elli3girly

—————————————————————————

S.coups:

More than enough

Jeonghan:

Coming soon

Joshua:

Coming soon

Jun:

Coming soon

Hoshi:

Lazy days & love songs

Wonwoo:

Coming soon

Woozi:

Coming soon

Minghao:

Coming soon

Mingyu:

Stars

DK:

Coming soon

Seungkwan:

Touchdown trouble

Vernon:

Between beats and smoke

Dino:

Coming soon

—————————————————————————

14th member au:

———————————

Pairing: Vernon (Chwe Hansol) x Reader

Genre: Romance, Slice of Life, Mild Angst

Rating: Mature (for cannabis use, strong language, and suggestive themes — no explicit sexual content)

author’s note: Hii, I would just say I’m so sorry if this dosent make much sense, I just got this thought at like 3am and I kinda lost my idea halfway through.. but yeah I hope you guys like this <3 feel free to send me requests💗

—————————————————————————

The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above you, softened only slightly by the haze of dust floating through the stale air of the Pledis dance practice room. You leaned back against the mirrored wall, legs crossed, watching SEVENTEEN dissolve into laughter and chatter as they grabbed their phones and wallets.

“Snacks? Drinks? We’ll be like fifteen minutes!” Seungkwan called, already halfway out the door.

“Get the honey butter chips!” Hoshi yelled after them.

The door slammed shut behind the last of them, and finally—blessedly—the room settled into silence.

You exhaled. Then, you felt him.

Vernon padded over in socked feet, shirt clinging to his skin, damp with sweat and heat. His hair was a mess, his cheeks flushed from dancing for the last hour, and yet he looked at you like you were the only thing in the room worth noticing.

“You stayed,” he said, his voice low, already smiling.

“Yeah, didn’t feel like walking home yet. You looked good out there.”

He stepped in closer, then slumped down beside you, stretching out his legs and grabbing his backpack from a corner.

“I’ve been saving something,” he said, pulling the zipper open and glancing toward the door. “We’ve got like… ten, maybe fifteen minutes. You in?”

You tilted your head. “What, like a secret Pledis treasure?”

He pulled out a small tin, opened it. A half-smoked joint sat nestled inside like contraband gold. He grinned. “More like a temporary vacation.”

You gave him a flat look. “Here? In the practice room?”

“Better than the dorm. Everyone’s always there,” he muttered, already pulling out a lighter. “We’ll spray some perfume later. Chill.”

You sighed, but your fingers were already reaching for it. “You’re going to owe me if someone walks in.”

“We’ll just say it’s incense.”

“Incense doesn’t smell like college dropout lungs and weed smoke.”

He laughed, the kind that started in his chest and spilled into the space between you. He lit it, inhaled slowly, then passed it to you. His fingers brushed yours—deliberate.

The first hit burned, but the second settled. You leaned your head back, letting the slow crawl of calmness creep over you. Vernon stretched his legs and let his head roll toward you on the wall.

“Feels like the only time I can actually breathe,” he mumbled.

You watched him through the haze. “Is it always this crazy?”

He nodded. “Always noise. Always eyes. Even when I’m alone, it’s like—someone’s watching. Expecting.”

You passed the joint back. “And what do I expect?”

He took it, breathed in. “You? You just let me be.”

You nudged his knee. “Maybe I just like the perks of dating an idol.”

“Yeah?” he grinned, eyes heavy, voice low. “What perks are those?”

“Access to exclusive weed stash,” you said dryly, taking the joint back. “Premium sweat-soaked hugs. And sitting on a dance studio floor at 11PM watching you be a beautiful mess.”

“Wow,” he laughed. “Romantic as hell.”

He leaned in suddenly, eyes searching yours, breath warm even beneath the scent of smoke. His lips brushed your cheek, then your jaw. You let your fingers rest against his thigh, anchoring yourself as the room felt heavier, softer, slower.

“Tell me this isn’t a mistake,” he whispered.

You turned to face him fully. “It’s not.”

“I hate hiding. Us. This.”

“I know. But you don’t have to explain anything right now.”

He nodded. “Just… wanna freeze this.”

You kissed him, slow and soft, like there was time. His hand found your waist, yours curled in the back of his damp hair. The mirrored wall reflected you both: a tangled secret in a room full of expectations.

You pulled away, hearing footsteps in the distance.

“They’re coming,” you murmured.

Vernon flicked the joint out, already waving his hoodie around to clear the air. You stood up, helping him while spraying some perfume.

He gave you one last glance—smoke still in his lungs, affection still in his eyes—and whispered, “Later?”

“Always.”

The door opened. Laughter poured in with the scent of food. The world restarted.

football player!Boo Seungkwan x cheerleader!reader Genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, angst, Warnings: mild injury (sprained ankle), tension, swearing, Seungkwan being annoying in a hot way

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

You didn’t hate Boo Seungkwan. Not really. But you’d absolutely love it if he’d stop winking at you before every game.

It had started off harmless — a flirty comment here, a smug smirk there. But then it became a thing. He’d jog past your squad during warm-ups, flash that million-won smile, and throw some overconfident line your way like, “Don’t get too distracted out there, Sunshine.”

You always rolled your eyes. You never admitted the way your heart sped up a little every time.

Fridays under the stadium lights were loud, chaotic, and electric. Your squad ran the sidelines, sharp in motion, all glitter and grit. His team, the pride of the school, made noise on the field — and Seungkwan was always in the middle of it.

He thrived in attention. He soaked it up like sunshine — throwing touchdowns and cocky grins in equal measure. And somehow, always looking your way after a good play.

It was a game, unofficial but consistent. You’d shout your chants, do your counts, keep formation — and he’d find you in the crowd like it was part of the routine.

You hated how aware you were of him.

One Monday afternoon after practice, your team was packing up when the football boys stumbled into the gym for their own drills. You barely glanced up from your clipboard — until someone threw a balled-up hoodie that landed squarely at your feet.

“Oops,” came his voice, lazy and unapologetic.

You looked up. There he was, hair damp, socks mismatched, smirk loaded.

“You really can’t go a day without bothering me, can you?”

“Consider it my cardio.”

You scoffed and turned back to your squad, but you felt his eyes linger — and you hated how warm that made you feel.

The days passed, fast and blurry. Midterms came and went. Homecoming was coming up — not the dance, but the game. The biggest of the season. Your team drilled harder, longer. So did his. You didn’t talk much during the week, just the usual sideline banter, a few stares across the hallway. He was more focused than you’d seen him before, and you hated the way it made your chest tighten.

By Friday night, the energy in the air was wild.

Bleachers full. Music thumping. Painted signs waving. Your squad lined up in formation, voices sharp, bodies steady.

And him — pacing behind the line of scrimmage, eyes locked on the end zone. For once, he didn’t look your way. Not even a glance.

That’s when you realized how much you missed the stupid wink.

Third quarter. Tie game.

Your cheers were loud, but your mind was only half on the count. You could feel the momentum tipping. The quarterback snapped the ball, Seungkwan broke free, and you saw it — the pass arcing through the air, perfect, high—

—and him, jumping to catch it.

He landed.

Wrong.

The whole field shifted. Players stopped. The crowd gasped. And you — you dropped your pom-poms before your brain caught up to your body.

You were already moving, feet pounding across the turf.

He was lying on the field, clutching his leg, teeth clenched.

“I’m fine,” he muttered when you dropped to your knees beside him.

“No, you’re not,” you said, too breathless to hide the panic. “Seungkwan—what happened?”

His voice was tight. “Ankle, I think. Twisted it. Not broken, just—bad.”

“You idiot.”

He laughed — weak, but real. “Didn’t know you cared, Sparkles.”

“I don’t,” you snapped. “I just didn’t want to clean blood off the field.”

The trainer came running. You stepped back as they helped him up, but before he was carted off, he caught your eye again.

And this time, no grin. Just a quiet, lingering look.

You found him after the game, sitting on the trainer’s table, an ice pack strapped to his ankle and a scowl on his face.

“You guys still won,” you said, leaning against the doorway.

“Barely. And I didn’t finish.”

“You made the touchdown.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t see you cheering.”

“I was busy panicking.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I mean—managing the team,” you corrected quickly. “Obviously.”

Seungkwan gave a soft laugh, then looked down at his wrapped ankle.

“I don’t know why I’m so mad,” he muttered. “I just… I love this game. It’s the only time people expect me to be something. To be... good.”

You blinked. The words hit a nerve you didn’t expect.

“I know what that feels like,” you said. “Carrying the weight of everyone's expectations and pretending it doesn’t crush you.”

His gaze flicked back up to yours.

“You’re a good cheerleader,” he said quietly.

“And you’re a better football player than you let on.”

For a moment, everything else — the field, the pain, the noise — faded. All that was left was the space between you.

Then, softly: “You gonna kiss me or just stand there pretending you don’t want to?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re literally injured.”

“Not my lips.”

You snorted, but stepped closer anyway. You kissed him gently — soft and real and a little shaky, but everything you’d been pretending you didn’t want.

His hand rested against your side, fingers brushing your jacket.

“I knew you liked me,” he whispered against your lips.

“I still might deny it.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to earn another kiss.”

From there it spiraled: no time for breakfast, a missed text from the manager, a dead phone battery, and now she was ten minutes late to dance practice at the HYBE building — which, for SEVENTEEN, was practically a felony.

When she slid the door open, still tying her hoodie around her waist, the energy in the room hit her like a wall. Everyone was already there, already mid-practice, already pissed.

“You’re late,” Hoshi snapped without even turning around.

“Sorry—my phone—”

“We all have phones,” Woozi said sharply, cutting her off.

She stopped talking. Just nodded and took her spot, trying to ignore the burn in her cheeks.

It went downhill from there.

The choreo wasn’t sticking. People kept missing cues. Mingyu tripped. Dino got frustrated. Seungcheol was trying to keep it together, but you could see it — the way he kept tugging at the back of his neck like he wanted to scream.

And Y/N?

She was off. Her body wasn’t moving right. Her ankle, still kind of sore from the last schedule, felt like dead weight. And she could feel them watching her. Every mistake she made got quieter, sharper glances.

Then came the explosion.

“Y/N, for once, can you just get the step right?” Vernon snapped, louder than usual.

Her head jerked up. “I—what?”

“That’s like the fifth time you missed it.”

“Okay, but I’m not the only one messing up—”

“You’re the only one holding us back,” Woozi muttered.

The room went still.

She stared at him, something in her chest twisting.

“Oh, so now I’m the problem?” she asked, voice tight.

“No one said that,” Hoshi cut in.

“You didn’t have to.” She looked at all of them — all the boys she called her team, her brothers, her family — and suddenly she didn’t feel like any of those things.

She dropped her water bottle. It hit the floor with a dull thunk.

“I need a break,” she said, grabbing her phone.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Jeonghan called after her.

But she was already out the door.

⸻

She didn’t even know where she was walking at first. Just away. Past the elevators, out the building, down the block. Her hoodie up, headphones in. The city buzzing around her like she didn’t exist.

Which felt about right.

Y/N sat on a bench near the Han River after a while, knees pulled to her chest, watching bikers go by. She scrolled through her phone but didn’t open anything. No group chat, no Instagram. Just the quiet panic crawling under her skin.

She hated crying in public, so she didn’t. Not really. Just sat there. Cold air against her cheeks. Phone buzzing every now and then, and her thumb hovering over the notifications before locking it again.

An hour passed. Maybe two.

Then:

[15 missed messages]

[3 missed calls – Cheol]

She stood up.

⸻

The dorm was weirdly quiet when she got back.

The lights were on, and she heard someone in the kitchen — Joshua, maybe. Mingyu’s voice low in the hall. But no one said anything when she stepped in.

She kicked her shoes off and dropped her bag by the door.

“You ate?” someone asked. Hoshi.

She shrugged. “Yeah.”

A beat passed. Someone shifted on the couch.

“Hey,” Seungcheol said, stepping into view. He looked exhausted.

She didn’t answer.

He sighed. “Look… we were out of line. We’re stressed. That doesn’t make it okay.”

She stared at the floor.

“I just wanted one day where I didn’t feel like I had to prove I belonged here,” she said finally.

The silence that followed was heavy.

Then:

“You don’t have to prove anything,” Joshua said from the hallway.

“You’ve been here since day one,” Dino added, stepping closer. “Like, actual day one. Basement days.”

“And we were assholes,” Vernon admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

Y/N looked at them. At all of them. Some still sitting, some standing awkwardly like they didn’t know what to do with their hands. These were her people. And today, they hurt her. Maybe not on purpose — but it still counted.

“I’m not gonna pretend that didn’t mess me up,” she said honestly.

“You shouldn’t,” Woozi said quietly. “And we’re gonna do better.”

“Starting with me ordering chicken,” Mingyu said, holding up his phone.

She huffed a laugh. Barely. But it was something.

Someone handed her a blanket. Someone else made space on the couch. No one tried to hug her, which she appreciated.

And they sat there. Not fixing everything. Just being there.

S.Coups x Reader

Dating Choi Seungcheol was everything Y/N ever dreamed of—until she started feeling like she wasn’t enough. Being with the leader of SEVENTEEN meant endless schedules, thousands of fans, and moments where she wondered if she truly belonged by his side. But Seungcheol was never one to let go of the people he loved. And he wasn’t about to start now.

—————————————————————————

She knew what she was signing up for when she fell for him. The late nights, the constant traveling, the way he poured his whole soul into SEVENTEEN. She admired him for it, loved him even more because of his dedication. But some nights, when she lay awake scrolling through comments that picked apart every little detail of their relationship, she couldn’t help but wonder—was she truly meant to be by his side?

Tonight was one of those nights.

She sat across from Seungcheol in a quiet café, their usual spot tucked in the back where no one could see them. His hand rested on hers, thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles against her skin. It was comforting. Familiar. But the weight on her heart didn’t ease.

“Are you okay?” His voice was gentle, but his sharp eyes were filled with concern.

Y/N hesitated. Lying would be easier, pretending everything was fine. But the truth had been sitting in her chest for too long, growing heavier with every secret date, every whispered ‘I love you’ behind closed doors.

“Cheol… do you ever think that I don’t belong in your life?”

His fingers tightened around hers instantly.

“What?” His expression darkened. “Why would you say that?”

She swallowed, glancing down at the table. “Because I see what people say. I know I’m not an idol, I don’t have the perfect image. And sometimes it feels like… like I’m just this secret you have to protect.”

His breath hitched.

“Y/N.” He reached for her, tilting her chin up so she had no choice but to meet his gaze. “You are not a secret. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

She wanted to believe him. God, she did. But believing was hard when their love had to be hidden.

“Then why does it feel like I am?” Her voice was barely a whisper, but he heard it. And it shattered him.

For a moment, Seungcheol didn’t say anything. His grip on her hand loosened, his brows furrowing as if he was searching for the right words.

Then, without hesitation, he pulled out his phone.

Y/N watched in shock as he snapped a picture of their intertwined hands on the table, the small silver bracelet he had gifted her months ago glinting under the café lights.

“Cheol, what are you doing?” she asked, panicked.

“You feel like a secret, right?” His lips curled into a small smirk, but his eyes were filled with nothing but love. “Then let me change that.”

Her heart pounded as he hovered over the ‘post’ button.

“Won’t this cause problems?” she asked hesitantly.

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “But I don’t care. If being with me makes you feel like you don’t belong, then I need to fix that. Not you.”

And with that, he pressed ‘post.’

The notification popped up instantly. Choi Seungcheol: My home.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat.

She looked at him, eyes wide with disbelief. “You really just did that.”

He grinned, squeezing her hand. “Damn right I did.”

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the comments, not the rumors, not the uncertainty of what would come next.

Because Seungcheol had just made his choice.

Pairing: Hoshi x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Domestic

—————————————————————————

Saturdays were made for this. No alarms, no schedules, just the soft hum of the world outside and the warmth of Hoshi beside you. The two of you had promised each other a lazy day—no work, no stress, just existing together. And honestly? It was perfect.

Hoshi had woken up before you, but instead of getting up, he’d just wrapped himself around you, holding you tight like some oversized koala. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. Every few minutes, he’d mumble something incoherent, shifting slightly but never letting go.

“Babe,” you murmured, voice still thick with sleep, “you’re squeezing me.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, clearly not awake enough to process anything beyond the fact that you were here, in his arms, exactly where he wanted you.

You let out a soft laugh, brushing your fingers through his messy hair. He finally peeked up at you, eyes half-lidded and bleary but still full of that familiar warmth.

“Good morning,” he said, voice raspy.

“You mean good afternoon?” you teased, glancing at the clock. It was almost 1 PM.

Hoshi groaned, dramatically flopping onto his back. “Time isn’t real on Saturdays.”

“Neither is responsibility, apparently.”

“Exactly,” he grinned, pulling you back into his chest before you could even think about moving. “No getting up. We live here now.”

You sighed, but you weren’t actually mad about it. Being wrapped up in his arms, feeling the slow and steady rhythm of his heartbeat—it was too nice to give up just yet.

Eventually, after some convincing (and the promise of food), you managed to escape long enough to grab some snacks. The two of you ended up on the couch, tangled under a blanket, sharing a bag of chips while some random movie played in the background.

At one point, Hoshi started humming along to a song in the film, absentmindedly playing with your fingers. His voice was soft, familiar, laced with love in the way only he could manage.

“You should sing me to sleep more often,” you mused, resting your head against his shoulder.

Hoshi chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I already do, you just don’t remember.”

Your heart swelled a little at that. “Lucky me, I guess.”

“Lucky me,” he corrected, squeezing your hand.

—————————————————————————

Y/N stood backstage at the Mnet Countdown studio, her pulse racing as the cheers from the crowd reverberated through the walls. It was another thrilling night under the neon lights, performing with her group *Lunar Eclipse*, one of the most talked-about girl groups on the scene. The dazzling lightsticks waved furiously in the crowd, glowing like a sea of stars. But amid the fervor of the K-pop world, Y/N harbored a secret that could turn that sea into a storm.

And Mingyu was waiting for her.

It had all started one late night at an industry afterparty. Y/N had been trying to blend into the background. She wasn't keen on the chaotic mingling, preferring to chat with her fellow members over the thumping bass that seemed to shake the room. But then, Mingyu had walked in, exuding effortless charm and causing a stir wherever he went. He was over 6 feet of playful confidence, but that night, his gaze had locked with Y/N's across the room, and it felt as though everything had paused.

The weeks that followed were a whirlwind. Texts exchanged late at night when schedules wound down, meetings carefully planned to avoid the eagle eyes of fans and tabloids, and heart-thudding moments during variety show recordings where they'd brush past each other with secret glances. He always knew how to make her laugh, whether through absurd memes sent in the middle of practice or whispered jokes when they were in the same studio for promotions.

Tonight, Y/N glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Her stage outfit shimmered in hues of midnight blue and silver, complementing her height and the energy she carried. The blue of her eyes sparkled with anticipation. The loud announcement of Seventeen's upcoming stage echoed down the hall, and her heart leapt.

Suddenly, there was a knock at her dressing room door. Before anyone could react, Mingyu slipped inside, his tall frame and mischievous smile filling the small space. He was dressed in his performance gear, hair styled perfectly, a mix of suave and playful.

"Just came to wish you good luck," he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear. The room was filled with her group members, who exchanged knowing glances but said nothing, understanding the silent agreement of unspoken words.

"You're going to get caught," Y/N whispered, her cheeks turning warm as she fought back a smile.

"I'd say it's worth it," he replied, his gaze softening as he brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. In that brief moment, the chaos of the idol world, the relentless practice schedules, and the constant spotlight all faded away. It was just Y/N and Mingyu, two young idols who found peace in each other amidst the storm.

A burst of applause from outside signaled that the previous group had wrapped up. Mingyu stepped back, a spark in his eye. "Meet me on the roof after the show. Don't make me wait," he said before slipping out as smoothly as he had entered.