to be offended by their sudden intrusion. The party, the floor, the music, the stench of sweat had become distant and you felt very alone with your heart. And Kwon Soonyoung, of course.

“You can! Right now! I’ve been telling you for months!” He shook you by your shoulders, apparently sensing your distance. You looked up at him with furrowed brows, tugging at the strapless end of your short, glittery dress. “But he’s-” you inhaled sharply. “He’s not gonna love me back, Soon.” Soonyoung cut you off with a scoff. “He’s so in love with you! He looks at you like you’re the only girl in the…”

Soonyoung trailed off, eyes peering past you into the crowd. “Oh shit,” His eyes widened, settled on you, then flicked back up. What the fuck was he looking at? “Uh, as I was-” you moved to look, struggling against his suddenly deadly grip on your shoulders “- no, don’t look!” He moved to stop you, but it was too late. You scanned the crowd with narrowed eyes, finding yourself confused as to what he’d been crying about. That is until you saw him. Red bomber now discarded, Chan had removed himself from the couch and was currently grinding on your biochem-classmate, Irene.

Oh. Okay.

You felt like cold hands grabbed onto your throat from within, as it contracted and tears stung your eyes. There it went, your heart and all its pieces on the floor, and weighing you down like an anchor, was the knowledge that you’d spend the rest of your life picking them up.

”God fucking damnit. This is awful, I’m awful,” your head was spinning, and you could barely make out how your fishnetted legs started moving, let alone how the tips of Soonyoung’s fingers brushed against your bare back to pull you back to him. You needed to get out. Out, out, out.

You squeezed through the tight crowd, avoiding the gaze of your classmate Seungcheol, who tried to smile at you from where he stood. This had to be some sort of mistake. Some sort of illusion brought upon you by the rhythmic movements and the loose slip of alcohol. Maybe you were hormonal? You didn’t know, but you couldn’t think while some bass-boosted playlist built dams of pressure on the sides of your head.

You finally squeezed through the door, closing it behind you and locking away that cursed, wretched memory. The further you got, the fainter the image of him. By the time you were slipping out of the hallway and into the yard, you could almost convince yourself that it was a mistake. A foolish moment, that you would tuck away and keep in a locked chest.

God, you were cold, shivering in your scrappy fabrics, as you slid down the brick wall by a flower bed, staring into the sky. It was the fourth of July, and your chest had exploded in fireworks while looking at your best friend. Every line had simultaneously been crossed and uncrossed.

You had realized it just a few minutes ago, just standing in the kitchen, when Wonwoo from history had asked you for a lighter. It had just been a graze, but you’d still felt it, in the faraway reaches of your purse. Amongst crumbs, concealer, a couple unraveled cigarettes and wired earphones with only one working side. What was that? You’d handed Wonwoo the lighter and then dug around for it again. A little slip of paper, edges soft and worn. You pulled it up.

It was just a drawing. A little scribbled dinosaur. God, you couldn’t even remember when he’d given it to you. But there you were smiling at it. And then looking at him. And then you knew.

You started crying. Hot, fat tears dripped down your cheeks, and your lips were trembling, and suddenly your body was stuttering and convulsing against the wall, and you were in love with your best friend and he was obviously not in love with you.

“Y/n?”

You snapped your head towards the door and the person you wanted to see the least in that moment (that thought made you cry even more, because when had you ever wanted anyone but him by your side when you were upset?) was peeking his blonde haired head through the door. Chan had such a heavy frown, looking down at you from the wide opened doorway.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, sweetheart?” He was immediately crouching down, hand burning hot on your back, stroking the muscles. Another hand on your knee and it was all too much, so you pushed him away. He backed off immediately, and you wished you missed the flash of hurt on his face. He looked at you with so much worry. “What happened?”

He was sitting across from you on the pavement and you couldn’t bear to see him, lit geometrically by the moonlight and the explosions in the sky, brows creased. Averting your eyes, you fiddled with the edge of your dress and sniffled. What were you supposed to say? It was hard to say anything. You fought down the tears pressing at your eyes again, swallowing your emotions before you looked at him again, almost robotically.

“I’m fine,” you said, nodding, and only adding more when his face twisted in confusion. You were always honest with each other, he thought, why were you lying? “It’s stupid, I’m.. I’m on my period and my hormones are just.. Bleugh.” You found it in yourself to giggle.

Silence, only decorated with the constant stream of fireworks and distant laughter of drunk college kids. Chan studied you for a moment, legs crossed and arms slung over his knees. “Cheol said you looked upset.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I was thinking of that sad dog movie.”

Another pause. “Old Yeller.”

The distance between you had never felt wider and you were certain Chan could feel it too.

“You know you can tell me anything right?” You wished your laughter hadn’t been so heart-achingly bitter. He looked so confused. All he wanted to do was make you feel alright, why wouldn’t you let him?

A nod. “Yeah,” you breathed in deeply, tear-streaked makeup drying from the gentle wind. “I know.”

The air had become so thick, you had to gulp down breaths. Chan cocked his head to the side and looked at you soulfully. You were staring at your knees, nervously playing with your fingers, and a flush had crept up your neck to the very tops of your shiny cheeks. He sighed. “I can get, uh,” he hesitated for a moment, “I can get Soonyoung down here. If you want.” You nodded before he was even done talking. Anything was better than sitting across from him - not now. This time you knew better than to look at his face, because you knew your entire facade would break down the moment you’d catch the frown on his face at those words.

The moment Chan left, you sighed so deeply, relief and despair coming in a pair to crash over you like a wave. Soonyoung came not two minutes later and, ever the great comforter, immediately tried to make you laugh, sitting in the grass right in front of you.

“Oh my god,” he put on his best Jennifer Coolidge voice, “you look like the fourth of July!” _____________________________

Your first instinct was to hide - to turn over a stone and lay under it without breathing. Maybe then, if you separated yourself from him the feelings would simply dissipate, like perfume throughout the day. But you and Chan had a ridiculous amount of classes together, - something you used to enjoy and cherish - and every interaction had become half-awkward.

What also didn’t help is that him and Irene did not seem to just be a party fling. You were walking the halls with him, backpack slung across your shoulder, and listening to him drone on and on about a date.

“I think it’s the blonde,” he explained, “I think she likes the blond.” He peeked his eyes over to you, as you walked and you nodded. “It looks good,” you smiled, heart crushing when his face lit up, that sharky smile playing on his lips. “Right? But I don’t know what to wear. I don’t think she liked my jacket. You know, at the party.” At the mention of the party, his giddy expression faded a little, eyes flicking back to look at you again.

You’d been different since then. A little quiet and every word a little strained, every breath a huff, every smile somewhat unable to reach your eyes. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out what. For the life of him, Chan couldn’t. You’d told him when you got a tampon stuck a couple months ago, you’d told him about your awful dates, about your most embarrassing moments in your life. Something had to be serious, he thought, watching the way your eyes had become darker and sunken, for you to shut him out completely.

“Y/n,” he said and his voice was abruptly so, so soft. His hand came to cradle your own, stopping you in your tracks. Your eyebrows cinched together when you looked at the way his thumb caressed your knuckles. “You are okay, right?” and all of a sudden he was so close to you, head bopping downwards to catch your eyes, a little breath becoming humid on your cheek. For just a split second, he saw how scared you were, an emotion that took up all the space in your head, widened eyes darting up to his. Then it was gone. You smiled a tight line, ripping your hand from his. “I’m good. I’d be better if we actually made it to class on time.”

You were bouncing away and for a few moments he stood still, watching you.

“Alright,” he whispered to himself.

_____________________________

You and Chan met through Seungcheol. It was your first year and you were fresh-faced, young and a totally different person. It was your first biochem project and the teacher had paired you with Seungcheol - Seungcheol, who you just so happened to know was amongst the most popular guys at school. He was sweet though, if not a little slow, but he was excited to get into the project and had invited you to his place to study. You had graciously accepted, seeing as your roommate-situation at the time was less than ideal.

You had just hunkered down with stacks of books and laptops open on his desk, when Seungcheol got a call; to this day you’re not sure about the specifics of it, and all the information you’d later been able to pry from Seungcheol was that “Jeonghan was in trouble”. Whatever the case, the man had taken the phone and immediately taken on a crease in his forehead and a small frown on his lips, before apologizing profusely and promising that he’d be back in 20 minutes or so.

And there you were, wearing a dress and hairclips and sitting idly at his desk, while his roommate sat, just a few feet from you, on his bed with a controller and a headset on. That was the first time you saw Lee Chan. He had sharp eyes that you found intimidating at the time - especially with the focused grimace he wore, something you later found endearing. And, of course, you knew he was popular as well. How couldn’t he be, when his muscles were showing through his t-shirt, and he looked beautiful even in the domestic state you found him in. Maybe especially in that situation.

“D’you wanna see me play?” he’d asked, eyes not even leaving the screen. “Um,” your voice was meek, “sure.”

Seungcheol didn’t come home for another three hours. The sky turned from a bright blue into an orange hue outside the campus-curtains, and you sat cross-legged beside Chan on his bed, watching him play Overwatch. Had it been anyone else, you were sure this would’ve been the longest, most awkward three hours of your life. But for whatever reason, you and Chan just clicked. It was all laughter and smiles, and it felt like you had known each other forever. Fate had whisked the two of you together with a gentle push. That was two years ago.

Chan defied all your expectations. Surely, a young man who was attractive and popular would be an asshole, you’d thought, but he was so sweet, something that was most apparent when he smiled and laughed, eyes becoming crescents and toothy grin becoming sharp at the upturned edges.

Maybe you’d always liked him. You’d started reflecting on your relationship after that party, and came to realize that there’d always been a faint mist in your chest. A soft hum that drummed within your ribcage, when you saw him. It was warm, pleasant and constant when you felt his warmth at your side.

And sure, your relationship had had its moments. You distinctly remembered sitting between his legs while watching a movie once, and how you’d been so uncertain if he was okay with the skinship. His face behind your ear, you heard the smile in his voice, as his hands ran along your arms: “It’s okay, N/n. I’m cool with this if you are.”

You found yourself thinking about that often, but now there was a distinct pain to the memory. It was especially painful, when the gap between you and Chan was widening with every day. He tried to reach out, tried to catch you in the halls, but you were always “busy”.

Chan caught on to the fact that you were avoiding him when you started showing up late to classes, just so you wouldn’t have to walk with him; hear him talk about Irene, while that once soft drum had become a marching band in your chest. So you scrambled inside 5 minutes late, much to the dismay of your professors, and found a spot with some random classmate - far away from Chan. You’d have your eyes turned to the board, but you couldn’t focus, not really. Like a constant thorn in your side, you felt Chan’s sharp eyes across the room, boring into with such an intensity you thought you might catch on fire. Scribbling useless notes and focusing your energy - what little energy you had - on the class, you determinedly avoid his eyes. Had you seen them, never once darting astray from your form, you’d see the tenderness they held. “Why are you avoiding me?” His eyes said.

And then: “Why are you avoiding me?” his mouth said, out of breath from chasing after you in your hurried exit. You turned to him, almost bleeding into the blue of the accented-wallpaper. His eyes softened at your wounded expression. You were gently ripping apart at the wish to see him and be around him, with simultaneous urge to ignore him and become free from his scrutinizing gaze. He would never not know that something was wrong.

He scanned the crowded hallway, and gently, almost as if testing the waters (which he hadn’t felt the need to do in years) placed a hand on your upper arm. “Come on.”

You gave in. God, it was so easy to give in. You missed him. You missed him like a fish might miss water, had it been taken away from it. You missed him like a priest misses God, when his presence ebbs away and the sky is suddenly so very empty. So it was so easy to be led on, to sit down in the passenger of his car and just close your eyes and enjoy how it felt to be beside him. Chan scanned you as he drove, laying there with closed eyes, willing yourself to not look at him again, and realize you had to throw this all away.

He said nothing that entire car ride. Maybe he sensed the desperate need you felt to just have this silence. You clung to it as if it were tangible, as if someone would take it away. He would, once you entered his apartment. Seungcheol was nowhere to be seen. You placed yourself on bed and played with the fraying edges of his IKEA duvet cover.

“I miss you.” he said. You sighed, pursing your lips and looking at your fingers. “I miss you too.”

“You’re avoiding me,” he said, only a faceless presence in your peripheral.

“I’m not avoiding y-...” you trailed off when he crouched down in front of you, your entire vision cursed (or blessed?) with his frustrated face. “You are,” he said, eyes boring into yours. You trembled. “I’m not, I’m just busy.” He backed away, sulking, and you tried not to make it obvious that you heaved in a shaky breath from the proximity. “I can tell when you’re lying, you know?”

You laid down on the bed, arms crossing over your chest as if you were a corpse. Was there a way out of this, you wondered. Every glance, every touch, and every word that dropped from his mouth poked and prodded at you sadistically.

“I’m not lying.”

You heard fumbling and raised your head to see Chan, having discarded his shirt, putting on a new one and you cringed at how your heart sped up, seeing his toned stomach, before it disappeared under a sweater. “What are you doing?” you asked. He sighed. He glanced at you before studying himself in the full-length mirror Seungcheol had stolen from Mingyu.

“I’m going on a date with Irene in, like, twenty minutes.”

A pause. You sat up.

“Oh.”

He went on, throwing around scattered clothes and grappling for a cologne in his bag. “I’m sorry, I can’t cancel this, I don’t think she’ll really appreciate it,” he laughed a little. Throwing his head over his shoulder, his smile faded when he sensed your sorrow. His heart hurt then, so he moved, freshly spritzed with the cologne you bought him last Christmas, to stand in front of you on the bed. Your breath hitched when his hand found your cheek and he was suddenly dripping with sincerity and an emotion you really hoped wasn’t pity. “I just- I really wanted to talk to you, Y/n. I’m really worried about you.” You leaned into his hand pathetically, almost whimpering against it. You missed how his embrace felt. His thumb brushed over your cheek and he lingered there, eyes trained on you for just a moment - perhaps a moment too long - before he pulled away.

Suddenly he was putting on a jacket and ruffling his hair in the mirror again. “If you want you can stay here until I come back? It’ll only be, like, an hour and a half, two hours. Cheol will be home soon, he can keep you company.”

“Yeah, maybe,” your eyes were huge, when you willed yourself to stare at the floor. Chan must’ve sensed the meekness in your voice, because he looked over at you through the mirror, a frown on his lips. “I promise we’ll talk, I just- I don’t wanna disappoint Irene.”

It ached when you responded: “There’s nothing to talk about, Channie. I’m fine.”

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours?” you only nodded half-heartedly.

“Bye, N/n.”

“Bye, Channie.”

He left with a rustle of his keys, and when the door was closed, your body contracted, muscles pulling inwards until you were hugging your knees in his sheets. And you were crying because it smelled like him, and because he had held your cheek with such care, only to leave moments later for another woman. Everything you held dear, every moment you lingered on was just one-sided. Your tears were crystalline confinements for your most treasured memories with him and you were bleeding out on his bed, sliced in the heart.

It was Seungcheol who found you there like that, curling up in his roommate’s bed with painful sobs squeezing your whole body. You told him. Maybe you shouldn’t have, but you did. “I love him,” you cried, and Seungcheol stroked your back, as he listened. “And he doesn’t love me back.”

You apologized abashedly when you had calmed down, but Seungcheol only tutted and shook his head. “That’s what friends are for,” he’d said and patted your hair, and you giggled even though you felt all silly with your red face and your puffy eyes. The older man promised not to say anything, and you found yourself trusting him completely. You bid your goodbyes and felt a little lighter.

When Chan came home a heavy duvet of regret settled in his stomach. You were gone, only the faint mist of your perfume left behind in his room. When night fell, he slept on a bed stained with your tears. _____________________________

A week passed and you spent every moment alone in your dorm room, ignoring papers and deadlines in favor of lying completely still under the covers. Soonyoung came over with food every once in a while, and always left devastated at how completely disarranged you were. He felt powerless and if there was one thing Kwon Soonyoung didn’t like, it was feeling powerless.

That was how you found yourself in a very John Mulaney-like situation on a monday afternoon, sitting before Soonyoung and, surprisingly, Seungkwan, Soonyoung’s roommate, in a nearby café.

“What is this?” you asked, arms crossed and leaned back in your seat, unimpressed. Soonyoung smiled sheepishly, sliding a paper across the table. It read “Intervention” in big, bubbly letters, colored with cheap highlighters. “An intervention?” you said incredulously.

“Yes, we’re worried about you!”

“He’s worried about you. I’m skipping physics for this,” Seungkwan butted in.

“The community is worried about you,” Soonyoung gave a harsh glare to the younger boy, who was mirroring your distaste for the current situation. “So we’re hosting an intervention.”

“This is bullshit,” you said. “Agreed,” came Seungkwan.

“Alright, you two! Let Daddy explain,” Hoshi waved his arms in outrage and the two of you groaned at the word choice. “Y/n. I am sick and tired of watching you cry and cry and sit at home over a boy who is fricken’ in love with you!”

“Did you just say ‘fricken’?”

“Unimportant. The point is get your act together and tell him or get over him!” Soonyoung was determined. While you felt his point of view was certainly unfair to you, your demeanor gave way a little. He was right, you knew. This was ruining you more than you’d care to admit. “You are worth so much more than this.”

“As much as I hate to contribute to this, Soonyoung has been telling me all about.. Your situation, and I have to say I agree. I thought you and Chan were dating until Soonyoung told me this,” Seungkwan said, smiling sympathetically at you. You frowned. “It doesn’t matter what you guys think, you know. He doesn’t see me like that.. It just fucking hurts.”

“If he doesn’t see you like that, then fuck him--”

“Don’t say that, Soonyoung--”

“You need to put your energy into a man who will know your worth!” Soonyoung sassed and Seungkwan snapped his fingers once for emphasis, face totally blank.

“I know you’re right, okay?” you reasoned, sighing. “It’s not as simple as that. I know you want to help, Soonyoung, but.. I just need time.”

Soonyoung deflated, but he understood. I guess he was a little powerless in this situation. Even Seungkwan, who definitely was not thrilled about missing physics, smiled sorely. You watched them and hated yourself for bringing worry to everyone around. Like an oil spill in the ocean, your black mass infected everything around you. They’d done nothing and here you were, parading your sadness like My Chemical Romance in 2006.

“Thank you anyway.” _____________________________

Chan was theorizing. There were only so many things that could happen so suddenly, that could make you push him away like this. He hadn’t seen you in a week and he’d begun biting his nails again. Every waking moment had become consumed with this question: why? Why were you acting like this? Irene would pointedly comment on how quiet he was being, and his lies came like flowing water.

Chan was certain that he’d never experienced anything harder than watching you unravel everyday. Every morning more disheveled than the last, every smile more dull. Let me help you, he’d think, watching you slump in your seat on the other side of the room, running an unsteady hand over your face. You’d even found a way to avoid him after class. Day after day he’d run after you when you sped out of class, and when he reached the hallway where students were pouring out, you’d be gone like a faint ghost.

Irene ended things with him over a text. “I just don’t see us working out anymore,” it’d read and lying in his room he’d sighed quietly. He couldn’t bring himself to care. The text diverted his attention for only a minute, before he was staring at the ceiling again, thinking of you. It had to have something to do with him somehow. But no matter how much he scrutinized every interaction you’d had, he came up blank.

“Are you okay?” It was Seungcheol, standing in the doorway and hanging his jacket on their clothing rack while eyeing him. He’d hardly heard him come in. Chan heaved a sigh, long lines of worry oozing out of him.

“Y/n’s been acting really weird with me. I can’t figure out if it’s something I did,” Chan squeezed his eyes shut. “I just want her to be okay.”

Seungcheol frowned sympathetically. “Maybe you should just leave her alone.” Chan’s eyes sprung open and he grimaced, before ruffling the sheets where he sat up on the bed. Seungcheol was settling himself onto his bed, phone in hand and head against the headboard. “Why are you saying that?”

For a moment, Seungcheol flashed his brown eyes with a hint of ‘oh shit’ in them, before they relaxed and he regained composure. “I don’t know, maybe she just needs some time away from you.”

A pause swallowed the room. Chan studied his friend with furrowed brows. “Did she talk to you?”

“Uh-”

“You know why she’s acting like this!” Chan raised his voice, weeks of frustration crackling in the pit of his stomach. He stood up, so he could tower over Seungcheol’s bed. “Relax, man, I don’t know anything-”

“You do! Tell me what’s going on, Seungcheol-” Only a few words had been shared, but they’d tugged at the right strings, and suddenly Chan’s muscles were tightened as they buried into Seungcheol’s collar. The older man scowled and wrapped his hands around his roommate’s wrists in warning. Chan’s hold untightened and unscrewed and he slumped in on himself like a piece of paper, “please, Seungcheol, please. I’m going crazy.”

Seungcheol’s gaze softened. He pushed the boy’s hands away and sat up on the bed, voice a low, solemn grumble. “I can’t tell you.”

“Fucking please, Seungcheol. What if something happened to her? At that party. I keep thinking about it, how I wasn’t with her, and what if some asshole harassed her or something. I googled it and Google said women can feel lost, lonely and embarrassed over stuff like that,” Chan started pacing. “And then I was thinking what if it was a friend of ours? And maybe that’s why she doesn’t want to tell me, but, of course, I’d support her in anything she told me.”

Chan stilled in his wandering across the narrow floorspace. “Can you at least tell me she’s okay?”

All sharp eyes and blonde hair and panted breaths Chan stood in the middle of the room and waited for Seungcheol to tell him that you were okay. Chan would’ve even been at peace with Seungcheol telling him that you never wanted to see him again, fuck, as long as you were fine and you still laughed and smiled, even if it was with Soonyoung and not him.

But the answer didn’t come. Seungcheol frowned and fiddled with his watch. “I don’t think so, man.”

Whatever ties had held Chan back before snapped. He stood still for maybe three seconds in the unlit room, before his body burst into action and he was scrambling for his jacket and keys.

“Fuck this.”

Sprinting down monotonous corridors, a hard-headed Chan let wisps of blonde hair flow behind as the air kissed his cheeks. He wore the crease in his brow that had become permanently etched onto his features. Chan had a one track mind; maybe that’s why things didn’t - wouldn’t - work out with Irene. Currently, the record spinning was you and he’d gone damn near insane, so this time he’d made up his mind. He was not leaving until you talked to him. Whisking past door after door in the quiet nighttime, catching Wonwoo exiting some random dorm and smiling sheepishly, he ignored him and braved forward.

It was not until he was standing right in front of your door that he hesitated. The door framed his figure entirely, trapping him within its confines. What if Seungcheol was right? What if he was making things worse?

But for Chan, he wasn’t sure that he could go any lower. Every day had become a new rock bottom, every day that you avoided him, every moment wondering what he could have possibly done. He missed your smile. So then he was knocking at your door.

“Fuck off, Soonyoung, I’m not going to anymore interventions!” you yelled, voice hoarse from beyond the door. Intervention? Had you developed a drug problem? He knocked again and heard you groan, before heavy footsteps thumped towards him.

“What do you want, Soonyo-” you paused, door half-creaked open. Your eyes were two moons, and your nose and cheeks were red. “Chan,” you breathed, voice nasally from a stuffy nose. Chan said nothing, only pushed past you to get inside. You sniffled.

Your heart was a bomb, or maybe a firework. Chan had lit the fuse and standing before him, where he was half lit in the middle of your room, you knew it was only a matter of time before it exploded, chest blazing with a parade of colors for the fourth of July. Because it was him, a greek fucking god in your toy-decorated room, in his sweatpants and a white t-shirt, and it was you, wimpish and thoroughly out of order, in pyjama shorts and a pink sweater.

“Come. Here.” He wasn’t asking. You nodded and took two steps, and the moment you were within arms reach he enveloped you in his chest. His arms were so strong and warm, one wrapping around your waist and the other bunching up your hair to keep you pressed into him. Your cheek bunched up against his heart, you closed your eyes and heard how fast it was beating. He was scared.

“Talk to me,” you could hear it, too, the fear. His voice was trembling and even though you couldn’t see his face you could imagine his brown eyes glazed over and lips in a pout. The thought squeezed at your heart.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut at the raspiness in your voice. “Don’t be, just talk to me. Please,” his voice was a wavering breath. He pulled away, head ducking down to peer into your eyes. Your cheeks burned and you looked away, becoming completely enamored with the white of his shirt, just for the sake of not seeing his eyes. Then both his hands were on your cheeks, a little harsh at first, but then softening. “Look at me.”

He leaned closer, one hand straying from your cheek to hold you by the back of the head. “Look. At. Me.” he gritted his teeth and you felt the warmth of his face hitting yours. You did. You looked at him, saw him again, really, the guy you’d been avoiding and simultaneously praying closer to you standing before you like a kicked puppy. Suddenly you were crying. It felt like he’d turned you inside out.

“No, no, no, don’t cry, pretty, talk to me, talk to Channie, okay?” he frowned before he was pushing your face closer, nosing your cheek and hair, just a big baby in front of you, with hot and humid breaths on your freshly wetted skin when his lips brushed over it. His hand on the back of your head was only urging you closer, and his back was hunched in a long arch just so he could be with you, as close to you as possible.

And while his touch was bliss for a moment, the reality of it came crashing down, and your hands waved him off, taking a step back, which Chan followed with a step forward. He looked so hurt, hands held out for you to take but you shook your head.

“Don’t- Don’t do this to me, Chan. Not when-” you were shaking when you reached up to rub over your eyes. “Not when- Not when you have Irene to go back to.”

“Irene?” He asked incredulously, almost in outrage, almost as if the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. It spurred you on. “That’s what this is about?”

“No!” you cried, “Or- yes, I don’t know.”

Chan was silent for a few moments when you began pacing, hands over your eyes. “You were jealous?”

“No- That’s not the point!” your lip trembled when you removed your hands and looked at him again, his arms at his sides, now that he didn’t have you to hold.

“We were never going to stop being friends, you know-” his voice was quiet and yours overpowered his easily, when you screamed at him to say: “I didn’t want to be friends!”

Boom goes the dynamite, indeed. Fireworks filled every crevice of your ribcage.

“Because I love you,” you paused only to flick your eyes over to his, and you sucked in the fear. Your voice shook when you continued: “And I think I have for- for, like, a year? And I only realized on the fourth of July and there you were with Irene, and I just… And I thought if I backed off these feelings would go away, because you obviously don’t-”

“Irene broke up with me,” his voice was much quieter than yours. You wanted to scream and cry and yell, because what did that matter? Why did that matter when it changed nothing? But then he spoke again: “She broke up with me because I kept thinking about you.”

Silence. It hit you that Chan was not informing you, he was telling himself this.

“Yeah,” he scratched at the back of his neck and chuckled dryly, “I kept being quiet on our dates, ‘cause I was thinking about you. I guess she sensed it.”

You were looking at each other in the dim lights. He was so beautiful, cheeks shiny and soft lashes curling over his lids. You sniffled. “Does that mean that you-”

Yes.

Yes, it did, because before you could even finish your sentence he was taking a step forward and his hand was on your cheek again and this time his lips were on yours and fireworks, fireworks exploded in your chest and on your lips like bursts of static, but this time it wasn’t pained, it was beautiful, and you’re melting into his hold, just as he was yours. Lips moving in perfect unison, he tilted his head down and you tilted yours up, and grabbed his neck, and his other hand slid onto your waist, resting there, as the two of you rocked under the artificial light of your overhead lamp.

Everything you yearned for was in your hands and you didn't dare to pull away, only whimpering when you ran out of breath, and chasing his lips when he pulled away to breathe. He chuckled, mouth curved upwards in that beautiful smile that you love. You love it, and there’s no point in hiding it. He pressed his forehead against yours and you’re panting into each other’s mouths.

“I love you too,” he said. You grinned, a perfect blush spread across your rounded cheeks, and his heart soared so much that he had to kiss you again, pecking and mumbling it again and again against your lips: “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

His tongue slid over your lip and you opened your mouth with a squeak. His tongue was wet and warm in your mouth and his hands were suddenly on your hips, pushing them into his. Then he pulled away, blushing himself when a string of spit connects you. “Is this okay?” he asked, so softly, so gently, and you nodded, flushed and out of breath and pathetically desperate.

“Yes,” you whined, “need you so bad.” He cooed when you pressed your hips into his, long fingers brushing hair out of your face. “Channie’s gonna take care of you. Channie’s gonna make it up to you,” and yet again it's almost like he was saying it to himself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when he lowered the two of you onto your bed. Hair strands stretched from their roots in your head, when you hit your plush pillow, and you were all shiny and sparkling eyes, laid out before him in a way that he never dared to imagine. “Too pretty,” he whispered, kissing you again.

He was grinding into you, anchoring himself on your waist and whimpering into the corner of your mouth at the feeling of your warm center through your shorts. “Baby, need you so bad. Can I take this off?” he tugged at your shirt and you nodded, unable to get anything out but whines. He pulled off the pink fabric, marveling at your bare chest before him. Of course, he’d seen it before, in tight shirts, on days where you’d decided to forgo a bra, and he’d always cursed himself for imagining the real thing. “You’re so beautiful,” he cried, as he hit your core just right and he stared at your tits’ slight jiggle.

“Such a pretty baby, so ready for me, can I touch them, please, please?” he was babbling, somehow already pussydrunk, but you were no better, eyebrows cinched together in pleasure, nodding without even an ounce of hesitation at his request. He groped at your chest, thumbs brushing over the hardened buds, before he ducked his head down to suck on one. You’re gasping, as his tongue flicked over you, hands tangling themselves in his hair, moaning his name into the air. He hummed loudly, and you felt a thick glob of wetness escape your pussy at just the sight of him, hunched over you like a wild animal, panting into your chest.

“You’re so pretty,” you whispered and he let go of your tit with a small ‘pop’, lifting his head to look at you. He was grinning ear to ear, face still hovering over your chest. “Am I?” and suddenly he was so cocky, hand cupping your heat through your shorts, and watching as you buck into his hand with a strangled moan. “Needy girl, need pretty Channie to touch you, hm?” He teased, fingers gently rubbing over the fabric of your damp shorts.

“Please,” you whined, thrashing in the sheets, desperate enough to cry. He cooed and shushed you, hovering over you by one, strong arm: “Shh, sweetheart, shh, I know. I got you, I’ll make you feel good.” As much as Chan wanted to make you beg, he was desperate too, and he couldn’t help the slight guilt of what you’d been through. The thought almost made him frown, but he pushed it away and peeled off your shorts and underwear in one swoop.

You cried out when his fingers were finally sliding through your folds. Your eyes, half closed, flicked up to see him, gaze trained on your core in amazement. “You’re so wet, baby,” he purred, spreading the warm slick up to your clit to start circling it with two fingers. “Just for you- Mngh!”

He plunged two fingers into you with ease, wetness coating his fingers to let them slide in. You were panting and thrashing and moaning his name, and he just watched with the biggest hardon he’d ever had, how he made you feel good and how pretty you were, and how much he never wanted to pull his fingers out of your sopping wet heat.

“Do you want my fingers in your mouth?” he asked, and you squeezed your eyes shut and nodded vigorously. “Hey, hey,” the fingers that weren’t plunging in and out of you and curling into your pussy’s sweet spot, squeezed your chin. Your eyelashes fluttered open, and you stared at him with blown out eyes. “You gotta look at me while you do it.”

Then his fingers prodded at your lips, and you opened them with a whine, willing yourself to keep them open, to see how he smiled adoringly down at you. They were filling you just right, one hand stuck in your pussy and the in your mouth, teasing over your tongue. Your orgasm was approaching, knotting in your stomach, embarrassingly fast.

He groaned at the sight of you, looking up at him with huge, adoring eyes while sucking his fingers. “Fuck, fuck, good girl, such a good, appreciative girl, taking my fingers wherever she can.” You clenched around him at that, and he chuckled knowingly. “Yeah, you like being my good girl? Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum in my fucking pants.”

You released his fingers only to moan - almost scream - his name, as you came around his fingers, curling into you and working you through your orgasm. “That’s it, sweetheart. Cum on Channie’s fingers. Look so pretty when you cum.”

You were still dazed on your bed in the glimmering aftermath of your post-orgasm, when you heard Chan shuffling beside you, and then he was leaning over you once again, shirt and pants discarded and cock proud and stiff and leaking precum onto your stomach. You groaned at the sight, hand trailing over his exposed stomach, where abs dipped and rose, glistening softly. Then your thumb caressed and pressed against his slit and he hissed, dropping his head into the crook of your neck.

He nosed at your neck, pecking a little, before speaking, voice too strained and too pretty: “Can I fuck you, baby? Please, please, I need to feel you around me so bad.” He had shut his eyes tight, fighting the urge to grab hold of your back and press your tits into his chest.

“Please,” you came back equally as whiny, writhing in his hold, where his thumb was rubbing soft circles in your hip bone. “Please, wan’ your cock. Need it.” He smiled into your neck, grabbing your head and kissing your cheek. “So cute.”

You felt the head of his cock slide through your still impossibly wet folds, then pressing against your entrance. You were murmuring his name over and over and he was panting into your neck and licking a stripe of wet glistening saliva onto it, as he began to push in.

You were writhing so much he had to place his hands on your hips to still you, whispering soft reassurances until he was pushed all the way, clit pushed into his abdomen. You’re so full, you can’t stop the wanton moans at the feeling of his pretty, red cock, every bulge and vein pressed against your gummy walls. “You’re so fucking tight,” he spat, fearful that he’d spill his load into you immediately from the way you were clenching him. Then, slowly, he was rocking into you and the both of you were clambering onto one another. Your hands found his neck, his hair, his flexing biceps, and his your hips, waist, boob, and then clambering up to hold your face and look into your eyes.

“Look at me,” you almost didn’t catch the way he repeated those words from before, but you looked into his brown orbs, blonde hair curling over and tickling your forehead. “So fucking pretty, so cute, my little cumslut. Say you want my cum, baby, please, say it.”

“Wan’ your cum!” you cried, as he angled his cock inside you to press into that spongy spot. He was giving in to all his wants at your words, pulling you up by pressing his arms under your back, so your tits pressed against his chest, and he was nosing at your face again, trailing kisses everywhere he could reach. “So good for me, so pretty, all mine. Fuck, sweetheart.”

“All yours,” you babbled mindlessly, when his hand snaked between your bodies to rub circles into your clit. “Cum for me, cum for me, baby.”

His thrusts were growing sloppy, and you felt the knot tightening in you once more, pulled tight and ready to snap. “Cum, cum, come on, my pretty darling. Fuck, Y/n, I love you!”

At those words you came, pussy pulsating around his cock and clenching so tight, he was unsure if he could even pull out in time. He did though, pulling out just in time to see his seed spill all over your soft stomach.

Panting and out of breath, his arms gave out and he collapsed on top of you, body covering yours. “Ugh,” you groaned and looked up at you, laughing softly. “Chan, you’re heavy,” you complained. “I’m a weighted blanket,” he countered, but climbed off of you anyway, lying down next to you. You looked at him, with the side profile of a god, and his blonde hair tousled and chest rising and falling.

“You are pretty,” you said, and you could almost cry when he looked at you and blushed.

“You should’ve just told me,” he whispered, turning his head to gaze at you. You frowned and nodded. “But it doesn't matter now,” he reassured, one hand climbing from the sloping, bunched up duvet and running his hand through your hair. He tilted his gaze towards your cum covered stomach, some of it having smeared onto himself, and he pushed himself off the bed. "I'll get a towel."

Naked and divine, he disappeared into your small bathroom.

“Oh, God..” you groaned suddenly, face morphing into anguish.

“What?” Chan called from the bathroom.

“Soonyoung is going to be the most insufferable person on the planet when he finds out about this."

#lee chan x reader #chan x reader #lee chan smut #chan smut #dino smut #dino x reader #svt chan x reader #svt dino x reader #svt x reader #svt smut #svt angst #dino angst #chan angst #lee chan angst

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spamgyu · 13 days

Text

Mess It Up – idol!SVT // Masterlist

"I keep thinking maybe if you let me back in. We can make it better, breaking every habit"

DESCRIPTION: A collection of idol!Seventeen one-shots and how they allowed their idol life ruin their relationship GENRE: a whole lot of angst

STATUS: IN PROGRESS

DISCONNECTED CALLS - SEUNGCHEOL

description: All his choices to put his career and his team first never led to any regrets; all except his choice to cut his ties with you.

THE APARTMENT WE WON'T SHARE - JEONGHAN

description: Jeonghan had only broken his promise to you once and he swore to himself he would never put you through that again, even if it meant promising to watch you walk in to another man's arms.

I MISS YOU, I'M SORRY - SOONYOUNG

description: Soonyoung let his pride get in the way and now he's forced to come to terms of his mistakes... two years too late.

TUESDAY - JIHOON

in response to this request: i need jihoon to break my heart bc he doesn't know how to balance his career and a relationship 😭 it would so gut wrenching bc he's being quite cold about it, but when he gets back to his studio the flood gates open 😭😭😭

BIGGEST REGRET - MINGYU

description: Mingyu had many regrets in life, he had made many mistakes... ruining the best thing to happen to him, since joining Seventeen, was his biggest one.

FRIENDS - VERNON

description: You were the right person, at the worst of times. Or at least, he thought it was...

#svt fic #svt angst #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader

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lovelyhan · 11 months

Note

Vernon edging you until you're a crying mess and begging him to let you cum...? 👀

01:22 — VERNON

i'm...supposed to be studying for another exam but 🥹

you and vernon have a rather...interesting relationship dynamic.

when he first introduced you to the rest of his friends, they all immediately assumed that you're the one who called the shots. everyone knows that vernon is laid back by default—always going along with the flow that others have set around him without any complaints.

it's obvious that the same applies even when the two of you started dating. he's more than happy to let you take the lead in navigating your way through life as a couple and most people find it adorable, how he always accommodates you one way or another. that's just the kind of guy he is.

seungkwan jokingly called him an under when he witnessed firsthand just how easily your boyfriend bends to your whims.

but no matter how much of a pushover others think vernon can be, you're convinced they only think that way because they've never seen him in the confines of your shared bedroom.

"pretty," vernon chuckles softly, one hand grasping your chin while his free hand dabs away the salty tears streaked across your cheeks "you can take more, can't you? this is nothing."

nothing, he says—despite the fact that your thighs are already trembling from the third orgasm he blatantly denied you. part of you wants to talk back, but you hold your tongue, preening at the sweet smile still resting on your boyfriend's face as he sinks further down the mattress to hook your thighs across his shoulders.

vernon isn't a hard dom by a long shot, but that's what makes it all the more frustrating. when he teases you like this—edging you to the brink of insanity—you can't even resent him because of how lovingly he looks at you every time he denies you release. as if the cruelty of his actions is grace of the highest form.

"please," you cry out hoarsely when he gets his tongue on you again—sucking, slurping, making a mess out of your already ruined cunt. "vernon, n-need to come..."

your boyfriend chuckles with every sniffle and sob that ransacks your body each time his tongue swipes across your puffy clit. your fingers are tangled in his hair, holding his head in place as his tongue laves at your folds. he even makes a show of groaning into your pussy—the vibrations driving your nerves alight with glee.

"i think i've loosened you up pretty good. don't you think so?" he murmurs the words along the supple flesh of your inner thighs, trailing featherlight kisses with each breath. "think you're ready for my cock?"

you whimper, blindly reaching for his arms to tug him up. he only relents because you just look so adorable when you're on the brink of the tears.

"nonnie," you mewl, fingers laced around the nape of his neck as you desperately press your mouth against your boyfriend's—rocking your sloppy, spit-laden cunt across his clothed crotch. "w-want you to split me open. please, please, i've been so good for you. just wanna come— wanna come so fucking bad on your cock."

another rush of tears spills from your eyes and vernon can only sigh when he feels the liquid stick to his own skin. if anyone else could see you right now—crying and babbling as you dry hump him out of sheet desperation—they'd never believe their eyes.

vernon the so-called under, reducing his pretty baby to tears as they beg him to make them come.

he gives you what you want in the end—your face smooshed into the pillows as your boyfriend brutally rams his thick cock into your slick walls. though his touch is always weighted with characteristic gentleness, not even vernon can hold up against the addicting feel of your pussy clamping down on him with each delicious thrust.

"you're close again." it's not a question. he's much too familiar with the way your walls sporadically tighten around him when you're nearing release. "do you want to come, love? i've been a little mean to you tonight, haven't i?"

your cries come out muffled and vernon nearly comes at the thought of you soaking the pillows with tears and saliva. vernon's grip on your ass goes tight as he swears under his breath—his strokes coming in deep and precise so he can pinpoint that spot that makes you cry out his name in the prettiest way possible.

"f-fuck!" you bleat the moment vernon flattens his chest across your back—thrusts unrelenting as his free hand finds your clit. "don't edge me anymore, nonnie. please, please, please. i'm going to go insane if i don't come this time. give it to me, i want it—want it so fucking bad—oh!"

he fucking loves it when you run your mouth in the midst of a lustful delirium. but it gives him an even bigger ego boost when he feels your pussy practically squeeze the cum out of him at the height of your orgasm.

as much as you hate being denied the apex of pleasure several times over, vernon is always right whenever he says edging will just make everything feel a hundred times better when you finally come.

the words still ring true now, eyes practically rolling to the back of your head as your brain melts into a puddle of nothingness. vernon's intense gaze is riveted on the absolutely fucked out look on your face and that's what drives him over the edge—stilling his erratic strokes in favor of dumping his load in your willing pussy with a long-winded groan.

"you're fucking insane," is the first thing you breathe out once your mind comes back online—flopping your back onto the mattress as you catch your breath. "i feel like i died and went to hell and back seven and a half times."

"seven and a half?" vernon remarks with an amused look—getting up to grab a washcloth from the en-suite.

"yeah, life's hell when your boyfriend has an edging kink." you pout and he simply laughs before emerging from the bathroom, sitting at the edge of the bed as he cleans you up.

"you can always try it on me if you want to get even," he suggests, but you shake your head vigorously at the notion.

"no thanks, i'm happy to get edged and manhandled by the same guy i boss around in front of his friends," you tell him with a playful tone.

vernon shakes his head before leaning closer to peck your lips—wondering how he got so lucky to have landed someone like you.

"whatever you say, my little masochist."

⟢ end notes: this has been sitting in my inbox for a while now and i decided to squander my time by answering it AHDJSJW i'm just a sucker for soft dom vernon ok...... i'd let him edge me for hours if he just smiles his little nonnie smile at me before making me suffer again <3

#svthub #seventeen smut #vernon smut #chwe hansol smut #seventeen fanfic #vernon fanfic #lovelyhan #I FORGOT THE TAGS AGAINNSNDNANA #📝 drabble #🍵 tea time #💌 anon

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starsstuddedsky · 11 months

Text

Tangled in Love

vernon x reader

summary: there's nothing in the world that vernon loves more than cats. at least, that's what you think

genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst, non-idol!au, uni au, f2L, idiots to lovers, fake dating if you squint, technically university au

warnings: none!

wc: 3.8k

a/n: started this a WHILE ago and finished it like a month ago but i wanted to let it sit lol,,, may or may not have been the other option for the poll i put out and then i may or may not have forgotten to post.... anyways i am working for literally the whole summer until school starts again so i can't promise i'll be writing a whole bunch </3 so basically: enjoy bc idk when anything else will come lol (not going on official hiatus though!! just like... limbo) pls pls feel free to drop in anytime and chat!! also requests are open but again,, i'll write when i write lol

tldr: adulting sucks, i love you all, none of this has to do with the actual story lol

Vernon’s car sits in your driveway. The sight of his little red sedan evokes a strong sense of familiarity, almost as if it’s yours. It’s survived high school and his first three years of college, up till now, though the engine sometimes shakes the car a little too much and the air conditioning chooses to work less often than you would prefer. Still, the one time Vernon mentioned getting a new car, you nearly cried, so you don’t let yourself complain too much.

He waits for you, keys in hand, as you tug on your shoes and sprint out the door with a shout of goodbye to your parents. Your shoes nearly slip off because you didn’t put them on all the way and they’re still untied when you make it to the front seat, slamming the door shut behind you and pulling on your seatbelt.

“You didn’t have to rush,” Vernon says, barely sparing a glance at you. You do a supreme job pretending it doesn’t bother you.

“Yeah, but my dad is watching hockey,” you say. Though it’s been years since Vernon has been to your house for a “play date,” you know the memory of your father yelling at the television as if the players can hear him isn’t one that Vernon (or anyone for that matter) can forget easily.

“You know if you move out, you don’t have to hear them,” he says, finally glancing at you before turning his head to watch the road as he backs down the driveway.

“If I move out, I also have to pay my bills on my own,” you say.

“You have three job offers and you haven’t even graduated yet,” Vernon says. “Of all our friends, you are the most financially stable, so don’t you dare try that argument on me.” This debate has been going on ever since Vernon announced he was moving out; two years in the dorms on campus proved more than enough for him.

You don’t understand why he’s so insistent about you moving out. Sure you complain about your parents occasionally but not enough to really matter, and he knows how grateful you are that they’ve let you stay in your childhood room and rarely let you pay for anything.

So why? You set your eyes on him, with his annoyingly perfect features that you’ve known most of your life. He studies the road, indifferent to your glare and undistracted.

That’s the Vernon you know: focused on the moment, and never noticing you. You know how pitiful you sound, pining for someone for so long who has never once spared you a second look. Still, before everything else, he’s your friend, your best friend. You won’t ruin that just because you caught feelings.

“Why are we going an hour away again?” You ask, resting your back against the cushioned seats and turning your head to the window to watch the scenery pass by. It’s easier to avoid thinking about those feelings when you aren’t staring at him.

“Because the people running the rescue needed a volunteer to pick up the kittens.”

“And why am I here?”

“So I don’t get kidnapped or murdered,” Vernon says nonchalantly.

“How am I going to prevent you from getting kidnapped or murdered?”

“Strength in numbers?” He takes his eyes off the road for half a second to flash a smile at you.

You rolled your eyes, plugging your phone into the aux. “You should have asked Jihoon. Between his gym obsession and unbridled rage, the nonexistent potential kidnappers-murderers would never stand a chance.”

“And he has good taste in music. Bump,” he says, bracing his arm in front of you as he hit a particularly large pothole. He drops his arm as soon as the car stops shaking and you ignore the urge to catch his hand in yours.

“He does not, and you better not be implying I have bad taste!” You dig through your playlists, trying to find the Vernon-approved one.

“I was implying but now I’ll outright say it.”

“His playlist is just Bruno Mars and Harry Styles and one random Ariana Grande song.” You hold up the shared playlist for good measure. Vernon ignores you, refusing to take his eyes off the road.

“Okay, not good taste, but better than yours.”

“What is wrong with my taste in music?”

“No comment.”

“How have we been friends this long?” You ask. You can’t quite say it with a straight face; the idea of not having Vernon in your life is an absurdity you can’t imagine.

“By the way, you need to give directions,” Vernon says. “I sent you the address last week.”

You shake your head but dig through the messages to find the address, putting Jihoon’s playlist on to prove your point. Vernon pretends not to care, singing along to “Leave the Door Open,” as if he didn’t make fun of Jihoon a week ago because he played the song on repeat during his four hour shift at the cafe.

When you’re being honest with yourself, you know you want more than riding in Vernon’s front seat and making pointless jokes. More than once, you’ve imagined what it’s like to go home with him and stay there, to wake up in his bed because you share it with him, instead of the times you drank too much and he slept on the couch (because of course Vernon is the type of person to give up his bed for his friend). Moments like that make it harder to remember that he doesn’t feel the same way.

You were doing a great job of paying attention until the second half hour, when you got stuck in standstill traffic. In your mind, only a few minutes pass, but suddenly Vernon shakes your shoulder and your heart shoots bolts of adrenaline into your veins to wake you up.

“We’re here,” he says softly. He holds your phone with the directions still open. The engine shakes the car; he must have literally just stopped. It takes a couple moments to remember that he drove you into the middle of nowhere to pick up some kittens to foster them (another bullet point in the ever growing list of why you love Vernon: he does absolutely insane things for what he loves. What would it be like to be the person he loves?). He stares at you for a moment and for some godforsaken reason, you think he’s going to kiss you.

He points to the corner of your lips. “You drooled.” He laughs at your groan, turning in his seat and cutting the engine, tossing your phone into your lap.

The door creaks when you pull on the handle but it swings open. You are extra careful when you swing it shut, being as gentle as possible. Vernon raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment on it. You stretch until your back finally pops, jogging to catch up with Vernon who didn’t wait for you, striding up the smooth driveway.

Warm pastel yellow greets you, a cute door that matches the array of flowers on the front porch perfectly. Vernon sneezes and presses the doorbell, stepping back to wait, shoulder pressing against yours. Even though his jean jacket and your cotton t-shirt separate you from really touching him, you feel a different sort of warm, a tingly feeling that spreads from your insides and makes you feel giddy.

After a couple minutes, the door opens, revealing a smiling woman and a child that can’t be more than five clinging to her leg. “You must be the fosters! Sorry, it’s a little hectic today, but come on in!” She ushers you in, picking up the child.

Some psychopath. You glance at Vernon but he turns his back on you, following the woman down the hall to a closed door. Whatever, it’s not like he needs to see you to know the jokes you make.

“We’ve been keeping them away from the rest of the house since it gets so chaotic,” she says. “I’d love to keep them but we’ve got two toddlers and a hyperactive dog.” She sounds genuinely regretful, which you understand as soon as you step over the baby gate and into the room. It looks like it was a spare bedroom (you can’t help but think it’s for the children when they get too big to share a room), but the bed has been stripped and there isn’t any other furniture. In the middle of the room, in a nest of blankets, a grown cat sits and licks tiny balls of fur that mewl softly in protest. The black cat pauses in her grooming, studying you and Vernon while the woman and her child watch from the door.

“Do you want to tell the lovely couple what we named them?” She asks the child.

You freeze. Did she just call you a couple? “We’re not–” Vernon stops you with a hand on your arm, sitting cross legged on the ground and facing the woman and her child.

“The momma is Pinky,” the child mumbles, barely audible. “‘Cause she has really pink feet.”

You smile at her, though you’re still reeling from Vernon’s hand, which slips from your arm to interlace his fingers with yours. “Did you name her?”

The child grins. “Yeah! But my brother named the babies.” She pouts.

“I think Pinky is a great name,” you say. Vernon grunts in agreement. Pinky stands and wanders slowly toward Vernon’s hand (the one not holding yours), which he holds outstretched while looking away. Looking at you. You get to see the exact moment Pinky brushes her head against his fingers, watch the corners of his mouth creep up in satisfaction, watch his eyes slip away from yours as he strokes her head. She lets off a low rumble as she purrs, brushing her whole body against his foot before leaving him to study you.

You’ve never thought of yourself as a cat-person or a dog-person (you love them all the same), but a life-time as Vernon’s best friend (and an abundance of cat cafes) have trained you in how to get cat’s to befriend you. You let Pinky move however she wants, hyper aware of Vernon’s hand squeezing yours once before letting go.

He shifts to look at the kittens, earning a wary glance from Pinky. She watches him for a moment before turning back to you, brushing against your hand and eventually turning her back on you, purring like the engine of Vernon’s car the entire time.

“What’s this one called?” Vernon asks, pointing to the orange colored kitten.

“That’s Muffin, Momma named her,” the child explains. She stands at the baby gate alone, her mother off somewhere getting all of their supplies so that you and Vernon can leave with them. Her little fingers curl around the metal. “The black one is Fried and the white one is Egg. That’s what my brother named them.”

Vernon nods, smiling over the tiny kittens. Pinky finally decides she doesn’t want him quite so close, leaving your side to place herself between him and the kittens. He laughs, sliding back to sit next to you.

“There’s no way you don’t end up adopting at least one of them,” you whisper.

“I have self-control.”

“Wanna bet?”

Vernon turns to look at you except he’s much too close, nose just barely brushing against yours. It takes all of your willpower not to glance at his lips, infinitely harder when you realize you can feel his breath on your lips. Would he kiss you back? You push that fantasy away immediately: it’s Vernon. He’d push you away and call you weird, or do that judgy-eyebrow-wiggle-thing that he reserves only for special occasions (most recently used when Soonyoung was talking about a hookup gone wrong). You’ve always been the one he looks at when someone does something weird; what would he do if it was you being weird? Your stomach turns, the butterflies eating each other alive. You can’t do that to him, no matter how perfect his lips are.

You jump at the sound of someone clearing their throat. You turn back to the door to see the woman holding a cat carrier doing her best not to smile.

“Not trying to rush you two, but the sooner they settle into a nice loving home, the better,” she says, winking at ‘loving.’ You really should correct her. Actually, Vernon should correct her. He always does, the very few times that you have been mistaken as a couple. He never hesitates, so why isn’t he doing it now? Does he really not realize what she’s implying?

He stands up, turning to face you and extending his hands to pull you up. You roll your eyes but take them anyway, ignoring the way your heart sinks when he lets go this time. He takes the carrier and gently picks up the kittens, blankets and all, and tucks them inside. Pinky follows immediately after, as if she couldn’t bear to be away from her children for more than a second.

“I have a box ready by the door with their food, and toys, and other supplies, and I know you said you have a litter box and you’re ready, but I just wanted to make sure that they settle in nice, and I added a blanket in case they’re homesick, and–” She pauses, peering at the dark holes of the carrier as if she can see the little kittens inside. She takes a deep breath, picking up her child again, stepping to the side so that you and Vernon can leave the room. “I know you two will take good care of them, I do, I just– I’m going to miss them.”

“Me too,” her child says, clinging to her mother’s neck.

The woman smiles. “But we said our goodbyes already, and they’re going to be so happy with these two, right?”

“Of course,” you say when Vernon doesn’t answer. “He’s been obsessed with cats since he was smaller than you!” You wink at the child, who giggles.

You pick up the box at the door, grunting at the heaviness.

“We can switch,” Vernon says softly but you shake your head.

“It’s just to the car, it’s fine.” Vernon looks like he’s going to argue more, but finally he steps onto the front porch, moving as gently as possible, trying to disturb the precious cargo as little as possible.

“Thank you so much again,” the woman says, setting her child down. “We really do wish we could keep them, but it makes me happy knowing that someone capable will be taking care of them, especially an adorable couple like the two of you. Do keep me updated on their adoptions.”

You force a smile and choke out a “thank you,” following Vernon mindlessly down the driveway after she closes the door.

Adorable couple, were her exact words and Vernon said nothing. Why? The word hangs on your tongue, threatening to spill out if you so much as open your mouth. You watch as Vernon sets the carrier in the backseat, then takes the box out of your arms and places it on the floor. You force yourself to move to the passenger side when he raises his eyebrows at you, but once you’re sitting down and the seatbelt is across your chest, you’re frozen again.

Vernon takes your phone when you don’t move, putting in your passcode (the sum of his birthday and yours). He pulls up his own playlist, a collection of hyperpop and indie artists that you normally enjoy listening to. Today it takes all your concentration not to burst.

You almost make it the whole drive, all the way to his block, the apartment building he’s spent the last year and a half in that’s become far too familiar to you. How much time have you wasted away on the floor of his living room, drinking, doing classwork, listening to him talk about the future, rambling to him about the midnight thoughts that threaten your heart? He knows everything about you, except what you need him to know the most.

When the question begins to burn in your heart, you can’t hold it anymore. Vernon pulls into his parking spot and it falls from your lips before you realize it. “Why?”

He has the audacity to feign ignorance, blinking at you before finally asking, “Why what?”

“Why did you let her think we are a couple?”

One of the kittens mewls in the silence, a soft cry for help, sounding pitifully like your own heart.

Vernon stares ahead of him at the concrete wall, the fading red number 19 that designates this spot as his. Just say something, your heart begs him. Stop giving me hope where there is none. His shoulders rise in the tiniest shrug. “I guess I was just curious.”

“Of what?”

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He glances at you, just once. “What it would be like.” He sighs. “This really isn’t the time for this conversation.”

Your grip on the door handle is so tight your knuckles are white. So desperately, you want to believe he’s trying to say what you think he’s saying but you refuse to give yourself hope unless it’s real. “What conversation?”

“Okay, for the record, I did think this through,” he says, “a lot. Like, for months. This isn’t coming out of nowhere, I really did try to figure out if it’s just a passing thing because the last thing I want is for things between us to be weird because you’re my best friend and I tried to imagine my life without you and that was worse than anything, so I decided I wouldn’t ruin anything except I can’t stop thinking about–”

“Vernon.”

He pauses, turning to face you again and this time he doesn’t look away. You’ve never felt self-conscious under his gaze, not when he’s seen every awkward stage of your life and stuck with you anyways. His eyes have always been familiar to you, an oasis of comfort that you always find yourself drifting toward. But the longer he stares at you, the more you want to run away, hide from the heartbreak you see in his eyes.

“I think I like you,” he says. “No. I do. Like, as in more than a friend. God, none of these words are working.”

You stare at him. He’s saying everything you want him to say. He’s saying he likes you. Why can’t you move?

Vernon runs a hand through his hair, and sighs. “Like I said, I don’t want to ruin things between us, you're still my best friend first. But I’m also sure about how I feel and I don’t want to keep it from you any longer. I can’t stay in this limbo of holding onto something that doesn’t exist, so, I’m really sorry.”

“Sorry?” You repeat, frowning. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because… I like you. And that ruins… this.” He gestures between you and him and that’s when you finally realize that he doesn’t know.

“You dumbass,” you say, “I like you, too.”

Vernon frowns, mouth hanging open a little, and you have to wonder if you looked this goofy when he was talking. Your heart swells when you realize you’re the reason for it. “You do?”

“Yes,” you say, grabbing his hand. Your cheeks ache a little, and you realize that you’re smiling wider than you ever have before. You’ve never been this happy, not when you graduated high school, not when you and Vernon found out you got into the same college, not when you got a perfect score on that notoriously impossible chemistry final. “Vernon, I am an idiot that always thought you didn’t feel the way I did so I did everything I could to hide it. But I like you, I really, really do, and I’m sorry I never let it show.” There’s another word for how you feel, but you aren’t quite brave enough to use it yet, even if it’s what you really mean to say.

Vernon leans closer, pressing his forehead against yours. “We really are dumb, huh?”

“I can already hear Jihoon’s gloating.”

“He’s been nagging you too?” Vernon groans softly but the smile never leaves his lips. “He’s going to be insufferable.”

You’ve grown used to silences with Vernon. Sometimes they are painful, like when he tells a joke and only you laugh. Usually they’re peaceful, comfortable silences that can only exist between two people that have nothing left to say but stay together anyways. But this silence is heavy, a weight on your shoulders pushing you to do something, move closer. You’ve known him your whole life but this is foreign territory.

His breath kisses your lips again and this time you have the bravery to lean forward, just a little. His lips are soft, bottom lip chapped a little more than the top but it is warm and it feels like a first and thousandth at the same time, like unlocking the door to a house you know you’ll spend the rest of your life in. Your mind floats farther and farther away, in some place of impossible happiness that can’t quite believe that this is real.

A soft cry from somewhere to your left brings you back to earth. You pull away at the same time he does, glancing at the backseat. Right. The kittens. You glance at Vernon, whose mouth is still a little open, eyes wide and flustered. It makes you want to kiss him all over again but you settle for laughing.

“I guess we should go inside,” he says, leaning away from you though he doesn’t turn his back yet.

“We should get them settled,” you say, glancing at the carrier again.

Vernon nods, opening his door and grabbing the heavy box, pausing by the entrance to the building to wait for you to grab the carrier. Silence falls again as you ride the elevator up but you’re more than familiar with it.

It doesn’t take long to settle Pinky and the kittens, not when Vernon already had a room set up for them. He figures there’s been enough stress for the day and they should get some peace and space to relax, so you stretch out on the couch, taking your usual corner. Vernon sits next to you, the inch of space separating you feeling like a mile.

Vernon glances at you, chewing on his lip before asking, “You’ll stay?”

“Always.”

The grin that splits his face has you swooning all over again, so when he throws an arm over your shoulder, leaning into your side, your brain fully stops functioning. You have to will thoughts into existence, which is silly because it’s Vernon and he’s done this a million times. But when you tuck your head onto his shoulder and he kisses the top of this head, you know everything is different. And exactly how you want it.

“You’re definitely going to adopt Fried,” you say.

His laughter bounces you. “No way.”

“It’s Fried or Muffin. You can’t handle their cuteness, I saw you baby talking at them.”

“I'll stay strong.”

“What if I want a kitten?”

Vernon doesn’t hesitate. “Egg is pretty cute.”

“Sucker.”

“Only for you.”

thank you for reading <3

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rubyreduji · 1 year

Text

The Valentine's Day Date — hvc

summary: the guys are determined to find vernon a date for valentine’s day

tags: fluff, college!au, gn!reader wc: 2.8k an: i don’t personally have a v-day date so i get to write abt kpop boys instead lol. this whole story is just brain vomit so it probably doesn’t make sense or anything and that’s okay lol i hope you still like it

“So Vernon, what are your plans in two weeks?”

“Two weeks?” Vernon looks up from his spot on the couch to his roommate who is staring at him expectantly.

“Valentine’s Day? It’s in a few days. Do you have plans?” Jeonghan continues to press.

“No? Why would I have plans?”

“Because I have plans and need you out of the apartment,” Jeonghan says and Vernon finally gets it. “Preferably until morning.”

“Until morning? What am I supposed to do?” Vernon finally turns his full attention to Jeonghan. It’s a well known fact in their friend group that Vernon is the “Single One” out of them and on top of that he likes to spend time with at home rather than going out.

“I don’t know, maybe go on a date? It is going to be Valentine’s Day.” Jeonghan just shrugs and walks away, his business settled. Vernon just huffs and sinks further into the couch. Some roommate he has.

“I heard you were on the lookout for a date for Valentine’s Day,” Seungkwan opens with as he sits down next to his best friend in the dining hall.

“Jeonghan wants me to find a date so I can get out of the apartment for him. I’m probably just going to spend the night in the studio or the library or something.”

“The studio? The library? Since when have you turned into Jihoon and Wonwoo? Let me help you find a date. It will be fun,” Seungkwan says.

“I don’t know Kwan…”

“It will be perfect I promise!” With that Seungkwan jumps up and runs off, despite just sitting down moments before. Vernon shakes his head.

He loves his friends, he really does, but he doesn’t see what the big deal is. Valentine’s Day is a day for people who are already dating, not for single guys like him. It’s been years since Vernon has even gone on a real date. He’s not sure what to do or say or wear or if he even wants to date anyone.

He can’t remember the last crush he even had. He’s been busy with classes and work and music. No one had caught his eye recently either. Sure he thinks people are cute, like the guy who serves him coffee on Tuesday mornings, or the girl who sits behind him in Music Theory, but that’s just aesthetic attraction. He’s fine with Jeonghan wanting the apartment alone, but he doesn’t get why everyone is now so determined to get him a date as well.

What happens if he doesn’t like them? Or the date goes terrible? He doesn’t want to ruin some poor person’s night.

“Hey Hansol.” Vernon turns to see you taking the seat next to his.

“Oh hey Y/N.” You two share a couple classes. Your majors overlap quite a few courses. You’re one of the only people who call him Hansol, just because that’s how he introduced himself freshman year before he started to go by his middle name.

“Are you okay?” You ask and Vernon gives you a strange look back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. You just look a bit…troubled? Sorry, I don’t know if that’s rude to say.” Vernon likes you. You’re quick to the point but still considerate of others. You have good ideas but still make sure to consider Vernon’s less good ideas. Vernon wouldn’t call you his friend, but probably just the step below.

“Oh, no, I’m fine. My friends are just prying into my life.” Vernon lets out a huff. “They want me to find a date for Valentine’s.”

“Oh. Do you not want a date?”

“Not really? I’m just not big on going out. It’s also been a while since I’ve been on a date so I wouldn’t even know what to do. I mean Valentine’s Day is just another day when you’re single,” Vernon tells you.

“I don’t think so. Anyone can enjoy Valentine’s Day, because well, everyone deserves love. It doesn’t have to be romantic. Platonic love and self life are just as important,” you explain. “I make my friends treats for Valentine’s Day and then usually do something for me in the evening.”

Vernon’s never really thought of it that way. Maybe that’s why he likes you. You just bring a pleasant energy everywhere you go.

“Anyways,” you start again. “I sat down to ask you if you were in class yesterday. I had to miss and was wondering what we went over.”

Now that Vernon thinks about it, yeah you weren’t in class. “Oh yeah. The professor basically just rambled on for the whole class.” Vernon spends the rest of his lunch catching you up in class and letting himself forget about the date.

“I think I’ve found you a date!” Vernon’s not sure how all of his friends have heard about this date thing but they have and now all twelve of them are in the search for him. Whether he wants them to or not.

This is the fourth option that they’ve brought up in the past two days. Vernon just stares at Mingyu, waiting for him to continue his nonsense.

“There’s this person in my marketing class. They’re real pretty, has fluffy brown hair and smooth looking skin.”

“Anything else?” Vernon is getting tired of these vague descriptions of people who he’s never met. You’d think his friends could at least talk about their personalities or something that would interest Vernon.

“Guys, the search is over!” Jeonghan says as he walks into the room. “Vernon I bagged you a date with the most wanted bachelorette on campus. Eight o’clock you’re going to go pick her up and take her out for dinner, and after that maybe she’ll invite you back to her place if you know what I mean. I get laid, you get laid, all is well.”

“The most wanted bachelorette?” Vernon doesn’t even want to touch on the fact that Jeonghan made the date without even consulting with Vernon first.

“Yep! You know Haerin? That’s your date.” Jeonghan looks proud of himself as he looks over at Vernon. Vernon doesn’t feel as excited.

He knows who Haerin is. Nothing against her, she’s just not particularly his type. She’s pretty but her personality isn’t as much and in the few interactions they’ve had, it seems they have nothing to talk about. Vernon can’t cancel the date now that it’s made though. Especially not on Valentine’s Day. Vernon doesn’t say anything to Jeonghan as he gets up to go to class.

When he walks in he notices that you’re here today, sitting where you normally do with two of your friends. Or at least Vernon thinks you guys are friends, you always sit next to each other in class and talk.

Vernon kind of wants to tell you about the date. He’s not sure why. To complain to someone who’s not in his friend group? Because you two were discussing it the other day? Maybe Vernon just wants a reason to talk to you. He wouldn’t mind becoming actual friends with you.

Class starts though and Vernon has to take his seat. He forgets he even wanted to speak with you until it’s almost the end of class and the professor is telling everyone to get into pairs of two. Vernon’s eyes scan the class. He’s not really friends with anyone here, but then he glances towards you. Your eyes meet his just at the right moment and you smile at him and he nods.

You grab your things before moving to where he’s sitting. “Thanks. Those two wanted to be partners so I was hoping I’d find someone else I can tolerate.”

“Well I’m glad I’m tolerable,” Vernon chuckles. “Speaking of tolerable, you know that uh, Valentine’s Day date I was talking about the other day?” You nod. “My roommate set me up with someone. Haerin.”

“Cho Haerin?” You look a bit surprised.

“Yeah. I’m honestly still not that excited about it, I was kind of expecting to spend the night in the library, but I still want to give her a good night. Have some fun at least,” Vernon says.

“That’s nice of you,” you hum. “Now how do you want to split up this project?”

It turns out that you also share a couple classes with Jihoon as well so Vernon finds himself sitting in the studio with both of you as you and Jihoon go over classwork you were given. You’re discussing lyric analysis about some love songs your professor gave you.

“These songs are so cheesy,” Jihoon complains.

“I think it’s cute,” you reply back as you jot something down in your notebook. “What do you think Hansol?”

“About what?”

“Love songs.”

“Oh. I don’t know, it depends on the song. They’re not really the genre I listen to though,” Vernon replies.

“If things go well with Haerin, who knows,” Jihoon teases. “Maybe you’ll become an everyday love song fanatic.”

Vernon rolls his eyes. He’s honestly tired hearing about his Valentine’s Day plans with Haerin. Jeonghan made all of the preparations, all he actually has to do is show up.

“Y/N what are your plans for Valentine’s Day?” Jihoon turns to you.

“Me? Oh I don’t have any plans. I’m probably just going to watch a movie in my apartment or something,” you say with a shrug. “I’ll go get discount candies the day after.”

“Maybe we’ll have to set you up with a date too,” Jihoon says.

You snort. “Yeah I think I’m good. Anyways what are your plans Jihoon? Sitting your studio all day?”

“Haha,” Jihoon deadpans. “For your information I have a date.”

That starts a conversation with you and Jihoon (mostly you teasing him) and Vernon sits and watches. Recently he’s been spending more time with you and he wonders why you two haven’t been closer before. You’re easy to be around and you flow well with all of his friends. Vernon’s not a very social person so he doesn’t make many friends outside of the ones he has, but he’s glad you two are getting closer. It’s also nice to be around people who aren’t his normal twelve friends who are more bothersome than anything.

It’s been a while since Vernon’s clicked so quickly with someone but you two just make sense. Vernon thinks about how you mentioned friendships are also an important factor in people’s lives and it makes him grateful to have you.

So all that friendship Vernon was thinking about the other day? Bullshit.

Vernon has a fat fucking crush on you and now it’s Valentine’s Day and he has a date with someone else.

It really hit him out of nowhere. You two were in your apartment, watching a movie, when you started to hum along with the soundtrack and Vernon realized he…really enjoyed it. Not just your humming but just you in general. He gets that it’s cheesy and ridiculous and that he’s everything but a romantic but he’s somehow fallen for you in the matter of two weeks and it’s driving him crazy.

“Hansol.” Vernon looks up to see you staring at him from across the table. “I asked you a question.” You two are working on your project together in one of the music buildings on campus.

“Sorry, what was it?”

“You’re distracted,” you say, instead of repeating your question. “Is it about your date tonight?”

“Uhm, yeah.” Technically he’s not lying. “Sorry, I know I should be working on the project.”

“No it’s okay, I get your mind is somewhere else. So what are the plans for your date tonight? You haven’t talked about it much.”

“I’m supposed to take her out for dinner and then afterward we’ll probably go see a late night movie or something.” Vernon doesn’t feel very comfortable sharing this information with you but he doesn’t want to be rude either.

“That sounds fun. Are you excited? Nervous?”

“Uhm…I’m not sure. I’m kind of just doing this for Jeonghan but I still want to let Haerin have a good night, you know.”

“You’re a good guy Hansol. What you’re doing is very sweet,” you smile at him.

Vernon doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get how you can be so sweet and perfect and supportive but not see how miserable he is on the inside. He has half the mind to just tell you now and cancel the date with Haerin. The only hold back is…you’re right. He’s too good of a guy to do that to her.

“We should get back to work,” Vernon says to you and you drop the subject, happy to get back on task.

It’s not until a few hours later when you two have taken your third break of the day and are now talking about PopTart flavors when you look down at your phone.

“I think you have somewhere to be,” you tell him before turns your phone to show it’s 6:00.

Vernon sighs. He knows. There’s no chance he can stand up the Cho Haerin, but a part of him also doesn’t want to part with you. He wishes he could just spend the whole night with you.

“I’ll finish this up later, don’t worry about me,” you continue. Vernon’s not worried about you, rather himself.

Vernon slowly packs up himself with the hopes he can stall a bit longer, maybe even walk out with you. You on the other hand are quickly packing up your things. “Hey Y/N-”

“Have a good night Hansol,” you cut him off, not hearing him. You give Vernon’s arm a quick squeeze before leaving the room.

Vernon huffs and continues packing up his things so he can rush home and get ready, trying his best not to think about you as he does.

Haerin is…nice. She’s nice, but she’s also very much not his type. He’s not sure why she agreed to go out with him because ever since he picked her up she seems to be uninterested. She’s polite but not much engagement beyond that.

“So, what are you thinking about getting?” Vernon asks her as they look over the menu.

“I’m not sure,” she mutters. She shifts in her seat and looks down at her phone for maybe the fifth time since they’ve sat down.

Vernon sighs. “You know, you don’t have to be here if you don’t want to be.”

“Could you really tell?” Haerin asks, guilt written all over her face.

“A little bit. It’s okay I also don’t exactly want to be here either. No offense.”

“No, none taken at all. Jeonghan and I are friends and he asked me to go out on this date when really all I wanted to do was go out with my friends and I felt bad saying no so-”

“You don’t have to explain anymore,” Vernon chuckles lightly. “You’re free to go, don’t worry about me at all.”

Haerin just smiles at him and they quickly tell the waiter they don’t need to order and leave. Vernon drops Haerin off at the club where his friends are. When she’s out of the car Vernon sighs. He can’t go back to his apartment, so what should he do?

He’s tempted to just call you up and ask if you are free, but he decides against it. Instead he drives to the campus and pulls up to the library. Thankfully their library has 24 hour study rooms that he can hide in until morning.

Vernon parks his car and grabs his backpack from his back seat before heading in and settling down at a table. He pulls up the project you two were working on only to find you finished it earlier. Of course you did, you’re said you would.

Vernon’s wracking his brain on what he can do to pass time when he hears someone approaching. When he looks up his heart flutters a bit.

“Hi.” There you are, standing in front of him with a bag of food in one hand and your backpack slung over your shoulder.

“Uhm, hi.”

You move so you can set the food and your bag down before taking the open seat across from Vernon. “I was hoping you’d be here. Not that I was hoping your date with Haerin would go bad but…well I kind of did.”

“You did?”

“I like you Hansol. I have for a while honestly so I was super happy when we started to get close but then you were going on your date with Haerin but you didn’t seem excited so when you said that you were originally planning on being in the library all night I was hoping you’d just call off the date and come and well I didn’t want you to be alone on Valentine’s Day so-”

“Y/N,” Vernon cuts off your rambling, “You brought this food for me?”

“Yeah. I was hoping we could just…have a date here. That is if you don’t mind me being your date tonight.”

“No, of course not, I don’t mind at all.” Vernon reaches across the table and grabs your hand in his. “I’m actually very happy it’s you,” he assures you, and he swears the smile you shoot him lights up the whole room. Maybe Jeonghan was right about finding a Valentine’s Day date.

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winterwallacehenderson · 8 days

Text

SEVENTEEN members as songs from ttpd (from the first drop)

s.coups- i can do it with a broken heart

starting off slightly sad but he’s a real tough kid and he can definitely handle anything.

i think I saw an edit of him somewhere to this and cried

i’m seriously so proud of him always

taylor did write this for all the eldest daughters/ siblings

just super coups coded

jeonghan- fortnight ft. post malone

“your wife waters flowers i want to kill her” peak jeonghan vibes. he would commit a crime for funsies <3

also “i love you, it’s ruining my life” because man did he def ruin my life

tell me one jeonghan fan who’s mentally stable, we’re all a little crazy (myself included)

insanity and everything packed in one fr

joshua- fresh out the slammer

HE IS THE PRETTIEST BABY EVER OKAY

i too would go to jail for him

i’d also never lose my baby again

honestly him and jeonghan are both interchangeable, they’re both pretty and insane

OH! and i’d also disappear for a glimpse of his smile like fr fr my joshy :((((

jun- the tortured poets department

who’s gonna know him and love him if not me??

we’re also modern idiots and slightly crazy

OH! also the bridge is so junnie coded like honestly anything he does makes me feel like my heart will explode so

junnie is everything in this song minus the tats and drugs he's my precious boy <3

hoshi- but daddy i love him

the way i’d actually scream this song for him

also the vibes are so hoshi like im 90% sure he’d vibe with this song so hard

especially when she says "im having his baby no im not" he's ijboling right then and there

idk man it’s just so hoshi and i would definitely fight my dad for him

wonwoo- loml

he is actually so loml coded

like soft, played in a piano kind vibes

especially nana tour wonu

just very soft

he’s the love of my life and loss of my life as well because there’s actually no man that’s ever gonna be like him, ruined men for me

woozi- down bad

are we like actually surprised tho? that's my fav song and he is my fav boy

this man is literally so down bad coded

i’ve been singing and thinking of him like fuck it if I can’t have him, but i will definitely die not like tis gonna make a difference

IM LIKE SO IN LOVE WITH HIM OH MY GOD

also crying at the gym = lee jihoon (in reference to that one t-shirt he wore during caratland 2023)

minghao- so long, london

not the lyrical but mostly the vibes

this song is kinda calming to me in a way and it feels so hao like

also it reminds me hai cheng in a way maybe because of all the ship metaphors

i also feel like he’s appreciated the sadness in this song

he has that certain same whimsy as this song

mingyu- guilty as sin?

GUILTY AS SIN IS HIS SONG OKAY?!?!?

I WILL CHOOSE HIM AND ME RELIGIOUSLY ANYDAY

physically feeling sick how that bridge is literally so mingyu coded like holy fuck like gonna crucify me anyways? the way you hold me is actually what's holy??? its literally him

truly the best way to die is loving him

okay i’ll stop here before I die, he is just so <3

dokyeom- who’s afraid of little old me?

simply because he is such a nice person and such a lovely soul i worry people might take him for granted

the industry does not give him enough credit for him vocals like they should be scared of him he can eat up any vocalist in seconds

like they should be afraid of him that he's so goofy and silly

also the musical vibes here truly a kyeomie song

seungkwan- the alchemy

ALL THOSE SPORTS REFERENCE ARE FOR HIM!!!

my babiest boy ever

“where’s the trophy? he just comes running over to me” I CANNOT PUT ENOUGH EMPHASIS HOW SEUNGKWAN THIS IS

my heart will truly always be reserved for him

also he did make the strongest comeback fr

vernon- florida!!!

honestly, vernon’s favourite song here would be florida like fr

it’s just so vernon

he’d like eat up the featured and the beat right when she screams florida!!!!

13/10 would plan a trip to florida and brag how he's been to two places wtny and florida

the vibes are just so vernon fr idk what else to say

dino- clara bow

future of kpop, need I say more?

he’s like all the past legends but more better?

kinda like how she talks about it in the song, with the next being slightly better than the previous and yk what they've been through and stuff

and how dino is also called the future of kpop because he's so amazing

“the future’s bright, dazzling” so real like that’s literally about the future of kpop

anyways that's my take <33 I might do a part 2 with the second drop songs (no promises!!)

you can also find this thread on my twt here.

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eoieopda · 2 months

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svt as attorneys

this was partly inspired by this tiktok. i’m a trial attorney irl and wanted to chime in with my personal headcanons based on the kind of counsel i frequently deal with. for legal reasons, this is a joke.

seungcheol & jihoon — watch out for these two. they’re going to be unassuming & agreeable during pre-trial hearings, and they may even give off the impression that they’re each just a lil fella 🤏🏻 in a big courtroom, but when trial comes around? x-games mode. seriously, who the fuck is that monster, and where has he been until now? even if you win, you’re gonna stumble out of the courthouse with 1% of your life force left.

jeonghan & minghao — the most infuriating thing about them is that they don’t put on much of a case at all?? they just?? gaslight their way through it?? they manage to grab hold of a single, relatively insignificant thread, and they pull and pull and pull until your immaculately structured argument completely unravels. with just a crumb of effort, they have manipulated the jury and ruined your life. rip, diva. it was a good run.

joshua & mingyu — they reek of “big law”. they both come from some giant, (inter)national firm (probably founded by a family member), and you know what? they don’t even really practice your specific area of law. it doesn’t matter. they’re well-dressed, extremely charming, and the jury doesn’t care that they’re talking circular nonsense because their eyes are so sparkly. and because their retainers/fees a) are astronomical and b) aren’t contingent, their only real goal is to make the judge fall in love with them. they succeed. in fact, they’re going golfing together next weekend 😔

junhui — sorry to this man, but he’s either asleep at the counsel table, or he’s secretly playing fruit ninja on his phone underneath said table (people still play this in the year of our lord, 2024??). he doesn’t do a thing during trial itself but will come out with the most aggressive and dramatic closing arguments you’ve ever heard before dipping out without another word. you never see him again, and you’re not even sure if he’s actually real.

soonyoung & seokmin — they’re the type to walk into the attorney conference room outside the courtroom and ask you what the case is about/who their client is. they’ve each absolutely slipped up and called the judge/magistrate “your majesty”. they have no idea what’s going on, and for some reason, you can’t even be mad at them for their incompetence? because they’re just so likable as people? do not hire these men. if you have hired one of these men, fire him immediately, and ask him to get your case file out of his base model kia rio (where he’s kept it & forgotten about it) and give it back to you, expeditiously.

wonwoo & vernon — these big-brained motherfuckers have no pulse. they’re absolutely unflappable. they never raise their voice, never react with more than a nod or a thoughtful “aaah”. they’re silent killers, though; and they’ll blow your shit up without emoting once. their reactions to getting an acquittal or preventing a multi-million dollar award in damages? “wow 😐”

seungkwan & chan — the “true believers”, 100%. they’re junior attorneys with a lot to prove. unlike most attorneys who argue their client’s position, these two fully, personally assume it. even if their client is batshit insane, they’re completely on board; they both can and will die on this hill. (ex: “your honor, the meth lab in my client’s house was created and operated by the unnamed man who lives in his truck in the woods out back. my client had no idea it was in his kitchen. look deeply into his eyes, past the glassiness, and see his innocence!”). they’ll each argue and argue and argue until they walk out hoarse, and when they lose (not due to lack of ability but because their overzealousness scares the jury), they’ll probably cry in their car in the parking lot 😕

#seventeen #svt #svt headcanons #svt imagines

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drunk-on-dk · 1 year

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Heart Out in the City | Chwe Hansol (m)

✦pairing: stranger!vernon x fem!reader

✦genre: pwp (~half plot/half smut not sure tho), SMUT (minors dni), themes of loneliness

✦w/c: ~2.0k

✦summary: Inevitably, you aren't alone in the city when strangers come and go each day, especially when Vernon and you connect after running into each other so often at the local cafe.

NSFW warnings under the cut, minors do not read, 18+ only

✦c/w: themes of loneliness, strangers to lovers, no pronouns used but female anatomy; unprotected sex (safe sex is important, we kind of skip over that in here); cockwarming; grinding; no clear roles, but reader rides Vernon; maybe a bit of a voice kink; creampie!

✦a/n: Just a little fic/drabble i had started writing a bit ago to try and mix up my style of writing and get my brain going, not much dialogue and it isn't too long, but as always please share any feedback!! thank you for reading <3

There was something so melancholic yet hopeful about living in the city alone. Surrounded by hundreds – thousands - of people moving about their daily life, blissfully unaware of each passerby, allowing you to move freely through the city streets and leading you to friendships you may not necessarily be seeking at the time. Albeit, the hustle and bustle of the city can be quite lonely, friends come and go with different opportunities, thus in the end always leaving you to your own small studio apartment high up in the clouds.

However, there was comfort in the haziness of the city sky at night, like a fuzzy blanket that tucked you in, and the stars and moon served as a natural nightlight. You didn’t mind being lonely, not when there was a sense of safety and alikeness to it. Maybe there was something cozy about being alone, especially when you knew that there were others just like you in surrounding apartments. Occasionally, you’d watch as lights would turn off for the night in adjacent, scattered apartments, a singular window framing those who occupied them and going through an akin nighttime routine as you. Though you were alone in your apartment, you were never alone in the city.

Similarly, there was consolation in sitting near a stranger at the local cafe; though you came solo, you were still with others. As always, you’d briefly observe those around you before pulling out your laptop, the soft bob of the stranger’s head as he listened to the music blaring from his chunky headphones soothed you and helped you focus on your work.

There was a stranger with headphones that frequented the café as often as you did. Undeniably, you felt this pull to him each time he arrived at the shop. He must have felt it too, always casually sitting across from you with his americano in stow, head lulling to the beat of his music, and concentrating on whatever he was reading on his phone. You never felt the need to introduce yourself, not wanting to ruin whatever you had done that made him feel safe to coexist with you.

However, one day when you spotted his name, Vernon, written on the cardboard sleeve of his cup, you couldn’t deny the giddiness you felt bubbling up inside of you. Admittedly, he was handsome and exuded a charm that you couldn't quite place, so of course you were elated to know the most normal detail about this mystery person that you happened to see so frequently.

Every couple of days you would see him at the café, consistently sitting near one another yet never introducing yourselves. Sneakily, you’d begin to turn your cup in whatever direction he was sitting in, making sure he caught your name on your cup eventually.

“Pretty name,” he mentioned nonchalantly one day, sitting down at the table next to you and dropping his backpack in the seat adjacent to him.

It was hard to stop what felt like a wildfire blazing over your cheeks, stuttering out a “thank you” in response and attempting to hide behind your laptop. He didn’t pay it any mind, only offering a hum in response with the slightest upward turn of his lips before pulling his own laptop out.

You could feel your heart pounding, thrilled that he dared to speak to you first. You didn’t dare to waste this opportunity, choking out a stupid question to keep the conversation rolling, “what’s your name?”

A soft chuckle breezes past his lips, a smirk appearing when he points to the sleeve of his cup, “it’s Vernon, but something tells me you may have known that already.”

Admittedly, you like his banter, “touché, I’ve been caught red-handed. Otherwise, nice to officially meet you, Vernon.”

“Ditto.”

It’s a brief, simple conversation, really, but it is enough to make your heart soar for the rest of the day. Especially when Vernon leaves the café, bidding you goodbye with a bob of his head and a slight wave of his hand, pulling his headphones to the side to make sure he hears the goodbye that you blubber in response.

Days go on and you would continue to see Vernon at the same café, but now you two are a bit more friendly. Vernon would occasionally ask you questions here and there; sometimes they were simple questions just to spark conversation, or even expand to something that requires a bit more thought and effort from you. Whether that question entails if you knew what the weather was like for the evening, or if you had the time to proofread a report that he is writing for one of his university courses, claiming that you looked studious yourself when you shot him a dubious look.

The next time he sees you he buys you a coffee, which of course you adamantly deny, but he claims it’s the least he can do when you helped him get an A on his last assignment. Call it flattery, but it worked tremendously well on you, cheeks and ears flaring up like they would back in middle school.

Vernon provided you a sense of warmth in the cold, fast-paced city. He was simple, easy-going, and even-keeled. Something about seeing Vernon in this little café almost every other day was enough to keep you sane, realizing that maybe you were a bit lonelier than you had thought, but Vernon was the presence you needed. You yearned to see him, even if it meant that you two wouldn’t even talk, it was just nice to have him around. Odd how a stranger can become someone so familiar and safe, the forced proximity of the city and desire to meet people only proves that living downtown isn’t so solitary after all.

One day when the rain came bucketing down, Vernon was your savior to no surprise. Offering to walk you back to your apartment upon clear signs that the rain had no intentions of slowing down, Vernon pulled his miniature black umbrella out of the depths of his backpack. He made sure to keep you covered the entire way home, also offering you an earbud of his to listen to his playlist that he had curated for days like this.

Vernon had walked you right up to your apartment entrance, gentle fingers reaching for the earbud and brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face. Whether it was intentional or not, right then and there, you knew you didn’t want to be alone anymore. At least not for tonight.

You refused to be alone, not when you could have Vernon on your couch, lights dimmed with the soft flickering from the muted TV in the background. You weren’t sure how it all happened so fast, maybe it was the desperate need to actually feel connected to someone for once, but you couldn’t deny the pull you had felt to Vernon in a short amount of time. The TV and both of your clothing were long forgotten after you found yourself speared on Vernon’s cock, relishing in how he crumbled and squirmed beneath each time you’d experimentally clench your walls around his length.

“Feel s’good, Vernon,” you let out a breathless gasp into his neck, loving the way his jaw falls slack when you run kisses from his ear all the way down to his collarbone. At this point, you’ve been sitting on Vernon for God knows how long, allowing him to fill you to the brim while you two kissed and nibbled at each other’s skin. You couldn't remember a time when you had cockwarmed for this long, but it was slowly becoming addicting. Having Vernon buried so deep inside of you had you dizzy with each pulse of his cock.

“Please,” his voice comes out strangled, hands and fingernails digging into the skin on your hips as he tries to coax you to move. You can feel the grumble of his chest when he lets out a groan after a cautious rock of your hips, grinding your clit against his pelvic bone and pulling a sigh from you as well. “Please keep moving, Y/N.”

Honestly, you were on a bit of a power trip having him under you like this. It was mesmerizing how his features would twist in pleasure at each slow rock and circle of your hips, your walls only clenching him tighter making his head fall back in bliss and sending shivers down your spine as his hands thoroughly explore every inch of your body.

Vernon lacked all self-restraint at this point, pussy-drunk and hungry for a taste of you. He pulls himself together to finally crash his lips against yours, teeth nipping desperately at your lips even though you immediately grant him access. Shockingly, you feel his hips buck up into yours, pulling a loud gasp from you when the tip of his head hits the spongey spot inside of you, reigniting the fiery burn of pleasure in your core.

The feeling of Vernon grinding his hips up into yours has you gripping his shoulders for support, fingers nails digging into his delicate skin and likely leaving evidence of you. You’re a moaning mess, head falling into his neck as he continues to bury his cock even deeper inside of you, feeling so incredibly full and connected to him.

“Ride me,” Vernon moves your hair out of the way to whisper into your ear. His voice is so incredibly raspy and sexy, you wish he would just keep repeating himself at this point.

“God,” you moan out, lifting up ever so slightly only to drop down to fill yourself to the brim with him again. “When you sound like that, I don’t think I could stop myself.”

He sounds even better than you would have ever imagined, hoarse grunts escaping him with each fall of your hips as you begin to ride him, bouncing up and down on his cock with fervent desire.

Vernon’s hands are everywhere, running down your back until he’s squeezing your ass, guiding you to grind into him and take him deeper. Your sounds are harmonic at this point, his groans and your whines melding together as you both lead each other closer to that feeling of euphoria. You cry out even louder when Vernon pulls one of your nipples into his mouth; the feeling is so warm and shocking when you’re already overwhelmed by having him all over and in you.

Fucked out beyond belief as you ride his cock, you feel your legs begin to quiver with each bounce, the coil inside of you becoming unbearably hot and ready to snap as your arousal builds.

Vernon must be able to tell, “don’t you dare stop, ride me until you cum all over my cock,” his voice is still so rough and quiet, only egging you on. You’re nodding desperately, becoming messier with each circle and drop of your hips.

Your legs go numb when Vernon’s thumb begins to circle your clit, the pleasure overbearing the burn you feel in your thighs as he pulls an orgasm from you. The two of you are even louder now, his moans only making your orgasm even more intense while your walls continue to spasm around him. Vernon is keening into you, working you through your entire high, and making sure to memorize the loud, wonton cries that escape you from above him.

Unable to hold his own release back any longer, Vernon fills you with his seed after one last, rough thrust from him. You can feel his white, hot cum fill you when you clench around him especially tight, his hands pulling you down against him even closer as he loses himself to your body.

You both stay like this for a while, enjoying the sentiment of being intertwined and connected so deeply. Vernon only pulls his softened length out after you both begin to doze to sleep, gently helping clean you up and rejoining where you lay on the couch.

It’s impractical, really, to have both of you laid on your couch together, but neither of you desires the space.

Maybe you were both what each other needed at the time, filling the void that the city left on everyone, and yearning to feel true human connection rather than settling for the false sense of company. It was an inevitable bond that only those who put their heart out could feel.

Even if you were unsure of how long this feeling may last, it was worth putting your heart out in the city, especially when someone like Vernon came into your life.

#svthub #vernon smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #vernon chwe smut #chwe vernon smut #hansol smut

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