#Choi Hansol

[woozinhos]

vernon gives the vibe of someone who LOVES eating pussy. i would love if u wrote a lil fic where vernon comes just from eating u out so doesn’t even want/need to fuck u

Notes: I’m backkk hope you enjoy this one!!

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

You and Vernon were in your bedroom, the air thick with tension and anticipation. He had you pinned down on the bed, his body pressed against yours as he kissed you hungrily.

"I've been thinking about this all day," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck. "I couldn't concentrate on anything else." You moaned softly as his hands roamed over your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He was already hard, his desire for you evident through his jeans. Vernon continued to kiss and suck on your neck, leaving a trail of hickeys as he made his way down to your chest.

He reached up and pulled off your shirt, his eyes roaming over your bare skin with appreciation. Vernon moved lower, his lips trailing down your stomach until he reached the waistband of your panties. He looked up at you with a hungry gaze, his eyes dark with desire.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his fingers tracing the lacey edge of your panties. "I can't get enough of you." He kissed the fabric gently, his tongue darting out to tease you through the thin material. You moan again, arching your back as he continued to tease you with his mouth. Vernon was relentless, his tongue working its way under the fabric of your panties and exploring your most sensitive areas. He groaned against you, his hands gripping your thighs as he held you in place.

"You taste so good," he said, his voice muffled against your skin. "I could do this all day." He pulled your panties down and threw them aside, exposing you fully to his hungry gaze. He leaned in and buried his face between your legs, his tongue swirling around your clit in a way that made you gasp and writhe beneath him. You could feel the heat building up inside you as Vernon continued to eat you out, his tongue working in perfect harmony with his lips and fingers. He knew exactly how to drive you wild, and he was doing it with ease.

"Oh, Vernon," you moaned, your hands gripping the sheets as you struggled to keep yourself from bucking against his face. "I'm so close..." Vernon hummed against you, the vibrations sending shivers through your body. He slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right as he continued to suck on your clit. Vernon's own arousal was growing by the second, and he couldn't help but grind his hips against the bed as he continued to pleasure you. The sounds of your moans and gasps were driving him wild, and he was desperate for release.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his voice hoarse with need. "You're driving me crazy." He increased the pace of his fingers, pumping them in and out of you as he sucked harder on your clit. He was so hard that it was almost painful, his jeans feeling impossibly tight against his throbbing erection. You could see the bulge in Vernon's jeans, and you knew he was struggling to hold back. You reached down and grabbed his hair, pulling him closer to you as you neared your climax.

"Don't stop," you panted, your body shaking with pleasure. "I'm gonna cum..." Vernon didn't need any more encouragement. He doubled his efforts, his fingers working faster and harder as he pushed you over the edge. You cried out his name as you came, your body convulsing with pleasure.

Vernon couldn't get enough of you, and as he watched you come down from your high, he knew he wasn't done yet. He couldn't stop himself from continuing to eat you out, his tongue moving in a frenzy as he chased his own release. Vernon's moans mixed with yours as he continued to grind against the bed, his body trembling with need. He was so close to the edge, but he didn't want to stop tasting you.

"I'm gonna cum in my pants," he groaned, his voice muffled against you. "I can't hold it anymore." Vernon tried to hide his orgasm, but it was too late. He let out a deep, guttural moan as he came, his cum soaking through his boxers and staining the front of his jeans.

He slumped forward, panting heavily as he tried to catch his breath. "Damn it," he muttered, looking down at the mess he had made. "I didn't mean to do that."You looked up at Vernon, a mixture of surprise and amusement on your face. "Looks like you enjoyed yourself," you teased, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of his face.

Vernon chuckled weakly, still trying to recover from his intense orgasm. "Yeah, I did," he admitted, blushing slightly. "But I didn't mean to ruin my pants." You giggle and reach out to caress his cheek. "It's okay, baby," you say soothingly. "You can always take them off." Vernon's blush deepens, and he looks down at you with a sheepish grin. "I guess I should have thought of that before I came all over myself," he joked.

[vcrnons]

as a wise man once said, our golden kiwi !

fancam used with permission. original poster @/winterkyulboo on twt.

[hoshifighting]

Hear me out. Shy Vernon Hansol Chwe with little to no confidence hopelessly in love, full on crushing, with a girl who's already his girlfriend but he just can't help it but be smitten. So he shows it by slow love making

shy bf!vernon, hopelessly in luv!vernon 🥺

a/n; omgggg stawwwp, i love him sm, he's the best bf ever!! i feel it 😭

warnings: smut, fluff, love making.

shy, nervous vernon with those soft, fluttering eyes of his always looks like he’s on the verge of saying something but never quite does. he’s so in love with you, hopelessly, it’s almost ridiculous, considering you’re already his girlfriend. but that’s just hansol—he doesn’t stop being that awkward, sweet guy just because you’re together now. if anything, he’s even more enamored.

and tonight, you see it in the way his hands slide over your skin, slow and hesitant at first, like he’s still not entirely sure he’s allowed to touch you this way. you’re lying on the bed, the room dark, soft breaths filling the quiet space. vernon’s leaning over you, his hair falling slightly into his eyes, lips parted like he wants to say something but can’t quite form the words.

his fingertips trail down your arm, brushing lightly over your skin, and you can see the way his chest rises and falls, as if he’s trying to steady himself. he’s shy, always has been, but also always had those eyes—deepe, that shows in every movement, in every look he gives you, that he's obsessed with you, and looks at you more than you think he does.

you reach up and touch his face, cupping his cheek softly, your thumb brushing over his bottom lip. he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering closed for a second, and when he opens them again, they’re filled with something so soft and tender it makes your heart skip.

“i just… i don’t even know how to say this without sounding dumb,” he mumbles, voice barely above a whisper as he leans down to kiss you, slow and sweet. it’s like he’s afraid of rushing things, afraid of breaking the delicate moment between you two. “i just love u so much, it’s kinda stupid.”

you giggle softly, tugging him down closer, your lips brushing his. “not stupid at all,” you whisper back, your hands sliding up to his hair, pulling him in for another kiss. he melts into it, his whole body leaning into yours as he deepens the kiss, still moving slow.

“i know,” he murmurs against your lips, his breath warm and shaky, “but i can’t help it. it’s just—sometimes i feel like i don’t even deserve you. you’re… you’re just everything. you make me feel everything.”

you kiss him again, softly, your fingers tangling in his hair as you whisper against his mouth, “you do deserve me, hansol. i’m yours, remember?”

his breath hitches at that, and you can feel him shiver slightly, his hands gripping your waist just a little tighter. he pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find the right words, but instead of speaking, he just lowers his head to your neck, pressing soft wett kisses along your collarbone.

“god, i love you,” he murmurs into your skin, his hands slide down your sides, tracing every curve, every dip in your body as if he’s memorizing the feel of you. there’s nothing rushed about the way he touches you—it’s like he wants to savor every second, every gasp you make.

the pleasure, it’s gentle, like a slow-burning fire that warms instead of burns. his kisses trail lower, over your chest, his lips brushing against the sensitive nipples as his hands squeeze your meat, or circle your clit with a tight thumb. every touch, every kiss feels like a confession, like he’s trying to tell you with his body what he can’t quite put into words.

when he finally pushes inside you, like he’s afraid of hurting you. his breath catches in his throat, and you can see the way his eyes flutter shut, his brow furrowing slightly as he tries to hold back, to make this last. “are you okay?” he asks, as if he’s afraid to ruin the moment. his hands find yours, lacing your fingers together as he presses deeper, his hips moving in that same slow, unhurried rhythm.

you nod, biting your lip, and the way you tighten around him has his eyes squeezing shut, a soft groan slipping past his lips. he lowers his forehead to yours, his breath hot and ragged, and the way his body shakes slightly tells you how hard he’s trying to keep it together.

“fuck… u feel so good, always, always so good f'me” he mutters, his voice trembling with the effort it’s taking to control himself. “i don’t—god, i don’t wanna go too fast.” he leans down and presses a kiss to your lips, his hands tightening around yours as his hips roll slowly, making you feel his cock deep without worry. your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him closer, and the soft moans that escape your lips only spur him on. he’s completely lost in you, shaky gasps as his forehead rests against yours.

“u r so beautiful,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours as he speaks. “i just… i don’t think i’ll ever get used to this. to you. to how good it feels to be with you.”

u can feel the way his body trembles slightly, his hips stuttering for a moment as he tries to hold back. his hands tighten around yours, his grip almost desperate, like he’s afraid to let go, afraid of losing you even for a second. you feel your heart swell at his words, and you pull him even closer, pressing your lips to his as you whisper, “i’m not going anywhere, hansol. i’m right here with you.”

his breath catches in his throat, and he lets out a soft, almost broken moan, his hips moving just a little faster now, the need starting to overtake his hesitation. but still, he’s careful, gentle, every jerk of his hips driven by the overwhelming love he has for you.

“i’m so in love with u,” he whispers, “i don’t think i could ever love anyone the way i love u.” his body pressed so close against yours, making you know he means every word.

[ssentimentals]

seventeen members as love tropes: choi hansol

forced proximity

'coincidence? baby, they don't exist'

'so, what's your name?'

you blink, turning around to face the guy with who you got stuck in the elevator. he is now comfortably sitting on the floor with his knees tucked closer to his chest, leaning on the wall. the look on his face has zero traces of nerves or anxiety, he's opening bag of chips with a small smile on his face, looking at you like what is happening right now is absolutely normal. is this how an average day goes for him?

'you think this button is broken?' you ask instead, turning back. you push at 'call' button again but no sound comes out. 'we can't actually be stuck here with no connection to the outside world, right?'

'it happens quite often.' my god, so you were right, this is an average day for him. 'but no, this button works, we just need to wait a little. maybe these guys are out somewhere.'

'out where?' you ask, turning back to him. smell of chips starts filling up the cabin and you try to concentrate on it instead of thinking about being stuck here forever. 'should i just keep on pressing that button?'

your voice gets caught in your throat because the guy looks at you with... you don't know what. his gaze is piercing and it's like he's looking right at you, within you, in your soul. it's unsettling, especially when it comes from someone that handsome. in all three months since you moved into this apartment complex, you only met several families and few kids here and there, but never this guy. your brain unnecessarily reminds you that right now you're standing in front of a really handsome guy in old washed out t-shirt and pj pants, while he's at least dressed in jeans and sweatshirt.

'i'm hansol,' he says suddenly, breaking your thinking spiral. 'your neighbor from the forth floor.' he then pats a space next to him: 'come sit? i think it's more comfortable than standing.' you open your mouth to argue when he adds: 'i'll be the one pressing that button, no worries. just come sit down, yeah? you can meditate that way better, no?'

your nose scrunches in confusion. 'meditate?'

it's time for hansol to look sheepish. 'isn't this what people do when they start panicking? i mean- i am not implying that you are panicking right now, but you look pretty worried and i thought- shit, you are not panicking, right? there really is no need to, i promise we will be out of here in no time. i thought if you can sit and mediate then you can-' he shuts up, noticing his rambling and how your eyes grow only bigger with each word he says. after a second of hesitation, he stands up, grabs his chips and comes over to you, shoving them in your direction. 'here. chips.'

there are a lot of things that you can say or do, but your mind chooses to grab offered snack and silently move to where he was sitting. hansol seems to approve, as he smiles a little and leans with his back on the opposite wall so he can still look at you, while insistently pressing the 'call' button. 'so.'

'yes?' you raise your head, slowly munching on the chip. it's salty taste helps you stay here in the moment instead of disappearing in the anxiety.

'i feel like it's my fate, you know? to get stuck in the elevators. like god is trying to tell me something through it, you know? like i don't get stuck just because, i get stuck for something. and then i think-'

it takes you five seconds to realize that hansol is doing this on purpose. he is distracting you so you won't panick and this gesture is incredibly sweet for a random stranger. you're not sure how much time passes, because hansol's storytelling is fascinating (and a bit weird, but in a more 'not ordinary' way than bad). you don't notice how your spine is not rigid anymore, but hansol does. he notices how you slowly relax, hold his gaze more and eat chips more actively. he notices how corners of your eyes crinkle when you smile and how cute you look with confusion written all over your face. in truth, he has no idea what he is even saying, but he can't stop, can't let you remember even for a second that this stupid elevator is not working. his thumb is numb from how strongly he pushes on that 'call' button but he ignores it in favor of staring in your eyes, catching every emotion that sparkles in them. you are cute and you don't even realize it and that makes you even cuter.

'hello? is someone there?' when static voice cuts through, both of you jump a little. 'apologies for this horrible inconvinience, elevator will start working in few minutes. are you alright?'

hansol takes a look at your surprised face and half-finished bag of chips. 'yeah, we are all good.'

pang of regret slashes through him when you hastily stand up and cheer, when cabin finally starts descending. shit, he didn't even manage to learn your name! when elevator door opens, hansol reaches out for your hand and is pleasantly surprised when you take it with a smile, rushing out with the cutest little 'whoop!' he saw in his life.

'i think you are right,' you suddenly speak, making him look up. 'what you said about you getting stuck in the elevators meaning something? i think you're meant to help people like me.'

i think i was meant to meet you, he wants to say but doesn't. instead what comes out of his mouth is: 'you owe me.' at your confused expression, he points at his snack. 'chips.'

'oh. oh!' you exclaim, getting flustered. 'of course, i will-'

'-and your name.' he adds, making you freeze. he watches understanding dawn on you and smiles. 'and your favorite drink. so i would know what to buy for you.'

it's bold. not exactly his style, but his head-to-mouth filter is not working anymore. for a second he thinks he overdid it, but then you blush (so prettily), then smile (so, so prettily) and he knows he didn't mess up. when you step closer and introduce yourself, hansol knows he not only didn't mess up, but also won something out of this whole situation. (and he doesn't know it yet, but this big win? it's your heart. it really is).

a/n: guilty for having this trope as my most favorite one!! and who is better than hansol to write this for, am i right? - nini

my other works are here

[thedensworld]

Fortune Teller Confession | C.HS

Pairing: College Student! Hansol x reader

Genre: fluff, angst, friend to lover au!

Summary: No confession—no gig success. His logic-driven mind convinces him that it’s a harmless choice to make a confession over a fortune teller words, not realizing the emotional weight it carries.

Hansol watched as you walked out of the classroom, a little too quickly for his liking. You didn’t glance back, didn’t slow down, and didn’t even pause when Soonyoung called your name with a hopeful grin. Next to him, Soonyoung's face twisted into a pout.

“Again?” Soonyoung muttered, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pocket. “She didn’t even look at me.” He sighed like it was a personal betrayal.

Hansol frowned, his gaze lingering on the door you’d just left through. It wasn’t like you to avoid them — at least, not for this long. He tried to think back to the last time he’d had a proper conversation with you.

Five days ago?

A week?

It felt longer. Your schedule had been packed lately, full of classes, projects, and other commitments. But even when you were busy, you'd at least send a nod or a small wave. Lately, though, it felt like you were actively avoiding them.

Soonyoung tilted his head toward Hansol as they started walking down the corridor toward the campus cafeteria. “Tell me honestly,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “did you do something to her?”

Hansol shot him a confused look. “Why do you think it was me?” he asked, his tone defensive.

Soonyoung shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. “Because it’s definitely not me. I would never make her mad.”

“Oh, right, because you’re a saint,” Hansol muttered with a roll of his eyes.

“Not a saint, but I know how to keep my friends happy,” Soonyoung quipped, tapping his temple like he had it all figured out. “You, on the other hand, are... well…” He paused for dramatic effect, giving Hansol a once-over. “...an obnoxious person. So you wouldn’t even realize if you hurt somebody’s feelings.”

Hansol stopped walking. “That’s way too much to say to a friend,” he said, his brows pulling together in disbelief.

“Okay, okay, I take it back.” Soonyoung raised his hands in surrender, clearly not looking for a fight. He patted Hansol on the back. “But, you know, I’m just saying — think about it.”

Hansol didn’t respond, but the words lingered like an itch in the back of his mind. Had he done something? If he had, wouldn’t you have told him?

They reached the cafeteria and got in line to order food. As they waited, the familiar noise of clattering trays, snippets of conversations, and the faint hum of a pop song filled the air.

Soonyoung glanced at Hansol while tapping his fingers against the counter. “How’s the gig prep going?” he asked. “You nervous?”

Hansol glanced up at him. “of course,” he admitted. “I feel like if I’m nervous, it means I’m doing something right.”

“Hmm, I guess that’s true,” Soonyoung said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Sometimes, being a little nervous is good. Like when I apologized to my sister.”

Hansol raised a brow, his curiosity piqued. “You actually apologized to her? You?” he asked, letting out a short, incredulous laugh.

“Yeah, yeah,” Soonyoung said, waving him off as if it wasn’t a big deal. He grabbed his food tray from the counter. “It was tough, but I’m glad I did it.”

Hansol tilted his head, still grinning. “Did something change between you two?”

Soonyoung nodded, chewing thoughtfully on a mouthful of rice before answering. “Yeah, things are better now. I stopped getting ‘the glare’ every time I walked past her room.” He swallowed, then leaned in slightly, as if letting Hansol in on a secret. “I’m telling you, it’s because I listened to the fortune teller.”

Two weeks ago, Soonyoung had dragged Hansol to the hottest fortune teller near the campus gate. It wasn’t entirely random — their friend Jun had given the place a glowing five-star review, swearing that he got a girlfriend after following every bit of advice the fortune teller had given him.

“Bro, five stars,” Jun had said, eyes wide with conviction. “I did exactly what she said, and boom — I’m dating Yejin now.”

That was all the motivation Soonyoung needed. As the self-proclaimed “saddest single person in the world,” he decided it was finally time to seek help from the mystical forces of fate. Whether it was for entertainment or genuine desperation, Hansol wasn’t sure. But somehow, Soonyoung managed to drag him along.

The fortune teller’s place was a cozy, dimly lit room that smelled faintly of incense. Strings of beads framed the doorway, and the glow of warm, golden light made everything feel surreal. The fortune teller, a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes and a silk scarf tied around her head, welcomed them like she had been expecting them all day.

Soonyoung, full of energy, sat forward like a student ready to ace an exam. Hansol, on the other hand, leaned back, arms crossed, watching the whole thing with mild amusement.

After a short reading, the fortune teller told Soonyoung, “Your relationship with your sister is the mirror of your relationship with women.”

That got Soonyoung’s attention. He sat up straighter, blinking in surprise. "Huh?"

“You must mend that relationship,” she continued, eyes never leaving his. “If you do, the reflection will change, and so will your luck.”

She handed him three steps to repair the bond with his sister, each one oddly specific. Hansol didn’t remember all of them, but one was definitely “buy her something without expecting anything in return.”

Now, two weeks later, Soonyoung was beaming like he’d won the lottery.

“As you know,” Soonyoung said, eyes glinting with excitement as he jabbed his chopsticks toward Hansol, “Mina from the Broadcasting major actually replied to my DM. No one ever does that.”

Hansol glanced up from his tray, raising a brow in surprise. “No way.”

“Yes way!” Soonyoung grinned, pointing at himself. “I’m telling you, man, the fortune teller knows her stuff.”

Hansol couldn’t hold back his laughter, shaking his head as a small chuckle slipped out. “That’s actually amazing, bro. I’m happy for you.”

“Right? Right?” Soonyoung beamed, clearly riding the high of his "success." But then his eyes narrowed as he zeroed in on Hansol. “Wait. What about you?”

Hansol blinked, confused. “What about me?”

“You,” Soonyoung said, eyes sharp with suspicion. “Have you done that yet?”

Right after Soonyoung’s session ended, the fortune teller had stopped them just as they were about to leave. Her gaze had locked on Hansol like she could see straight through him.

“Wait,” she had said, tilting her head as if something invisible had just come into focus. “You have something unresolved too.”

Hansol had paused mid-step, frowning as he glanced at her. “Me?”

Her eyes didn’t waver. “There’s a blockage in your energy,” she said, her voice calm but certain. “It’s tied to your music career.”

That had caught his attention.

“Soon, you will stand in front of a large crowd of people,” she continued, her hands hovering over her cards. “But something will go wrong — a technical malfunction, perhaps.” She lifted her gaze to meet his eyes. “If you want to avoid it, you must remove the blockage.”

Hansol raised an eyebrow. “And how am I supposed to do that?”

The fortune teller’s lips curled into a small smile. “Confess,” she said simply. “You must confess your feelings to the person you like.”

Soonyoung’s gasp was so loud it could have shattered glass. His head whipped toward Hansol, eyes wide with unfiltered shock and excitement. “YOU LIKE SOMEONE?!” he whisper-shouted, like it was the biggest secret in the world.

Hansol shot him a glare, his face twisting in disbelief. “I don’t.”

“Then why is she telling you to confess?” Soonyoung said, practically bouncing in place. He squinted at Hansol, leaning in with all the intensity of a detective interrogating a suspect. “Who is it? Who do you like?”

Hansol waved him off, already walking toward the door. “I don’t like anyone,” he muttered, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. “She’s just making stuff up.”

“Pffft,” Soonyoung scoffed, trotting after him. “Fortune tellers don’t just ‘make stuff up.'" He jabbed at Hansol’s side with his elbow. “Come on, just admit it. You’ve been holding out on me this whole time, huh? I told you everything, Hansol. My crushes, my heartbreaks, the time I accidentally liked my crush’s old selfie from 2018 at 3 a.m. — I shared it all.”

“Yeah, and I’m still trying to forget that story,” Hansol shot back, his lips twitching with a grin.

“Don’t deflect,” Soonyoung said, eyes narrowing in fake seriousness. “If you like someone, you have to tell me. That’s the bro code.”

“I. Don’t. Like. Anyone,” Hansol said, emphasizing every word with a jab of his finger. “The fortune teller’s wrong.”

“Mm-hmm,” Soonyoung hummed, still unconvinced. He tilted his head, giving Hansol a knowing look. “You’re being awfully defensive for someone with nothing to hide.”

Hansol clicked his tongue, exasperated. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re in denial.” Soonyoung smirked, stuffing a spoonful of rice into his mouth, his eyes never leaving Hansol.

They sat in silence for a while, the only sounds being the clatter of trays and the murmur of students around them. Hansol chewed slowly, gaze fixed on the table. His mind wandered back to the fortune teller’s words.

"Confess if you want to open the blockage."

It was silly. Ridiculous, even. He didn’t like anyone. There was no one in his life that made his heart race or made him feel unsteady. No one.

“But she did say your performance would be affected,” Soonyoung pointed out, his voice serious for once.

Hansol let out a long, heavy sigh, his fingers drumming against the table. His logical mind told him the fortune teller’s words were nonsense — just vague predictions designed to mess with people’s heads. But somewhere, tucked in a quiet corner of his mind, a small voice whispered that maybe he shouldn’t ignore it. Not when the band had poured weeks of effort into preparing for the gig.

“Do you really think my energy is that important to the band?” Hansol muttered, tilting his head back against the chair. “There’s five of us. It’s not like I’m carrying the whole thing on my back.”

Soonyoung squinted, deep in thought. “That’s an interesting point,” he admitted. “But you’re the leader.” He stabbed his spoon into his rice like it emphasized his point. “That’s probably why.”

Hansol groaned, dragging his hands through his hair in frustration. “I don’t want the performance to be disappointing,” he muttered, his fingers gripping at the strands like he could pull the stress right out of his head.

“Then just do what she said,” Soonyoung said with a shrug, like it was the simplest solution in the world.

“I told you, I don’t like anyone,” Hansol shot back, voice firm but tinged with doubt.

Soonyoung raised an eyebrow, his lips pressing into a slow, knowing pout. He leaned forward, squinting at Hansol like he was inspecting him under a microscope. “You’re getting way too worked up for someone who doesn’t like anyone,” he said, pointing at Hansol with his chopsticks.

“I don’t,” Hansol repeated, but the way his eyes darted away made Soonyoung's grin grow wider.

“Uh-huh.” Soonyoung dragged out the sound, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Hansol rubbed his temples, clearly done with the conversation. He’d argue, but he knew Soonyoung had a way of turning everything into a game he couldn’t win.

“Then just confess to anyone,” Soonyoung suggested, half-joking. “Boom, problem solved. No blockage, no bad energy, just vibes.” He snorted at his own ridiculous idea. “Actually, wait, that’s a terrible idea. Don’t do that.”

But Hansol froze. His eyes widened, and his hands slowly lowered from his hair. He stared at Soonyoung like he’d just unlocked the secrets of the universe.

“That’s…” Hansol said, eyes narrowing as his face shifted from confusion to excitement. He pointed both hands at Soonyoung, grinning like a kid who just figured out how to cheat a board game. “That’s actually a fantastic idea!”

Soonyoung’s whole face scrunched in horror. “No, it’s not, bro!” He shoved his tray to the side, waving his hands like he could physically erase the idea from existence. “Take it back! Forget I said it!”

But it was too late. Hansol's mind was already racing, the gears turning at lightning speed. “All I have to do is confess to someone,” he said, tapping his fingers against the table with renewed energy. “It doesn’t matter who, right? I just have to confess and the performance will go smoothly.” His eyes gleamed with confidence. “That’s it. Easy.”

Soonyoung's eyes darted around like he was looking for an escape route. “No, no, no! I shouldn’t have said that.” He shook his head, panic growing in his voice. “You’re taking it too literally, man.”

But Hansol wasn’t listening anymore. He was already planning. His foot tapped against the floor, and he rubbed his hands together like he’d just been handed a winning lottery ticket. “Okay, okay. Casual confession,” he muttered to himself, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. “No pressure, no drama, just simple and clean. I can do that.”

Soonyoung watched in pure disbelief, his jaw hanging open. “This… this is not how logic works, Hansol.” He pointed both hands at him, eyes wide with warning. “This is going to backfire so badly, I can feel it.”

“Doubt me all you want,” Hansol said, grinning like a man on a mission. “But when that gig goes off without a hitch, you’ll be thanking me.”

Soonyoung dropped his head into his hands with a groan, his voice muffled by his palms. “I can already hear the disaster coming.”

*

“Hey, can we talk tomorrow?”

Hansol sat on one of the benches, his gaze fixed on his phone, scrolling mindlessly as he waited. The faint rustle of leaves above him was the only sound until he heard the soft crunch of footsteps on the gravel path.

Lifting his head, he spotted you walking toward him, a smile already tugging at your lips despite the obvious weight of the stack of books in your arms. His eyes softened at the sight of you.

He stood up quickly, shoving his phone into his pocket, and walked over to meet you halfway. Without a word, he reached for the books, carefully taking the stack from your arms. His fingers brushed against yours for a second, a brief, unspoken connection neither of you acknowledged aloud.

"Where are you heading with all these books?” he asked, glancing down at the pile in his hands. “Planning to build a personal library or something?”

You sighed, stretching your now-free arms. “Just finished a group project, and somehow I got stuck being the one to return all the books. Alone.”

Hansol snorted, a low, amused sound as he glanced at you. “Classic group project logic,” he said, shifting the books in his grip to hold them more comfortably. “Here, I’ll help you return these, and then we can talk.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “You sure? I can handle it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, already walking ahead. He glanced over his shoulder, flashing you a casual grin. “I’m not about to let you haul a whole library on your own.”

You followed him, your pace matching his, and together you made your way toward the campus library. The sun filtered through the trees, casting patches of golden light onto the path. The air was warm but breezy, carrying with it the distant hum of student chatter.

At the entrance of the library, Hansol paused, holding the door open for you with his shoulder as he balanced the books. You slipped past him with a quiet "thanks" before he followed you inside. The familiar scent of old paper and clean air-conditioning greeted you both.

Hansol stayed by your side as you approached the return desk, placing the stack of books on the counter with a relieved sigh, as if he’d carried them across continents. He leaned on the edge of the counter, eyes following you as you handled the administration process.

“So,” you said, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, “what did you want to talk about?”

His posture straightened, his fingers tapping idly against the countertop. “I’ll tell you once we’re done here,” he said, offering you a small, unreadable smile.

But his gaze lingered on you a second too long.

He knew he had to do it soon.

The fortune teller’s words echoed in his mind, as stupid as they were. “There’s a blockage in your energy. To clear it, you must confess to the one you like.” He could still hear Soonyoung’s gasp of betrayal beside him. “You like someone?” he'd whispered like it was the juiciest secret of the year.

Hansol shook his head, shoving the memory aside. He didn’t like anyone, but he did care about his band. If there was even a 1% chance that this superstition had some truth to it, he couldn’t risk it. They’d been working too hard for this gig to flop.

You returned from the counter, brushing off your hands. “All done.”

Hansol nodded, stepping aside to hold the door open for you. The two of you walked out of the library, sunlight filtering in through the tall glass windows of the campus hallway. Students passed by, some in pairs, others in groups, all caught up in their own conversations.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

It’s just Y/n.

No big deal.

He knew you well enough to know you wouldn’t make this complicated. You wouldn’t take it seriously. You were too practical for that.

“Hey,” he started, voice steady but a little quieter.

You glanced up at him. “Hm?”

He stopped walking. You took two steps ahead before noticing, turning to face him with a curious look.

He shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket, fingers fidgeting with loose threads. His heart wasn’t racing, but his mind was unusually loud. He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t real. It didn’t mean anything.

But still, he felt his throat go dry.

“I like you,” he said.

It came out fast. Too fast. Not smooth at all. His eyes flicked up to you, watching for your reaction.

Your face froze. Wide eyes. Lips parted slightly, like you’d misheard him.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hansol cleared his throat, shifting his weight to one leg. “I like you,” he said again, slower, more controlled this time.

Your brows furrowed as confusion settled in. You didn’t speak, and that silence was heavier than anything he’d prepared for. Why aren’t you saying anything?

“Okay,” he said quickly, snapping his fingers like he’d just remembered something. “So, before you freak out, it’s not, like… real.” He scratched the back of his head, glancing to the side. “It’s for the performance.”

Your eyes stayed on him, unblinking.

He sucked in a breath, forcing himself to explain. “Soonyoung and I went to see this fortune teller a couple weeks ago. She told me there’s this… ‘blockage’ or something that’ll mess up our gig unless I confess to the person I like.” He raised his eyebrows like it should be obvious. “But I don’t like anyone. So, I figured—” He tilted his head toward you, lips curling into a grin. “—I’ll just confess to you.”

You didn’t move.

“You’re my friend,” he added with a casual shrug, trying to sound as natural as possible. “I knew you’d get it. It’s not a big deal. Just, like, a technicality.”

More silence.

Hansol felt something twist in his chest, like the air pressure had shifted around him. He didn’t know why it felt weird, but it did. He’d expected a laugh from you, maybe a playful shove or a snarky comment. Something normal.

“Okay,” you said, your voice quieter than he’d ever heard it.

He blinked. “Okay?”

You nodded once, eyes flicking to the side like you didn’t want to look at him. “Yeah. Sure.”

Relief washed over him so fast it almost felt dizzying. His grin returned, this time more genuine. “See? I knew you’d get it.”

He glanced at his phone, eyes widening slightly. “Oh, shoot. I’ve got practice soon.” He took a step back, his mind already shifting to his next priority. “Thanks for this, Y/n. You’re a real one.”

He raised a hand in a wave as he turned to leave. “See you later!”

He didn’t look back.

He didn’t think to.

Why would he?

It had gone exactly as he’d expected — smooth, simple, and free of any awkwardness. You’d understood. You always understood him. It’s why he’d picked you in the first place.

As he walked, he felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. His band would be fine. The gig would be a success. The "blockage" was gone, whatever that meant.

The sound of students chatting around him faded into background noise. His mind buzzed with thoughts of the upcoming setlist, the soundchecks, and which songs they should open with.

Should they start with something upbeat or something more atmospheric?

He scratched the side of his head, lips curling into a grin at the thought. They’d kill it. He knew they would.

But as he reached the next hallway, something tugged at him. Not physically, but like a small, sharp pull on his thoughts. He glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see nothing at all.

But his eyes lingered on the empty hallway behind him.

You weren’t there.

You’d probably gone in the opposite direction, maybe heading to class or meeting up with friends. That was normal. Totally normal.

He turned forward again, walking faster this time.

So why did it feel like he’d forgotten something?

Why did it feel like he’d missed something important?

Hansol shook his head, hands stuffed back into his hoodie pocket. You’re overthinking it.

But his fingers fidgeted with the loose thread again, and his mind couldn’t seem to settle.

*

"Hey, you’re daydreaming."

Joshua’s voice snapped you back to reality, a light jab landing on your side. Your eyes flickered to him, your closest friend in the photography club, and then to the rest of the room. Everyone was staring at you.

Oh no.

The club leader tilted her head, clearly waiting for a response. "I asked if you’d be willing to report on The Gigs next week."

Heat rushed to your face. You nodded quickly, forcing a polite smile. "Ah, yeah, sure. I can do it."

Her eyes lingered on you for a second longer before she moved on, resuming the discussion. You sank lower in your chair, feeling Joshua stifle a laugh beside you. He didn’t say anything, but the amused glint in his eyes said it all.

When the meeting finally wrapped up, you were already halfway out the door when Joshua caught up to you. He grinned, pulling a small candy from his pocket. “Here,” he said, handing you his favorite coffee-flavored treat.

“Thanks,” you muttered, unwrapping it immediately and popping it into your mouth.

“You good?” he asked as you both stepped outside, the cool breeze hitting your face. "You were totally out of it back there."

You glanced at him, shrugging. "Just… had a lot on my mind."

Joshua nodded knowingly. "Don’t tell me it’s about that draft. Mine’s still stuck, too."

The two of you wandered down the pathway toward the nearby campus cafe. He shoved his hands in his coat pockets, his breath forming little clouds of fog in the air.

The draft. Right.

The club had tasked every member with coming up with a new program idea to boost engagement and attract more students to join. Your idea was Cupid Pic — a playful service where students could request anonymous photos of their crushes, which would then be posted on the Student Daily Web. The twist? If two people happened to request photos of each other without knowing, they'd be notified of the "cupid match." It was fun, cheeky, and surprisingly wholesome.

You'd been so excited about it at first. So much so that you'd shared the idea with Soonyoung and Hansol one evening at Soonyoung’s apartment studio. The three of you had spent hours brainstorming catchy slogans and working out the logistics of how to involve the Broadcasting students for video teasers. You remembered how Hansol had thrown out ridiculous ideas like, “Make them wear angel wings while taking the photos,” which Soonyoung fully supported for the chaos alone.

Soonyoung had tapped out early, collapsing on the couch after too many shots of soju, muttering something about "the stars aligning." But you and Hansol had stayed up. Just the two of you. The warmth of the room, the faint hum of music, and the quiet conversation felt… different. Intimate, even.

Maybe that’s why it all spilled out of you.

You didn’t mean to dump your worries on him. But with Soonyoung snoring in the background and the soft glow of the desk lamp hitting Hansol’s face just right, you felt something unspoken loosen in your chest.

“I feel like I’m barely holding everything together,” you’d admitted, your voice quieter than usual. “Class, part-time shifts, the club, this stupid project… and now one of my friends reported me to the professor for missing too many classes. I mean, yeah, I missed a few, but I had valid reasons. She didn’t even ask me. She just… reported me.”

Your throat had felt tight saying it all out loud. You didn’t expect Hansol to say anything — maybe a simple, “That sucks, Y/n.” But he didn’t do that.

Instead, he leaned forward, his eyes soft with a kind of patience you’d never really seen from him before. Hansol, the logical one. Hansol, the sharp-tongued realist. But that night, he was… gentle.

“Sounds like you’ve been carrying too much,” he said quietly. His voice wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t rushed. It was slow, steady, like every word was placed carefully so it wouldn’t crack you open any further.

Your eyes stung a little, and you hated it. You hated how one kind sentence had more impact than all the self-reassurances you’d told yourself in the mirror.

“You’re doing fine,” he added. “Actually, you’re doing more than fine. You're managing all this at once — that's impressive. People don't get how hard that is.”

It wasn’t much. Just a few words. But in that moment, it felt like he’d seen you — really seen you — in a way no one else had.

He didn’t tell you to “just work harder” or “push through.” He didn’t tell you that you were overreacting. He just listened.

Somewhere between his words and the soft glow of that lamp, you felt something shift.

Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered on you for a second too long.

Maybe it was the warmth in his voice that you hadn’t heard before.

Or maybe it was just you, feeling too vulnerable, too raw, too desperate for someone to tell you it was okay to slow down.

But you knew it, clear as day.

That was the moment you realized — I think I like him.

It wasn’t immediate, like some storybook cliché where your heart suddenly skips and angels start singing. No, it was quiet, slow, like the weight of realization settling over your shoulders. Your chest felt heavier, and your head felt lighter, like you’d been dropped into unfamiliar territory.

You'd stayed up with him a little longer, letting the conversation drift to other things, but that moment stayed with you. Even when you went home that night, it replayed in your head over and over. His voice. His gaze. His words.

By the next day, you realized it was easier to avoid him than to face what you’d discovered.

If you didn’t see him, you wouldn’t have to deal with the way your heart sped up around him.

If you didn’t talk to him, you wouldn’t have to remember how it felt to be seen so clearly.

If you didn’t stand too close, you wouldn’t have to hear the echo of his voice telling you that you were doing fine.

So, you avoided him. Not in any obvious way. Just small things. Picking a seat on the opposite side of the room. Leaving class a little earlier. Responding later to group chats. It was stupid. Childish, even. But it was safer.

You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. It’s not like he likes me anyway.

But then, yesterday happened.

“I like you,” he’d said, just like that.

His words echoed in your mind like an annoying replay button that wouldn't turn off.

“I like you.”

At first, you’d frozen, your brain struggling to process it. And then, like a fool, you’d let yourself hope. Your heart had done that stupid leap it always did when you thought maybe, just maybe…

But it only lasted a second.

“But it’s not real. It’s for the band.”

He’d smiled, so casual, so unbothered, as if it was all part of some inside joke.

“You’re my friend. I knew you’d get it.”

You had nodded. Of course you nodded. What else were you supposed to do?

He’d walked away smiling. Light. Unburdened.

You stood there, your chest still heavy, like you'd swallowed all the words you wanted to say.

Stupid.

Idiot.

Asshole.

“Y/n?”

Joshua's voice cut through the spiral, and you blinked, realizing you’d been chewing on the coffee candy too hard. The bitterness had turned sharp in your mouth.

“You okay?” he asked, his brow raised in concern.

You uncurled your fingers from the crumpled candy wrapper in your pocket, feeling the imprint of it against your palm. Calm down, Y/N.

“I’m fine,” you muttered. “Just thinking too much.”

Joshua gave you a long look, like he wasn’t sure whether to believe you. But in the end, he shrugged it off. "Alright. Just don't overdo it. We still have drafts to finish, yeah?"

“Yeah,” you said, stuffing the wrapper into your pocket. "I’ll finish it.”

But as you walked with him toward the cafe, the taste of coffee lingered on your tongue, sharp and bitter.

Just like the feeling you’d been trying to forget.

*

The smell of grilled meat wafted through the apartment as Soonyoung shouted from the kitchen, "Open the door for me!" His voice was strained, probably from the concentration it took to flip the meat perfectly.

You had just finished changing into the borrowed sweater and sweatpants Soonyoung had tossed your way. It was one of his newer pieces — oversized, soft, and surprisingly comfortable. After folding your work clothes neatly on the chair, you headed to the front door, tugging the sleeves over your fingers.

When you pulled the door open, your heart did a sudden flip. Hansol stood there, framed by the dim hallway light. Black T-shirt snug on his frame, denim jacket casually draped over his shoulders, and those stupid cargo pants with "chill guy" printed boldly on the thigh. You'd teased him about them before.

His eyes scanned you briefly before his lips curled into a familiar, lopsided grin. "That sweater looks better on you than it does on him." His gaze lingered for a beat longer, and you recognized it — the sweater he'd given Soonyoung for his birthday this year.

"Everything looks good on me lately," you shot back, flipping your hair with mock confidence as you stepped aside to let him in.

Hansol let out a quiet snort, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. "Alright, superstar," he muttered, carrying in the bags of groceries Soonyoung had texted him to bring.

You followed him to the kitchen, leaning against the counter as Soonyoung waved his tongs in your direction. "Look who decided to show up after three weeks of radio silence!" He held up three fingers in front of your face like it was a major scandal.

You rolled your eyes, nudging his arm to move him aside. "I've been working, Soonyoung. Not everyone can live a life of leisure like you."

"Leisure?" He scoffed, flipping the meat with unnecessary force. "You act like I’m not hosting this Michelin-star-level barbecue for you guys. You should be grateful, Y/n."

You snorted but didn’t respond, letting the familiar warmth of their banter settle over you. For a moment, it almost felt normal. Hansol was sorting through the bags, pulling out soda cans and snacks like it was just another casual night. Soonyoung was fussing over his grill with too much enthusiasm, and the smell of searing meat filled the air.

But that “three weeks” comment echoed louder than you wanted it to. Three weeks since you’d hung out properly. Three weeks since Soonyoung had badgered you into late-night ramen runs. Three weeks since you’d willingly stayed in a room with Hansol for longer than ten minutes.

The realization must have hit him too because Hansol glanced at you from over his shoulder, eyes flickering with something like curiosity. His hands slowed as he set down a bottle of soda. “Yeah,” he said, voice quieter this time. “We haven’t hung out in a while, huh?”

You shrugged, feigning indifference. “Guess not.”

Soonyoung glanced between the two of you like he was watching the first act of a drama. He wiggled his eyebrows, lips pursed in exaggerated interest. "Oooh, tension."

"Shut up," you and Hansol said at the same time.

"Okay, okay, geez." Soonyoung threw his hands up, grinning like a troublemaker who just set off a firecracker. "I’m just saying, tonight is reunion night for our little trio. So no work talk, no avoidance, no mysterious disappearances. We’re all staying until dawn."

"Bold of you to assume I’m not sneaking out at 2 a.m.," you muttered, grabbing a soda from the pile Hansol had unpacked.

Soonyoung narrowed his eyes at you. “Bold of you to underestimate me.”

Soonyoung wasn't exactly the sharpest in the group, but he had an annoying knack for reading the room. That was why you’d been trying so hard to act normal around Hansol tonight. Every glance Soonyoung threw your way felt like a spotlight, and you hated it. You shouldn’t have come. Stupid decision.

But after an hour, the unease started to wear off. The alcohol certainly helped with that. You’d had more drinks than usual — more than even Soonyoung, the self-proclaimed "party endurance king." At one point, he actually tried to stop you, waving his hands in front of your face like you were about to push a red button.

“Hey, hey, easy there, Y/n. That’s your third drink in, like, ten minutes,” he said, eyes squinting in concern. "Bad day or something?"

You only hummed in response, lifting the cup to your lips again.

“Desperation. I get it,” Soonyoung sighed, plopping down on the couch beside you. He tilted his head back dramatically. “We’ve all been there. Even Hansol and I went to a fortune teller.”

Hansol, who’d been scrolling on his phone, looked up, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Don’t lump me in with you like I went there on purpose.”

“Okay, but you got a reading too, didn’t you?” Soonyoung shot back, jabbing his thumb in Hansol's direction. His grin was all teeth, clearly proud of his "gotcha" moment.

Hansol rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath as he shoved his phone into his pocket.

Soonyoung wasn’t done, though. He turned his attention to you, gesturing wildly like he was narrating a grand tale. “Yes, so we went to a fortune teller,” he repeated, leaning toward you like he was about to reveal a state secret.

“I know,” you muttered, taking another sip.

Soonyoung blinked, his head tilting to the side. “Huh? I never told you that. How do you know?”

Your eyes flickered toward Hansol, who had suddenly gone very still. You pointed at him, arm a little wobbly from the drinks. “He told me.”

The room went quiet for half a beat.

Soonyoung’s eyes darted between the two of you like he was watching a live plot twist unfold. His mouth parted in shock. “You guys… talked? Without me?”

He sounded more offended than curious, like you’d committed some great betrayal.

Hansol groaned, his head falling into his hands. "Oh my God, Soonyoung, it’s not that deep."

“It is that deep!” Soonyoung gasped, clutching his chest like you’d personally wounded him. “How could you, Y/n? I thought I was the main character of your friendship arc!”

"You're the comic relief, Soonyoung," you deadpanned, reaching for the half-empty drink in front of you.

"Comic relief?!" He clutched his heart again, this time with more flair, like he'd been hit with a spear. "I am the glue that holds this trio together."

You snorted, trying to hold back a laugh, and for a moment, it actually felt normal again. Except for the weight pressing down on your chest every time Hansol glanced your way.

"Want to hear something funny?" Soonyoung grinned mischievously. "This guy has to make a confession if he wants his gig to succeed, and he says he doesn’t like anyone!"

He burst into laughter, clearly enjoying Hansol’s discomfort. Hansol groaned, slouching in his chair. "Go ahead, laugh. My life is a comedy," he retorted sarcastically.

"So, Romeo," Soonyoung teased, raising his eyebrows, "your gig is in three days. Have you done it yet?"

Hansol stayed silent, his eyes wandering to you. You were busy pouring yourself another shot of soju, trying to drown out the chaos around you. The weight in your chest was growing heavier with every passing minute, but you tried to focus on anything other than the situation at hand.

"So, Y/n," Soonyoung continued, turning his attention to you, "what do you think? Should he just confess to anyone to make his performance successful, or should he ignore the fortune teller's advice?"

The question hit you like a brick, and a lump immediately formed in your throat. You didn’t know how to answer.

"But I think he won’t do it," Soonyoung added with a sly smile. "Why? Because this guy is all logic. He’s a T," Soonyoung said, referencing Hansol’s MBTI type — Thinking, not Feeling.

You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the mounting frustration in your chest, but you found yourself muttering under your breath, "Confession is not a game. You shouldn’t play with it."

Soonyoung, to his credit, nodded in agreement. "Yes, exactly. Here here!"

You continued, your voice quieter now, a little heavier. "You think it’s easy to just confess to someone for the sake of success? That’s selfish." You could feel the anger simmering beneath your words. "But I guess, people can be like that. They don’t think about others' feelings."

The moment your words left your mouth, you glanced up at Hansol, only to find his gaze fixed on you. His expression was unreadable, but there was a certain tension in the air now, thick and uncomfortable. For the first time, you realized he was actually paying attention to what you were saying.

In that moment, everything felt overwhelming. You had spent the evening carefully balancing your emotions, trying not to let the bitterness and disappointment leak out, but it was becoming impossible. Soonyoung's teasing and Hansol's casual confession — the one that had hurt more than you wanted to admit — were circling in your mind, making it harder to breathe.

Soonyoung froze mid-action, his hand suspended in the air with the shot glass still waiting to meet his lips. The atmosphere shifted, and he squinted at you, his tone playful but with a hint of confusion. "What's up with you tonight? You're a bit... deep?"

You sighed, feeling a knot tighten in your chest. You quickly gathered your things, not meeting anyone's eyes. "I think I should go. I’ll pick up my clothes tomorrow morning, is that okay?" you asked Soonyoung, your voice quieter than usual as you stood up from your seat.

Soonyoung blinked, looking at you with a mix of surprise and concern. "What? What's wrong with you?"

But you didn’t answer. You had already made up your mind to leave. The weight of the evening, mixed with the alcohol, had created a fog in your thoughts, and you just wanted to escape. You needed space to sort through your feelings, to put some distance between you and Hansol, who had somehow managed to worm his way into your heart even though you tried so hard to keep it at bay. The fact that he still had this effect on you, that you were still torn between anger and something softer, was suffocating.

You could feel your emotions stirring as you moved toward the door, the anger bubbling under the surface. How could he say all those things and then act like it didn’t matter? How could he confess without meaning it and expect everything to be fine? You had convinced yourself that leaving was the only way to avoid losing control of your feelings, to protect yourself from further hurt.

You closed the door. But then Hansol's hand on your arm stopped you in your tracks. His grip was gentle, but firm. His touch, so simple and yet so familiar, sent a jolt of something through you. You weren’t sure if it was anger or longing, or a dangerous mix of both. You wanted to pull away, to push him out of your thoughts for good, but somehow, standing there with him felt like an emotional standoff. You could feel your heart racing, unsure of whether you should let the tears you were holding back spill or just walk away from it all.

"What do you mean?" Hansol asked, confusion and frustration lacing his voice.

"Let me go, I'm tired," you replied, your voice barely a whisper as you tried to pull away.

But Hansol wasn't having it. He turned your body to face him, his grip firm yet gentle. "Not until you explain. Were you referring to me?"

You stared at him, exasperated, as the words tumbled out, "What do you want to hear? That I wasn't?"

Hansol's gaze softened, but his frustration was palpable. "Yes, I was referring to you because I think Soonyoung's right. If you're as logical as you say you are, you shouldn't be doing whatever the fortune teller told you."

You scoffed, your voice bitter, "And you really think that confessing to your friend is going to fix everything?"

Hansol ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight. "Y/n, I was desperate. You heard him — the fortune teller said my performance would flop if I didn't confess. I had no choice!"

"By confessing to your friend?" You spat, the hurt in your voice evident.

Hansol's eyes widened, his voice rising as the emotion spilled over. "Because you're my friend! I thought you'd understand! You always have!"

There was a tense silence between you both, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Finally, you let out a heavy sigh, your shoulders slumping under the burden of it all.

"So, it was easier for you to confess to your friend? To use them for your own benefit?" you asked, your tone sharp and cutting.

Hansol closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Okay, I'm sorry. I didn't expect it to turn out like this. I thought you'd understand, Y/n. You're my friend."

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "Because I'm your friend, you thought it would be easier to confess to me? Don't you think about the consequences, Hansol? Or is it all about your performance?"

His face twisted with frustration as he stepped closer. "It’s important to me, Y/n!"

You took a step back, feeling the sting of his words. "I never said your performance wasn’t important, but have you ever thought about the consequences? When you decided to confess to me, did you even consider my feelings?"

Before Hansol could respond, Soonyoung’s voice interrupted the charged silence. "You confessed to Y/n?" He stood in the doorway, his face a mix of shock and disbelief at the revelation.

The tension in the room hung thick, and you could feel the knot in your stomach tighten. This was not how you imagined things would play out.

*

When Soonyoung heard you sob, his heart sank. He knew it then—he knew both he and Hansol had messed up. Without a word, he let you go, his hand stopping Hansol from following.

"Let her go," Soonyoung said, his voice unusually calm, but there was an underlying firmness. "She needs time."

"But—" Hansol protested, his voice full of urgency.

"No buts, man. You hurt her. Don’t you get it?" Soonyoung’s voice, surprisingly soft for someone who had just witnessed a betrayal, cut through the air. It was like the weight of everything had finally hit him—Hansol had confessed to you because of some ridiculous fortune teller's prediction, without considering the consequences.

Both of them sat in silence, the remnants of the food and drinks ignored, their minds consumed by your face—the betrayal in your eyes, the way your mouth gaped for breath, and the tears that welled up in your eyes.

Soonyoung broke the silence first. "You did it, huh?" His tone was more of a statement than a question. Hansol shook his head, clearly not ready to confront the reality of what he had done.

"You're the most oblivious guy I've ever known," Soonyoung continued, his frustration bubbling up. "How could you not see it? She likes you, Hansol."

Hansol turned his head toward Soonyoung, still confused. "What are you talking about?"

Soonyoung sighed heavily, rubbing his face with his hand. "See? You don't even understand." He stood up, his movements mechanical as he began cleaning his apartment, as if the action would help him clear his mind.

"I'm going to sleep. Feel free to stay," he said quietly, before turning off the light and retreating to his room.

Hansol remained on the couch, the weight of Soonyoung's words sinking in, but his mind still swirling with disbelief. He had made a mistake—one that could cost him everything.

Hansol sat motionless on the couch, his eyes staring blankly at the empty room around him. Soonyoung's words echoed in his mind like a haunting refrain—She likes you. The weight of it crushed him, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a sharp, raw vulnerability that he wasn’t used to.

He had always seen you as someone amazing—smart, driven, with a kindness that radiated in everything you did. You were the kind of person who had everything going for her, someone who seemed untouchable, like she existed in a world beyond his reach. He had always admired you from afar, but he never allowed himself to consider that you could have feelings for him.

You were... too good for him.

He had been convinced that someone like you would never be interested in someone like him. He was logical, maybe a little too blunt, a little too wrapped up in his own world. He couldn’t imagine you, with your warmth and grace, ever wanting to be with someone like him. So, he built up this wall in his mind, telling himself that he was better off staying in his lane, quietly admiring you from the sidelines. He didn't want to risk embarrassing himself by thinking he could ever be more than a friend to you.

But now, in the aftermath of his reckless confession, Hansol couldn't help but wonder—did you actually like him?

His chest tightened at the thought. The way you had reacted earlier—the way you had looked at him—did it mean something? Had you been feeling something for him this whole time? Or had he just completely misread everything, making a mess of it all with his desperate attempt to follow the fortune teller's advice?

He felt like an idiot. An utter fool. He had used you. He had confessed to you without considering your feelings, without thinking about the consequences. All because he was scared of failing in front of his band, of letting everyone down. But now, all he could think about was how much he had hurt you. How much he had probably ruined any chance of you ever seeing him as more than just a friend.

It was painful, this realization. He had always thought you were out of his league, that you would never be interested in someone like him, but now that the possibility had opened up, it felt like he had taken it and crushed it under his own foolishness.

He wanted to fix it, to undo everything he had done. But he wasn’t sure where to start. The damage felt irreparable. He had hurt you, and no matter how much he regretted it now, it didn’t change the fact that he had crossed a line.

"We can take a rest," Seungkwan, the vocalist, suggested, noticing Hansol had been staring at the wall for a little too long.

Hansol nodded absently, "Yeah. Sure..." He realized he hadn’t been in the right frame of mind since last night. His thoughts kept circling back to you, replaying the conversation, the hurt in your eyes, the words that had escaped his lips in a moment of desperation. How could he have been so careless? He had to stop thinking about it, but it was impossible.

"The broadcasting students called—they wanted an interview tomorrow. Is that okay?" Mingyu, the bassist, asked as he walked over after picking up a phone call.

Hansol blinked, momentarily distracted. "Why didn’t they call me?" he muttered, then it hit him. He had been offline all day, lost in his thoughts.

"I couldn't reach you since this morning," Jihoon, the drummer, added. "You're usually glued to your phone."

Not since last night.

"Are you saying he’s addicted?" Jeonghan, the keyboardist, teased, throwing a playful jab at Jihoon. The drummer shot back with a grin, threatening to throw his stick at him, but Hansol wasn’t paying attention.

All he could hear was the ringing silence in his head, and all he could see was your face—hurt, confused, disappointed.

Everything felt distant, like he was trapped inside his own mind, while the world continued on around him. They were talking, joking, but Hansol couldn’t focus on anything except the ache in his chest, the question that loomed over him—How had things gotten so messed up?

"Hi, I'm Joshua," a photographer introduced himself before the interview began. He snapped photos of the group throughout the session, the pictures set to be featured on the university’s social media and in the monthly magazine.

Once the interview wrapped up, Joshua approached Hansol with a small smile.

"Hansol, right? Y/n's friend," he said, casually mentioning you.

Hansol raised an eyebrow. "Y/n’s friend?"

Joshua nodded. "Yeah, we’re in the same club. She was supposed to be the one in charge today, but she’s sick."

Hansol's concern deepened. "She’s sick?"

Joshua gave a shrug. "She mentioned something about going out in the rain, but honestly, I’m not sure. I’m just filling in for her."

Hansol’s mind raced as he processed the information. He headed straight to your apartment. When he arrived, your older brother, Seungcheol, answered the door.

"Seungcheol hyung, I heard Y/n is sick, so I brought porridge," Hansol said, holding up the warm container. Seungcheol stepped aside to let him in.

"She’s sick? She hasn’t come out of her room all day," Seungcheol said with a frown. "I need to head out for work. Can you make sure she’s alright while I’m gone?"

"Of course," Hansol replied, his tone filled with concern.

Seungcheol gave a small nod and left, trusting Hansol with the responsibility. Hansol walked down the hallway toward your room and gently knocked on the door. "Y/n?" he called softly, his heart beating faster than usual.

He turned the doorknob gently as he heard you humming softly from inside. It wasn’t the first time he’d stepped into your room, but something about being here now, knowing you might have feelings for him, made his heart race and his stomach flutter with nervous excitement.

"It’s me... I heard you’re sick," he said quietly, stepping inside. He watched as you tossed and turned on your bed, your face scrunched in discomfort.

"My head hurts," you muttered, sounding exhausted.

"You drank too much last night," Hansol remarked softly, his voice full of concern.

You let out a soft sigh before slowly sitting up on your bed. You blinked up at him, clearly still groggy. "What are you doing here?"

Hansol hesitated for a moment, taken aback by the coolness in your voice. Wasn’t this the same person he had been trying to make things right with?

"Did I do something stupid last night?" you continued, your voice tinged with confusion. "I don’t remember anything. I was too drunk."

What? Hansol’s heart sank. You didn’t remember? He could feel his stomach twist in unease. The whole night had been real for him. But you didn’t even recall it?

His words caught in his throat, his mind racing. He had to find a way to explain everything, but for now, all he could do was stand there, speechless.

*

You pushed him toward the door, your hands firm against his chest. It was too much — too much to be in the same room with him after everything that happened last night. Your heart pounded in your chest, every beat a painful reminder of the weight of it all.

"Y/n, wait—" Hansol tried, his voice laced with confusion, but you shook your head firmly.

"Just go, Hansol," you muttered, your gaze fixed on the floor, refusing to meet his eyes.

Damn your lying. There was no way you could forget what had happened last night. The alcohol might have given you the courage to say everything that had been festering in your heart, but it didn’t steal your memory. No, you remembered every single detail — from the heat of your words to the stunned look on his face.

You remembered it all. The sharp ache in your chest. The way your voice trembled as you laid it all bare. The way he stood there, silent, unable to say a word in return.

And now, you cursed yourself for being so stupid. Stupid for drinking too much. Stupid for letting it all out. Stupid for hoping, even for a second, that he’d understand.

The moment the door clicked shut behind him, you let out a shaky breath, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. You leaned your forehead against the door, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Stupid,” you muttered under your breath, wiping at your face harshly. “So, so stupid.”

But no matter how many times you cursed yourself, it didn’t stop the hurt from settling deeper into your chest.

A sharp knock echoed through the quiet of your room just a few minutes later. You clenched your jaw, already feeling the annoyance bubble up in your chest.

Hansol, seriously?

You stomped toward the door, ready to tell him off. Your hand gripped the knob with more force than necessary, and you yanked it open with a glare.

"I told you to le—"

But it wasn’t Hansol.

It was Soonyoung. His eyes widened for a second, clearly taken aback by your sharp tone. He tilted his head, a lopsided grin slowly forming on his face.

"Wow, rough welcome," he teased, holding up a plastic bag in one hand. "This how you treat visitors now?"

Your lips parted, words caught in your throat. Guilt prickled at the back of your mind as you stepped aside to let him in. "Sorry... I thought you were someone else."

"Clearly," he muttered, walking in like he owned the place. His eyes scanned the room before settling on you. "Your brother told me you were sick when I called to check in. Figured I’d drop by and see if you’re still alive."

You sighed, running a hand down your face. "I'm fine. Just a little headache."

Soonyoung raised an eyebrow as he set the bag on your desk, pulling out a small container of soup and a bottle of sports drink. "Doesn't sound 'fine' to me. And you look worse than you sound."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," you grumbled, sitting on the edge of your bed.

"Hey, honesty is love," he said with a wink, cracking open the soup container. "Eat this before you start spiraling about whatever it is you're thinking too hard about."

Your eyes flicked to him, your walls momentarily crumbling under his casual warmth. He knows. Soonyoung wasn’t the most perceptive person, but when it came to his friends, he could read you like an open book.

"Not thinking about anything," you muttered, picking at the hem of your sweater.

He shot you a look as he handed you the soup. "You don't fool me, Y/n. You forget, I know you too well."

You hesitated for a second, your fingers curling around the warm container. The scent of the soup was comforting, but the knot in your chest was too tight to untangle just yet.

"You wanna tell me what happened, or should I guess?" he asked, leaning against your desk, arms crossed and eyes watching you with quiet patience.

Your fingers tightened around the container, the warmth seeping into your skin. Tell him? You could. You should. But the words felt heavy, and your throat burned from all the words you’d swallowed the night before.

Soonyoung’s eyes softened when you didn’t respond. "I heard about Hansol."

Your eyes snapped up to him. He didn’t look smug or teasing. He just... knew.

"Seungcheol hyung told me he was here earlier," he continued, eyes steady on you. "I figured something went down."

"Something always goes down," you muttered, trying to brush it off, but your voice cracked at the end. You sucked in a sharp breath, looking away. Not now. Don't fall apart now.

Soonyoung let out a quiet sigh and crouched in front of you, resting his hands on his knees. "Y/n."

The weight of his gaze pulled you in.

"You don't have to do this alone, you know."

And just like that, the dam broke. Your face crumpled, a shaky breath escaping your lips. Tears you thought you’d buried came spilling out, and you hated it — hated how easy it was for Soonyoung to crack you open.

"I hate him," you choked out, shoulders trembling. "I hate how he made me feel. I hate that he doesn't even know."

Soonyoung sat cross-legged on the floor, his arms draped lazily over his knees as he watched you wipe at your face with the sleeve of your sweater. He didn’t say anything right away, just let the silence stretch long enough for your breathing to even out. You hated how vulnerable you felt, but with Soonyoung, it somehow felt okay.

"You know," he started, his voice light but steady, "Hansol’s always been like that. Head up in the clouds, heart locked up in a safe somewhere only he can find."

You sniffled, eyes still downcast, but you listened.

"He’s not a bad guy," Soonyoung continued, resting his chin on his hand, "but he’s stupid sometimes. No, scratch that. He’s logical to a fault — one of those people who overthinks everything and somehow ends up making the dumbest decision possible."

You glanced up at him, eyes red-rimmed but curious. "Sounds like you’re defending him."

"I’m not," he said quickly, shaking his head. "I’m just telling it how it is." He sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Hansol's the type to approach life like a math problem — one solution, one outcome, no room for feelings. He’s good with logic, terrible with emotions. If it doesn’t fit his formula, he just ignores it."

"Sounds pretty annoying," you muttered, folding your arms over your knees.

Soonyoung let out a short laugh. "Oh, you have no idea. Do you know how many times I’ve seen him 'debate' with Mingyu about how ‘romantic gestures are pointless unless they serve a purpose’?" He shook his head like it physically pained him to remember it. "Like, bro, sometimes you just give people flowers because it’s nice! Not everything needs a reason."

Despite yourself, you cracked a small smile. You could picture it perfectly — Hansol arguing with that deadpan logic of his, Mingyu gesturing wildly, both of them convinced they were right.

"But," Soonyoung leaned forward, his tone softening, "he’s not heartless, Y/n. He’s just... slow. The type of guy who doesn’t notice his own feelings until they’re too loud to ignore. He doesn’t realize he’s hurt someone until it’s staring him in the face. And honestly, I think last night was the first time he really saw it."

You bit the inside of your cheek, eyes flickering toward the window. "It’s not like I needed him to see it. I just... I just wanted him to think of me. Not as some safe option, not as a convenience, but as someone who—"

You stopped yourself, lips pressing into a thin line. Your eyes burned again, and you hated it. Soonyoung watched you for a moment before he spoke.

"He does think of you, Y/n," he said firmly. "But like I said, he’s stupid. He’s probably been thinking of you this whole time and didn’t even realize it. You know how he is."

"Yeah, well, I’m tired of waiting for him to figure it out," you muttered, fingers tugging at a loose thread on your sleeve. "I'm not a puzzle to be solved."

Soonyoung smiled, leaning his head back against the wall. "Good. You shouldn't be." He sighed, glancing at the ceiling like he was remembering something. "But if I know Hansol, he’s probably kicking himself right now. You know how he gets when he messes up — goes all quiet, stops talking to anyone, starts staring at walls like the answers will magically appear."

You blinked, remembering how distant he seemed when he visited earlier. His awkwardness hadn’t been new, but it felt... different. Guilt, maybe?

"Do you think he regrets it?" you asked quietly.

Soonyoung tilted his head, his eyes kind but sharp. "I think he’s finally realizing that you’re not as 'out of reach' as he made himself believe."

Your head snapped toward him, heart stuttering. "Out of reach? What does that mean?"

Soonyoung raised an eyebrow. "You really don't see it, huh? This whole time, he’s been looking at you like you’re untouchable. Like you’re this smart, ambitious, 'got-everything-together' kind of person that’s too good for some guy like him."

You frowned, disbelief creeping into your voice. "That's ridiculous. Hansol's not like that."

"Yeah, well, people get real stupid when they like someone." Soonyoung stood up, stretching his arms over his head with a loud groan. "You think you’re the only one overthinking? Hansol’s been overthinking since the day he met you." He glanced down at you, eyes twinkling with something playful but sincere. "But like I said, he’s slow. And if you’re tired of waiting, I get it. Just don’t pretend you don’t care when we both know you do."

Your throat felt tight, and you stayed quiet as Soonyoung headed for the door.

"Rest up, alright? I’ll check in on you later," he said, tossing you a grin before stepping out. "And if Hansol shows up again, try not to kick him out too fast. He might actually say something smart for once."

The door clicked shut, and silence filled the room.

You stared at your hands, the weight of Soonyoung's words settling deep in your chest.

Out of reach.

You never thought of yourself that way. But... was that really how Hansol saw you? All this time, did he think he never had a chance?

Your heart ached, and for the first time, it wasn’t from anger.

The door suddenly opened again, and Soonyoung peeked his head back in. His face was serious this time, his brows drawn together like he was thinking carefully about what to say.

"Hey, Y/n," he called softly.

"Yeah?"

"Don't get too caught up in him, alright? I mean it." His eyes were steady as he spoke. "Focus on yourself for a while. You’re allowed to do that, you know. Let him figure himself out while you do the same."

You blinked at him, feeling the weight of his words sink in. Focus on yourself. When was the last time you did that? When was the last time you prioritized your own peace instead of waiting for Hansol to notice something?

"Yeah," you murmured, your gaze turning thoughtful. "Yeah, I’ll do that."

Soonyoung grinned. "Good. You deserve it."

This time, when the door clicked shut, it didn’t feel so heavy. It felt like a quiet kind of relief.

*

The band had just wrapped up their third song, the crowd’s energy growing wilder with every beat. Anticipation hung in the air as Seungkwan stepped up to the mic, his grin sharp and infectious.

"And now, for our last song — an original!" he announced, voice booming over the crowd's cheers. "This one’s for everyone who denies something because they’ve never felt complete."

A ripple of excitement passed through the audience, a sea of nodding heads and raised phones ready to capture every second. Hansol’s fingers hovered over the strings of his guitar, heart pounding in time with the thumping bass.

This was it. Their first original song. The song they’d poured their hearts into.

Hansol could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, but it wasn’t suffocating — it was exhilarating. The fortune teller's words from before felt laughable now. What a load of crap. He’d been so caught up in her prediction, but here he was, on stage, living proof that none of it mattered.

His eyes scanned the crowd, and then he spotted you. Right in front, camera in hand, snapping pictures with that same focus you always had. You weren’t just an onlooker — you were part of it. You bopped to the beat, your grin wide as you caught every moment on film.

He couldn’t look away. Not when you gave him that playful high-five before he went on stage. Not when you danced along like you’d been cheering him on from the start. And definitely not when you smiled like that — so bright, so natural, as if none of the things between you two had ever happened.

How are you acting so normal?

He strummed the opening chord, pulling himself back into focus. Jihoon’s sharp drumming set the pace, and the song began. Everything fell into place, the rhythm steady, the notes clean.

Then, during the second verse, something went wrong.

The speakers cracked. The bass fizzled. The sudden static made a few people in the crowd wince, and then — silence.

Everything stopped.

The instruments, the vocals, the energy. All of it.

Mingyu shot a glance at Hansol, his eyes sharp with confusion. What’s going on? his look asked. Hansol didn’t know. He glanced back at Woozi, who had put down his sticks, his face a rare mask of concern. Seungkwan was already at the side of the stage, talking to a frantic staff member waving their hands in panic.

The whole venue was too quiet, the only sound the low murmur of confused voices from the crowd.

Hansol felt his chest tighten. His pulse quickened, not with the thrill of the stage, but with panic. His fingers hovered uselessly over the guitar strings.

Not like this. Not now.

He scanned the crowd again, and then he saw you. You were mouthing something at him, your eyebrows raised in concern.

"What's wrong?"

Hansol swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He glanced back at his bandmates, at the staff, at the broken audio equipment. Everything around him felt like a blur.

But you weren’t a blur.

You were right there, your eyes on him, steady and sure.

He crouched at the edge of the stage, motioning for you to come closer. Without hesitation, you moved through the crowd to stand right in front of him.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice barely audible over the low hum of the venue.

Hansol didn’t answer.

Instead, he looked at you like he’d been holding something in for too long. His eyes darted to the crowd behind you, the sea of strangers with phones pointed at him, waiting for something to happen. The weight of all of it pressed on him again, but this time it didn’t feel like too much.

It felt like a push.

He sucked in a sharp breath and shouted,

“I like you!”

Your eyes went wide. The whole crowd gasped in unison, but Hansol didn’t care.

“What?” You blinked up at him, too stunned to move.

“I like you!” he shouted again, louder this time. “I really like you! Since… I don’t even know when!”

His voice rang out, clear and sharp, like it had been waiting to be said for too long.

“What are you talking about?” you said, taking a small step back, but your eyes never left his.

“I like you, Y/n!” he yelled, his voice cracking, but it didn’t matter. “Let’s go on a date after this!”

A split second later, the audio kicked back on.

The speakers popped, and suddenly, the music came blaring back with Woozi’s drumbeat leading the charge. The bass reverberated through the venue, and Seungkwan’s voice returned right on cue.

The crowd exploded.

Cheers, whistles, and shouts of surprise roared through the space. Phones pointed at Hansol, recording every second of his impromptu confession.

Mingyu’s jaw hung open, his eyes darting between Hansol and you like he’d just witnessed something unbelievable. Woozi’s drumming faltered for just a second before he locked back into rhythm. Seungkwan stumbled on his words, glancing over his shoulder with wide eyes before grinning like a man who knew he’d be talking about this for weeks.

But Hansol didn’t care about any of that.

His eyes stayed on you.

You looked at him like you couldn’t believe it. Your fingers hovered over your camera, your body tense as if you were about to bolt. But then, slowly, you lowered your camera to your side.

Your lips parted, and he thought you were about to say something, but you didn’t.

Instead, you smiled.

Not a small smile. Not a confused, nervous smile.

A real smile.

Hansol let out a shaky breath, his shoulders relaxing for the first time all night. His heart was still pounding, but this time, it wasn’t from panic.

He pushed himself up to his feet, letting the weight fall off his back. He threw his guitar strap back over his shoulder, fingers gripping the neck of his guitar as he glanced at you one last time.

See you after the show, he mouthed with a grin.

Your face flushed, and you covered your mouth with your hand, eyes squinting with a mix of disbelief and something else. Something soft.

With that, Hansol turned around and rejoined the band.

His heart was still racing, and his hands were still shaking, but none of that mattered anymore.

He’d been so sure he’d ruined things with you two days ago. He thought he’d wrecked something that couldn’t be fixed. But now, under the blinding lights of the stage, with the crowd still screaming, he finally felt something shift.

For the first time in a long time, Hansol felt complete.

*

The cozy hum of the café blended with the quiet chatter of other patrons. The smell of fresh coffee beans and sweet pastries filled the air, but none of that could drown out the sound of Soonyoung’s obnoxious laughter. He sat across from you, phone in hand, replaying that moment for the fifth time.

"Here it comes, here it comes," he said with the excitement of someone watching a blockbuster plot twist. His grin stretched wide as Hansol's voice blared from the tiny phone speaker.

"I like you, Y/n! Let's go on a date after this!"

The crowd's eruption played out again, and Soonyoung slapped the table, laughing like it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen. His shoulders shook with every cackle.

“Can you stop already?” you muttered, fingers tapping away at your laptop as you edited the batch of photos from last night’s gig. Your latte sat next to you, half-finished, its warmth barely noticeable anymore. "I heard it live, Soonyoung. I don’t need a replay."

"But I do," Soonyoung grinned, wiping at the corner of his eye. "This is gold, Y/n. Absolute, once-in-a-lifetime gold. Do you realize how many people would pay for a confession like that? In front of a whole crowd? On stage? With working audio as the grand finale?" He pressed play again.

"I like you, Y/n! Let's go on a date after this!"

Your face burned as you ducked behind your laptop, ears heating with the memory of the moment. “I swear, if you don’t stop—”

“I like you, Y/n!” Soonyoung mimicked, his voice high-pitched and theatrical, throwing his head back as if he were the one on stage. “Let's go on a date after this!”

You shot him a glare. “Keep it up, Soonyoung. See what happens.”

“Oooh, scary,” he teased, grinning even wider. "Don't be shy, Y/n. You looked like you were about to cry." He sniffled, pretending to wipe away a tear. "Oh, Hansol, I’ve been waiting for you to say it all my life—"

“Do you have a death wish, Kwon Soonyoung?” you deadpanned, voice dangerously calm.

Hansol, sitting right next to you, snickered behind his hand. He leaned back in his chair, hands in his hoodie pocket, glancing at you with the laziest grin imaginable. He hadn't said much since you sat down, but the look on his face said he was thoroughly entertained.

"You're both impossible," you muttered, eyes flicking back to your laptop. You clicked through your photos, adjusting brightness and contrast, but the warmth in your chest refused to fade. Your lips twitched despite yourself. "This was supposed to be our first date, you know," you muttered into your latte, barely loud enough for them to hear.

But of course, they heard.

“Ohhh?” Soonyoung's eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned forward, propping his chin on his hands. "Is that regret I hear, Y/n? Did you want something more romantic?”

“Romantic?” you scoffed, glancing at him briefly. “Yeah, I definitely dreamed of being confessed to in front of 200 strangers while the sound system crashed.” You rolled your eyes, but there was no bite in your voice.

Hansol leaned in, his elbow resting on the table, his gaze steady on you. His grin softened into something quieter, something almost fond.

"Would you have preferred something more low-key?" he asked, voice low but curious. He tilted his head slightly, his hair falling into his eyes. "I can do it again if you want."

Your heart skipped once, just once, and you had to look back at your screen before your face gave you away. "Don't be ridiculous, Hansol."

"Noted," he said simply, still grinning.

“Don’t let her fool you, man,” Soonyoung butted in, eyes flicking between the two of you like he was watching his favorite TV drama. “She loved every second of it. I saw that little smile. Oh, wait, should I replay it for reference?” His finger hovered over the screen.

You snatched a napkin off the table and threw it at him, hitting him square in the face.

“Shut up, Kwon Soonyoung.”

He howled with laughter, catching the napkin and tossing it back at you. “You’ll thank me later! I’m basically the biggest investor in your relationship!” he declared, puffing out his chest like he deserved a trophy. “Without me, none of this would have happened.”

“Investor?” you shot back, eyebrows raised. “Investor in what? Chaos?”

“Love,” he corrected, tapping his chest with mock sincerity. “I invest in love.”

Hansol laughed quietly at that, his shoulders shaking just a little. His eyes stayed on you, warm and steady, like he'd finally stopped second-guessing everything.

And for a moment, you forgot about Soonyoung's antics, the video, the embarrassment of it all. You only noticed Hansol, his gaze on you like it had been for weeks — no, maybe longer.

I like you, Y/n. Let's go on a date after this.

You didn’t need a replay for that.

It was already stuck in your head.

*

Late at night, the faint hum of streetlights buzzed in the background as Soonyoung paced back and forth outside his apartment building, phone pressed to his ear. His tone was casual, but his words carried a hint of mischief.

“Hey… yeah, it’s me — The Reckyz’s manager,” he said with a grin, glancing around as if someone might overhear him. “Mm-hm, that’s right. I wanted to talk about our performance tomorrow. Got a minute?”

He stopped pacing, eyes narrowing with focus as he listened to the response on the other end. His grin widened. “Perfect. Here’s the thing — I was wondering if you could help us out a bit during the gig tomorrow.” He leaned his back against the wall, his fingers drumming against his thigh like he was cooking up a master plan.

“Yeah, yeah. Nothing too crazy,” he reassured. “I was thinking… maybe some technical issues on stage during the last song. Not a full shutdown, just enough to get people on edge for a second. It’s for promotional purposes, you know?” He laughed lightly, the kind that only comes from someone far too pleased with their own scheme.

“Don’t worry, the members will be aware of it,” he added, his voice smooth as if he’d done this a hundred times. “They’ll play along. Trust me, it'll be unforgettable.”

His eyes flickered with satisfaction as the person on the other end agreed.

"Perfect. I'll owe you one," he said, his grin sharp now, like a cat who’d just caught a mouse. "Just make sure it happens right before the second verse. Timing is everything."

He hung up, slipping his phone into his pocket, eyes glinting with quiet triumph.

"Operation Unforgettable Moment is a go," he muttered to himself, pushing off the wall and strolling down the street, hands in his pockets, a spring in his step. “Biggest investor in love, huh? Yeah, that’s me.”

[mercif4l]

/𝗶𝘁 𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘀 𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗲𝗿.

pairing: reader x choi 'buzzcut' vernon genre: angst, hurt no comfort wc: 1.2k summary: fingers off the unblock button or you're gonna regret it, girl content warning: angst bro. lovers to strangers, mentions of eating difficulties, rotting post-breakup, self-flagellating, i might wanna write an alt. ending to this bc what on earth is it so sad for.

it gets easier: they’re right about that, which pisses you off, frankly, but that’s just your pride talking. 

first, you go no contact and it destroys you, and the rot makes your blood spill a darker, angry red, like cardinals on the cusp of their death. 

then the rage is followed swiftly by embarrassment. at the circumstances, the context, your response, his response (or lack thereof), at being a human being with emotions beyond your control. it turns your teeth brittle and sore, and you can’t muster the courage to smile anymore, but at least you’re eating again. 

the songs that dominate your breakup playlist fall into obscurity in the belly of your liked songs. savored, chewed up, swallowed, sizzling away in the same acid that digested ‘fireflies’ by owl city some 15 years ago. 

now, they only startle you after their second chorus plays through the shitty sound system of some target eight months later. 

then there’s that big, bulbous, obnoxious conclusion: acceptance. 

maybe it’s the exposure therapy? 

you see his face everywhere, not seeking it out, but not avoiding it either. you’re … you deserve to see that he has moved on. it’s good for you to see him and try to accept the feelings that linger (beyond bitterness and resentment). 

because where that tunnel ends, you know he has made you happy. he persists in making you happy, still. the better memories are too plentiful to count or ignore, and his stupid grin always makes you grin right back, no matter the distance—even if it is watching some moment of fanatic hysteria explode on twitter. 

so it does get easier. yes, even as you’re inundated with pictures of him performing to sold out arenas, or modeling brands whose names you know he's too scared to try and pronounce, or shuffling through an airport with a too-small baseball cap haphazardly hiding a new haircut. wait. a new haircut?

it's like something possesses you. one minute you're doomscrolling, the next you're neck deep in carat twitter's discourse over some fantaken photos.

while thousands of fans scream back and forth over something that will inevitably be confirmed in the next 24 hours, you realize-or remember-you're only privy to this news as a statistic. you're just another view in an algorithm. and that no one thinks (or cares) to ask you about hansol anymore, knowing you no longer have a place by his side. 

oof. yeah, that still stings a bit. accepting you have no right to know, or otherwise being limited to investigative fangirling.

but you haven’t given yourself any room for mistake making so far, so why would you sully that clean streak? for the sake of haircut curiosity? what a stupid thing to suggest. idiotic, really. self-sabotaging idiocy. 

to: +82 *** *** **** hey! new haircut looks cool. so sick the company finally let up. hope you’re doing good 👍 

now, without the warm embrace of imessage’s delete option, you’ve kinda/sort of-fucked yourself. 

“it gets easier my ass. yeah, yeah, gets easier to behave like a freak.” you berate yourself, sliding the phone across your table and vastly underestimating the distance it’d take to fall off. as you dive to catch it (and fail), that deafening ringtone only gives you reason to let it drop, to shatter the thing beyond recognizing its screen. but with this stupid heavy duty phone case hansol had bought a year back? no dice. 

from: +82 *** *** **** haha thanks man ended up begging for forgiveness rather than waiting for permission :P from: +82 *** *** **** craaaazy how hard i tried to cover it up just to be clocked the second i stepped off the plane lol

you snicker at that. how ‘hard’ he tried?

to: +82 *** *** ****  boy you wore a cap nothing was gonna cover that loooow taper fadeee 🎶  from: +82 *** *** **** brooo i was supposed to wear my hoodie but i got overstimulated  from: +82 *** *** ****  and i hope ur doing good too by the way  from: +82 *** *** ****  kinda geeked to hear from you haha

you have to put your phone down. this is dangerous, dangerous territory; like, walking through burning sand, sunburned and windlashed, toward a mirage. you have got to put your phone down. 

to: +82 *** *** **** honestly just wanted to wish u well for the new year and lyk the buzzcut is super cool B)

these stupid keyboard emojis are a little secret you both keep. something silly you only use with each other that is so inconsequential, you can’t help but let your cheeks burn an angry red at their return. 

why does it have to be so easy? 

you are going to put the phone down, now.

to: +82 *** *** **** i’m sorry for blocking you—even though we said no contact it felt pretty immature. from: +82 *** *** **** glad u like the hair. was kinda bummed u weren’t the first to see it haha could only imagine the look on your face calling u after the cut or sending u a selfie :’) from: +82 *** *** **** nah i deserved it

he didn’t deserve it. sure, his whole being him shtick was what made the separation so excruciating in the first place, but you’d made the decision mutually. albeit a bit prematurely. in the way all confused adults do when they preempt disaster and jump ship at the first sign of smoke. 

from: +82 *** *** **** that sounds crazy dramatic i just mean from: +82 *** *** **** it made sense? like it didn’t take long for me to get why you’d done it from: +82 *** *** **** i just figured pretty early on u knew what u were doing. you always did/do lol 

your finger hovers over the call button. never before has it felt so offensive, so risqué to do such a thing, but you know that by ignoring the arbitrary rules of a breakup you’re tempting fate. 

it doesn’t matter that before, you could do it as freely as you wished. that before, he would always pick up and never once avoided answering. before, you could send jibberish voicemails to litter his inbox, quadruple double triple text, or simply tell him to ‘ring’, and he’d oblige; because before you were in love. now, you’re an unnamed contact.

now, you stomp on the ashes like they’ll relight after a year being burned out. 

from: +82 *** *** ****  happy new year by the way!!!! from: +82 *** *** **** and belated happy holidays :) i pried and kwan let slip you got a billy joel record from him from: +82 *** *** **** i didn’t know you’d kept our player. why does that make me so happy?

you need to put the phone down. you have got to put the phone. you are going to put the phone down, now. 

your stiff finger taps that blue icon before you can even think to stop it. it’s unfair, really, how this has to happen, but it was inevitable. because no amount of money in the world could buy you enough dignity to do this properly.

because when it comes to hansol, you’re nothing more than a fool. 

caller id [+84 *** *** ****] > you will not receive phone calls, messages or facetime calls from people on the block list. confirm? caller blocked. 

delete message history? 

a/n: vaguely inspired by @xinganhao rockstar!reader and vernon breakup chapter.... like what if we all suffered more... because im a SICK MASOCHIST! and kae is my unknowing muse. also sorry for going afk and happy new year</3

[seventeenreasonswhy]

SVT's Partner Asks for Some Space

OT13!Seventeen x GN!Reader

SFW / Light angst ❤️‍🩹

You had a fight with your partner <SVT Member> and need some space to cool off before you talk again. Here’s how they take it:

s.coups: petty lol. he’s like “two can play this game.” and goes on an unannounced trip with his friends or something. it’s ultimately giving you what you want but he wants you to miss him as much as he misses you. you’re a little annoyed that he’s not being more mature, but you guys work it out after a while.

jeonghan: jeonghan is good at conflict resolution once he gets over his initial annoyance/fear about you not talking to him. though he often behaves like a menace, he’s a naturally fair-minded person, so he understands when you ask for some space and he comes around eventually to be impressed with you putting up a boundary. he’s still a little miffed, but he comes out of it admiring and respecting you even more.

joshua: he understands but he is saaaddd haha. he is nervous about what’s going through your mind. he ends up leaning on his friends a lot and going out drinking to distract himself. he doesn’t do anything irresponsible, but he has to work hard to restrain himself from texting you for reassurance.

jun: he struggles with this, but he will always respect your wishes. your needs are very important to him, and when he thinks more about it, it’s a wise idea to take some time to cool off. he’s sad without you for a bit but he knows that it will make the next time you see each other and talk things out much more constructive.

hoshi: stressed, miserable, hates this lol. he feels so bad about getting in a fight with you in the first place. he blames himself for making you feel this way and spends your time apart planning how to make it up to you. he respects your wishes, but he is very sad to not see you every day!!

wonwoo: he understands, and he’s honestly still lowkey pissed himself, so you both know space is a good idea. he’ll get really sad after a couple of days, though. he won’t be able to resist texting you after a few days to check in haha.

woozi: forever the suffer-in-silence type, he’ll pretend that it’s no big deal to give you your space but on the inside he’ll be really torn up. he’ll miss you like crazy and be so worried that this might mean the end for you two. it wasn’t that big of a fight, but his anxiety will amplify it in his mind. he’d never cross a boundary that you set, though. it’ll be a really nice make-up between you two just from all the relief that he will feel!

the8: thinks that taking some space after a fight is a very smart and reasonable idea, even though he will miss you. he spends his days meditating and breathing through all of his feelings so that when you see each other again you are both calm and collected. he really loves you, so he wants to give you what you need.

mingyu: mingyu is really good at giving you what you need, even when it makes him sad! poor puppy haha. he hates being away from you. he would pout and whine to his friends about your fight, and you would feel bad picturing him all sad and lonely without you. you wouldn’t go very long without talking, and he would be sooooo apologetic and affectionate when he saw you again.

DK: oh man, he hates this haha. he can’t concentrate, he’s got such low energy, he’s snapping at the other members... he’s so distracted by your request. he honors it completely, never wanting to upset you even more, but he is dramatic when you guys reunite. He gets all pouty and sad, saying you abandoned him. You find this childishness lowkey endearing though.

seungkwan: pissed lmao. What do you mean space? Fine! he’ll give you space! ends up getting competitive and ignoring you, even when you tell him that you’re ready to talk. “Well, I’m not!” he says lol. Big brat. You send him the eye-roll emoji and tell him to grow up lol. This cycle will continue for a few rounds until one of you caves and then you will have a very sweet reunion.

vernon: totally understands, he’s similar after a fight. he does think back to the fight and replays it in his head a lot while you’re taking some space from each other, which makes him end up feeling kind of nervous. He’s really glad when you text him a few days later and say that you miss him.

dino: aww, babyyyy haha. he understands but he is so saaadddd lol. He hates being apart! Especially when you might still be mad at him! There’s nothing he hates more than when you’re upset, especially if he caused it. he would be worrying the whole time you were taking space. You would know this, and wouldn’t wait too long to get in touch with him because you don’t want him to suffer suffer.

[gyuzgrl]

food chain IIksyII

summary- a couple handsy young men have your boyfriend reminding you who truly is on top of the food chain.

wc- 3k

Soonyoung watches with clenched fists as you talk to his friends. On hindsight, perhaps introducing his beautiful, funny, smart girlfriend to 12 handsome young men, wasn't his brightest idea yet. He hadn't thought this through.

You sat on the couch, sandwiched between Seungcheol and Mingyu- both of whom appeared to have taken a particular interest in you tonight. A pretty white dress clung to your curves, stopping a little above your knees, your hair lay perfectly. You looked stunning.

They all seemed to think that.

"...which is how my love for literature started, really," you conclude your story, offering Jihoon a gentle smile. He blushes, lowering his gaze.

"what about college? how's that treatin' ya?" Mingyu urges, nudging your shoulder as if you've been friends for ages.

His friendly manner leaves you feeling eternally grateful. It isn't easy sitting in a room full of strangers. Especially when everyone knows the other person. Everyone except you.

You respond, grinning as you gesture wildly with your hands. A fond smile settles on his face and on the others, but you play this off as them being nice.

Soonyoung, however, does not.

He knows his friends. Knows them well enough to see that behind their smiles and innocent touches, lie lust-blown pupils and something akin to desire.

Seungcheol tucks a strand of hair behind your ear as you talk, and you break off into a clumsy stutter. He grins, hand lingering on your hair with an evident fondness.

Your boyfriend grits his teeth. He rises from his seat, which ironically happens to be the one furthest from you, and walks over to you.

Everyone watches.

"baby," he grumbles, "can't hear you from all the way there"

You pout.

"come sit closer then, you're so far away soonie"

The petname pierces through all their hearts, like cupids very own arrow. Just when they thought you couldn't get any cuter, you had to go and prove them all wrong.

"no space" Soonyoung motions to the packed couch. "why don't you sit on my lap, pretty?"

"hosh-" you smack his chest, face heating up.

"wha- it's not like they mind, do you, guys?"

He turns to look at each of his friends, staring them down as if to say- 'she's mine. she's mine and you will watch her be mine.'

Gulping, Vernon and Joshua look at each other, a lingering guilt in their eyes. In all their eyes.

Seungcheol speaks up, forcing a smile onto his face- "of course not! go ahead, go ahead"

Wasting no time, Soonyoung hoists you up, making space for himself between Mingyu and Seungcheol, before tugging you onto his lap. His arms wrap themselves securely around your waist, and he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, placing a gentle kiss there.

There's a sudden shift in the atmosphere. What once was a lively, active air, has shifted into a still, stagnant one, charged with envy and guilt.

There's a pause.

"y/n," a voice calls from the side, with a sultry edge- it's Jeonghan. "you never told us what your type is-"

"oh..."

You're a little taken aback by the sudden question, but the people-pleaser in you can't help but respond.

"well, I like Hosh, so I'm sure that tells you everythin-"

"c'monn" he pushes, "tell me what I can do to steal you from Hoshingie"

Your eyes widen. Surely, he was joking, yes?

You laugh, hesitantly, following a couple of the boys around you, but Soonyoung's lips are set in a firm, hard line.

"you're funny-" you offer, patting your boyfriend's hand reassuringly.

"I mean it can't be looks- cause frankly, you'd have been on my lap instead of his"

The men laugh, poking your boyfriend as he gnashes his teeth. He had to remind himself that he wanted this. He wanted you to meet his friends. He wanted to call them over to the house. He wanted them to like you.

Look where that got him.

"oh- I got it!" Chan exclaims, pointing at you, "you must like cute guys- y'know they're s-"

"cute?" Soonyoung interrupts.

"cute?"

They all fall silent. The laughs and giggles that erupted from all over suddenly ceased to exist.

"if you think what you've seen of me so far is 'cute' I'd better straighten up. seems like I've been too nice all this while."

His voice is dangerously low. The stares he shoots at the younger boy are nothing short of menacing. If you didn't know any better, you'd think there were literal daggers shooting out from his eyes.

"Hoshi let's calm do-" Dokyeom tries, only to find his voice shrinking back when your boyfriend turns to him.

"calm down? oh I'm calm. I'm very calm."

You feel his grasp on your stomach tighten, pulling you further into his lap.

"as glad as I am that you all like my girlfriend, I think it's time for you to go. getting kinda late, isn't it, Seungcheolie hyung?"

The older man jerks to his feet, agreeing embarrassingly quick.

"yeah we've overstayed, haven't we, guys? we should um, we should get going."

Like clockwork, the other men rise to their feet, mumbling pathetic little 'nice to meet you's before scurrying after Seungcheol, right out the door.

You scurry after them, holding the door open as you call out a quick "it was lovely meeting you! get home safe". It surprised you how easily Soonyoung got them to leave at his command.

There's a presence behind you, an arm stretching out to slam the door shut. You turn around to meet the gaze of your very angry boyfriend.

Like a deer, stupified under the watch of a tiger, you stood frozen under Soonyoung's glare. Behind his pupils danced a dangerous kind of rage- one that made your knees weak and your heart quicken.

"Hosh-"

"save it"

Biting your lip, you look away, feeling so incredibly small under him. Feeling so powerless. You're reminded that he's the one in control here and nobody could even begin to compare. Not Seungcheol, not Mingyu, not even Jeonghan. With the way they all ran off at his command, it was evident who really sat at the top of the food chain.

He leans in, lips ghosting over yours.

You were trapped.

"thought they were funny, did you?" he seethes, pushing his hips flush against yours, "hm? smiling away when they touched you, when they stared at what's mine-"

A soft whimper is all you can manage, chasing his lips as he pulls away just a little.

"no, Hosh-"

"I said. save it."

A familiar heat pools between your legs at his commanding tone. God he was so sexy like this- all angry and rough.

"I think you've forgotten, pretty girl" he rasps with a condescending furrow in his brow, "forgotten who you belong to."

Oh you were in for a long night.

"n-no Soonie m'yours- only yours"

"yeah?"

"mhm"

A hand works its way up to your chin, digits cradling the tip, tilting your head up. Your eyes flutter closed.

"mm, so eager for me" he coos, inching forward. You move to pull him closer, but he catches your wrists with his other hand, yanking them above your head, pinning them against the door.

You gasp, now completely at his mercy. He grins.

"patience, baby"

He closes in, lips finally meeting yours in a sloppy kiss. It's a mess of teeth and tongue and desperation, but you love it. There's a fire, a passion, when he kisses you- one you've seen when he dances. His body rolls into yours, hips pushing hard against you, and you moan.

His tongue shoves its way into your mouth, licking over the surface of your palate like he'd go crazy if he didn't.

It's dizzying how intense he is. His presence is overwhelming- he's all over- and you're helpless to it all.

Your lungs scream for respite, begging you to pull away, to breathe. Like a fire alarm, your heart thuds in your ears, almost in warning, as if to say- 'breathe! breathe before you lose consciousness!'

Hesitantly, you listen to your panicked heart, pulling away with a gasp. Your chest heaves under him, filling you up with sweet, sweet oxygen.

"can they get you all worked up like this? hm?" he mumbles, trailing his fingertips from your chin to the divot of your collarbones.

You shake your head.

His voice drops to a whisper,

"can they touch you the way I do?"

The solid muscle of his thigh parts your legs, bullying it's way in between. He pushes up, right against your sex, and you whimper at the contact.

"tell me."

"nobody t-touches me like you do Soonyoung- please," you breathe, head tipping back, giving him complete access to your throat in silent submission.

He trails hot kisses along your jaw, down your throat, sucking purple stains into your skin- so harsh and opaque, you wouldn't be able to hide them from the world.

"what will Seuncheollie hyung think, hm? what will he think when he sees how you let me mark you like this for everyone to see?"

You moan, the thought of his friends seeing the hickeys he left only adding to your arousal. The heat between your legs, the wetness, is unbearable. Your body yearns for Soonyoung, aches for him. There's a feeling only he can give you and you both know it. You need him now.

Picking up on your desperation, your boyfriend decides to move on. After all, he can't keep his pretty girl waiting, can he?

Firm hands grip your thighs, and a single command is uttered- "jump."

Instantly, your legs wrap around his waist and he hoists you into his strong arms, lips clashing in a messy kiss as he carries you to the bedroom.

Soonyoung lowers you onto the bed, pressing you into the mattress with his weight. His arms cage you in, his hips roll into yours, his eyes- now narrowed at you in the way a predator would look at its prey- held a fire that made your skin grow hot.

"you need me to make you feel good, don't you, baby?" he grins wickedly, breath fanning across your face.

You nod, pathetically.

"say it"

He pauses, leaning closer- so close, his lips touch yours as he speaks- "tell me you need me,"

Tears prick your eyes- a mix of desperation and overwhelm taking over your senses completely.

"only you Hosh, I need you- I need you so please-"

"I know, pretty, I know" he interrupts, mumbling against your lips.

"please,"

And with that, Hoshi's all over you like a storm. Feverish hands grip and twist at your dress, yanking it off carelessly. He didn't care if it tore. He didn't care one bit. He'd just buy you five more tomorrow.

What he saw underneath was worth every penny he'd spend on your dresses.

A matching pale pink lingerie set. All for him to see.

"fuck baby, you're- you're killing me" he groans, shoving his face into your covered breasts. He pulls away, taking you in for a moment, before his hands tug eagerly at the fabric, leaving your chest bare.

"so fuckin' pretty, y'know that? y'know how goddamn pretty you are, baby?"

Bashfully, you turn away, biting your lip with a stifled grin.

"I mean it- god, if you could see yourself right now"

"stopp" you whine, covering your face.

He grins before his lips move back to your breasts, swirling his tongue over each nipple, pressing kisses, sucking bruises into the tender flesh.

With every flick of his tongue, you arch off the bed, pressing yourself further into him with a lewd moan. It was true, what he said. Only he can make you feel like this.

Soonyoung travels further south, tracing a path down your breasts to the hem of your panties. He places gentle kisses on your tummy, while his hands move swiftly to reveal what he considers heaven.

Feeling the wetness soaking through the pretty pink fabric, he can't control the groan forcing its way out his throat.

"so wet-" he says, almost frustrated by how perfect you are, "all this for me, baby?"

"mhm- all for y-you Soonie"

You squirm under his touch, feeling particularly ticklish with every soft kiss he places on your skin. That gentle manner is long gone, however, once you're left completely bare. It's as though the sight of your bare cunt flips a switch in his head- turning him into an animal; rough, messy, greedy.

His voice takes on a raspier quality, his breaths turn shallow, his arms tremble as he lowers himself to face your heat.

"oh, you're dripping"

You whine, wiggling your hips to get him to touch you, and he smirks. Large hands splay you open and yank you down by your thighs, straight onto his tongue.

There's no controlling the noises you make now.

You yelp when his tongue makes contact with your clit, toying with it so effortlessly tears well in your eyes. Every flick, every roll of his tongue has shivers running along your skin, with goosebumps all over your body.

"Soonie please- please, please, please-" you moan, unsure of what you're even asking for.

He responds with quicker motions around your clit, slurping loudly at your cunt. A knot builds in your tummy, tightening, tightening, until it's ready to snap.

His lips cradle your clit and provide just a little more stimulation as they suck around you, drawing the sensitive nerves out of hiding.

"d-don't stop fuck- m'gonna,"

All you hear is a hum, muffled by your cunt, shooting vibrations right through you. The added stimulation is exactly what you need, sending you over the edge in record time.

The knot in your stomach snaps, and you moan his name as you come, chanting it like it's all you know- 'Soonyoung, Soonyoung, Soonyoung'

He slips a finger into you, wanting to feel your orgasm. The way you tighten around his digit sends blood rushing to his dick. There was nothing he wanted more than to feel your walls tighten around him, to feel how eagerly you'd keep pulling him back in for more.

"that's it, baby- fuck," he drawls, licking his hands clean, "taste so fucking good"

Rising back to his feet, Soonyoung glances down at you, lips curling at the corners. He unbuttons his shirt, popping each disk off meticulously as he stares down at you.

What a tease.

Your breath hitches when he slips off the fabric, revealing his shockingly sculpted torso. While your boyfriend did appear less muscular than most- owing this to his cute baby face- he was easily one of the most chiseled men you'd seen.

He moves to his jeans next- unbuckling his belt with such dexterity you find yourself even more aroused than before. The button comes undone, zip tugged down, and he steps out of his pants, leaving him in his black boxers as he makes his way back to you.

Firm pectorals greet your eager hands, delicious striations, and defined ridges make your mouth water- god, you could just eat him alive.

"you're staring again" he mumbles, now hovering above you.

"am not" you grin.

"are too"

"am no-"

"shut up," he breathes before pulling you into a messy kiss. It's a clash of tongue and teeth but lord it feels better than anything you've done with anyone else.

Your eyes widen when you feel his cock rubbing up against your folds- when did he lose the boxers?

Before you can even process his speedy undressing, Soonyoung shoves his length into you, earning a particularly loud moan on your part.

He grins against your lips at the sound, and moves back to kiss you properly, now swallowing your whimpers and cries. His hips roll into you, driving his cock further into your cunt and back, repeating the process over and over again.

There's an ease with which he moves into you, like liquid metal. His movements are powerful and fluid, giving you so much pleasure you feel like you're losing your mind.

Sweat collects at his temples as he pounds into you, clumps of hair sticking to his forehead- nothing, no one, could even begin to compare to how gorgeous he is.

He throws your leg over his waist, angling himself deeper, just enough to kiss that spot no one else can. Your head tips back into the pillows, chest heaving as you moan helplessly under him.

"can they make you feel like this?" he rasps, picking up his pace, "can they even come close to how good I'm fucking you?"

"no- no one but you- fuck Soonie don't stop"

Sliding a hand down your torso, Soonyoung rubs tight circles into your clit, sending waves of pleasure rippling over your body. You cry out, back arching off the bed as tears spill from your eyes, staining your rosy cheeks.

"so pretty like this," he grits, "taking me so fucking good-"

You feel yourself right on the edge of pleasure, waiting, anticipating, until you finally fall. A wave of relief washes over you, muscles twitching as you let go. Soonyoung follows right after, gritting his teeth as your walls tighten around him, greedily coaxing out every bit of his release.

"fuck," he breathes, his thrusts growing slower before he stills in you.

He leans his forehead against yours, mumbling "I love you" over and over until you calm down.

"m'gonna run us a bath, kay?"

"mhm"

Lifting himself off of you, Soonyoung heads to the bathroom, to set up. In a couple of minutes, he comes back out with a warm, damp towel in hand, crawling between your legs to gently wipe off the mess you've made.

He cradles your thigh so gently, it makes your heart swell. Each swipe is tender and soft, making sure he doesn't touch you when you're this sensitive.

"thank you," you mumble, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

He looks up at you, cupping your face right away with concern painted all over his features.

"baby what's wrong? did I do something? did I hurt you?"

"no I just- I just really love you. And I'm the luckiest girl in the world to have you with me"

His face lights up, little crescents forming in his eyes.

"I love you" he grins, "I love you and you're gonna be mine forever"

He pauses to kiss the tip of your nose-

"now c'mere lemme clean you up"

[hopelessromanticwh0re]

20:40

One of the most exciting days for you was always when Vernon came back home after weeks or sometimes months on tour. He would sweep you into the biggest, warmest hug, making you feel whole again. You’d spend hours catching up, talking about the tour, how much you missed each other, and the new foods he’d tried while he was away. To top it all off, you’d always go on a date that same day—usually something silly and fun like the arcade or bowling.

However, today was different from your usual routine. Vernon came home looking tired, but there was something else, too—something that seemed to be weighing on him. The hug that usually melted all your worries away felt short and distant. Instead of heading to your shared room to talk, Vernon quietly slipped off his old clothes, threw on some basketball shorts, and lay down on the bed, face halfway buried in the pillow.

You followed him, sitting on your side of the bed and looking at your boy.

“Baby,” you said softly, giving him a gentle shake. Vernon turned his head slightly to look at you, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, and his pink lips set in a pout.

“Bub, you okay?” you asked, stroking his fluffy brown hair.

“Just sleepy,” he mumbled.

“Yeah?” you replied, and he nodded.

“Sleep well,” you whispered, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you too, bub,” he murmured, finally closing his eyes completely.

Vernon ended up sleeping longer than you expected, and eventually, you drifted off as well. When you woke up, it was around 1 a.m., and you noticed Vernon wasn’t beside you. You found him on the patio, smoking a blunt in silence. He didn’t smoke often, but when he did, you knew something was wrong.

“Baby,” you said quietly from the doorway. Vernon sat on a chair, his elbows on his knees, the blunt in his right hand. He turned his head to look at you.

“Hi, Princess,” he said, motioning for you to sit on his lap. You walked over, straddling his lap and burying your head into the crook of his neck.

“Sorry we didn’t get to talk much today,” he whispered, rubbing your back.

“It’s fine,” you assured him, your voice soft.

“What’s the matter, baby?” you asked, lifting your head to look into his eyes. Vernon placed the blunt in the ashtray and shook his head.

“Love, you can tell me,” you encouraged, bringing your hands from his neck to his hair. “That’s what I’m here for.”

He took a deep breath before speaking. “I think I want to go back private,” he said, looking into your eyes. You paused for a moment, waiting to see if he had more to say.

“That’s fine,” you replied without hesitation.

“I saw the way people were talking in your comments the other day,” he continued.

A few days ago, you had posted a picture of you and Vernon before he left for tour. Some fans were upset, leaving hurtful comments, but you hadn’t taken them to heart. Vernon knew that things like this didn’t usually bother you, but he still didn’t like that it was happening. He had also received a bunch of messages about the post from fans.

“And I’m so sorry you have to see all those mean things just because I’m your boyfriend,” he said, his sad brown eyes looking up at you. He rested his head on your chest, and you gently played with his hair.

“And I don’t want to be a bad boyfriend and not protect you from that kind of stuff,” he added.

“Oh, baby, don’t apologize,” you soothed, still running your fingers through his hair. “It’s not your fault. You shouldn’t feel guilty because of other people’s actions.”

“But if I was a regular guy, you wouldn’t have to deal with this kind of stuff,” he murmured.

“Maybe, but I knew what I was getting into when you asked to be my boyfriend,” you reassured him.

“I just feel like a bad boyfriend for putting you through that,” he said, sounding slightly upset.

“You’re not a bad boyfriend. You’ll never be a bad boyfriend,” you said gently, trying to calm him down.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

“Positive,” you affirmed. “But, baby, if you feel this way, we can go back private—just me and you.”

“Yeah?” he asked quietly, looking at you with hope in his eyes.

“Of course,” you said, smiling at him.

Vernon wrapped his arms around you even tighter, placing tender kisses on your neck and up to your cheek.

“You’re truly the most perfect girl in the world,” he whispered in your ear. “Like, seriously, I don’t know what I did to deserve someone like you.”

“I’d do anything for you, baby, and you know that,” you said before kissing his soft lips. “I’m happy if you’re happy.”

“I didn’t like sharing you that much anyway,” he teased, making you laugh. He smiled at the sound of your laughter.

“I love you so much, Princess,” he whispered near your ear, his voice filled with affection.

“I love you too, bub,” you replied, giggling at his ticklish kisses.

That night, you both decided to take a step back from the public eye. You deleted all your posts with Vernon and made your account private. Vernon deleted his post with you and logged off Instagram for a while.

It was just you and him, back to where you both felt most at peace.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

okay so im back yet again. I wrote this like a month ago while I was listening to Mac miller and like came up with this idea idk. im not sure if it like my best work or even its a good idea in general, but yk it whatever. I hope you liked it guysss ily sm and thank for reading ofcc LOVE YAAA 🩷!! (also this was not proof read sooo sry if I fucked up somewhere)

[daisymbin]

21. "we should bake something together—it’ll be a disaster, but fun."

Vernon has a craving for chocolate chip cookies and asks reader for help. lots of fluff and very domestic pls 🙂‍↕️

omg I love this....thank you for requesting this ahh!!!!

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // hansol's m.list

fluff prompt #21: "we should bake something together—it'll be a disaster, but fun."

hansol stood in the doorway of the living room, biting his lip nervously. he shuffled his feet a little, as if he couldn’t quite figure out how to ask. you looked up from your book, giving him an expectant look.

"hey," he started, his voice soft. "want to bake something with me?"

you blinked, a little confused. "bake? really? you hate cooking."

"yeah, well..." he scratched the back of his neck, glancing away for a second. "i was thinking... maybe we could make chocolate chip cookies? it’ll probably be a disaster, but, you know, fun."

you raised an eyebrow, setting the book down. "fun? you do realize you can’t even make toast without burning it, right?"

"hey, that was a one-time thing," hansol protested, his eyes widening with mock offense. "i was just distracted."

you snorted, crossing your arms. "uh-huh. distracted by what? nothing burns toast like that except for someone who’s not paying attention."

he pouted, his bottom lip jutting out dramatically. "there's a good 90% chance that I was probably distracted by you. now, come on. please? i promise i’ll make it up to you if it’s a mess. i’ll even clean up afterwards."

you sighed, feeling your resolve crumble. hansol could be annoyingly persuasive when he wanted to be. "fine. but if the kitchen ends up looking like a war zone, you're cleaning it up."

"deal!" he said with a bright grin, practically bouncing on his heels. "it’s going to be a fun one, i promise."

as you both headed into the kitchen, hansol started pulling ingredients out of the cabinets with such enthusiasm that you couldn’t help but laugh. flour, sugar, butter—he was setting it all up like he’d done it a hundred times before, even though you both knew he hadn’t.

you grabbed the chocolate chips from the counter. "you know," you started, "it’s kind of weird that you suddenly want to bake. you’ve always said cooking’s a pain."

hansol paused mid-movement, glancing at you with a sheepish smile. "well, yeah. it’s not really my thing, you know? but..." he trailed off, his gaze softening. "i don’t know. i guess i just... want to spend more time with you."

you blinked, surprised by his sudden honesty. "spend time with me? we spend time together all the time."

he shifted his weight, looking down at the counter, clearly trying to find the right words. "i don’t know... lately, i feel like we haven’t really... been doing things together, y’know? with all the schedules and work, it’s like i’m always busy, and i miss you. i miss hanging out with you, just... doing something simple." he gave you a small, almost shy smile. "so i thought baking would be a good excuse."

you felt your heart soften at his words. he’d always been so busy, always on the move. the rare moments when he was home, really home, felt like treasures. you smiled at him, walking over to where he stood, and lightly nudged him with your shoulder. "you really do miss me, huh?"

"yeah," he said quietly, a little sheepish but undeniably sincere. "i do.

you chuckled, brushing a stray piece of flour off his cheek, and reached for the mixing bowl. "well, how can i say no to that? let’s make these cookies, then."

hansol’s face lit up with a grin, his earlier hesitation vanishing. "really?"

"yeah," you said, feeling your heart flutter at his excitement. "let’s make a mess. we’ll burn a few cookies along the way, but it'll be worth it."

"yes!" hansol cheered, practically jumping into action. "this is gonna be great, i swear."

the two of you fell into an easy rhythm, flour dusting the air as you measured out ingredients and mixed them together. hansol was surprisingly good at cracking eggs without making a mess, though he did drop one onto the counter once and laughed it off.

"well, that’s one egg down," he joked, looking at the mess on the counter like it was no big deal. "but hey, we're getting there!" he quickly reassures you.

you laughed, shaking your head. "we’ll be lucky if the cookies don’t end up as hockey pucks."

"nah," hansol said, confidently. "i’m a pro at this now. we got this."

as you mixed the dough together, hansol snuck a piece of chocolate chip dough, only to be caught red-handed by you. "hey! no eating the dough yet," you scolded with a laugh.

he made a face, his mouth full of dough. "but it’s so good!" he protested through a mouthful. "you can’t blame me for sampling."

you rolled your eyes but smiled, pulling out the baking sheet to spoon out the dough. "just make sure the cookies are actually edible. that’s all i ask."

you both giggled your way through the whole process—laughter filling the kitchen as you dropped spoonfuls of dough onto the tray. even when a little flour splashed onto hansol’s shirt, he just grinned like it was all part of the plan.

when the cookies were finally in the oven, hansol leaned against the counter, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "thanks for agreeing to do this with me," he said quietly. "i know i can be a pain sometimes."

you reached out, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "you’re not a pain. i’m glad we did this. it’s nice... being here with you."

he smiled, his eyes lighting up. "i like it too. i like being with you."

the timer went off, and the two of you rushed to the oven, pulling out the tray with the cookies that were perfectly golden brown. well, mostly perfect. a couple were a little overcooked, but they were still good.

"they’re beautiful," hansol said with a grin, holding up one of the cookies as if it was a masterpiece.

you took a bite, and despite a slightly burnt edge, the warmth and sweetness hit you just right. "not bad for a first-time baker."

"i told you," hansol said, with a wink. "disaster, but fun."

you laughed, taking another cookie and handing him one. "definitely fun. and maybe not such a disaster after all."

hansol smiled, a little shy but warm, as he reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. "i’m really glad we did this," he said softly. "i missed you."

you squeezed his hand back, your heart swelling. "me too, hansol. me too."

[mountainficss]

noticed u didn’t have as much writings for vernon than the other members (nothing wrong with that) but i’ve been thinking…

vernon is always so soft with you, he’s just so sweet to you…it would take a lot of teasing and bratting to get him to snap, but when he does you’re in for one long night.

!! mentions of: unprotected sex, rough sex

yes you’re correcttt i don’t have as many for sweet vernonie ;( i really hope to write for him more <3 and yees quiet vernon seems very very patient to me. i sincerely think it would take him weeks to snap from your teasing. like you could tease him and act like a brat for literal days because he’s so easygoing. you’d make it a daily thing at that point, just because he’s so fun to mess around with. but ohh if you catch vernon on a bad day? oh he’d fuck you stupid. he wouldn’t be in the mood for any teasing or brattiness, and he’d waste no time stripping you and throwing you down onto his mattress. he’d take all of his anger out on you, releasing all the pent up stress from his day in the form of sharp thrusts into your heat. and you’d love it, would love when he’s rough with you and throws you around like you’re his doll. of course you’d enjoy the nights where he’s slow and gentle with you, but something about him pounding into you after a long day really turns you on <3 he’d definitely fuck you for hours, all of his exhaustion melting away the longer he stays buried inside of your clenching heat. the sounds of your skin loudly colliding with every thrust would fill the room along with your desperate moans.

all i’m saying is vernon would fuck you right :) and after the hours of him using you as his personal fuck doll he’d go right back to babying you <3 treating you so well and taking care of you like the sweet boy he is <3 (and you’d secretly hope he’d take his anger out on you more often, because you love being able to be his stress reliever, while also getting the best fuck of your life.)

taglist: @jeonghanpill , @bangantokchy , @caratboy , @bewoyewo , @c-hanniehae , @wonvsmile , @haolovre , @aaniag , @writingbarnes , @dokyeomkyeom , @allieyaaa

[woozinhos]

can i request vernon and reader just having fun (ykwim?) and being loud enough for the members to hear and then have to endure loads of teasing the next day??

Vernon and you are tangled up in the sheets, your bodies slick with sweat and desire. You're both completely lost in the moment, completely unaware of the noise you're making. You're moaning and gasping, your cries of pleasure echoing off the walls of the room. Vernon is just as vocal, his deep groans mixing with your moans as he drives into you over and over again. Meanwhile, the other members of the group are gathered in the living room, trying to watch a movie. They're doing their best to ignore the noise coming from your room, but it's impossible to ignore the sound of your passionate lovemaking.

Mingyu sighs and turns up the volume on the TV, hoping to drown out the noise. "They're so loud," he mutters. "It's like they want us to hear them."

Vernon picks up the pace, his hips snapping against yours with a newfound urgency. He's not holding back anymore, his thrusts becoming more forceful and powerful. You're completely lost in the pleasure, your body arching up to meet his every thrust. You don't care if the others can hear you anymore, all you care about is the way Vernon is making you feel.

The sound of your moans and groans is growing louder, filling the room and echoing through the walls. Vernon grins as he hears the other members' complaints, knowing that they're all jealous of what he's doing to you. Your moans grow louder and louder, your body writhing beneath Vernon's. He can feel your muscles clenching around him, and he knows that you're close to coming again.

He leans down to whisper in your ear, his voice low and sultry. "You're so loud, baby. They can probably hear you all the way in the living room."

Vernon grins as he watches your face contort with pleasure. He knows he's pushing your limits, but he can't help himself. He loves seeing you like this, completely lost in the moment and uninhibited. He reaches down to rub your clit, his fingers working in tandem with his thrusts. He can feel your body tensing up, your moans becoming more and more frantic.

"That's it, baby," he growls. "Let go for me. Let them all hear you."

You reach up and grab a handful of Vernon's hair, tugging on it roughly. The pain mixes with the pleasure, sending a jolt of electricity through his body. He groans, his hips stuttering for a moment before he regains his rhythm. He loves it when you get rough with him, and he can feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuck," he gasps, his voice rough with desire. "You're so feisty tonight."

Vernon is usually a quiet lover, preferring to show his affection through his actions rather than words. But today, something has shifted. He's never been this vocal during sex before, and it's turning you on even more. His moans and groans are driving you wild, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine.

"You feel so good," he pants, his hips snapping against yours with increasing intensity. "I could do this all night."

Vernon's voice is rough and gravelly, his moans becoming more desperate as he nears his release. He's usually so in control, but right now, he's completely lost in the pleasure.

"I'm so close," he gasps, his fingers digging into your hips. "You're gonna make me come so hard, baby."

He buries his face in your neck, his lips trailing kisses along your skin. He's murmuring sweet nothings into your ear, his words a mixture of praise and desperation. You manage to find your voice, your words coming out in between gasps and moans. "You're so good, Vernon," you pant, your fingers tangled in his hair. "You're driving me crazy."

Vernon groans at your words, his body tensing up as he gets closer and closer to the edge. He's never heard you talk like this before, and it's driving him wild.

"Keep talking," he growls, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Tell me how much you love it."

You can feel your own release building inside of you, the tension in your body coiling tighter and tighter with each passing moment.

"I love it," you gasp, your voice filled with desperation. "I love the way you make me feel. I love the way you take control and make me yours."

Vernon groans, his eyes locked on yours. He's hanging on by a thread now, his body trembling with the effort of holding back.

"Say my name," he commands, his voice rough and commanding. "Say my name when you come."

"Vernon," you cry out, your body arching up as your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave. You come hard, your muscles clenching around him as pleasure washes over you.

Vernon follows soon after, his own release hitting him like a freight train. He buries himself deep inside of you, his body shuddering as he spills his seed inside of you. He collapses on top of you, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He's breathing heavily, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

"Holy shit," he gasps, nuzzling your neck.

You lie there in each other's arms, your bodies still intertwined. The air is thick with the scent of sex and sweat, and you can feel your heartbeat slowly returning to normal.

Vernon presses a kiss to your forehead, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. "I don't think I've ever come that hard before," he murmurs, a hint of awe in his voice. You laugh softly, running your fingers through his messy hair. "Me neither," you admit, a contented smile on your face. "That was definitely something."

Vernon snuggles closer to you, burying his face in your neck. He lets out a contented sigh, his body relaxed and sated.

"I could stay like this forever," he mumbles, his voice muffled against your skin.

You smile, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close. "Me too," you say softly. "You always know how to make me feel so good."

You and Vernon fall asleep in each other's arms, completely spent from your intense lovemaking. The room is quiet, save for the sound of your soft breathing. The next morning, you wake up to the sound of someone knocking on the door. You blink sleepily, disoriented and confused for a moment.

"Hey, lovebirds," Seungcheol's voice calls out from the other side of the door. "You guys up yet?"

You groan and sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Vernon stirs beside you, slowly waking up as well.

"Yeah, we're up," you call out, your voice still rough from sleep.

Seungcheol opens the door and peeks his head inside, a smirk on his face. "About time," he says, his eyes scanning the room. "You guys were pretty loud last night, you know."

Vernon groans and buries his face in the pillow, clearly embarrassed. "Shut up," he mumbles, his voice muffled.

You feel your cheeks flush with heat as you realize what Seungcheol is implying. "We didn't know we were being that loud," you say defensively, trying to ignore the mortification you feel. Seungcheol steps aside as Mingyu and Wonwoo enter the room, both of them wearing identical grins.

"We heard you guys having fun last night," Mingyu teases, plopping down on the edge of the bed. "You were pretty vocal."

Wonwoo nods in agreement, a smirk on his face. "Yeah, we thought you were going to wake up the whole building."

Mingyu and Wonwoo both start making exaggerated moaning sounds, imitating the noises you and Vernon made the night before.

"Oh, Vernon, yes!" Mingyu cries out in a high-pitched voice, flopping dramatically onto the bed.

Wonwoo snickers and joins in, making exaggerated grunting noises. "You like that, baby? You like it when I take control?"

Vernon groans and buries his face deeper into the pillow, clearly mortified. You can't help but laugh at the ridiculous display, even as your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Mingyu and Wonwoo dissolve into giggles, clutching their stomachs as they laugh hysterically. They're clearly enjoying themselves, taking every opportunity to tease you and Vernon about your loud night. Seungcheol just stands in the doorway, shaking his head in amusement. "You guys are ridiculous," he says, trying to sound stern but failing miserably.

[vcrnons]

happy carat day, love vernon. x

bonus, ft. dino, for the verdi enjoyers:

[svtsofthours]

*Texting*

You: Come make out with me.

Vernon: I CHOKED ON MY TORTILLA!

[ssentimentals]

Hii I love your writing and saw your prompts, can I request a Vernon angst to fluff with promts "I woke up, and you were gone." "You're not a bad guy." and "You have a beautiful soul." "Whats on your mind? I want to listen." If it's too much just use some of this that feels okay with the story, thank you so muuuch. Love ya

hii! love you too and yep, i'm going to use only few of those if you don't mind :) thank you for requesting! 💜 hopefully you will like it!

hurt prompt: 'i woke up, and you were gone.' - 'you're not a bad guy.'

it feels weird to be in this position right now. with your avoidant attachment style, you are the one who runs away at the first signs of things geting serious in relationship; so right now to witness this in another person is... unusually weird. a bit hilarious too, if you are very honest. but mainly it's sad though. staring up at vernon right now, you want to find all of the correct words that can make him feel better because you know. you know what's going through his mind right now, you know how he's feeling - that's why instead of attacking, you sit quietly, giving him room to breathe.

'i woke up and you were gone,' you start gently, calmly. this is the least that vernon deserves - he's the sweetest boy, who made you want to work on yourself and your fears. you can tell that you make him feel the same and that scares him. 'any kind of note would've made me feel much better, because otherwise it looks like we- i mean, i think you know how it looks like.'

vernon grimaces, nodding. he hangs his head low and exhales loudly. 'i never wanted to make you think or feel that. i'm sorry.'

'i know,' you soothe him and gentleness in your voice makes him look up. 'you're not a bad guy, vernon. you came back, right?' he nods. 'why? why did you come back here, to me?'

vernon looks you in the eyes as he whispers in a broken voice: 'because i want you. because i didn't want- i got scared at first. not of you, but of what i feel for you. does that makes sense?'

you want to cry. but you hold on, nodding instead. 'it makes perfect sense.'

'really?' his whole face lights up. 'you... understand?' at your nod, he shakily inhales. 'then you know. i came back because i want you and i want us. i'm sorry that i haven't left a note, i'm sorry for making you feel, even for a second, that i left.'

you don't trust your voice not to break, so you open your arms, welcoming him in. vernon looks hesitant at first, but then he slowly moves towards you and when you two hug, he melts into you with a desperate longing that you know all too well.

'i want us too,' you whisper, because it's true and because he needs this confirmation. 'just no running away anymore, vernon. and i promise we can work this out.'

he nods and you know what he's thinking right now, knows what he's feeling right now. that's why you hug him even tighter, because you're not about to run away. not anymore, not with him.

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[thedensworld]

Just Like You | C.Hs

Pairing: vernon x reader

Genre: fluff, established relationship, catlover!

Summary: Hansol never understands what's on his kid's head. However, he ends up seeing himself in his kid. While everyone is saying the same thing about him: they never understand Hansol.

🌼Welcome to the club ma-baby Vernon!🌼

"What's wrong?" Hansol inquired, his eyebrows knitting together in concern as his son, Insu, bolted to his bedroom with the speed of lightning. You shot him a weary look and sighed, piquing his curiosity.

"Your son being 'your' son," you replied, with a mixture of amusement and exasperation evident in your tone.

Hansol chuckled, his hand gently stroking Mero, the venerable cat who seemed to have seen it all. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, his curiosity piqued as he settled beside Rody, the mischievous feline counterpart to Insu.

You approached him and settled in front of him, Mero abandoning Hansol's lap for the cozy sanctuary of yours. "Do you remember how we ended up having these two?" you asked, motioning to the feline duo who were now basking in the attention.

Hansol nodded, though still puzzled by the sudden trip down memory lane, his fingers idly playing with Rody's fluffy fur.

Hansol and you were still in the dating phase when he stumbled upon Mero, almost squishing the tiny kitten underfoot on his way to your apartment. After a frantic cleanup session and a feast fit for a feline king, Mero settled into your lives with surprising ease.

"Want to rescue it?" Hansol blurted out, his impulsive nature winning out as he glanced at you with wide eyes filled with both concern and excitement.

You raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in your gaze. "Are you sure? We're pretty busy, you know. Do you have time to play kitten babysitter?"

Hansol nodded enthusiastically, his determination unwavering. "I can definitely make time for our newfound furry friend. Besides, cats are pretty independent creatures. They need their own space as well as i am."

Little did you know that agreeing to Hansol's proposal meant signing up for a lifetime subscription to "Cat Adoption Chronicles." Fast forward to your married life with a baby Insu, and you found yourself facing a similar scenario, only this time with Hansol justifying his latest feline acquisition as if he were rescuing a long-lost family member.

"Babe," he pleaded, holding the new kitten in his arms like it was the most precious treasure in the world, "I can't just leave him out there alone. It's like abandoning Insu on the streets!"

Sighing, you watched as Hansol remained oblivious to the revelation you were trying to convey. "Your son," you began, hoping to shed some light on the matter.

"Is just like you," you continued, hoping he would catch on. But alas, confusion still clouded his expression, his mind seemingly stuck on the obvious fact that of course Insu would take after him in many ways.

"He brought home cats again, from his daycare," you finally clarified, hoping the pieces would fall into place for Hansol.

Hansol's eyes widened in disbelief, his mind struggling to process the information. "Really?" he exclaimed, jumping up from his seat and rushing to Insu's door.

"Insu, can I come in?" he called out, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and excitement.

After a moment of silence, Insu's voice finally came through the door. "Wait a minute. I'll be there," he replied, his tone slightly sheepish.

As Hansol waited outside, locking gazes with you, his curiosity peaked.

"Yes, dad?" Insu emerged from his room, swiftly closing the door behind him, a little too quickly.

"Let's talk in your room," Hansol suggested, taking a step forward, only to be halted by Insu's tiny but determined frame, standing protectively in front of him.

Insu's defensive stance made him appear even more adorable than usual, and Hansol couldn't help but smile at the sight.

"No! It's... Messy! Yeah! Let's talk here, what's wrong, dad?" Insu's voice wavered as he tried to come up with an excuse, his eyes darting nervously around the room.

Hansol sighed and squatted down to Insu's height, his heart sinking at the sight of his son's distress. "Did you bring a cat home?" he asked gently, his voice laced with concern.

Unable to hold back his emotions any longer, Insu burst into tears, throwing his arms around his dad's neck in a tight embrace. "I'm sorry..." he choked out between sobs.

Hansol's heart ached at the sight of his son in distress. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he reassured, his hand rubbing soothing circles on Insu's back. "You don't need to apologize."

Insu sniffled, his tear-streaked face looking up at his dad with a mixture of guilt and sadness. "No... Mom said I shouldn't bring home any more cats or else Uncle Mero and Rody Hyung would get upset."

Hansol struggled to keep a straight face at the mention of "Uncle Mero and Rody Hyung," fighting back a laugh to avoid further upsetting his son. "Yes, your mom is right. Uncle Mero and Rody Hyung don't like it when there are other cats around."

Insu's shoulders slumped in dejection. "But they're so little, I couldn't leave them," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Hansol's surprise was evident. "There's more than one?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief as Insu nodded, holding up three tiny fingers.

Glancing over at you, who was leaning against the doorframe with a knowing look, Hansol couldn't help but chuckle inwardly, silently conceding defeat with a sheepish grin. "Told ya," your expression seemed to say, and he couldn't argue with that.

"We can send them to the center tomorrow, but let's keep them until then," Insu negotiated, casting pleading looks between you and Hansol.

You nodded in agreement, whispering, "Just don't let Mero and Rody know," which only added to Insu's excitement.

Hansol acknowledged with a nod before lifting Insu into his arms and following his lead to the designated hiding spot for the kittens.

"There," Insu pointed to his toy box, which was already prepared with makeshift beds and supplies.

Hansol's heart melted at the sight of the tiny creatures nestled among the toys. "Oh my goodness, they're still so small," he exclaimed softly, his protective instincts kicking in. "I don't think they should eat the same food as Mero and Rody, Insu."

Insu's shoulders slumped, disappointment evident on his face. "Right, Daddy... Should we buy them some milk?" he suggested, his voice barely above a whisper.

You watched from the doorway as Hansol and Insu discussed the kittens' needs, a warm smile tugging at the corners of your lips. It was moments like these that made all the chaos of parenthood worth it.

After a while, Hansol turned to you with pleading eyes, echoing Insu's earlier plea. "Can we keep them?" he asked, his gaze filled with the same hopeful innocence as your son's.

You shrugged nonchalantly before turning to leave, but Hansol wasn't about to let you off the hook that easily. Later, he approached you to ensure your agreement, knowing full well that your initial indifference might just be a front.

"What should we name them, Insu?" Hansol asked, turning his attention back to their newest family members.

"Kim for the black fur one, Tteok for the white fur one, and the orange one will be..." Insu trailed off, his brow furrowing in concentration.

"Gam!" they both exclaimed in unison before bursting into laughter, the joy of their newfound companionship filling the room.

*

"Uncle! This is Tteok, she eats a lot and she has a big tummy!" Insu proudly introduced the kittens to Jihoon, his favorite uncle, his excitement palpable even through the phone.

You could hear Jihoon's laughter on the other end of the line. "Wow! You two are alike! Remember when you brought five kittens to the apartment? We had to kick Seokmin out because of his allergies."

You couldn't help but scoff at the memory. "Irony," you muttered under your breath, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all.

"Is Y/n okay with Insu bringing home kittens? Did she let you keep them?" Jihoon's voice held a hint of curiosity as he inquired about your reaction.2

Insu nodded vigorously. "Dad talked to mom, and she let me keep them," he explained proudly, his smile widening at the memory.

Jihoon's laughter echoed through the phone, making you roll your eyes playfully. "I can only imagine how wide and endless your wife's patience must be," he joked, his amusement evident in his voice.

"Say it louder, Jihoon," you called out from behind them as you walked past your husband and son, unable to resist joining in on the banter.

"I don't know! I could never understand him, honestly," Jihoon admitted with a chuckle, shrugging his shoulders in mock confusion.